Chapter Text
Chapter One
The Job
“I wouldn’t go and bother the Mandalorian if I were you, darlin’, he’s crankier than a bantha in heat.”
(Y/N) offered the grizzled old mechanic a small shrug and continued on her way to the weathered Razor Crest at the end of the docking bay, barely making out his mumbled ‘suit yourself’ as she did. If it were any other situation she’d probably heed the old man’s warning and steer clear of the Mandalorian, but in this instance, the unusual stranger was her only hope. Courage over fear, she thought to herself, taking small comfort in her old childhood mantra as she neared the lowered ramp of the ship.
“Hello?” (Y/N) called out. “Is anyone in there?”
“What do you want?”
She jumped and quickly turned around to see the Mandalorian standing before her, his beskar-clad body visibly tense as one hand rested on the blaster strapped to his hip. The shock of his sudden appearance soon gave way to stunned awe; in all her travels, she’d never seen a Mandalorian as intimidating as the one currently staring her down. “Hello there. I was hoping to…well, I wanted to hire you for a job.”
“I’m not looking for any jobs right now.” The Mandalorian gruffly replied, brushing past her to lift a supply box from the ground. “You should try the local cantina; I’m sure someone there could use the work.”
(Y/N)’s brow furrowed and she hurried to follow him onto his ship. “I spent all morning down there and everyone I talked to didn’t want anything to do with me. Not that I blame them, though, I’ve only been on this planet for a week…and the job I’m offering isn’t exactly an easy one…and I only have three hundred credits to-” She broke off when she realized he was staring at her. “What?”
He shook his head, setting the box down before heading back down the ramp. “You want a bit of free advice? A client’s supposed to make a job sound enticing. Maybe you’ll have better luck in the next town over, it’s only a couple of hours away on speeder bike and that’ll give you plenty of time to work on your sales pitch.”
Recognizing the sarcasm in the Mandalorian’s modulated voice, (Y/N)’s blood began to boil. “I thought that Mandalorians were supposed to help those in need, not ridicule and make fun of them.” He stopped dead in his tracks, but at that point (Y/N) didn’t care. All she could think of was getting away from the man as soon as possible. “But I guess I’m just naïve, believing in such outlandish fairy tales.” She stormed down the ship’s ramp and past the Mandalorian without giving him a second glance, blinking away her angry tears as she struggled to formulate a new plan.
“Wait!”
(Y/N) glanced over her shoulder to see the Mandalorian hurrying after her but she continued walking away. “Why, so I can let a nerf herder like you insult me some more? No thanks.”
“Udesii! Wait, just wait a sec…!” He quickly caught up to her and blocked her path, his hands raised to halt her. “I’m sorry, that was rude of me back there. Tell me what the job is and then I’ll decide.”
Still wary of him, (Y/N) exhaled through her nose before answering. “I need someone to steal my possessions back…and I need help ridding this planet of the Black Sun once and for all.”
The Mandalorian’s helmet tilted to the side in obvious shock. “The Black Sun crime syndicate? They’re still in operation around these parts?”
(Y/N) nodded. “Since the fall of the Empire, there’s been rumors that some crime syndicates have turned to piracy to stay afloat and under the radar of the New Republic. From what I got out of the locals, the Black Sun conducts raids on their homesteads and whenever they’re feeling particularly bold, occasionally hijack small ships from docking bays. The moment I landed here to refuel, I was ambushed; they took my blaster before I could defend myself and kicked my ass before stealing my ship and leaving me nearly unconscious on the floor.” She swallowed thickly, remembering the grief-stricken faces of the townsfolk she’d spoken to that week. “According to the locals, it’s extremely rare that someone survives an encounter with the Black Sun.” Crossing her arms over her chest, (Y/N) stared down the visor of the Mandalorian’s helmet. “These people have suffered more than anyone should, first under the Empire and now the Black Sun, and I can’t just leave this planet knowing that their suffering will only continue. The two of us working together should be enough to take them down and get my things back; if you turn the job down, though, then I’ll just get myself a blaster and do it myself.”
“That’s a good way of getting yourself killed.” He blocked her path again as she attempted to move around him. “This means that much to you?” There wasn’t any scorn in his tone or even any judgement, only curiosity, and the shift in his attitude was what compelled her to slowly nod her head. “Okay, then, you’ve got yourself a deal. Now, I’m gonna need you to tell me everything you’ve learned about the Black Sun and their operations on this planet…”
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Hours later, the sun was beginning to set as (Y/N) anxiously watched the Mandalorian arm himself for the impending night mission. They’d spent the afternoon formulating a plan to get her possessions back and take down the Black Sun and while he was confident that it would work, (Y/N) couldn’t help but worry as the memory of her attack played in her mind. The Black Sun operatives had been brutal and ruthless during their hijacking, and she had no problem believing that they could’ve easily done far worse to her if they’d truly wanted to. If all the stories are true then a deadly Mandalorian warrior shouldn’t have any problem taking them on, she reminded herself, the thought succeeding in temporarily soothing her nerves.
An affectionate coo pulled (Y/N) out of her silent ruminations, and she glanced down to see the small green child holding a silver sphere out to her as he continued his indistinguishable babbling. “That’s a…that’s a really pretty toy you’ve got there.” She gave the child a small smile but frowned when he showed no signs of stopping. “Um…”
“He wants you to roll it.” When (Y/N) raised a questioning brow at the Mandalorian, he shrugged his shoulders. “He likes to chase after it sometimes.”
“Okay, then.” Carefully lowering herself to the ground, she gently took the sphere from the child’s tiny green hand and rolled it down the length of the ship, stifling a giggle as she watched him chase after it. “The little guy’s pretty fast, isn’t he?”
The Mandalorian snorted. “Fast and up to no good.”
To say that (Y/N) had been surprised to learn that the Mandalorian was caring for a child would be an understatement; it had taken every ounce of self-control she possessed not to gape when the man had introduced her to the wrinkled green child and told her that she’d be watching him for part of the evening while he completed the first half of the mission. She wasn’t exactly the greatest when it came to interacting with children; it wasn’t because she disliked them or anything, but rather because she’d never been around many children before. Maybe things will be different with this little one, she thought to herself as she watched the child waddle back to her with his toy clutched in his hand.
“You sure you’ll be able to fly this thing? A Razor Crest takes some getting used to…”
(Y/N) rolled the sphere again before straightening and giving the Mandalorian a confident nod. “It’s an antique, all right, but lucky for you, I learned to fly using antiquated ships just like this one. And you’re going to be okay getting into the compound by yourself?” Although she couldn’t see his face, she knew that he must’ve been giving her a pointed look from under the helmet. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’…”
He brushed past her and picked the child up off the ground before setting him down inside the ship’s sleeping compartment. “Nap time, you little womp rat. Time to get some rest before all hell breaks loose.”
Wanting to give the two some privacy, (Y/N) busied herself by cleaning up the blaster the Mandalorian had lent her in case of an emergency. Once she was finished, she fastened the holster around her waist and took a brief moment to examine it; the leather holster was well-worn, much like everything else on board the Mandalorian’s ship, but the craftsmanship was undeniably exceptional. I’d give anything to work on a challenge like this, she thought a little wistfully.
“Okay, let’s go over the plan one last time.” She looked up to see the Mandalorian standing before her and a part of her couldn’t help but marvel at how quietly he could move. “I’ll head to the compound on foot and enter just after sunset. Once I plant the bombs and have your possessions, I’ll radio you and that’s when you’ll fly in with the Crest. I’ll jet up to the ship with your things while you cover me; based on what the locals told you, they’ve got some heavy weaponry stashed in that compound and I’d rather not give them a chance to use ‘em, so it’s your job to take them out before they can. Then we’ll fly off and detonate the bombs before going into hyperspace.”
She gave him a nod. “And while you’re gone, I’ll boot up the ship’s guns and watch over the child.” The Mandalorian fastened his jet pack to his back and slung a pulse rifle over his shoulder before wordlessly turning to head down the ramp of the ship. Biting her bottom lip, she hesitated a moment before hurrying after him. “Wait!”
The Mandalorian stopped, turning towards her with his helmet tilted a little to the side. “What is it?”
“I just…I wanted to properly thank you for taking this job.” (Y/N) held out her hand to him and gave him a small smile. “And I also wanted to wish you luck.”
Several long moments went by where he only stared silently at her outstretched hand and made no move to take it. Her face flushed with embarrassment and just as she was beginning to lower her hand, the Mandalorian reached forward and firmly grasped it in his own. Surprised, her gaze met his visor and despite not being able to see his eyes, she knew that they were boring into hers. The moment they had shared ended abruptly, with the Mandalorian releasing her hand and quickly exiting the Razor Crest without so much as a backwards glance.
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“Maker, this ship really is an antique,” (Y/N) mumbled, giving a side panel a hard smack and shaking her head in exasperation when the switches’ lights finally blinked on; the Mandalorian had only been gone for a little over a half an hour when his deep voice had come through the ship’s communication radio, much quicker than she’d anticipated; now, she was scrambling to quickly get the old ship into the air to finish the job. “Where’d he find this thing, a Tatooine junkyard?”
“I heard that.”
She smirked to herself as she flipped a couple of switches and slowly pushed a lever up, the engines immediately whirling to life. “You misunderstood me; just because something’s old and worn doesn’t mean there isn’t value to be found in it. This ship’s been through a lot, that’s true, but…” As the ship had risen far enough off the ground, (Y/N) pushed forward on the joysticks and they instantly flew through the sky. “She’s also got one of the best propulsion engines I’ve ever seen, a lot better than the ones some of the newer ships are built with.”
“I’m glad it meets your approval but I could really use an exit right now.”
“On it.” (Y/N) replied, increasing the ship’s speed as she weaved it between jagged stone spires. Emerging from the cluster of rock formations, she immediately saw the sprawling compound and the large blaster cannons that had turned towards the ship; tightly gripping the controls, (Y/N) swerved out of the way of the oncoming blaster bolts and quickly returned fire. She managed to hit one on her first pass before smoothly spinning around for another, calling out into the cockpit’s communication radio, “Okay, where are you?”
“Southwest corner!”
Adjusting her course, (Y/N) fired off another shot and hit a second blaster cannon before finally spotting the Mandalorian, who was pinned down behind an overturned land speeder and exchanging blaster fire with a handful of heavily-armed Black Sun operatives. She put the ship on autopilot before scrambling down the ladder and slamming her hand down on the nearest control panel; the ship’s side ramp began to slowly lower but she didn’t stick around to watch its progress.
Once she climbed back up the ladder, (Y/N) dropped into the pilot’s chair and buckled herself in just as the remaining blaster cannon fired and hit the Razor Crest’s left wing, causing the ship to jostle and list on impact. Another sharp jolt came from something landing hard on the lowered ramp and moments later, she could hear it being raised back up; switching back into manual control, (Y/N) yelled out, “If you’re back there then you’d better hang on!” before activating the thrusters and wrenching the joysticks to the left, steering the ship into a rapid corkscrew spin. Her stomach clenched with pent-up adrenaline and just as her vision had begun to blur from dizziness, (Y/N) squeezed the triggers and fired, grinning to herself as the red bolts destroyed the third and final blaster cannon.
(Y/N) pulled the joysticks up, smoothly exiting the turning maneuver, and began firing on the compound as they swooped over it, going so fast that she wasn’t able to see the result of her successful run. Deciding that she’d bought them enough time, she began flipping several switches in preparation for the jump to hyperspace; as she worked, she heard the Mandalorian ascend the ladder into the cockpit and move to stand behind her, and the monitor before her showed the compound exploding in a ball of fire. Neither of them said anything as the ship exited the planet’s upper atmosphere, and she could feel his eyes on the back of her neck when she pushed a lever up and launched them into hyperspace.
“Who are you?”
Furrowing her brow in confusion, (Y/N) turned the pilot’s seat around to face the Mandalorian, who was pointing his blaster pistol at her. She decided that it would be wise not to make any sudden moves, instead keeping her hands resting firmly on the arms of the seat. “Excuse me?”
“The only people who fly like that are bounty hunters and smugglers, so which one is it?”
“…I was a smuggler in the employ of the Rebellion for five years. I was honorably discharged by the New Republic shortly after the Battle of Endor and have been retired ever since.” (Y/N) reluctantly but calmly explained, and she was unsurprised when the Mandalorian’s tense demeanor didn’t change. “I’m not lying to you. If you let me go down and look through my things you retrieved, I’ll even show you some proof.” After a brief moment of hesitation, he nodded and lowered the blaster. “Thank you.”
Descending the ladder, (Y/N)’s gaze immediately landed on the familiar beat-up storage container beside the ship’s carbonite-freezing chamber. In an instant, she dropped onto the ground beside it and began rifling through its contents. Clothing? Check. Sewing kit? Check. Spare blaster? Check. But when she finally located the leather-bound book at the bottom of the container, she closed her eyes and let out a shaky sigh of relief. Thank the Maker, I didn’t lose it, she thought to herself. The modulated sound of a throat being cleared jostled her out of her moment of calm; she opened her eyes and glanced over to see the Mandalorian leaning up against the wall of the ship, still holding his blaster. “Oh, sorry, here…” She reached into the pocket of one of her coats, pulled out her old identification puck and handed it over to him.
He activated the puck and they watched as a hologram of her face and rank flickered on. “Captain (Y/N) (Y/L/N), Rebel Smuggler.” Returning her puck, the Mandalorian finally relaxed his stance and holstered the weapon. “Sorry about all that but in my line of work…”
“It’s okay, I understand.” (Y/N) got to her feet and walked over to the armory to return her borrowed blaster and holster. “You’re hardly the first person to pull a blaster on me and I doubt you’ll be the last.”
The Mandalorian crossed his arms over his chest as he continued to watch her. “Well, alor’ad, that was some pretty good flying…for an ex-smuggler, that is.”
(Y/N) raised a brow in surprise, both at the nickname and at the playful jab. Was he, the intimidating Mandalorian warrior, actually teasing her? She glanced over at him with a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Ah, the galaxy’s age-old debate: which are the better pilots, smugglers or bounty hunters? It’s a little sad that there’s still bounty hunters out there who’ve diluted themselves into thinking they’re as good as smugglers.”
“As an ex-bounty hunter myself, I take offense to that. If I had access to another ship, I’d challenge you to a race right now but fortunately for you, I don’t.”
“Well, in my experience, bounty hunters are all talk and no action, so I’d say that you’re the fortunate one, not me.” Grinning triumphantly, (Y/N) couldn’t suppress her amused giggles any longer as he merely shook his head and let out an exasperated sigh. Once her laughter died down, she reached into the pocket of her tunic and pulled out her money bag. “Three hundred New Republic credits, as promised.” In an instant, the good mood dissipated from the ship; he easily caught the money bag and pushed himself off the wall, his stoic stance returning as he gave her a short nod. She returned her attention to the open armory, feeling incredibly awkward as she continued. “I already input the coordinates to the nearest friendly planet, Batuu. We should be there in less than two hours and then I’ll be out of your hair.”
“Yeah…yeah, of course. I’ll, um…I’ll be in the cockpit, if you need anything.”
She heard the Mandalorian make his way back up the ladder and when she was sure he was gone, she finally released the breath she’d been holding. She’d enjoyed working alongside the Mandalorian so much that she’d nearly forgotten that it was a temporary arrangement. Once they landed on Batuu they’d part ways; she’d find work somewhere on the planet and he’d go off on his next adventure. Well, it was fun while it lasted, she thought to herself as she moved to sit beside her open storage container, trying not to dwell on the fact that she hadn’t felt that alive since her old Rebel days.
Giving her head a small shake, (Y/N) turned her attention back to her things and began thoroughly going through them to see if anything might be missing. Her task was soon interrupted, though, by the sound of a small coo; glancing around, she noticed the green child waddling towards her, his large eyes filled with curiosity. “Oh, hey there, little guy. Did you have a good nap?”
The child made another babbling noise that didn’t sound quite as happy as the first had been, which made (Y/N) bite back a smile. “Yeah, I’m sorry if I woke you with all the spinning. But it was worth it; an entire planet’s finally free to live in peace and I got all my stuff back, see?” She watched the child’s ears perk up with interest as he slowly made his way towards the small pile of clothing and other items; he soon became interested in her brown ankle-length Shaak-hide coat, running a tiny clawed hand over the soft leather. “You like that? It’s really comfortable to wear, and…”
Trailing off, (Y/N) was suddenly struck with inspiration. “I have just the perfect thing in mind for you, little guy.” She smiled as she gently took the coat from his grasp and reached for her sewing kit. “And I think you’re gonna like it…”
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Just as (Y/N) had predicted, the journey to Batuu was relatively short and uneventful; the child had quickly grown disinterested with her project, choosing to slowly climb up the ladder to where the Mandalorian was busy piloting. She didn’t mind, though, silently reveling in the peacefulness of her task that she knew others would find mundane. Finishing up just as the Razor Crest began its descent, she managed to carefully hide her completed work behind her back before the Mandalorian began climbing down the ladder.
They made their way down the ramp, carrying her storage container between the two of them. “Here we are: Black Spire Outpost.” The Mandalorian set the container down, his gloved hands hanging stiffly by his sides. “I guess this is it.”
“Yeah. Before I go, I…well, I wanted to give you something. It’s actually for the little guy, but I thought I’d give it to you.” Anxiously biting her bottom lip, (Y/N) handed him the small bundle and watched as he began unraveling it. “It’s a satchel, so you can carry him around with you whenever he gets too tired to walk. I used a part of one of my old coats to sew it; the little guy liked how soft it was and I wanted him to be comfortable. I noticed his pram on the ship but I thought he might like to travel in this, too.”
The Mandalorian stared down at the satchel in his hands for several long moments before looking back up at her. “That’s…very kind of you, alor’ad. I’m sure he’ll like it.”
(Y/N) noticed the child making his way down the ramp and smiled. “I think so, too.” Returning her gaze to the visor of his helmet, her smile fell a little. “Well, I guess I’ll see you two around.” She turned, hiking her bag over her shoulder and reaching down to grab her storage container’s handle as she tried to ignore the melancholy feeling blossoming in the pit of her stomach.
“Wait.”
She straightened and spun back around to face the Mandalorian. “Yes?”
“I’ve been quested to return the child to his kind, but it’s been…challenging. Imps have put bounties on our heads and I’ve run out of leads on information to follow. You’re a hell of a pilot, alor’ad, and you’re very obviously a fighter, so…well, I could use a crew member of your abilities.”
“Wait…you want me to join your crew?”
The Mandalorian nodded. “I can pay you handsomely. It would be a completely equal partnership as well, as far as the workload goes. But I understand if you refuse; you’ve worked hard for a quiet life after the Rebellion and it would be unfair to ask you to abandon it.”
“You see, the thing about living a quiet life is that after a while, you find yourself hoping that something’ll come along to liven it up,” (Y/N) remarked, a smile slowly beginning to form on her face. “And it looks like today’s that day. I’m in.” They shook hands for the second time that day, but this one felt much more natural. “So, partner, what should I call you? I know that people usually call Mandalorians ‘Mando’ but it’s always sounded a bit like a slur to me and the last thing I wanna do is insult my new business partner, so what would you like me to call you?”
His helmet’s modulator made it difficult to tell, but she thought she heard him let out a chuckle. “You can call me ‘Mando.’ Welcome to the crew, alor’ad.”