Suggested Listening:
New Fish - Thomas Newman (from Shawshank Redemption) | ...unstoppable guilt
Truth/Mal's Speech - David Newman (from Serenity) | ...worth more than the other one
Rest in Peace - Ludwig Goransson (from The Mandalorian) | ...retrieving dr pershing
Lost in Fog - Thomas Newman (from Finding Nemo) | ...the next stop
No Mood for Conversation - Rachel Portman (from The Duchess) | ...so much for the way
The Mission - Bryan Tyler (from Avengers: Age of Ultron) | ...the plan
Seoul Searching - Bryan Tyler (from Avengers: Age of Ultron) | ...request denied
Kuiil - Ludwig Goransson (from The Mandalorian) | ...kyra's armor

"I have to hand it to you — for a rookie, you're not bad at Pazaak."

Fennec was peering over her cards at me, an impressed glint dancing in her eye.

"Beginner's luck," I said, pulling another card from the deck. "Besides, I genuinely have no idea how much each card is worth, so I'm benefitting from a hearty amount of ignorant confidence."

Her sly chuckle echoed in the passenger's hold of Boba Fett's ship. I knew nothing about the game, so as far as I was concerned she could've been making the rules up as she went along, but as soon as she pulled her deck out — sparsely assembled from her bounty-hunting days when they had been used as some sort of code — and offered to teach me, I jumped at the chance. Cara was up in the cockpit with Boba Fett, and it had been an anxiously silent journey thus far.

I snuck a glance over at Din, who was leaning back with his arms crossed, his head tilted toward the porthole. He could've been thoughtfully watching the stars whiz by, or he could've been asleep. It would do him good, I thought to myself like a fussing mother. He's no good to anyone if he's dead on his feet.

A pang of worry shook my chest as I took in his still form. I knew he must be steeped in grief after watching his ship be destroyed in a single instant. The memory made me feel sick — even though I had only spent a short time on the Razor Crest, watching it be reduced to rubble broke me in half. I couldn't believe it simply didn't exist anymore. The idea felt ludicrous. Deep down I knew that despite being new to the ship, I had begun calling it home in my head — I could only imagine how he was feeling. I did, however, share the furious, white-hot terror and rage that began coursing through his veins the second the kid was out of our reach — and something even more insidious: a radiating, unstoppable guilt. I remembered Grogu's little face peering down at us, his fearful expression getting smaller and smaller as he disappeared into the clouds. Though Din had been through far more with the child than myself, I knew that we were both on exactly the same page when it came to the idea of losing him. However, he dealt with that cacophonous typhoon of feelings by being still and quiet, vibrating tensely in the corner like a dangerous animal ready to pounce as soon as the prey was in view. I, on the other hand, seemed to be coping by focusing every ounce of my energy and attention on the mismatched cards in front of me.

"Ha!" I exclaimed, triumphantly putting a card down. Fennec leaned forward and examined it, shaking her head.

"That'll send you right over twenty, you don't want to play that one." She picked it up and tossed it back to me.

"This is the problem with a cobbled-together deck," I scoffed. "I don't understand how you tell the difference between this card and the three you played before, they look exactly the same!"

She held up the three card in front of her that used weapons imagery instead of writing.

"You can't tell the difference between a Dathomiri seventeen and three slugthrowers?"

"Not when they're on cards that appear to have been eaten by lake worms and partially digested before being dealt!" I laughed.

"Jeez," she said, leaning back in her chair and raising a playful eyebrow. "And you call yourself a Brui — I bet your daddy had you counting weapons before you learned your numbers and letters!"

My heart stopped and I felt the smile drop from my face. A sound behind me caused me to whip my head around in time to see Din, sitting up and buzzing with volatile energy like a coiled snake, his blaster drawn and pointed directly at Fennec's head.

"Easy," she said, slowly raising her hands. "It was just a joke…"

"It's okay," I said hurriedly, holding a pacifying hand out to Din. "She knows, it's okay. She's promised not to do anything with the information. Right?" I shot her a pointed look.

"I didn't realize it was such a touchy subject," she said, her eyes locked on Din.

"She knows who you are?" Din's voice rumbled through his vocoder, a thread of confusion running through his dangerous monotone. "Why did you tell her?"

"I didn't tell her," I retorted, not appreciating the slightly accusatory tone. "She recognized me."

I looked back at Fennec to corroborate, but all she did was raise an amused eyebrow. Finally, Din lowered his weapon and I saw his shoulders relax ever so slightly. I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. Deep in my chest I felt the warmth and relief of his protection, even if it was unnecessary in this moment.

"Okay," said Din, trying to catch up. "So… why didn't you tell me?"

"There was no need, we worked it out!" I shrugged, offering a hopeful smile.

"Yeah, Mando," she said teasingly, leaning her elbows back on the table and examining her cards. "Mind your business."

I bit my lip, holding back a chuckle.

"So," Din replied, leaning forward slightly. "She knows that if she does anything to put you in danger, I'll have to make sure she's dead this time."

Fennec smiled dangerously.

"Just don't try to get to me by speeder bike," she said. "That doesn't work out so well for you."

I looked from Fennec to Din, my eyebrows raised in an amused look of questioning.

After a beat, Din cocked his head slightly.

"My driving's gotten better," he said drily. "Right, Moss?"

I chuckled and looked back down at my cards, glad that he was joking.

"So much drama…" Fennec thumbed through her cards and swapped one out for a fresh one. "I wonder if that's why you're worth more than the other one."

I froze, my head suddenly empty.

"The… what do you mean, the other one?"

Fennec's eyes flicked up over her hand to meet mine. Din leaned forward in his seat again, the air of humor dissipated.

"You know…" She looked between us like we were stupid. "The other one. The other Brui that's on the lam."

My mouth fell open. In my six years in hiding, I hadn't talked to a single person who knew any details about my family — not for longer than a few seconds, anyway. That's when the running would start.

"The… how do you know…"

"Kyra," murmured Din. "What's she talking about?"

Fennec leaned back and put her cards down, looking at me expectantly.

"… Well? Do you want to tell him or should I?"

I sighed, my hands suddenly shaky. I hated talking about this.

"I think…" I turned my body around in my chair to face Din. "I think she's talking about my mom's sister. My aunt."

He looked at me, silently, waiting for more.

"I didn't even know her," I continued. "Not really. My mom died when I was five and my aunt made a run for it maybe a month later. It was a big mess, everyone was really angry — but they couldn't find her. Not alive, anyway. One of my father's men brought her body back a year later. They showed it to my brother and me as a warning. She's dead," I said, turning back to Fennec.

She raised an eyebrow.

"Well that's convenient. Show a six year old a dead body and your problem goes away."

"No, she's definitely dead. We saw her, she was m—" I wavered for a second as the image flashed in my head, as crystal clear as the day it happened. "She was mangled."

Fennec looked like she was carefully considering what to say in response. Finally, she shrugged.

"All I know is her bounty's still active."

I swallowed, feeling a little faint. I don't have time for this, I thought, angrily. I don't have space for this, we're in the middle of a rescue mission.

I looked back at my cards and tensed my jaw.

"Kyra," began Din, but I couldn't bear the pitying tone in his voice.

"She's dead," I said firmly, and put another card down. "That's twenty. Right?"

I looked at Fennec, daring her to push it further. She looked down at the cards and flashed an impressed smile.

"That's game."

Suddenly, the ship gave a lurch as we left the hyperspace lane. Din sprang up, his demeanor instantly serious.

"Get ready," he ordered, striding into the cockpit.

Already I could hear the guns firing.

"We got them locked!" Cara's voice carried from the front of the ship. I scooped my cards up and passed them to Fennec, who slipped them into a pocket as we made for the entrance to the cockpit, watching the chase out through the viewport. Any lingering thoughts of my aunt were firmly put away, back in the lockbox in my head. That's the past, I thought sternly. This is now.

There was a mighty noise and a powerful jet of light shot out, enveloping the Imp ship ahead of us — An Ion Cannon, I thought to myself, impressed. It shuddered to a halt.

"Bullseye," I muttered, exchanging a look with Fennec. "Your boss is good at that."

A look of pride flickered across her face.

"Lower your shields," said Boba Fett into his communicator. "Disengage all transponders. Prepare for boarding."

To my surprise, they obliged. The Slave One zoomed over them and for a moment, I could see the three little figures through the viewport. They looked afraid.

Good, I thought to myself, thinking once more of Grogu's frightened cries.

We docked. Din, Cara, and I boarded the Imp ship and as the cockpit doors slid open, we each drew our blasters, one by one.

The three men stood, hands in the air, expressions of fear on their faces — though one of them was more colored with annoyance than worry. It immediately inspired a twist of loathing in my abdomen. I trained my blaster on him.

He stepped forward and placed his hands on a haunted-looking man with dark hair, glasses, and an expression of exhausted terror.

"Before you make a mistake," he drawled, his careless voice as irritating as his demeanor. "This is Dr. Pershing."

"We've met," growled Din, his voice dripping with acid. "Is the kid alive?"

"Yes," said Dr. Pershing, and a wave of relief washed over me. "He's on the cruiser—."

My least favorite guard wrapped an arm around the doctor's neck and planted the barrel of his blaster against his temple, stopping his speech. Cara took a step forward, tightening her grip on her gun.

"Stay back, Dropper!"

"Easy pal, okay?" The other guard shifted his weight, his voice meek and eager. "I'm not with him. We can work something o—"

There was a blast and a flash, and the second guard dropped to the floor, dead. The first guard had shot him where he stood. I flinched, trying not to look down at his lifeless body.

"Drop your weapon," threatened Cara.

"No," replied the guard petulantly. "No, you listen to me — this is a top-tier target of the New Republic. This is a clone engineer. And if they find out he's dead because of you, you're gonna wish you never left Alderaan."

Din and I exchanged a quick look — we both were willing to take any risk if it meant finding Grogu, but we wouldn't be able to do that if Pershing was dead. Together, we glanced over at Cara. She was clenching her weapon and a flicker of something — temptation, I thought — played at the corners of her lips. The second he said the word "Alderaan", I could tell she had begun to imagine killing him.

"I saw the tear," sneered the guard. "You wanna know what else I saw? I saw your planet destroyed. I was on the Death Star."

"Which one?" She asked in a low voice. Nice one.

"You think you're funny?" The guard's voice wavered. "Do you know how many millions were killed on those bases?"

"Drop your blaster."

"As the galaxy cheered?"

"Last chance."

"Destroying your planet was a small price to pay," he said in a snide voice. "To rid the galaxy of terrorism."

Another red flash of light and the guard dropped. Dr. Pershing wailed, his hands clamped against his ears as he reeled from the shock and the noise. Cara lowered her still-smoking blaster and strode out of the cockpit without a word.

I swallowed. Despite the shake that I was concealing in my hands and the strained effort I was putting into not looking at the two dead bodies on the floor, I found myself thinking… I would've done the same thing.

"Come on," I muttered quietly, grabbing Pershing by the elbow. "Don't make me point my gun at you."

He was shaking, but let me lead him with ease. I looked at Din, who jerked his head toward the exit, and together we took the doctor back to the Slave One.

The next stop was a friendlier one — or so I hoped. Din and I descended the ramp of the Slave One, the air thick with the smell of petrol as we found ourselves surrounded by the comings and goings of an industrial refinery on a planet I had never been to before. I was excited to see Din's fellow Mandalorians again — I had only seen them once back on Trask, and they had seemed so powerful and mysterious. I didn't understand why they went without their helmets when it seemed to be so culturally imperative to Din, and I was hungry for more information.

We walked in silence for a few moments, until Din disrupted it with the low, cautious rumble of his voice.

"I'm sorry about your aunt."

"Thanks," I said, wishing we could just forget about it, but he pushed forward with interest.

"Do you think Fennec's right? She's well connected, she knows things — your aunt could still be alive."

"I don't think so."

He stopped, and I gasped a little as I felt his gloved hand wrap firmly around my arm, stopping me.

"If she's alive, I can find her." He looked down at me, intently. "Finding people… that's what I do."

"It's okay," I said, swallowing hard and looking up at him nervously. "If she's alive, she probably doesn't want to be found."

"Maybe… but if she's out there, she might want to know that you're out here too. Then you'd have each other. You wouldn't be alone anymore."

He said it with a sad kindness in his voice, but I was instantly stung. Funny, I thought to myself, my stomach sinking. I didn't think I was alone.

"I get that you're trying to fix things," I said, trying to keep my voice even and kind. "… But just drop this one, okay?"

"… Okay," he said after a moment, dropping his hand from my arm.

"Let's keep our focus on the task at hand," I said as we began walking again. "These friends of yours… Are you sure they're willing to help us? When you told me about your dealings with them, it sounded like they were on their… own journey…" I finished lamely, not quite sure how to put it.

"They'll help us," he said, matching my long, purposeful strides — though he sounded a little unsure. "Despite our differences, we are bound by creed. This is the way."

"This is the way," I repeated. I wasn't quite sure if I was supposed to, but it sounded right.

We came to a saloon and Din led the way inside, the doors swinging closed behind us. A hush fell on the room as the patrons took in Din's beskar-made Mandalorian armor with awe. I bit back a smile — I got a secret thrill watching his mere presence make such a dominant impression before he even said a word.

We scanned the room, and my heart leapt in recognition as two familiar figures came into view in the far corner. It was the red-haired woman — Bo-Katan Kryze, as it had been explained to me — and the dark haired woman with the dangerous eyes that I had seen on Trask.

"That's Koska Reeves," murmured Din, nodding at the darker haired woman. "She's a little more… acerbic than Bo-Katan."

He began striding toward them, and I followed close behind. The two women regarded him, inscrutably.

Uh oh, I thought. Maybe this isn't the friendly visit I was imagining.

"I need your help," he said.

Bo Katan leveled her steely gaze on him before flicking her eyes to meet mine.

"Not all of us are bounty hunters," she said, as though correcting a misunderstanding I held. "Some of us serve a higher purpose."

"They took the child," said Din, his voice betraying the undercurrent of fear and distress that I knew was running through him beneath his steely exterior.

A flicker of investment flashed across Bo-Katan's face.

"Who?"

"Moff Gideon," growled Din.

Bo Katan stared at us for a moment, then turned back to her meal.

"You'll never find him," she brushed off. Her colleague exchanged a look with her and I thought I caught… yes, it was definitely the faintest hint of a dismissive eye-roll. I felt a hot flame of anger in my chest, the frustration and pain from the previous twenty four hours roiling up through me.

"So much for The Way," I muttered to Din, acid on my lips. He turned to look at me, but didn't answer. "I thought you said they were bound by creed."

The two women exchanged another look — this time a more dangerous one. Bo-Katan fixed her ethereal, mesmerizing eyes on mine with a cutting look.

"You," she said slowly and perilously, "are not a Mandalorian."

"I never claimed to be," I said, tilting my chin up slightly.

"I didn't know sidekicks could talk," sneered Koska Reeves.

"That's funny, because you seem to be able to." I squared my shoulders as she stood and approached me, threateningly. Suddenly, I realized with a touch of shame how good it would feel to get into a brawl with her.

"You don't want to mess with me, kid."

"You don't know who you're talking to."

Absent-mindedly, my hand landed on my holster. Immediately, Din's hand covered mine and grasped it, putting a stop to any potential drawing.

"Alright," said Bo-Katan, holding up a firm hand. "Easy. Save it for the Imps."

I narrowed my eyes at Koska, before looking over at Din and lifting my hand away from my blaster. He released it with a small nod. Koska sat back down, reluctantly.

"The Imps…" I echoed, turning my gaze on Bo-Katan. "So you'll help us?"

She tilted her head back and scrutinized me, scanning my face for something I couldn't quite decipher. I felt self-conscious under her gaze.

"You're that barmaid," she mused. "From Trask."

"This is Kyrani Moss," said Din, hooking his thumb in his utility belt with one hand and gesturing to me with the other. "She's a member of my crew."

Her verdant eyes flicked from me to Din and back again.

"I remember you," I ventured, casting a quick look at Koska. "Both of you. I remember thinking you seemed… powerful. Wise. When Mando told me we were coming to you for help, it was the first time I felt like we were really going to get him back."

My voice wavered, but I held on to my control.

"You're right, I don't know anything about your planet or your culture, beyond what he's told me." I nodded at Din, who looked back at me. "But we need your help. We can't take on Moff Gideon alone."

"We have his coordinates," Din said. Bo-Katan looked intrigued.

"You can bring me to Moff Gideon?" There was an intimidating glint in her eye.

"The Moff has a light cruiser," tempted Din. "It could be helpful in your effort to regain Mandalore."

She considered this for a tense moment. Then, she stood.

"We will help you," she said to Din. "In exchange, we will keep that ship to retake Mandalore. If you should happen to finish your quest, I would have you reconsider joining our efforts. Mandalorians have been in exile from our homeworld for far too long."

I looked curiously at Din.

"Fair enough," he said ambiguously.

"One more thing," said Bo-Katan in a low voice. "Gideon has a weapon that once belonged to me. It is an ancient weapon that can cut through anything—"

"Almost anything," chimed in Koska. Bo-Katan nodded.

"It cannot cut through pure beskar," she conceded. Then, she moved closer to Din with slow, purposeful steps and a hungry, almost wild look in her eye. "I will kill the Moff and retake what's rightfully mine. With the Dark Saber restored to me, Mandalore will finally be within reach."

"Help me rescue the child," said Din, looking down at her. "And you can have whatever you want."

He glanced over at me.

"He is our only priority."

The corners of her lips curled up.

"Deal."

They followed us back to the ship, and as we walked, I glanced over at Koska's sour face and chuckled to myself.

I can't wait for her to piss off Fennec.

Back on the Slave One, the whole motley crew stood before a hologram of the Imperial ship, debating what the most effective approach would be.

"This cruiser was once manned by several hundred Imperial guards," said Bo-Katan. Now it operates with a tiny fraction of that."

"Your assessment is misleading."

We all turned to look at Dr. Pershing, sat with his hands bound in cuffs and staring ahead, blankly.

"Oh good," said Cara sardonically. "An objective opinion."

"This isn't subterfuge, I assure you." Dr. Pershing looked up at Cara. I, for one, believed him — I had a deep sense that despite appearances, he perhaps had as much disdain for the Empire as we did.

"Let him speak," said Bo-Katan, meeting my gaze.

"There's a garrison of Dark Troopers on board," he continued. "They're the ones who abducted the child."

I remembered the massive black creatures with the glowing red eyes that had snatched him up off of the seeing stone.

"How many troopers do they have armed in those suits?" Din asked.

"I don't think they're troopers," I murmured.

"They're not," said Dr. Pershing. "They're third-generation design. They're no longer suits. The human inside was the final weakness to be solved. They're droids."

Din shifted his weight — I already knew he had a dislike of droids, and I could see this whole thing really taking that to another level.

"Where are they bivouacked?" Fennec asked. Dr. Pershing stood and meekly approached the hologram, pressing a button with his bound hands.

"They're held in cold storage in this cargo bay. They draw too much power to be kept ready."

"How long to power up?"

"A few minutes, perhaps," he answered. "Maybe less."

"Where is the child being held?" Din stepped toward him, looking intently at the hologram. Dr. Pershing pressed another button, and a segment of the ship became the primary focus.

"He's being held here, under armed guard."

I swallowed hard, imagining it. Din and I looked at each other. I hoped that, beneath his helmet, his face was as worried-looking as mine was.

"Very well," said Bo-Katan, evenly. "We split into two parties."

"I go alone," interjected Din. I turned to face him, looking up with alarm.

"No you don't," I said, firmly. "We're getting him back together."

"He's my responsibility, Kyra." He was doing his low, monotone Bounty Hunter Voice again. I felt a stab of frustration overwhelm my sense of politeness.

"This is just you doing the embittered loner thing again!" I shook my head, incredulously. I knew my stung feelings from earlier were coming to the surface. "You're just going to end up needing me, and you know it, so let's plan ahead."

"You saw those droids," he spat. "They aren't like Storm Troopers, these things can shoot."

"Not better than me," I argued.

"Maybe not," he conceded, his voice lowering. "but you don't have any armor. It isn't safe."

"None of this is safe!"

I knew the entire group was watching us have this spat, but I couldn't help it. The idea of Grogu in that room, chained up, probably being prodded and abused by guards made the idea of not getting him myself feel impossible. I took a step towards him, closing the gap between us and lowering my voice.

"I'm getting him back. You're not the only one of us who's responsible."

He looked down at me, inscrutable behind his helmet.

"Are we a team?" I asked, keeping my gaze steady and intent. "… Or aren't we?"

I was conscious of how close we were, and beneath the buzz of my anger and adrenaline, my stomach fluttered. After a beat of tension, I heard a sigh escape his vocoder.

"Fine. You'll wear my breastplate."

Bo-Katan shot him a look that seemed to be either shock or disapproval — or maybe both. I looked down at his chest, able to make out the blurriest impression of my reflection in the beskar. I didn't know what to say. I surmised that perhaps it wasn't in keeping with The Creed to share one's armor, and it didn't seem right to accept, but he spoke before I had a chance to respond.

"Kyra and I will go alone," he said firmly, turning back to Bo-Katan.

"Fine," she said after a beat, eyebrows raised. She looked at the hologram, zooming it back out. "Phase One: Lambda shuttle issues a distress call. Two: We come in hot and emergency land at the mouth of the fighter launch tube, cutting off any potential interceptors. Koska, Fennec, Dune and myself disembark with maximum initiative. Once we've neutralized the launch bay, we make our way through these tandem decks in a penetration maneuver."

"And us?" I asked. Bo-Katan turned to face Din and me.

"We'll be misdirection," she said. "Once we draw a crowd, you slip through the shadows, get the kid."

We nodded.

"Those Dark Troopers are gonna be a real skank in the scud pie," said Cara, crossing her arms. Bo-Katan nodded and leaned forward onto her hands, examining the hologram with intense focus.

"Their bay is on the way to the brig," she said. "Can they make it there before they deploy?"

"It's possible," nodded Pershing. Fennec, fed up with ambiguity, rolled her eyes and snatched something from his utility belt.

"Here," she muttered, handing a small tube to Din. "Take his code cylinder and seal off their holding bay. Anyone else, we can handle."

He wrapped a gloved hand around the cylinder and slipped it into a utility pocket. Fennec flashed me a confident, reassuring look, and I nodded in response.

"We'll meet at the bridge," said Din.

Our two ships dropped out of hyperspace together, perfectly positioned to put on a performance for Moff Gideon's ship. Fett, aboard the Slave One, began firing jets of light toward the shuttle that carried the rest of us. We swooped up, Koska steering us in a flashy, exciting chase in full view of the mammoth Imperial ship.

"This is Lambda Shuttle 2743," said Bo-Katan into the comm, her voice wracked with fear and urgency. "Requesting emergency docking!"

"She's good," I murmured to Din under my breath.

"Repeat, requesting emergency docking," she continued. "We are under attack!"

"Copy, Lambda Shuttle," came a voice in response. "Request received. Stay clear of the launch tube, deploying fighter squadron."

We all exchanged looks. Uh oh.

Like clockwork, the Imperial ship deployed a series of TIE fighters in our aid. Despite the order, Koska continued her straight path for docking.

"Request denied!" The voice on the comm sounded frustrated. "Please clear the launch tube until fighters deploy!"

"Negative!" Bo-Katan upped the urgency. "Negative! We are under attack!"

Jets of green light shot past us as the TIE fighters took up the rear, undoubtedly firing on the Slave One.

"Clear launch tube immediately!"

Koska didn't listen. She raised the wings and we hurtled into the launch tube with a crash. I grabbed onto the wall for stability, and we came to a stop somewhere inside the ship's docking port.

"Let's go," said Bo-Katan, and the crew instantly deployed, filing out into the smoky port and immediately opening fire.

"Here," whispered Din as we hung back, slipping further into the shadows at the rear of the hold. He released a strap and slipped his beskar breastplate off. "It'll be a little big…"

Before I had a chance to protest, he had placed it against my front and reached around behind my neck to tie the straps together. He was right, it was broader than I was — but it would definitely provide an ample shield.

He yanked a spare piece of cord out of a utility pocket and crudely laced it through a gap in the side, reaching around my waist to form a supportive strap. As he did so, his arms snaked around me and I held my breath. His helmet was almost touching my face, and if I were jostled at all, I'd be in his arms in a more traditional sense. Awkwardly, I held my hands up and out, afraid to touch him.

"There," he murmured, and pulled the cord tight. The breastplate came flush against my front as the strap around my waist cinched in. His warmth lingered ever so slightly on the inside of it. "Can you move comfortably?"

I wiggled a little, testing it out.

"Yes," I said eventually. "It's a little weird, but yes."

My eyes dropped down to his chest, which was now uncovered and vulnerable, clad only in a dark shirt. I fought the immediate, visceral impulse to reach out and put a hand on it.

"What about you, though?" I gave him a half-smile, gesturing toward his heart. "I mean, I don't know if Mandalorians are built different, but that part's pretty important for most people."

"I'll be fine. I have the rest of my armor," he assured, quickly, the faintest glimmer of teasing in his voice. "Just stand directly in front of me if you're so worried."

I chuckled, but my smile fell swiftly from my face as a more pressing question came to the surface.

"Is this… okay? I mean, you were pretty furious with Boba Fett… is it okay for me to be wearing this if I'm not a Mandalorian?"

He hesitated.

"It's necessary," he said finally. The weight of that hit me, and I absent-mindedly touched the base of the breastplate with my fingers.

So. It's not okay, but he's doing it anyway.

I swallowed and nodded, looking up at him sincerely.

"I will act honorably and treat it with the respect it deserves."

"Good," he murmured, and I could hear the hint of a wry smile. "Something's gotta keep you honorable."

I snickered, but before I had a chance to retort, we heard the blasts die out and the port became silent.

He looked back down at me. In the absence of facial expressions, I'd learned to read the rest of him very closely, and with a glance at his chest, I could see that his breath had quickened.

"Let's go get him," he said, seriously. I nodded, ready.

Together, we slipped out of the shuttle and into the shadowy corridor of Moff Gideon's ship.