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It was gray. Roiling, churning gray clouds completely enveloped the planet. Not exactly a welcoming sight coming out of hyperspace, but it could be far worse. From their vantage point high above the planet Corin groaned quietly on the edge of the passenger seat. He wasn’t looking forward to their next location, but with the last surviving TIE-fighter hot on their heels he didn’t have the luxury of complaining. The rest of the squadron had fallen to the RazorCrest’s cannons but this one was still in hot pursuit, mere seconds behind in hyperspace. They needed to lose it, and fast.
The RazorCrest shuddered violently as the Mandalorian guided her down to break the planet’s atmosphere and further objected when he dove her nose beneath the thick cloud cover. The ship had sustained heavy damage from the four other TIEs that had been part of their pursuer's squadron and Corin smelled thick smoke coming from somewhere behind the cockpit. There was no doubt that one of the engines was on fire, but Corin estimated that it would be quickly put out if these clouds had anything to say about it. Heavy rain beat mercilessly against the hull and grayed-out the cockpit viewport to the point of obscurity. The Mandalorian focused on piloting with the sensors and navicomputer, silent and tense, while Corin sat back and tried to calm the fussing child in his arms.
“Shh, shh, I know. I know. It’s scary right now, isn't it? But I’ve got you, you’re okay,” he stroked soothing fingers over the child’s velvety ears, murmuring soft and serene words of comfort despite the anxiety churning in his gut. “We’ll land and hide and everything will be better, okay? They won’t follow us down here.” Let’s hope not.
They finally broke through the clouds and were greeted by a dark, turbulent sea. Waves higher than the RazorCrest was tall crashed into each other and played havoc on the sensors while the ceaseless rain continued to beat down. Some form of tall settlement peeked through the waves on the horizon and the Mandalorian turned the battered ship towards it. He flipped off the now-useless sensors and flew the RazorCrest as close to the churning sea as he could manage. If the remaining TIE pilot had any sense at all they would turn back right now, if they hadn’t already. But for now he couldn’t risk checking that they weren’t followed. He could only focus on manually guiding the ship towards safety, swerving to avoid swells that threatened to drag them into their murky depths. The remaining operable engine roared and strained against its overexertion, making the cockpit rattle violently and disturbing the child. Corin cuddled the child closer and pressed a soft kiss to the light velvety wisps atop his small green head.
After what seemed like hours the settlement finally drew near; a large plateau of an island continent rife with tall buildings, all interconnected with enclosed bridges. Not a soul could be seen outside (then again, who in their right mind would be in this weather?) but lights shone merrily inside most of the buildings to indicate that this was nowhere near a ghost town. Seeing no sort of control tower to aid spacecrafts, the Mandalorian sent out a broadband signal asking for permission to land. He didn't see any sort of port to land in, and the streets were too wet to set down on properly. No answer.
He repeated the message when he received no response and waited. Still silence. He tried a third time, anxiety now threatening his composure. Why would they not answer him? Would they not allow the ‘Crest to land? There was no other inhabitable planet in this sector, he had checked his starmap at least three times while they were in hyperspace. Stars, this was their only option, he had no other choice—!
“Vessel, please dock here. I am sorry for the delay, we do not get many visitors.” Coordinates flashed on his screen and the Mandalorian added them to his navicomputer with a relieved breath he hadn't known he was holding. He flew around the outskirts of the settlement and found large inground hangar doors slowly opening for the RazorCrest to be received, water instantly pouring around the doors and falling into the dimly lit bay as the Mandalorian maneuvered the ship inside. As soon as the ‘Crest was past the doors they closed again, locking out the rain.
The sound outside was muffled by the thick bay doors above them but the unease didn’t settle. Now that the ship was safely grounded the trio finally had the chance to breathe. It took a moment for anyone to react; the men and child all processing the ordeal in their own ways. The cockpit was uncomfortably quiet now. It was the Mandalorian who recovered first. He turned around in the pilot seat and Corin locked eyes with the unreadable T-visor. He let out a shaky sigh and reached out for the child. The child cooed and reached back, a clawed hand gently grabbing at the Mandalorian’s sleeve.
“Good flying back there.” Corin laughed nervously, shoulders finally dropping from their tense hunch. He hadn’t realized he had been this on edge as they had made their escape. The Mandalorian grunted an agreeing noise and made his way towards the ladder.
“Let’s go.”
Corin followed with the child held tightly in his arms.
—————
The trio was greeted by an almost-humanoid alien, tall and slender with gray eyes and gray features to match the drab gray that seemed to permeate the entire planet. Powerful bowed legs carried them on steady toes and they swayed with an otherworldly elegance as they crossed the empty bay to meet the newcomers.
“Welcome New Strangers! It looks like your ship has seen better days. Again, I apologize that my reply was delayed. Our planet rarely receives visitors during the Long Rains. I was away from my post when I heard your request.”
“Are you an engineer? Could you fix it? I can pay.” The Mandalorian asked bluntly. The alien laughed.
“Well, I'm no expert but I've known my way around a toolbox or two in my day! Let me see the damage here….” The alien took a slow walk around the chip, noting the many damages and the busted engine. “That is quite a buildup of carbon scoring and cannon damage! Were you in a space battle recently?”
“Dogfight, yeah. With…enemies,” the Mandalorian danced around the question, not wanting to give away too much information and scare off a potential mechanic. The alien, however, didn’t seem to notice, or at least mind.
“Well I am glad that the New Stranger Friends are safe and whole. You have come to our planet at a special time: the Long Rains are predicted to end sometime soon and then the Festival will begin! That will be the safest time for your ship to leave, but I hope that the New Stranger Friends will partake for at least some time.”
“We, uh...look forward to it.” Corin said, a little confused but glad that this alien was being friendly towards them.
“Are there any lodgings available for rent in your settlement?” The Mandalorian asked. “We need somewhere to rest for the time being.”
“Oh, of course! Where are my manners? So caught up in greetings I forgot myself,” the alien muttered and shook their head. “I am Meeri and I run this waystation with my mate, Meeha. Our only Child, Chimoh, runs the inn here in Dra'Taga. I will comm them that there are New Strangers looking for lodging. One moment!”
As Meeri sauntered away to contact their offspring, Corin and the Mandalorian exchanged a glance.
“Well this’ll be...new.” Corin commented.
“Yeah. Guess we’re stuck here until the rain ends.”
“But that’s good luck, right? We’re hidden for now.”
“I. I don’t know. That TIE was right behind us.”
“I hope so. The kid needs some downtime.”
“Yeah,” the Mandalorian agreed. “Me too.”
—————
Despite the dreary grayness that descended upon the city of Dra'Taga, its people were cheery and setting up for a celebration. Meeri went on to say that the Long Rains occur only once per decade and replenishes the ocean basin that surrounds their the continent. Their people consider the days spent waiting out the Long Rains as a holy time, and are happy to welcome strangers in partaking if they so wish. Solemn contemplation and storytelling were popular pastimes during the Waiting Season and Meeri encouraged the men to bring to mind stories they may wish to divulge in the coming days. They bow out to return to the hangar just before the floor that the inn was located on. The Mandalorian quickly settled on payment for Meeri's repairs and the alien left the trio standing just in the doorway to meet their only offspring.
“Hello, Guests! I hope you are well. We don’t get many visitors to our planet, and especially not during the Long Rains. You must be an expert pilot to fly through the storm.” The alien behind the front counter greeted them when the men walked up.
“A room.” The Mandalorian clipped out, too haggard now to worry about social niceties, although he tacked on a “Please.” at the end.
“Oh, of course! Where are my manners? I am Chimoh, manager of this inn. My family has owned it since time immemorial. And you? What of your names and family?” Chimoh seemed friendly and open enough, but they obviously expected a response.
“I, we uh...” That was a complicated question for both men to answer and Corin doubted that either one of them wanted to at the present time.
“We only wish to have lodgings, please. Our day has been very long, and the kid is very tired.” The Mandalorian sighed.
“We don’t mean to be rude,” Corin interjected with an askance look at the Mandalorian. “But if we could make our proper full introductions tomorrow?”
“Of course, Guests! We will see to you right away.” Chimoh turned their long neck and called up the stairs behind the counter. “Sudoh! Icho! We have Guests! Please guide them to their room!”
Two younger aliens came down the stairs, one clearly younger and shorter than the other. The elder of the two, likely a young adult, stepped forward first and bowed a graceful head.
“Greetings, Guests. I am Sudoh. This is my sibling Icho. Do you require us to take any luggage to your room?”
“No, just us.”
“Then please follow me,” Sudoh said with a respectful nod and turned to walk down the long hallway from the front desk. Icho, the younger one, turned back and stomped upstairs. That’s a teenager for sure, Corin thought as the trio followed the eldest sibling to their room.
“I hope we find you well, Guests. The Long Rains are nearly ended now, you have missed the worst of it.”
“It was worse than this?” Corin asked, bewildered. He couldn't imagine the deluge outside being any heavier than it already was.
“Oh yeah, you can actually see the buildings now,” Sudoh added idly as they halted outside a nondescript door. Corn blinked in surprise as they handed a keycard over. “Here’s your room, guests!”
“What happens when the Long Rains end?” The Mandalorian asked.
“The Festival of Color!” Sudoh grins widely. “It’s a celebration that lasts as long as there's a sun in the sky.
"That sounds appealing," Corin commented as Sudoh walked away from the front desk. "Anything for a change of scenery here."
The room was nothing extraordinary but they’ve also had plenty worse. Corin set the child down and he immediately began to waddle around and inspect his new surroundings. A couch and armchair set that the child was currently attempting to climb like a plush mountain, a desk with a couple chairs, and (blessedly) a hot drink machine. Dry packets of tea and caf sat in neat rows beside the machine. The refresher door stood ajar and the towels inside the dark room looked soft enough. The Mandalorian’s eyes settled on the one bed and he sighed. At least it was spacious.
The men fell onto bed without even bothering to take off their armor and promptly passed out, the child safely cuddled between them.
—————
As promised, the men made their introductions the next morning. Chimoh then helped them get acquainted with the settlement by drawing out a map of the labyrinthine buildings and the series of skybridges that interconnected them. They marked out points of interest such as restaurants, stores, and community floors for the child to interact with the local children. The Mandalorian thanked them and carefully folded up the map, tucking it beneath his breastplate for future reference.
The rain became the constant backdrop to their every movement around the city. Past every window was a rolling sheet of gray; not a single room was ever silent but for the battering sound of falling water. And so they explored, walking around and following Chimoh's map, taking detours whenever something caught the trio's attention.
They learned that the city is called Dra'Taga and that it was established as the largest settlement on the planet. There are others located on other islands across the planet but they’re currently isolated due to the Long Rains. It’s too dangerous to fly in the Storm and the people are very impressed with the Mandalorian’s flying skills when he explains how they came to be on their island. They learn from a shopkeeper that their species is called the Dhased and from a librarian archivist that their species is a distant biological cousin of Kaminoans. The first of their species left Kamino after the great ice age ended and their homeworld’s oceans rose and they settled on a similar planet to make good use of the new technology that had developed so quickly. Corin had heard about the Kaminoans before, that they had created the scores of Clone Troopers who aided in the Separatist War and defeated the Jedi for the glory of the new Empire that arose from the ashes of the war. These Dhased seemed nothing like cold and calculating Kaminoans!
Sudoh found the trio outside the largest playground level, the child happily waddling around and happily chasing the other Dhasedi children around the room.
“Hello, Friend Corin! How are you liking our city?”
“Good, Sudoh! Hi! It's amazing, what can be built on water and reinforced to handle centuries of rain damage.”
“It really was a technological achievement,” Sudoh agreed as their large eyes followed Corin’s line of sight over to where the Mandalorian stood watching the child play. “How long have you two been mates?”
“Oh, I! We! We’re not, um, I mean. We’re not...mates.” Corin averted his eyes and laughed awkwardly.
“Really?” Sudoh arched a thick ridged brow. “Could have fooled me.”
Corin blushed bright pink and ducked his head down low to avoid the Dhased’s knowing look. Sudoh sighed and placed a spindly hand on his shoulder.
“I know how it feels. I once thought I had a chance with Close Friend Andiic, but they were already promised to others by the time I figured out my own feelings. I am happy for the trio now, but...” Sudoh trailed off, staring off at the children wildly playing and laughing around the playground.
“Yeah? I’m sorry to hear that.”
“No ‘sorries’ necessary, Friend Corin. Andiic’s mates now have beautiful children and Friend has another on the way. But there was once a time where I believed I could have had the chance. Do not waste an opportunity when you have it like I did.”
“It’s….just not that simple, I’m afraid. But thanks, Sudoh. For what it’s worth.” Corin knew his feelings were useless here.
“Do you wish for me to go talk to Friend Mando?”
“No! This—! I...this is fine. No need. I’ve got things under control. I think. He’s...I know he doesn’t even feel the same way.”
“Suit yourself,” Sudoh shrugged and stepped forward. “I still need to talk to Frie…him, about the comfort of your child and the room. Unless you can speak for him and child?”
“I think the kid’s happy. He hasn’t broken anything yet, so I can only assume that’s a good sign,” Corin laughed.
“Alright. And did I use your term correctly? ‘Him’, yes?”
“Yeah, you did great.” Corin’s smile seemed to brighten the room. Sudoh returned the gesture, wide mouth spreading into an almost-eerie grin if not for their warm personality. Corin sat back at his table as Sudoh discussed what they needed with the Mandalorian and waited until they returned to him.
“I just told Fri-him that our people have a proper chrono schedule during the Long Rains and that it will soon be time for rest. I suggest we all retire to the inn for the night.”
“You know, now that you mention it, I am—” Corin yawned mid-sentence before continuing. “Wow, okay. I guess I’m more tired than I thought. Lead the way!”
The Mandalorian’s helmet cocked sideways and the child gave his buir a knowing look.
—————
"Why not dig tunnels?" Corin asked Sudoh as they guided their guests through the skybridges and back towards the inn. "I think it would be more economical. Warmer, too. In snow you dig tunnels, it traps the heat."
"That was our only method for hundreds of years before our engineering evolved and we realized that it's easier to build up than down. Not to mention safer. Tunnels. Water. Gravity. You do the math, Friend Corin." Sudoh replied dryly, but not without humor.
Corin at least had the decency to look embarrassed by his brainless comment and turned away, desperately trying to hide his shame with a cough. He knew of cave-ins happening in snow tunnels but casualties from such events were low with the insulated and heavily padded Snow Trooper armor. The thought of drowning in the dark, trapped and surrounded by muddy water, was far from appealing. The rain raced down the curved panes of transparisteel and Corin's eyes followed one particular rivulet on its path down the glass.
"We are a slower people than our Kaminoan Cousins. Less detached and ambitious, less clinical. But actually, now that you mention it! Most of those old tunnels now act as our irrigation and drainage system,” Sudoh added. “The lines still run below the surface of the city, but access ports indoors were all closed off and gutters replaced them outdoors. They all run back to the Great Ocean now. It will supply us well for at least the next decade."
"Interesting," the Mandalorian commented idly, but his eyes were focused on Corin’s face turned in profile against the window of the bridge. Despite the ever-present gray—or perhaps because of it—he was still beautiful.
—————
After that the men quickly settled into routine while waiting out the storm. The Mandalorian would wake in the early morning (although gauging what "morning" was in this oppressive solid gray proved to be difficult) and made himself a cup of tea as Corin and the child slept soundly in the one bed provided. It was always one damn bed, not that he would ever consider complaining to his benefactors. He was always thankful for anyone's generosity in lodging them and granting their strange requests.
Walking barefoot around the quiet flat without his helmet on felt almost too domestic to bear, so he sat at the window and focused on the cup's warmth seeping into his ungloved palms while he watched the endless rain fall in heavy sheets outside. The sound was soothing. Consistent. Grounding. He would quietly recite his daily prayer between sips, the memorized lines of Mando'a falling from his lips like raindrops.
When he was done with his own cup he would put his armor back on and wake Corin with a steaming mug of caf (with two sweetening packets and cream, just how he liked it). Corin would thank him in his sweetly confused manner, voice rough from sleep, and the Mandalorian would quickly turn around and attend to the child before he did something stupid like fondly caress his companion's cheek. The rain was getting to him, that's all. Messing with his emotions.
On the fourth standard day of their new routine Corin decided that he couldn't stand the rain any longer.
"This is. The most. Boring planet I have ever been on. And I was stationed on an ice planet! This is worse. The goddamn rain never ends! Ground to atmo is the exact same gray! At least snow reflects some light…" he grumbled to himself. "Are we ever gonna see this legendary Festival of Color or were they just kriffing with us? I feel like they were just kriffing with us."
"Patience. Remember that the RazorCrest can't take off in this kind of downpour but we can leave as soon as the rain stops."
"If it ever stops," Corin scoffed.
"It will. All storms have their end." He quietly roused the child from his nap and was greeted with a sleepy squeak and happy hugging arms. the Mandalorian balanced the child in his and headed for the door. “Come on. Sudoh said that a prayer circle will begin soon. They invited us. We shouldn't be late.”
—————
The prayer circle was more like storytime in Corin’s opinion, but he found the concept fascinating nonetheless. It was held in a windowless, circular room on the ground floor of the tallest building. On the walk over Sudoh explained to the men that even the height of Dasedi buildings had meaning and that all foundations were the most sacred of levels as they held the weight of every floor above itself. Every life, every story, is supported by a solid foundation. Corin had never thought about a building in such a manner before.
The room itself was ringed with candle sconces that burned a scented herbal oil and cast the space in deep flickering gold. Quiet chanting music filtered from somewhere Corin couldn’t place. He saw no speakers or vents other than the standard air filters near the ceiling.
His mind was still reeling as Sudoh introduced him and the Mandalorian to a number of family members and friends along with their respective children. The names and family associations alone were enough to make Corin’s head spin even further but he attempted to grasp the connections as well as he could: Corin and the Mandalorian had already knew Chimoh, Sudoh’s parent, and Icho, the middle child, but now they had the pleasure of meeting Thriico, the youngest, as well as Meerii and Meeha, Sudoh’s grandparents and owners of the inn. Then there was Sudoh’s friends, the triad family of Aneoc, Andiic, and Anenh, along with their children Ozhii, Nobii, and Konaii. Ozhii was the eldest, first child of Aneoc and an adolescent, and Nobii and Konaii were Anenh’s young twins. Andiic was with child, only moderately showing a pregnancy bump compared to their two slender mates.
“Is Andiic the—?”
“Yes, Friend Corin,” Sudoh gave him a knowing glance. “Not now.”
There were at least three more families that Sudoh introduced but at that point Corin was already overloaded with names and simply smiled and greeted each new face. A gaggle of happy children of various ages were quickly raising the ambient noise in the room and Corin was glad to hear something other than the rain for once. Once all introductions had been made everyone sat on one of the plush cushions arranged in a circle around the space.
The eldest of the gathered Dhasedi—who in this case happened to be Meeha—recited a prayer in their native tongue that the rest in the group repeated back. Corin looked around the circle and tried to take in as much as possible; he had never had the privilege of partaking in such a ritual before. Dhased large and small swayed to the natural rhythm of the hymn and chanted with their eyes closed. When his eyes landed on the Mandalorian he found the man with helmet respectfully bowed, hands carefully folded across the child who sat in his lap. The child, too, seemed to be observing the proceedings with pointed interest, ears fluttering up and down and searching all around with his sweet large eyes. Corin smiled and followed suit then, mirroring his companion’s action and bowing his head, letting his eyes fall closed and listening to the prayer. If he focused he could still hear the pattering of rumbling rain outside, now muffled by the walls that surrounded them. Not silent, no. Nothing was ever silent here. But...peaceful. Calming.
When the prayer was complete Each Dhased adult went around and told a different story: some were tall tales or legends, some were historical epics from across the galaxy, some were made up on the spot, some were personal anecdotes. Meeri and Meeha told the story of how they met and fell in love. When it came time for the Mandalorian to speak, Meeri offered that he may pass if he so wished to.
“Do you have any stories, guest? Any songs?” Nobii asked, eyes wide despite their elder’s words.
“Actually yes, I do. My mother would sing me stories when I was a boy. Many stories, some nice, some to teach you a lesson. But all important. And the Mandalorians, the people who took me in as a foundling, they told me other stories. My sponsor, he and his husband taught me many more funny and brave songs to sing. Would you like to hear one?”
A chorus of “oh yes!” and “please”es erupted from the collection of children around him and the Mandalorian laughed. Corin’s heart did a backflip as the Mandalorian entertained the group of fawning and overjoyed kids. They were clearly all enamored and very interested in this new stranger in the foreign-looking armor, and well they should be. If all Mandalorians were this good with children then the Foundlings are a special group, indeed. So much care and attention, making sure that not a single child felt left out or alone. Nobii grabbed at his pauldron and the Mandalorian turned his head to the side to observe the curious child.
"Actually...how about I tell you the story of my armor, hmm?" Another wave of excitement followed the children and the Mandalorian waited for them to settle into a smaller circle around him before continuing. The Dhasedi adults chuckled among themselves and sat back to listen. Likewise, Corin turned all attention towards his companion and awaited the story. It wasn’t a common occurrence for the Mandalorian to divulge his cultural secrets. When all were waiting attentively, he began:
"The Armorer, the matriarch of my clan, is a skilled blacksmith. She tailors each and every piece to suit everyone's needs. She knows each and every one of us, even the Foundlings. Our armor is both safety and culture at once, and the highest-grade metal we can use is beskar. It comes from the homeworld of Mandalore, and it's the strongest and most resistant metal in the known galaxy. Each part of a Mandalorian's armor is earned through their deeds, either in battle or in service to others."
He went on to explain the protective qualities of each major item of his armor and pointed them out as he goes: the thigh plates, motun’bur, the breastplate hal’cabur, the pauldrons bes’marbur and vambraces kom’rk, and finally….
"The helm, or buy’ce is the most important part. It gives us the safety of anonymity, sort of like a cultural face. Some clans follow a different path of the resol'nare and are allowed to show their faces in the presence of others, but not mine.”
Corin quickly filed away that information. So other Mandalorian clans could show their faces. Huh.
“Then does the armor protect the same for other Guest Friend too?" A child pointed at Corin, who jerked his head up at the eyes that turned towards him. He almost forgot that he wore a pauldron as well. "Why does Guest Friend not wear a helm too?"
“Oh I'm not! I, uh, I'm not a Mandalorian,” Corin spluttered. Now that all the kids’ focus was on him he felt too put on the spot, singled out with the glaringly obvious gift he didn’t deserve.
“Yes. It protects him all the same,” the Mandalorian added, shifting the group’s focus once more. Corin breathed a thankful sigh of relief and settled back.
Konaii scooted closer with a curious glint in their young eyes. "You use many strange words. Why do you refer to yourselves as ‘he’ and ‘she’, guests? And ‘mother’ and ‘boy’ and ‘husband’, what are those?"
“Konaii!” Anenh scolded and scooped the child into their lap. “You must excuse Konaii, Guest. The young ones do not understand labels such as yours.”
“That’s alright, young one,” the Mandalorian said. “Mando’a, the language of my people, also has no gendered references in it. But as such, Basic does, so I’ve learned to adapt to it. If you travel the galaxy when you are older then you'll adapt to it as well."
“In our language we refer to each other by name or relationship. It’s a far less complicated system than your pronouns,” Ozhii scoffed and crossed their arms.
“Behave, child,” Aneoc shot a glare across the story circle at their eldest and Ozhii rolled their eyes. "While our young ones may not know better, our adolescents definitely should."
Din laughed, remembering what disrespect and mischief he, Paz, and Raga would get up to in their own respective adolescences within the covert, as well as the clearly inherited troublemaking his brother's foundlings got up to when they were younger.
“But to answer your question, Konaii, it would...take some time. Corin?”
“Huh?” Corin started as he was pulled from his thoughts once more. He had been fixated on the flickering candlelight that danced across the spotless silver metal; lost in thought trying to memorize the Mando’a names of each piece of armor.
“You wanna help me explain the intricacies of gender to these kids?”
“Oh no, you’re on your own for that one,” Corin chuckled and the Mandalorian gently grabbed a Dhased kid who had been climbing on his back and let them sit piggyback across his shoulders. His adi’ka giggled in his lap and the Mandalorian fondly brushed a gloved knuckle across the child’s long green ears. The soft flames glinted off the beskar and reflected back pure liquid gold. Corin smiled.
—————
In the wee hours of the ninth standard day they had been on the planet something changed. The Mandalorian had just settled down in his chair to watch the rain, his morning prayer ready on his lips, but the view outside wasn't the same as before. The constant sheets of gray were quickly diminishing into a heavy drizzle. He watched, intrigued, as the precipitation changed before his eyes: the drizzle then became a mere light sprinkling that shimmered in the gray-blue twilight of morning before going hazy and dissipating completely like a ghost. The Long Rains were finally over.
The echoing roar of the downpour still rang in his ears even when the air outside was dead silent. A cold breeze carried the scent of petrichor through the open window and he shivered as he drank in its refreshing feel on his skin. Corin shifted and blearily sat up in bed, forcing the startled Mandalorian to scramble for his helmet and squash it back on his head before Corin woke up properly.
"Hmm? Wha'ss happ'nin?" Corin slurred, eyelids still leaden in half-sleep. "Rain sounds off."
"The rain sounds are off. It's ended." He tried to pull his voice into neutrality in his jumbled flurry of panic and amusement.
"What?" Corin blinked away the sleep from his eyes and stretched his arms up with a sustained groan.
"The rain's ended. It stopped."
"Lemme see," he grumbled and swung his legs around the bed. "Shit, it's cold!" Now he's awake, the Mandalorian smiled behind the helmet as Corin's feet hit the floor. Corin wrapped the blanket around his shoulders like a cloak and shuffled over to the window to view the cityscape.
"I thought the cold didn't bother you," the Mandalorian quipped as Corin joined at his side.
"Oh it usually doesn't, but it's also dependent on context. If I'm already outside then I'm good, but if I'm warm in bed then the cold sucks." He wrapped a corner of the blanket tighter around his torso and admired the view outside the window. "Oh, look at the sunrise!"
The twin suns blazed gloriously on the horizon as daybreak finally peaked between the tall buildings. After seeing nothing but solid gray outside for so long the sight of an actual morning was ridiculously comforting to Corin. He had never missed the warmth of a sun so much as he had this past week; Dra’taga looked lovely in the light. He joyfully soaked in the suns' rays as a lucky cloud parted to stream light directly through the window.
The Mandalorian turned his head slightly to sneak a glance at Corin in profile. He stood entranced by the rising light, hands braced against the windowsill, hair mussed from sleep and skin aglow like molten gold haloed in sunrise. The blanket was slowly sliding down his shoulders to tease a glimpse of collarbone beneath his tank top and the Mandalorian felt the urge to fix it; whether to pull the fabric back up and keep Corin warm or otherwise to shrug it down and expose his companion's defined torso to the chill and the light. He truly was beautiful.
In the sudden silence the absence of rain gave, the city erupted in cheers and music. Both men jumped as Dhasedi began to filter from their buildings and set up decorations in the streets below. Chatter and laughter and music and so much color quickly filled the square, the people dressed in colorful fabrics that neither Corin nor the Mandalorian had seen them wear before. The Festival of Color had begun.
"You still want your caf?"
"Hell no. Let's go!"
They dressed quickly while the sounds outside grew stronger. The Mandalorian equipped only his blaster pistol and vibroknife, knowing any more weapons on his person would be considered suspicious but also unwilling to be unarmed in case of emergency. This was discreet, easily overlooked. His minimum comfort threshold for weapons: one for himself, one for Corin. He prayed that neither would be necessary this day.
Everyone in the settlement took to the streets, bedecked in multicolored sashes and scarves and sheer cloaks, garlands and banners of every hue were thrown across buildings to drape above the main roads. The bright blue sky above them shone with three overlapping iridescent rainbows that shimmered in the sunlight. Everything was an explosion of color, the complete antithesis of the oppressive week-long drab. Puddles were to be splashed in and danced around. The Dhased children especially loved that; a group excitedly huddled around a large puddle and took turns running and jumping in it.
The child squealed and wiggled impatiently in Corin’s arms to join in, and the men exchanged a glance and shrugged.
“He’ll be safe,” Corin smiled and set the child down. He chirped happily and tottled over to the group of children, most of whom recognised him from the prayer circle and clapped in delight.
“Friend Corin! Friend Mando!”
The men turned to find Sudoh waving at them from across the square, along with their mated trio of friends and their assortment of children. Corin smiled and waved back.
“Hi Sudoh! We’ll be over in a second!”
“I’ll watch over him. You go have fun,” the Mandalorian said.
“But—!”
“Go. Have fun. I’m not good with crowds, I’ll be here.”
“Okay then,” Corin hesitated for a moment more, then turned away to join his friends. The Mandalorian watched Corin’s retreating back until he was swept up in the sea of color and excitement before turning back to his adi’ka, who now was levitating water droplets in a slow whirl to the excitement and awe of the Dhasedi children. The man sighed and shook his head fondly.
“What am I going to do with him…?”
He caught glimpses of Corin here and there as the ex-trooper explored the festival and enjoyed its many splendors. Each time it seemed like there was another color, another piece of fabric draped around his shoulders and growing into a small mountain. The whirlwind of swaying color caught him up again and he was lost into a joyous dance. He watched as Corin danced and laughed and sang badly to the song, draped in scarves and beads with a garland of woven fabric adorning his head, happier than the Mandalorian had ever seen him. Ever glad that the helmet covered the undoubtedy stupid-looking grin on his face, the man leaned against a wall where he could see both his adi’ka and his cyar’ika and waited.
—————
Some time later Corin sauntered up, breathless from dancing, and from his pocket produced a light orange oblong fruit that sort of looked like a many-fingered hand. He twisted and cracked off one of the lumpy appendages of the fruit like he had seen the locals do and popped it in his mouth. He cracked off another and offered it to the Mandalorian, who declined with a shake of the helmet. Corin sighed
"Come on, it's part of their tradition! You have to try some or they'll think you're not enjoying the festival!" He waved at the group of young aliens he had been dancing and mingling with and Sudoh waved back. Corin gasped when an idea hit him and he started to unwind one of the opaque scarves wrapped around his shoulders. The Mandalorian tilted his head in amused interest when Corin proffered the fabric to him.
"I'm sure you've leaned the helmet back a bit before to eat or drink, right? Or cough or sneeze or something! And if you hide yourself with this then everything's fine! You haven't broken any rules. I'll even look away for you."
The Mandalorian thought it over. Okay...sure, to hell with it! He was in a good mood and he felt like humoring Corin, if only to see his bright smile once more. He hesitantly grabbed one end of the scarf and held it against the helmet's face. Corin held up the other end close to the beskar and offered the fruit piece again. He smiled when the Mandalorian took the fruit with a murmured "thank you", then averted his eyes as the Mandalorian ducked down, tilted the helmet up just enough to expose his mouth and popped the fruit into his mouth before sliding it back into place. He lowered his end of the scarf as he chewed; it was sweet and tangy and left a cool, fresh aftertaste like he had just brushed his teeth.
"It's good." He replied when he swallowed the fruit.
Corin grinned and the Mandalorian swears that the suns are almost as radiant as that smile.
"Let's dance."
He grabbed the Mandalorian’s wrist and pulled him towards the market square where the Dhasedi were congregating and dancing merrily to live music. The men were quickly swept up into a joyful dance and the Mandalorian had to keep up with the crowd to stay within Corin’s sights. When Corin realized the problem he grabbed the man by the wrists and pulled him away from the most chaotic dancers, choosing instead to find a quieter spot near the edge of the dance circle. Now that they could hear their own thoughts once more, Corin laughed and swayed them together to a slower tempo.
“This is so much fun! I’ve never been to something like this before, I can’t believe what I’ve been missing out on!”
“Bigger crowds have always put me on edge,” the Mandalorian admitted. “But I’m glad you’re enjoying it so much.”
"My father never would have let me attend something like this!” Corin began, but as the memories returned to him he slowed and then stopped. “Father always said that these kinds of festivals brought out the degenerates and malcontents looking to cause trouble and preach their agendas. When I was younger I didn't know what he was talking about, so I assumed he meant Rebels and didn't question it. Until I grew older and realized what he really meant…" he trailed off and stared at the ground between their feet.
"What would he propose was the 'right' kind of celebration then?" The Mandalorian asked, voice suspiciously level to suppress the angry tremor beneath his words. If Corin's sorry excuse of a father hadn't already been dead and gone he would have happily hunted and shot the man down in cold blood. Love was a sacred tenant of Mandalorian culture and to deny one's true self was practically unheard of in his clan. A happy family, no matter how it was comprised,
was to be nothing less than respected.
"He thought political soirees and cocktail parties were the only valid form of celebration. Stuffy Imperial highbrow events where your suit is itchy and everything is a facade and everyone secretly hates each other and at least one person's drink is poisoned by the end of the night. The dances are slow and boring and strictly man/woman duets. I had to attend some with him and Uncle Vecon and I never felt like I belonged there.
"But here? Everything is sincerity and joy and bursting with community! The Dhasedi are so lovely and their culture is so fascinating! Like these?" He motioned to the pile of various fabrics adorning his shoulders. "They call them Story Scarves. Each color and fabric type means something different! You can tell a person's whole life story by the colors and textures they choose to wear for the festival, isn't that so interesting? And these multicolored ones, they're meant for sharing! You gift them back and forth during conversation as a sign of respect. You can also gift your solid-colored ones to someone else if the meaning of it is relevant to the other person or your relationship with them."
The Mandalorian smiled under the helmet now that Corin was out of his dark memories and into the whirlwind of color and song surrounding him once more.
"Like this—" he indicated a gauzy bright yellow scarf "—is for new friendships. Sudoh gave it to me first thing, along with this—" he lifted the shimmering rainbow scarf and draped it over the Mandalorian's shoulders. He accepted the gift with a small, thankful nod and definitely did not fixate on the absentminded brush against his arm when Corin lowered his hands once more.
"What do some others mean?" He then prompted, twirling a gloved finger around the corner of a hearty woven scarf dyed a deep teal hue.
"Oh, that one? It’s an important one to them. It means that you've endured many hardships and have overcome them. The large heavy weave is meant to evoke comfort. Like ocean waves."
"It suits you." It brings out your eyes, was left unsaid.
"Yeah, and this one?" He points to a soft downy lilac scarf. "It means the birth of a child. There wasn't any for adoption specifically, but it's close enough. They said it's meant to be given to the child as well since it's so soft. Here, you take it. I got it for you anyway." He unwrapped the scarf from his neck and added it to the Mandalorian's.
"What about this one?" He gently tugged at the silky berry pink scarf that caught his eye, almost hidden under the small mountain of fabric around Corin's neck. Corin had hoped tucking it under the rest of his Story Scarves would be enough. Evidently it wasn't. Corin blushed as bright as the scarf itself and looked away at the merry crowd.
"It...it means a new or desirable lo—"
K - O - O - O - O - M ! ! !
An explosion rocked the market square. The entire side of a building crumbled down onto the festival below and sent burning banners fluttering to the ground alongside the debris. Corin ducked down to protect the child as the Mandalorian jumped into action, scanning the now screaming and panicked crowd for signs of enemy forces. Another explosion in the next street over elicited a second wave of screams from the Dhasedi as they scattered for cover. Seconds later blaster fire reached Corin's ears and his stomach dropped.
"Corin! Follow me!"
"Wait! The kid! We need to tell Sudoh to hide him!"
Corin scooped up the child and rushed off to where he last saw Sudoh’s cloak run off to. Screams and fire erupt behind him as Corin handed the child over to Sudoh and their friends. Corin cursed himself for not bringing along weapons as he hurriedly explained what to do:
“Stay indoors and stay low! An inner room if possible, reinforced. No windows or anything that can fall in! The kid might try to save you if he feels the danger, if that happens let him do it but keep him safe, okay?! Don’t let him out of your sight!”
He left the bewildered Dhasedi and raced back to the Mandalorian’s side, who handed Corin his blaster and unsheathed the vibroblade. The men nod tersely and begin to follow the sounds of destruction, twin anger ablaze in their hearts. They turned the corner to find the enemy: a unit of Stormtroopers was upheaving the festival. Banners and flags burned from blaster fire, scarves and beads muddied and trampled on the ground, and the explosion had been from the initial landing of their troop carrier, an older model that Corin recognized with a shiver. The Mandalorian assessed the situation and quickly came up with a battle plan.
"You stay here and draw their fire. I'll sneak around back and pick them off when they're distracted. We start on your discretion."
Corin's discretion? He had never taken point on a mission before. The Mandalorian was trusting him to make the first move, the right move.
"What about when they see you?"
"Beskar'll protect me, I'll be fine." He brushed his knuckles against Corin's cheek then backed away. "Just stand your ground here and stay safe."
He snuck to the end of the alley and almost turned the corner. He paused. "Good luck, Corin."
"You too." Corin nodded and flashed a tense smile. Then the Mandalorian was gone.
Resolute, Corin took up position behind the corner of the building at the end of the alley and surveyed his targets. Two squads of seven were currently ransacking the square, some taking prisoners for questioning while others happily destroyed the festival's decor on disruption orders—or what Troopers would colloquially call "mandated fun". Not all members of the Corps were as sympathetic as Corin. Some delighted in the destruction they were allowed to commit. These Troopers were obviously some of that batch.
The two captains of the squads were at the prisoner lineup and barking questions at the terrified townspeople. One captain yanked the collected scarves off a defiant alien and threw them to the ground, grinding the colorful fabric into the mud with the heel of his boot. Anger burned in Corin's chest as the captain now proceeded to mock the alien, knowing their life story was being disrespected in the worst way. Corin decided on his first target. He raised the blaster and aimed for the weak point between the captain's helmet and back plate. He knew this would be a kill shot. Any Stormtrooper worth their weight in credits knew the many weaknesses their armor posed and wisely chose to ignore it. Corin wouldn't.
His shot struck true and the captain crumpled to the ground. Corin aimed at the second captain but his fire line became obscured by the frantic aliens in the questioning lineup using this opportunity to escape. The twelve other Troopers quickly rounded on the townspeople and aimed their blasters but Corin knew they wouldn't open fire until the remaining captain gave orders. And that moment was all he needed.
A flash of silver along the fringe of black and white. Corin smiled. He took aim at a random Trooper and fired. Shouts arose from the Troopers as they identified the source of the blaster fire and as the Mandalorian began to dispatch them one by one. Corin got in another three shots, each one hitting their target with deadly accuracy. These aren't friends, they don't care about you, he reminded himself as blasterfire returned towards his location. You're not one of them anymore.
He ducked deeper into the alley when the assaulted stone walls began to shower fine dust on his head. A brave (or possibly very foolish) Trooper rushed into the alley and engaged with him head-on. Corin shot the blaster rifle from their hands then shouldered them solidly into the wall, the beskar pauldron doing most of the work as the Trooper's chestplate caved in on itself from the hit. The Trooper sagged to the ground and stayed there, most likely disoriented and winded. Corin aimed his blaster point-blank at the Trooper's helmet but hesitated when a beat of recognition changed the Trooper's attitude.
"C...CT-113?"
Corin froze.
"What." He breathed. This was the last thing he needed right now.
"You...you've given us hope." The Trooper said, her voice scared but proud. “Michael, he…!”
"Hope? Hope about what?"
"That there's a way out."
"I-I don't…I can't—!" His mind was reeling. What does this mean? There's talk about him defecting that's running through the Corps? A new rumor to add to his already tainted reputation? He couldn't kill this Trooper in cold blood if he knew she looked up to him. Could he? He was a nobody, less than a nobody in fact, but it would weigh on his conscience if he did something that might hurt the possibility of more defections. His reputation was already bad enough as is.
"Shoot me. I don't mind. I'm just glad it's you delivering the blow, sir."
"I can't do this right now." He blasted the Trooper in the leg and retook his position, trying his hardest to forget what just occurred. The commotion in the courtyard had died down, the only sounds left were some crackling debris fires and slowly crumbling stonework.
He counted the bodies—some bleeding out from critical points between the armor, most charred to a smouldering crisp from Mandalorian fire—and tallied them against the squads: that left three still unaccounted for, along with the captain that escaped. The Mandalorian was nowhere to be found. He was probably tailing them.
Corin listened for the closest sounds of disruption and followed the slippery streets towards his best guess. When he rounded back to the main square, however, it seemed like time froze.
The building that Sudoh had taken the child into. Half of it was ripped open and steaming, crumbling stone and metal sizzled all across the once-beautiful square. His blood ran cold and nothing short of pure terror gripped his heart.
"The kid!!"
Corin burst into the destroyed building and began a frantic search for the child. He moved the rubble desperately, flesh on his hands tearing from shoving away the sharp debris and delving deeper into the ruined architecture.
“Kid?! Sudoh?! Stars, kid, where are you?? Sudoh, talk to me!!!”
"Corin! He's here! He's alive!" The Mandalorian's voice boomed through the rubble, shaking in fear and relief. Corin almost tripped over a craggy stone as a sudden wave of relief hit him too.
“Where are you??”
“Follow my voice! Over here!”
Corin scrambled over debris and eventually found the Mandalorian, but when he took in the scene before the man he crumpled to the ground in grief.
The Mandalorian had found the child shivering, still cradled close in the arms of Sudoh's bloody corpse. Large ears drooped low, the child cooed sorrowfully at the loss of its newest friendly caregiver, small claws slowly pawing at Sudoh's cheeks and staring into glassy, lifeless eyes. The Mandalorian knelt and gently coaxed the child out of Sudoh's arms, whispering words in his melodious language as he did so, and the child cried as it clung tightly to the sleeve of his undercoat.
The child had been swaddled in a thick light blue scarf: protection from danger. Draped around its head and tied with a skillful knot was a sheer pink scarf: adoration. Both were now stained with Sudoh's thick dark blood.
Corin grieved for Sudoh and their friendship. They had gifted the child with wards of good luck and kept him safe even in death. Corin couldn't believe this stroke of celestial grace despite this horrid and unnecessary loss of life. Guilt coiled and settled deep in his gut like a Jakku rattling sandsnake. Why did he always have to bring about death and destruction? It followed him like a shadow, omnipotent and hungry for blood.
“Mando...” He choked out before tears overwhelmed him. Corin didn't know how long he sat there for as the screams and blaster fire filtered in, but the only clear sounds were those of his own weeping and the child’s quiet whimpers that echoed off the crumbling walls.
“Come on,” the Mandalorian stood uneasily and offered Corin a hand up, the other securely curled around the whimpering child. “We need to get out of here.”
Corin nodded and accepted the hand, large and warm and grounding, and the men maneuvered their way out of the hazy debris and back into the main square. They ducked behind ruins and hid from the Troopers, Corin managing to thin out a handful as they made their way back to Meeri’s hangar and the RazorCrest within. As they rounded a bend, Corin got another look at the Imperial ship that the Troopers had landed in.
It was a decently-sized transport ship that could hold about ten squads of Troopers. Gideon must've commanded the transport to pursue once the TIE fighter had reported in and most likely waited out the Long Rains to deploy. The ship had probably arrived in orbit not long after the RazorCrest landed and had been lying in wait the entire time. To think that his sense of security this past week was only an illusion—! Chills shot down Corin's spine and he quickened his pace.
The hangar doors were in sight, and the emergency hatch leading down into the underground was thankfully unlocked. The men carefully climbed down the ladder and the Mandalorian passed the child over to Corin as he went for the panel that operated the bay doors while Corin opened up the RazorCrest’s side ramp. The deep rumble of the ancient gears turning accompanied his hollow steps up the gangplank and the Mandalorian rushed in right behind him.
"We need to leave. Now." Corin cradled the child and set him down in the sleeping alcove before shutting and locking the door for his safety. The Mandalorian however unlocked the weapons cache and began to load up on blasters and grenades.
"No, we need to stay and help them! Those Imps will destr—" Corin grabbed a grenade out of his hand and shook it at the Mandalorian as he spoke.
"No! Once we go then they'll retreat and follow us. I know their tactics. They may have superior numbers but the captain won't waste time when three more valuable targets are fleeing." He set the explosive down and instead scrambled for the cockpit ladder.
"They don't care about the Dhasedi! They'll destroy the whole city for the hell of it!" The Mandalorian called after Corin and dropped the weapons before following him up. When he pulled himself up into the cockpit he found a frantic Corin already halfway through takeoff prep.
"Exactly! They don't care about the Dhasedi, they care about us. So as soon as we're in atmo they'll leave!" Corin didn't turn around as he flipped the appropriate switches, levers, and buttons. The engine roared to life and he checked over the steering yoke and hyperdrive status.
"There's no guarantee that they'll register we left immediately! We need to stay and fight. We owe it to them. For Sudoh. For the kid." The Mandalorian laid a hand on the pauldron he had forged only for Corin to shrug off the touch. He spun around in the pilot's seat and stood up to face the bounty hunter, sharp blue eyes aflame.
"Can you not see that I'm already doing this for the kid?!" Corin snapped. "The best way we can reduce casualties planetside is by running, now! So shove your honorable Mandalorian reciprocity up your ass so we can get out of here!"
The Mandalorian shifted in stunned silence. He honestly didn't know whether to be offended or impressed by Corin's blatant disregard for instruction. Corin huffed but calmed himself slightly.
"I'm sorry. That was rude and unfair of me. I'm just trying to protect all of us here because I know Imperial tactics better than most. But if you think they might not see us then we need to make damn sure they do. We'll shoot at the transport."
The Mandalorian maneuvered around Corin and took his spot in the pilot's seat. "Fine. But it can't be destroyed or else the troops will be stranded planetside and probably kill the Dhasedi."
"True...we could disable the weapons!"
"You can do that?" The hangar bay doors were almost fully retracted and the Mandalorian made last checks before takeoff.
"There's a weakness, a design flaw near the neck of that model of transport ship. It ties directly to the weapons grid. Uncle had complained about it enough times you'd think they were targeting him specifically. But the Empire deemed it low priority to fix since those ships don't usually see heavy combat, so there was never a recall for them. The model is meant for civilian incursions, not for the battlefield, which means that whoever sent it doesn't have the ability to send out a battle-ready ship. It's a lucky shot, but if you get it then their cannons should go permanently offline."
"I'll get it." The Mandalorian was resolute. One of this planet's inhabitants had given their life to protect his child. He would return the favor and save them as well. The engines roared to life and the Mandalorian pulled the ship up and out of the hangar. Even among the chaos of the city below one lonely ship in the sky could be noticeable so the men had to act quickly.
The RazorCrest swung around the skyline and sought out the square where the Imperial transport ship was grounded. Corin jumped from the passenger seat and pointed out the viewport.
"There! Behind that exhaust port! The divot between couplers!"
The Mandalorian locked the spot in his crosshairs and fired.
Direct hit.
The transport ship rocked violently with the impact but still stood. The RazorCrest flew higher to get a better vantage point as the remaining squads of Troopers began to scurry like white ants through the broken, muddied, still-colorful streets and back towards the ship, most likely recalled by their commanding officer.
The RazorCrest flew higher, higher, and higher still, breaking atmosphere and entering the inky blackness of space once more. The Mandalorian punched the hyperspace lever and the racing pins of stars began their familiar flight past the transparisteel. Corin sat back in his chair.
The sudden silence was deafening.
“Now what?” Corin whispered, his voice too loud in the absence of sound.
“We need to lay low. Stay quiet. Just until the Imps lose our scent and calm down again.”
“Back to the backwaters?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Another desert planet?”
"I'll shoot for a temperate climate. No guarantees. Go back to the hold, relax now if you can. I can fly for a while."
"Okay." Corin was all out of nerve now and a nap sounded like a damn good idea. Exhaustion and grief were settling in, leadening his bones and drooping his shoulders. He mounted the first rung of the ladder and paused. "You know. I'm gonna miss the festival."
"Me too," was the Mandalorian's soft reply.
—————
The cargo bay was too quiet. Corin slumped into the single bunk and stared up at the ceiling until his eyes refused to stay open any longer. The child curled against his side and he cradled him closer, brushing a soothing hand over velvety ears until the child fell into an exhausted slumber. Corin too, fell into sporadic, fitful dreams of fire and colorful fabric stained with blood and mud.
"CT-113. You really are a slippery one, aren't you?" Moff Gideon sneers as he holds out the smouldering remains of a warm leaf green scarf: enduring family. Endless bodies of the planet's residents surround him like a gray sea bedecked in tainted colors.
"Maybe. But at least I'm not slimy like you, Gideon."
"Such defiance! You know, your father's behavior reports never said that you were this recalcitrant. Perhaps the Mandalorian brute and his ilk have taught you something after all."
"Or I've learned on my own how to resist," Corin snarls in reply.
"Doubtful," Gideon scoffs. "It's of no consequence to me. I am simply here for my asset. Whatever else is collateral."
"Banthashit. You won't be getting anything from me." Corin trains his blaster at the man's obsidian breastplate and his trigger finger itches to get this over with.
"Oh, but I already have, Corin Valentis. See for yourself." Gideon tosses the tattered burnt scrap of the Story Scarf at Corin's feet. He then points somewhere behind Corin with an infinitely smug look of victory.
Corin turned just in time to watch one of Gideon's Death Troopers shove the Mandalorian to his knees and unceremoniously rip the silver helmet from his head. His back was to Corin and he made no effort to fight back against his captors. He was defeated, disgraced. What good would resisting do?
The Death Trooper pulled out their blaster and put a point-blank shot through the man's forehead. He falls face first into the mud like nothing more than a discarded toy. Corin could only watch in absolute horror, frozen in place by fear and despair.
Somewhere, the child screams.
Corin jolted awake in a cold sweat, heart pounding in his chest like he had just finished a marathon around the Death Star and his throat just as parched. Careful so as to not wake the slumbering child and shivering in the cool recycled air, Corin stumbled his way out of the bunk like a man entranced and toward the small fresher alcove to get some water. He checked the closest chrono for the time: less than an hour had passed since he went down. He sighed and shook his head.
A scarf slipped from his shoulder and into his hand: the silky berry pink one. Surprisingly, there wasn’t a drop of blood on it. He stored the scarf away in his single crate of sparse personal belongings and settled in for yet another sleepless night in space.