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2 BBY
Not for the first time in the past few days, Din was definitely regretting accepting a bounty in Corellia.
It was clearly a bad investment from the start, if the measly 8,000 credit reward was any indication, but Din was considerably low in funds and in desperate need of a new warp vortex stabiliser for the Crest. Another unexpected drop out of hyperspace - right beneath the nose of an imperial dockyard, no less - and his objective of sticking under the radar would be out the window, something the bounty hunter reminded himself as he took the job in the Core. Din had only taken a handful of bounties outside the outer rim before, all which ended in unnecessary headaches and borderline disaster. But again, he was desperate.
It doesn’t mean I have to like it.
Tipping down through the planet’s atmosphere, Din steered the Razor Crest toward the outskirts of Coronet City. Docking at the Coronet Spaceport was not an option. The amount of security officers and imperial liaisons that would be crawling through it was an inconvenience he was happy to avoid. Better to find a secluded spot on the city’s rim and make the trek inside than get arrested. Sure enough, the hunter eventually spotted what looked like an abandoned docking station below, empty save for a couple trashed speeder bikes. He guided his ship down with practiced ease, making sure to land with the rear of the ship near the entrance for a quick getaway if need be. Perhaps he was being paranoid, but Din had hunted enough bounties in populated areas to know that there were too many eyes for him and his quarry to pass through undetected.
Flicking off the engines, Din stepped down the rungs of the ladder into the ship’s hold, tapping the command into his vambrace to open the weapons locker and grab his rifle, a spare blaster, and a few extra charges. He’d usually be armed with more, but for a planet as inhabited as Corellia, Din figured a more discreet look would be best. At least, as discreet as someone in full Mandalorian armor could be. Din strode purposefully down the ramp and slung the rifle over his back, securing the blaster in a holster on his belt and taking note to hide it beneath his cape. His surroundings were blessedly deserted but Din made sure to activate the ground security protocols on his ship, just in case. The last thing he needed was some scavengers looting it for parts.
Din made his way through the dark and dank alleyways, boots kicking through puddles of muddy water and waste. Various figures slunk through the shadows beside him. The bounty hunter noticed their curious stares land hungrily upon his armor and made a point of resting a hand upon the blaster at his side, lest they try anything. Once he was closer into the heart of the city, where the streets weren’t so dim, Din drew the tracking fob out from his belt pocket. It beeped steadily, red light flickering. He turned it to the left, and then the right, noting its speed picking up slightly on the latter. Pocketing it again, Din set his course toward the industrial side of the city. His target, Creel Tordo, was an engineer who skipped bail, presumably fleeing to Corellia to work for the Imperial navy. And if the fob was to be believed, Din would likely find him in the Santhe shipyards on the city’s far right.
Late afternoon turned into dusk, and by the time Din had made his way to the Imperial shipyard the last dregs of light were slowly dipping below the horizon. The bounty hunter crouched behind a crate, using his hidden position to scope out the surrounds. Sure enough, Tordo was there, huddled over a workstation with another engineer and what appeared to be an Imperial officer. Witnesses, Din noted with frustration. He’d have to wait for his bounty to leave and corner him in an alleyway.
He thankfully didn’t have to wait for very long. Tordo soon clapped the other engineer on the shoulder, saluted the officer, and began making his way out of the shipyard. Quietly, Din slipped through the shadows after him. Tordo must have known he had a bounty on his head, routinely shooting wary glances over his shoulder. Din kept a decent way behind him, sticking to the shadows, blending in with the crowd - doing what a hunter of his reputation did best.
The bounty seemed to be heading for a cantina. Hatching a plan, Din slipped into the side streets and circled around until he reached the alleyway beside Tordo’s destination, waiting. As soon as his target was close enough, Din struck. The grappling hook whipped out of his vambrace and wrapped tightly around Tordo’s waist and, with a sharp yank, the engineer was sent flying into the alleyway before he could cry out. Din retracted the grappling line, pointing his already drawn blaster to the man sprawled on the ground.
“I’m surprised you took so long,” Tordo hissed, but his eyes betrayed him. The engineer was afraid.
Din ignored him, grabbing a pair of cuffs from his belt and tossing them down so they landed heavily on the man’s stomach. “Put them on.”
Tordo eyed him warily. “And if I don’t?”
Din flicked the safety off his blaster, figuring it was message enough.
“Alright, alright, fine,” the bounty muttered, making a show of sticking one hand into the cuffs, then the other, snapping them closed with a click. “Now can you get the blaster out of my face?”
Din lowered the weapon, humouring him.
That was his first mistake.
Multiple sewer grates on the alleyway’s floor burst open with a clang, and a pack of shadowed figures were suddenly lunging at Din, slashing wildly for his throat. With instincts honed by years of combat, the hunter ducked, rolling out of the way. He was barely on his feet again when one knocked the blaster out of his hand. Din swore, avoiding another knife by blocking the strike on his vambrace. He pulled the second blaster from its holster, pointing it at one of his attackers, but froze when he saw their face.
It was … it was a kriffing kid. Din was staring into the eyes of a boy, no older than fourteen or fifteen. Sparing a glance around, the hunter realised with a wave of dismay that they were all kids. Brandishing knives and daggers but with gaunt faces and wide eyes that spoke of stolen childhoods, lost to the harsh conditions of the Corellian slums. Scrumrats, Din realised.
Noting his brief moment of hesitation, one of them dove forward with a cry, dagger set to drive upward into the exposed flesh of his underarm. Din deflected it, but another moved to strike him in the side. They were all setting upon him now, and as good a fighter as he was, Din didn’t know how he’d manage to bring them all down without killing any of them. So he lifted his blaster and sent three shots into the sky in quick succession. Startled by the sudden noise, the scrumrats scrambled backward, almost tripping over each other. Din pointed the blaster at them.
“Get out of here, and I won’t shoot,” he growled. He hoped they listened. He really hoped they listened.
But the kids hesitated, eyeing his armor hungrily. Din let off another shot, this one hitting the ground only inches away from their feet.
“Now.”
Seeming to realise that he wasn’t worth it, the scrumrats backed away, wordlessly slipping back down into the sewers they had sprung from like the wraiths they were.
Din prodded at the knife wound on his arm, wincing. This is exactly why I don’t take jobs in the Core. It was always much too messy for Din’s liking. Now he'd have to get out of there with Tordo even quicker than he anticipated, in case the scrumrats decided to come back with reinforcements. Sighing, Din moved to retrieve the bounty.
But the bounty wasn’t there.
“Looking for something?” a voice chuckled smugly from behind him.
Gritting his teeth, Din turned slowly to face Tordo, who stood at the rear of the alleyway with the blaster Din had lost in the fight between his bound hands. The engineer grinned.
“Rule number one, Mando. Never take your eyes off your opponent.” He smirked, and Din had the overwhelming urge to punch it right off his face. “And here I thought your people were the greatest warriors in the galaxy?”
Din glared at him, not caring that the man wouldn’t see it. “Put it down, Tordo.” But instead the man fired out a shot, striking Din right on the left of his cuirass and sending him sprawling to the alley floor. Din bit back a groan, thanking the Maker that the beskar-durasteel alloy of his armor held up. Even if it still hurts like hell.
“Oh, I don’t think I will. In fact, I think I might even-”
But Din never got to hear what he was planning to do next, because something behind the bounty moved, and a metal pole swung to meet the back of his head with a resounding clang. Tordo crumpled to the ground to reveal a small figure standing over him with the pole raised like a sword.
Stars be damned, it was another kid. This one looked different to the scrumrats, though, donned in a crisp Imperial uniform rather than tattered street clothes. A grey cap sat atop the kid’s head, a few mousy brown curls peeking out, and below it Din could see the young face of a girl. She leaned down to pick up his blaster, examining it in her hands.
Din got to his feet, ignoring the sharp pain lancing up his side. Considering the Imperial uniform, he wasn’t exactly sure whose side this kid was on, so he approached cautiously, one hand raised in what he hoped was a peaceful gesture while the other moved toward the holster by his hip. “Hey, kid? I’m gonna need you to give me the blaster.”
The girl started, her gaze sliding toward him as though she’d forgotten he was there. Without hesitation, she handed him the weapon.
“Sorry! I should have asked before I took it. Mama always said I should ask permission before holding other people’s things.”
Din stared, taken aback by the polite nonchalance of this small child who had, just a moment ago, taken down a bounty at least twice her size. He deliberately kept his movements slow as he took the blaster back. “That’s … it’s fine, kid. Uhm, nice swing.”
She visibly brightened. “Thanks! I’ve never done that before.”
Din stepped over to Tordo’s unconscious body, pulling the man upward by the collar of his shirt and slinging him over his shoulder. Carrying him wasn’t ideal and would slow them down if he ran into trouble, but it wasn’t like Din could make the man walk in his current state.
He turned back to the child, who was still watching him curiously. “Where are your parents, kid?”
“They’re dead," she said simply.
Visions of explosions, red robes, and the unyielding metal frame of a droid flashed through Din’s mind. “Oh.”
The kid tilted her head, watching him shift the man’s position on his shoulder. “Who’s he?”
“A bounty.”
“What’s a bounty?”
“Someone I’ve been paid to find.”
“Why do you need to find him? Is someone looking for him?”
Din peered down at the kid. “You ask a lot of questions.”
“That’s what the Commander always says. He tells me to shut up if I ask too many." She blinked, looking suddenly hesitant. "Do you want me to shut up?”
“The Commander?” Din echoed.
“He tells us what to do. What ships he wants us to put parts in. He’s not very nice, and his nose is really pointy.”
Wait, back up a step. “You work on ships?”
“Yeah. Sometimes the big ones, but mostly the fighter ships. The Commander says it’s because we’re little and can fit inside the engines." She fiddled with the hem of her tunic. "He also said it’s because if we get hurt real bad and can’t work anymore we’re easy to replace.”
Din frowned beneath the helmet. It wasn't as though he held any fondness for the imps, but knowing that they were using orphaned children for their labor made something deep inside him simmer with anger. Against his better judgement, he set the bounty back down on the ground and turned his attention to the kid.
“How long have you been doing this?” he asked.
Her brow scrunched in thought. “Three years, I think. I’m the oldest in my group, and I’ve been there longer than any of them. Other kids usually only last about a year before they get hurt and the Commander takes them away. I think I’m just lucky.”
Din noted the girl’s uniform hanging off her small frame, the oil and grease caked on her face, the callouses on her hands. “That’s no life for a kid.”
She shrugged. “It’s all I got.”
Din was at the tail end of a very long, difficult day. If he had any sense, he’d express his sympathy to the girl for her situation, pick up the bounty, and go back to his ship so he could claim the reward and finally get a good night’s sleep.
But apparently Din did not have any sense, if what he said next was any indication.
“Would you like to come with me?”
The kid blinked. “Huh?”
Stop talking, Djarin. Quit while you're ahead. But his mouth kept moving. “I belong to a tribe of Mandalorians on another planet. If you want, I could take you with me to live with them. You’d become a foundling and would be trained to become a Mandalorian too. It’s not an easy life, but you wouldn’t be a slave for the empire anymore.”
She tilted her head, mulling over his words. Din couldn't quite comprehend what he was offering her either. What the kriff am I thinking? He’d just met the kid, what made him believe she could join the covert? But then the image of her standing over an unconscious bounty, one that had come very close to killing him with his own weapon, came to his mind. The kid had quite possibly saved his life, and she was an orphan. A slave. Was he not bound by creed to take her in, offer her a life better than the one she'd been dealt here?
She tugged thoughtfully at her sleeve. “So I wouldn’t have to work for the Commander anymore?”
“No."
“Okay,” she said simply.
“You’re sure?” Din pressed. “It’s a big decision. Being a Mandalorian is a Creed, a way of life. You’re welcome to change your mind, but as soon as you swear to it, there’s no going back.”
“I don’t have to do that yet, do I?” she asked.
“No, not yet.”
“Then, okay. I’ll come with you.”
Din held her gaze, searching for any hint of uncertainty. But there was none. The kid’s slate grey eyes were filled with a conviction beyond her years, one Din knew he couldn’t argue with. Nodding, he slung the bounty over his shoulder and turned to start the trek back to his ship. The kid could follow.
“Wait!”
Din stopped. “What?”
“My friends! I can’t just leave them behind. The Commander will think they helped me escape. He’ll be real mad,” she said, concern writing its way across her face.
Din sighed. Apparently it wasn’t enough that he was already making the impulse decision to take one talkative child back to the covert with him, now he had to help free her friends too. And maybe have a word with this Commander she spoke about, one that ended with a blaster bolt between the imp’s eyes.
Din nodded, relenting. “Fine. I’ll help your friends. I won’t be able to take them all back with me to the Tribe, we're struggling enough with supplies as it is, but I can set them free and take them somewhere safer than here.”
“Thank you Mister Mandalorian! Do you want me to show you to them?” she asked eagerly.
“No. I’m going back to my ship first to dump the bounty and get more weapons. You’ll be staying there.”
She pouted. “But that’s boring.”
“Too bad.” He resumed walking, and a second later small footsteps started padding beside him, almost jogging to keep up.
She was finally quiet. Contemplating, it seemed, and Din revelled in the brief silence. The child talked a lot, and he … didn’t. Usually, at least. He’d probably strung together more words in the past few minutes than he had in the last three weeks. But even he wasn’t hardened enough to deny this kid’s bubbly curiosity. The imps had apparently done that for long enough, and stars be damned if he was going to be anything like them.
“What’s your name, kid?” he finally asked, because he could tell by the girl’s fidgeting that she was itching to keep talking.
“Oh! I’m Rune. Rune Taro.” When he didn’t immediately respond, she peered up at him. “What about you?”
“Me?”
“What’s your name?”
“People call me the Mandalorian, or just Mando.”
Her nose wrinkled. “That’s not a name.”
“Maybe I don’t have one.”
“Everyone has a name!”
“Not me.”
The girl’s head tilted to the side, scrutinising him, and Din was slightly unnerved by the way her eyes seemed to meet his directly through the visor. “I think you’re lying.”
“Why?”
“I dunno. I just think you are.”
The corners of Din's lips twitched. “Okay.”
“You don’t talk much.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t have anybody to talk to.”
“Isn’t that lonely?”
He hesitated. “No.”
“I think it sounds lonely.”
“I’m not lonely.”
“Well, I don’t mind if you talk to me.”
“You’re doing enough talking for the both of us, kid.”
“Oh. Sorry. I can stop,” she said sheepishly.
“No, that’s not what I …" He sighed. "It’s fine. I don’t mind.”
Rune brightened. “Okay! So, is your armor made of beskar? It doesn’t look like beskar.”
Din glanced down at her sharply. “You know what beskar is?”
She scoffed, like he’d just asked her if the sky is blue. “Of course I do. I read about it in my holobooks. They say Mandalorians wear beskar armor and that it’s really shiny and strong. Is that beskar?” She pointed to his helmet.
Despite himself, Din huffed out a quiet laugh. “Yeah, it is. Good eye, kid.”
“Thanks! The other kids say reading is a waste of time, but I like it. I like learning things. I even managed to find a real book in this old abandoned archive, with pages made of paper and a leather cover, but I have to hide it so that the Commander doesn’t take it away.” Rune's eyes widened, and she turned to Din urgently. “You won’t tell him, will you? I really don’t want him to take my book.”
Din held out a placating hand. “It’s alright, I’ll keep your secret.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
“Pinky swear on it?”
Din blinked. “Pinky … what?”
“A pinky swear!” Rune stuck out her left hand, with only the littlest finger raised. “You hold each other’s pinky and you swear a promise. You can’t break a pinky swear.”
“I’m not doing that.”
“Well then how will I know you’ll keep your promise?”
“Because I gave you my word. To a Mandalorian, our word is binding. Breaking one’s word is of the highest dishonour,” Din said solemnly.
She was quiet for a moment. And then-
"That sounds a lot like a pinky swear.”
Din sighed. “You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”
“Nope.”
Wondering just how he managed to get himself in this situation, the hunter adjusted the weight of the unconscious bounty on his shoulder and reached down to wrap a gloved finger around this tiny child’s pinky.
“There. I pinky swear not to tell. You happy now, kid?”
Rune beamed. “Yep!”
Din sighed again.
Once he and Rune reached the Crest, and his quarry was safely locked away in carbonite, Din got the kid settled in the cockpit.
“Remember - do not-”
“-touch anything, I know,” Rune finished, eyes roaming over the ship’s controls anyway. “Is this a pre-empire ship? That identity beacon looks old, and there’s no navigation deflector system.”
Din blinked. “Yes.”
“My dad’s ship was a pre-empire one. It was much nicer than this, though,” she said, wrinkling her nose. Din felt a slight pang of indignity on behalf of his ship, but he ignored the comment.
“Listen kid, if I’m gonna break into the imperial facility to rescue your friends, I need you to tell me how to get to them,” he said, trying to get her attention back on the matter at hand.
Her brow furrowed, and she moved her hands through the air like she was tracing an invisible map. “If you go in through the little doors at the side, walk down the hallway and then turn right, there’s a big room where we eat, and our quarters are through another doorway on the left. They’ll be in there."
Din nodded. “Alright. I’ll be back in an hour. Don’t let anyone else inside.”
"Are you sure I can't come with you-"
Ignoring her, Din strode out the open ramp without another word, activating the ground security protocols with his vambrace and setting off back into the night. The hunter was on extra alert this time around, aware that the scrumrats he scared off earlier might come back for round two. But the walk to the imperial base was mercifully quiet.
Because the night had grown late, this time when Din reached the shipyards the only other lifeforms around were a handful of stormtroopers standing guard by the entrance of the base. And if he was to enter through the side, they wouldn’t be a problem anyway. He found the little entrance doors Rune mentioned, which were indeed small enough that he had to duck as he entered -and the hunter realised, as he manoeuvred his rifle through the doorway, that it was probably created for the small stature of their child slaves. Kriffing bastards. Din was starting to hope one of the imps did intercept him, if only for the opportunity to stick a vibroblade through their chest.
Hearing the marching footbeats of a stormtrooper patrol, Din ducked behind a pillar and out of view. Aside from the few patrolling groups of soldiers, the base wasn’t very heavily fortified. Thanking the stars for at least some luck that day, Din advanced further into the building. He slipped inside the cafeteria, keeping close to the wall in case another patrol went past. Glancing at the other side of the room, Din cursed. Rune didn’t mention there were four doorways on the left. Dank farrik, kid. He’d just have to guess and hope for the best. On a whim, Din picked the second doorway, pushing it open quietly with his blaster raised.
He was met with darkness. Assuming the absence of immediate blaster fire was a good sign that there were no stormtroopers in the room with him, Din flicked on the flashlight atop his helmet. The light it gave off was weak, but was enough for Din to see what was before him. Multiple pairs of wide, scared eyes glowed dully in the darkness. There were at least a dozen kids inside the room, looking around six or seven years old, but one little twi’lek boy could have been no older than five. They were sitting huddled against the wall, atop a row of tiny metal bed frames. They all shrank away from him.
Din immediately lowered his blaster. “It’s all right, I’m not going to hurt you. I was sent to come help you by your friend, Rune Taro?”
“Rune is with you?” A rodian girl cautiously stepped forward. “Is she okay? The Commander got angry when she wasn’t back by curfew.”
“She’s fine,” Din assured them. “She saved my life, and I promised I would rescue her and the rest of you in return.”
A human boy stepped forward, and Din recognised the face of someone who was masking their fear behind a fragile shield of boldness. “How do we know you ain’t lying?”
Din tried to keep his tone as unthreatening as possible. “I’m afraid you have only my word.”
The rodian girl pulled at the boy’s arm. “What choice do we have, Fliz? If we don’t leave, the Commander is gonna be real angry. Remember what he did the last time somebody escaped?”
A brief flicker of terror passed over the boy’s expression, but he stood his ground. The other kids around him, as scared as they were, seemed to follow his lead and resolutely stayed put. How the kriff am I supposed to rescue these kids if they aren’t even going to come with me? “Listen, I promise you that my only intention is to get you out of here and to somewhere safe."
The boy - Fliz - set his chin. "Prove it."
"What?"
"Prove that Rune sent you."
Din bit back a curse. How the hell am I supposed to do that? He'd only known the damn kid for five minutes. How could he possibly prove-
Wait.
His finger twitched, a phantom reminder of a promise to protect a closely guarded secret.
"Rune mentioned a book that she keeps hidden," Din said haltingly. "Perhaps you could bring it back to her?"
His words seemed to have a placating effect on his audience, as the suspicion immediately melted from the boy’s posture. In fact, a tiny, relieved grin slipped onto his face.
“Alright, we can trust you. Rune wouldn’t have told anybody ‘bout her books unless she liked 'em,” he said, turning to lift the threadbare pallet off one of the beds and pull something out, something bound in soft brown leather. “She almost didn’t even tell us about it.”
“Well, if you want to get out of here, you'll need to come with me. Do any of you have family I can bring you to?" he asked.
Many of them shook their heads. But the rodian girl raised her hand. “My grandparents live in Kor Vella, on the other side of Corellia.” She gathered a few of the younger kids around her. “I’m sure they would be happy to take us all in. They live on a big farm.”
Din nodded. “If you come with me back to my ship, I will take you all there. Okay?”
He was met with a chorus of assent, so Din ushered the kids behind him.
“Alright. Stay behind me, and stay quiet.”
Hoping it wouldn’t frighten the children too much, Din unholstered his blaster and held it out in front of him before silently pushing open the door with a boot. The hallway was empty. Too empty, if Din was being honest, but he’d never quite been known for his optimism. He led the kids through the maze of hallways, stopping occasionally to duck behind a corner as stormtrooper patrols marched past. They obviously hadn’t noticed that the kids were missing, if the lack of alarm was any indication. Or, Din thought bitterly, perhaps the imps simply aren't that upset about the loss of what they deem to be such replaceable assets.
They were almost at the exit, the kids’ footsteps quickening at the close promise of freedom, when Din heard the unmistakable sound of a blaster cocking from the end of the hallway.
“Going somewhere?”
He wanted to groan. If I get one more blaster pointed at my back tonight ...
Din turned slowly, his own blaster raised. He met the stern gaze of some Imperial officer, the colourful badges plastered over the man’s left breast indicating that he was someone of high enough rank to be difficult. Upon seeing him, the kids immediately shrank away like they might melt into the very walls. Din moved to stand in front of them and shield them with his body.
“I’m not sure exactly what you’d want with some children, but I can assure you, they’re not worth it,” the man drawled.
“I'm sure they're worth a lot more than cheap labour,” he said coolly, holding his blaster steady. With his free hand still behind his back where only the kids could see, Din motioned toward the exit only a few feet away. Judging by the sound of cautious footsteps behind him, they must have understood his signal.
The imp shrugged. “Your loss. They are quite an economically viable resource.”
“What good is economics when the blood of children soaks your hands?”
He'd hit a nerve. “Tell me, Mandalorian,” the man snarled, spitting the word out like it was a slur. “How much blood soaks yours?”
Din chanced a peek to his left. A few of the kids had already made it through the door, the others following quickly behind. Either the imp was too preoccupied to notice their escape or he simply didn’t care. Din made sure that the kids were through the exit before turning back to the Imperial commander.
“Oh, I have enough blood on my hands. But what’s a little more?” he said coldly, before promptly shooting the Imperial officer right between the eyes. The man’s body dropped to the floor like a discarded doll. Din knew the sound of blaster fire would surely draw the attention of a stormtrooper patrol, but the hunter strode over to the body anyway and emptied the man’s pockets of credits. Standing over the body, he took note of the man’s face, expression frozen in a look of both shock and contempt.
He really did have a pointy nose, Din thought wryly to himself, pocketing the credits and ducking back out through the exit before imperial reinforcements arrived. The kids were all waiting in a huddle outside. A few of them eyed him warily, no doubt overhearing the blaster shot, but they didn’t move to run away. “My ship is on the outskirts of the city,” Din informed them. “I’ll lead you there, but be careful, and stay close.”
He led them away from the Imperial facility, noting the tension that began to dissipate from the children’s shoulders with every step. Who knows how long it's been since these kids had a taste of freedom? They were silent all throughout the trek back to Din’s ship, whether from tiredness or relief, Din wasn’t sure. It was certainly a change from Rune’s incessant questioning a few hours earlier, and Din savoured the quiet.
By the time they finally reached his ship, Din estimated that the planet’s sunrise wasn’t far off. Kriff, what I wouldn’t give for a nap and something to eat. Between the bounty, Rune, and rescuing the kids, Din hadn’t had a moment’s rest. But that could wait - the children came first.
Din tapped the command into his vambrace to lower the Crest’s ramp, and before it had even touched the ground Rune was already hopping out and dashing over to greet her friends. They gathered around her, exhaustion momentarily forgotten in their excited chatter and celebration of newfound freedom. Some of Din's tired bitterness melted away at the sight. Perhaps he'd unintentionally become a taxi service to a bunch of kids, but ... there were worse things he could be doing with his time.
“Alright, pile in,” he said, ushering them up the ramp and into his ship. As the rodian girl passed him, Din reached out to grab her shoulder gently. “What’s your name, kid?”
She fiddled with the sleeve of her shirt, nervously avoiding his gaze. “Ziri.”
“Okay, Ziri, I’m going to need you to show me where your grandparents live so that I can take us there. Will you come to the cockpit for a moment?”
She nodded, and so he gently guided her to the ladder and toward the ship’s controls. He brought up a map of Corellia and she studied it for a moment before pointing to a spot on the edge of Kor Vella’s agricultural sector. Din thanked her, sending her back down into the hold to join her friends before plugging in the approximate coordinates. He’d just guided the Crest back up into the sky when he got the prickling feeling on the back of his neck that alerted him to another presence in the cockpit.
“I thought you’d want to be down with your friends,” he observed, not bothering to turn around.
Rune plonked down onto one of the co-pilot seats behind him. “I’ll go back in a minute. I just wanted to see the stars.”
Din made a non-committal humming sound in response. She must have taken it as an indication to keep talking. “We could hardly ever see them from down in the slums. There was always too much grey stuff ... Mama said it's called smog. But sometimes the night would be clear enough and we’d see a few.” Rune’s gaze was fixed on the twinkling white dots littering the sky. “When I was real little, Mama used to show me the constellations, and she’d point to all the planets we could see and tell me their names.” She pointed to one in particular, which had a light blue tinge to it. “That one is Selonia, and the one next to it is Talus.”
Din said nothing, but he found his eyes following to where she pointed.
“Every time the clouds go away and I can see the stars, I think of her,” Rune murmured softly, so quietly that Din was unsure he was meant to hear it.
He opened and closed his mouth a few times, unsure whether to say anything. Conversation already wasn’t his forte, let alone trying to comfort a sad child that he’d only met a few hours ago. But before he could string something together, Rune soundlessly stood up and left, climbing back down into the ship’s hold.
That went well.
Sighing, Din plotted the ship’s course and settled into his chair for the trip.
It would only take them about two standard hours to get to Kor Vella’s agricultural sector, and Din couldn’t deny his exhaustion. Maybe he could just have a quick nap, close his eyes for a few minutes ...
It felt like only moments later that a hand was shaking his shoulder, waking Din with a start. He darted upward and was met with a startled cry and the sound of someone stumbling backward into the co-pilot seat. Getting his bearings, Din blinked the sleep out of his eyes to spot Rune sprawled on the chair behind his.
“Sorry! I didn’t realise you were asleep,” she said guiltily. Din forced the tension to leave his shoulders.
“I wasn’t,” he lied, his voice still slightly hoarse from sleep.
She shrugged. “Well, we’re here.”
Din turned back to the front of the ship, finally noticing that they were soaring over miles of green fields tinged golden by the gradually rising sun. Quickly checking the map, Din realised that they were about to pass over their destination, and quickly grabbed the ship’s controls to bring it down to land.
“Go back down to the hold and tell your friends to strap in,” he said, and Rune obediently stepped back down the ladder. Din gave them a moment before dipping the nose of the Crest downward and directing it to an empty field. There was a large but fairly modest looking dwelling nearby that Din assumed was the home of Ziri’s family. Once the ship was landed safely, Din switched off the engines and cautiously lowered himself down into the hold, noting with a wince his aching muscles from the previous day’s hunt.
I’m getting too old for this.
The children were chattering amongst themselves excitedly, energised by the promise of freedom that lay outside the ship. Din tapped a quick command into his vambrace to lower the ramp, watching with faint amusement as the kids leapt out behind Ziri and immediately dove into the tall grass of the field, rolling and shoving each other around with raucous laughter. Din didn’t have to see the joy on their faces to know that the detour was worth it.
An elderly rodian couple approached his ship. Even from afar Din could see the tense manner in which they held themselves, wary of a sudden intruder on their land. But then Ziri noticed them, immediately breaking into a sprint toward the two. “Grandmama! Grandpapa!”
Din watched as the woman choked out a sob, opening her arms wide for Ziri to leap into them. They embraced, the man wrapping his arms around them both. They began murmuring frantic yet overjoyed words to each other in Rodese, and Din turned away, suddenly feeling as though he was intruding on something precious and private. An aching hint of grief stabbed at his heart. What it must be like to embrace your family. To hold them once again.
The other children joined Ziri and her grandparents with a hesitant hopefulness. They shared a brief conversation, one which ended in the elderly couple drawing the rest of the children toward them into the embrace. It seemed as though these people had no qualms taking in the orphans. The man raised his head, finally noticing Din. The bounty hunter made no move to get closer and instead chose to remain in his position by his ship at a safe distance away. The man lifted his hands, clasping them together in what Din believed was a gesture of thanks, of respect. He wordlessly inclined his head in response.
While the group talked, Din waited by the Crest, content to let the reunion play out. He spotted Rune chatting with some of the other kids, laughing loudly. She looks happy here, Din thought. As though she could sense his gaze, Rune chose that moment to look over at him, head tilted to the side in silent question. He turned away and opened up a panel beneath one of the ship’s engines, intending to make a few quick fixes before getting his ship in the sky again. Soft footsteps advanced a few moments later.
“When do we leave?” Rune asked from behind him.
“I just have to make a couple repairs and then I’m going,” Din said, then hesitated as he held a wrench over the engine panel. “I think you should stay here.”
“What? Why?”
"You seem happy here with your friends. Now that there is a safe place for you to stay, I don't expect you to come with me if you no longer wish to."
"Well maybe I do want to."
Din sighed, closing the panel. "You're sure about this." It wasn't a question.
Rune nodded, her gaze growing distant. "After my parents died, and the soldiers took me and made me work on their ships, I was scared. I felt scared all the time." She turned to him, gaze resolute. "I don't wanna be scared anymore. I wanna be fearless, like a Mandalorian."
I've got my fair share of demons to be afraid of, kid. But Din said nothing, only nodding in relent. "Alright. Then we leave now. I'll let you say goodbye to your friends."
If Rune was surprised by how easily he changed his mind, the girl didn't comment on it, wordlessly venturing back over to the group still huddled around Ziri's family. Giving her sufficient time for her farewells, Din gathered his tools and strode back inside the Crest, leaving the ramp lowered for Rune once she was ready to go. He settled himself back in the cockpit to wait.
Am I making the right decision? The thought had been rolling around Din's mind ever since he made that first offer to bring Rune back to the covert with him. She seemed strong in her resolve, but Din knew she couldn't possibly grasp the gravity of what she was agreeing to. The Creed was a way of life. It would dictate how she lived from this point onward. We are both hunter and prey. The Armorer's words were true - was he wrong to bring a child into such a life? But if she had read about Mandalorians, knew about their culture, about their violent ways, and yet still agreed to become one ... perhaps she understood a little of what she was getting herself into after all. Besides, if the life they lived did not suit her, she would not be required to swear the Creed.
But Din remembered the way she stood over Tordo, steel pole raised above her head like a broadsword. Perhaps there's already a Mandalorian in her after all.
"Are we ready to go?"
Din jumped. "Stop sneaking up on me like that."
"Sorry," Rune said, not sounding very sorry. "Where are we headed?"
Din quickly got the Crest in the air and programmed the coordinates of his - or, he supposed, their - home into the nav computer. "Nevarro. You ever heard of it?"
She shook her head. "Nope."
"Well, it's about to become your new home, kid."
"Cool." She grinned.
Din pushed the thruster forward and sent them hurtling into hyperspace.
“So where exactly is the covert? Is it around here somewhere?” Rune asked, peering around at the various vendors lining the Nevarro streets.
They passed a group of Jawas haggling amongst themselves angrily, and Rune shrunk back slightly against Din’s side.
“I can’t tell you where the covert is,” Din eventually said, giving the Jawas a distasteful glance that they would not see. He lowered his voice. “There are too many ears here. We can’t risk someone overhearing our location.”
“Oh, okay,” Rune whispered conspiratorially. “So it’s like a secret?”
Din nodded. “Yes. We prefer to stay hidden, for our safety.”
The girl frowned. “But I thought you were all warriors? Couldn’t you just fight the bad people off?”
“Not all of us are trained warriors. There are children in the covert, like you. You might be able to take down a bounty with a steel pole, but you wouldn’t last a minute against a fleet of Imperial soldiers.”
Rune huffed. “Maybe I could, if I tried.”
“Kid, even I couldn’t do that.”
“Well have you tried to before?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know you couldn’t?”
Din sighed, wishing for a fleeting moment that he didn’t have his helmet on so he could run a tired hand down his face.
The journey back to the covert's home location had taken them just under a week, in which Din had, at many times, considered dumping the kid at the nearest star-port if she kept asking him so many questions. He'd never met anyone as curious as Rune. He didn't know whether it was just the way children were, or if he'd somehow saddled himself with one of the most inquisitive and prying children in the entire galaxy, but it was safe to say that Din would be savouring the peace and quiet once he returned to his bounty hunting duties.
Even if he could begrudgingly admit that at times, despite the incessant chatter, it was nice to have some company again.
Regardless, whichever members of the covert who would take over the kid’s education and training would have their hands full, that was for sure. “We can finish this conversation later. We shouldn’t be talking about the covert out here,” Din said, running a wary eye over their surroundings again. Rune thankfully decided that was a good idea and stopped her barrage of questions.
Din led them over to the opening of a narrow alley, chancing another quick scan of the area before ducking into a small opening on the left. Rune followed him, her footfalls almost silent. Good - she must have gathered this was somewhere they didn’t want others to follow. They trekked through another corridor and a winding flight of stairs going down, down, until the light from above faded and the temperature dropped a few degrees.
Rune wrinkled her nose. “You live in a sewer?”
Din shrugged. “We live where we have to.”
“You could have found somewhere nicer than a sewer.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“It smells.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
She answered him with a quiet huff.
They advanced further into the sewer, the sound of their footsteps echoing and bouncing off the tunnel walls. Din had made the trek to the covert so many times that he could probably do it in his sleep. He often brought the spoils of his hunts back to the covert every few jobs, as well as any food and supplies he could scrounge together. It was a precious role, being the covert’s beroya, and one that held immense pressure - he wasn’t just responsible for himself, but for all his brothers and sisters, and the foundlings too. Each time Karga sang Din’s praises, crowing to the Nevarro cantina that his Mandalorian friend was the best bounty hunter in the parsec, Din knew it wasn’t skill that awarded him such a title. It was necessity. Yet there he was, bringing with him another mouth to feed. Another to provide for. Another meal he would skip in exchange for the mando’ade. But glancing down at the kid walking beside him, eyes alight with a nervous curiosity yet walking with a lightness, as though invisible shackles had been lifted from her shoulders ... Din knew he’d made the right decision.
“We’re almost there,” he said, glancing down at the kid. “When we reach the others, hold yourself confidently, but not boldly. They will see your fear. But as long as you show that you are not defeated by it, they will respect you.”
The kid took a deep breath, shaking her arms out nervously. “Will they be scary?”
“Yes. But they won’t hurt you.”
“You’re sure?”
“I'm sure. I was scared too, once, but the mando’ade protected me.”
The kid’s gaze lingered on his visor, and Din got that unnerving feeling again, like she understood more from his words than he'd intended to convey. But Rune turned away and the feeling was gone.
Din heard a rustle from ahead, a glint of silver catching his eye. Two Mandalorians melted from the darkness of the sewer walls like shadows, carrying no weapons but holding themselves with an apprehension at the sight of his young quarry.
“Beroya,” one rumbled, the deep timbre of their voice familiar. Paz.
Din dipped his head in greeting. “Vod.”
The taller man’s gaze fixed upon Rune. The kid jutted her chin upward, heeding Din’s advice, but he didn’t miss the way she edged slightly closer to his side. Paz’s head tilted as he summed her up.
“You brought a child.”
“Yes.”
Paz looked up at him. “Yours?”
“No.” Din must have responded a little too forcefully, if the responding chuckle was any indication.
“Didn’t think so. A foundling, then?”
“That’s the intention.”
The other man nodded, wordlessly turning back the way he came, his companion trailing behind him. Din gave Rune a light nudge, indicating that they were to follow.
More Mandalorians greeted them as they turned the corner, some gathered in groups by the walls, conversing quietly, while others sparred. A few foundlings ran past, giggling softly. Din saw Rune shoot them a curious glance, no doubt surprised by the makeshift training helmets they wore until they would grow old enough for their own. The same helmet she would wear when she swore the Creed.
Paz and the other Mandalorian joined the rest of the group, leaving Din and Rune to enter the Armoury. The covert’s alor was there, as she always was, holding what appeared to be a partially crafted cuirass over the smouldering blue flames of the forge. Rune shrank back a little, whether at the heat or the imposing frame of the Armorer, Din wasn’t sure.
“You bring a foundling,” she said, back still turned to them.
“Yes.”
“Name?”
She was met with silence. Din nudged the kid again, motioning that the Armorer was addressing her this time.
“Rune.” She raised her chin, hands clasped tightly behind her back. Still donned in the Imperial uniform, Din was struck by how much the stance made her look like a little soldier. “Rune Taro.”
The Armorer set down the cuirass and finally turned her full gaze upon the kid. Rune kept her head held high, and he was surprised by the twinge of pride he felt at the kid’s resolve.
Don't get attached, Djarin.
“Where are you from, Rune Taro?” his alor asked, apparently satisfied with her brief assessment as she resumed forging the cuirass.
“Corellia.”
“Do your parents still live?”
“No.”
“Do you have any living relatives?”
“No.”
“You wear the uniform of the Imperial navy. You work for the Empire?”
The kid’s grey eyes turned to steel. “Not anymore.”
The Armorer hummed. “Interesting. Leave us, child. The beroya and I have much to discuss.”
Rune met Din’s gaze, the resolve in her expression morphing into hesitancy. Din nodded his head to the tunnel outside.
“Go. I won’t be long.”
Nodding, she dragged herself away from his side and back into the covert’s common area. The Armorer finally sat, motioning for Din to sit opposite her at the little table near her forge. He complied, setting his rifle down across his lap. It was a familiar motion - he often came to the Armorer to report news from above whenever he visited the covert. But this was the first time he had ever brought a child back with him.
“You have surprised me, Din Djarin,” the Armorer remarked, as if in response to Din's own thoughts. He was a little taken aback by the use of his name. Since he swore the creed, he’d only heard it spoken a handful of times. “I never considered you one to collect foundlings.”
“She saved my life,” Din admitted, remembering the way his bounty had stood over him, blaster raised. “She has no living family, and was enslaved by the Empire. By creed, I was bound to take her in.”
“You are correct,” the Armorer said, clasping her hands in front of her. “If what you say is true, she will make a fine addition to the tribe.”
Din inclined his head, holding back a sigh of relief. Don’t get attached. “Thank you, alor.”
The Armorer’s helmed gaze remained locked upon his. Din got the impression she was scrutinising him.
“Will you take her as your own foundling?”
He'd expected the question, and so a respectful, but firm, decline of her offer was already poised upon the edge of Din’s tongue. He was the beroya; his life was not one suited for raising children. And Din knew, deep down, that he would never be fit for the role of a parent. Losing his own family in such a violent way … a part of Din, the part that allowed him to connect with others, to give and receive affection, to give and receive love, felt fundamentally broken. A gaping hole in his chest that sat right above his heart. So no, he would not take Rune as his foundling. She would find a caretaker in some other member of the covert, someone much more capable than he was.
And yet the words would not come.
There were there, they were right there, but somewhere between his brain and his mouth they had become stuck, and he hesitated.
Because Din couldn’t deny the warmth that had slipped and snaked its way into his chest with the kid’s continuous questioning, with her bright enthusiasm as she explained a pinky swear, with the way she ducked toward his side when she got scared. It felt like …
It felt like having family again.
“No,” Din said, the words finally tumbling free. “I cannot.”
The Armorer nodded, but something told Din she noticed his hesitation, and knew exactly what it meant.
“I understand. I will speak to Ry'ann, she will be willing to take in a foundling. This is the way.”
And with that, Din knew the conversation was over. He could debrief her with news from above at a later time. “This is the way.”
They stood in unison, his alor wordlessly resuming her work at the forge while Din turned on his heel and strode back out into the tunnels. Rune was waiting for him by the outside of the forge’s entrance, fiddling nervously with the hem of her shirt.
“Can I stay?”
She looked so hopeful that Din couldn’t help but smile beneath the helmet. “Yes. You can stay.”
Rune’s face split into a grin, and before he could react she dashed forward and wrapped her arms tightly around his middle. "Thank you!"
Din froze. After a moment, he awkwardly patted her on the back. “No problem, kid.”
She unlatched her arms from around him, bouncing on her heels and head swivelling around to watch the other Mandalorians in the tunnel. A few had looked over at the sound of her outburst, and Din noticed Paz’s shoulders shaking slightly, as though he was chuckling.
“When do I start? Do I get a helmet yet? Where am I gonna stay?”
Din held up a hand to pause her barrage of questions. “Woah there, kid. One at a time.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “What ... what happens now?”
“The Armorer will assign someone to take care of you and teach you our ways. They might even become your buir, if you’d like them to,” Din told her, starting to walk back down the tunnel. Rune followed closely behind him.
“What’s a buir?”
“A parent.”
She looked around. “Where’s your buir?”
“I don’t … I don’t have one.”
“Oh.”
Din moved the conversation on. “The Armorer will find you when someone has volunteered to be your guardian. For now, come join the other foundlings. They will give you an introduction to the covert.”
Rune’s footsteps faltered. “What about you? Are you staying?”
“No. My duties lie above the surface, to provide for our tribe. I cannot stay.”
“Oh. Okay,” she said, and Din couldn’t help the stab of guilt at the disappointment colouring her words. Get a grip, Djarin. She’s not your responsibility anymore. You’ve fulfilled the debt.
“But I will return soon,” he couldn’t help but add. “To bring supplies.”
She brightened up a little at that. “Will you come say hello?”
“... Sure.”
They approached the group of foundlings playing by the living quarters, who stopped to eye Rune curiously. Din nudged her toward them.
“Go on, they won’t bite.”
She took a couple tentative steps forward, then turned and threw her arms around him in another tight hug.
“Thank you,” she murmured once more into his side.
“Thank you for saving my life,” he said, unwrapping himself from her arms and kneeling down so that he was on her level. “Don’t be afraid of the Mandalorians. You’ll be safe here.”
“You promise?”
Din lifted his hand, littlest gloved finger stuck out. “I promise.” Rune smiled and wrapped her own around it.
He gave her another little push toward the foundlings, and Rune timidly made her way over to them. They exchanged a few words, one of them chuckling at something Rune said, and the kid’s posture immediately relaxed. When the foundlings began to resume their game, Rune joined them.
Satisfied that the kid was in good hands, Din turned away, starting down the labyrinth of tunnels that would lead him back to the surface. Back to the life of Mando, the ruthless bounty hunter. Not Din, the temporary child guardian. It felt like slipping back into a second skin, but Din couldn’t forget the hesitation he’d felt before turning down the Armorer’s offer. I’m no parent, Din thought bitterly, and I never will be. It simply wasn’t a life he was cut out for, not anymore.
Or maybe just not yet.
Din sighed, tuning out the traitorous voice in his head. A mug of spotchka had never sounded so good.