Chapter Text
4 ABY
A light snow was falling as he made his way through the dark streets, boots crunching against damp pavement. Kijimi had become an increasingly frequent stop; the relative lack of Imperial presence - the lack of really any government at all, for that matter - made it an ideal place to pick up work. For Din, that was usually bounty hunting. Occasionally smuggling, if money was particularly tight. He used what he needed to make ends meet, to keep his ship in the air, and saved the rest to bring back to the covert, although the trip there was too risky to be made too often. Too much chance of being seen.
Reaching his destination, Din stepped through the door, gaze sweeping over the occupants hunched over the bar and scattered amongst the mismatched tables, automatically assessing the level of threat. A few heads turned his way - unlikely they’d seen many Mandalorians in the past few years - but no one addressed him or rose from their seat. The regulars got on with their business, and Din with his.
In the back, his contact had told him. Alone. Dark hood. Can’t miss her.
In the dimly lit back corner of the bar, a lone figure sat at a table. They were cast in shadow, but Din could just make out the shape of the hood. He approached.
“I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”
The voice was light, pleasant enough, but with an undercurrent of weariness. When the head lifted, eyes glittered, caught by the low light, but he couldn’t make out any other features. Human? Difficult to tell.
A hand gestured towards the opposite chair, although it was more a rustle of robes than anything else. “Please sit.”
Din sat, propping his pulse rifle against the table. His companion said nothing further, the eyes beneath the hood scrutinizing him carefully. Finally, Din cleared his throat.
“What’s the job?”
“It’s simple enough,” the figure across the table replied. “Only transport.”
“Transport?” When his contact had said it was an unusual job, that wasn’t really what Din had envisioned. “Cargo?”
“One passenger. Not me. My-“ There was a slight pause. “Charge. A girl. It’s vital that she get to Takodana as soon as possible.”
“Takodana?” Din repeated. That was practically on the other side of the galaxy. He’d come to Kijimi for work, true enough, but ferrying a passenger that kind of distance wasn’t high on his agenda. “You want me to transport a child to Takodana?” He shook his head, already getting to his feet. “I’m a bounty hunter, not a taxi service.”
“I’m told you’re the best in the parsec.” The words, or maybe it was the tone of voice, made him pause. “I need the best. And I can pay for it.” A flick of a sleeve revealed a hint of familiar silver metal. You didn’t see it much anymore, not since the Great Purge, but Din would recognize it anywhere.
He retook his seat. “Beskar?”
A nod, as the ingot disappeared from view. Din could appreciate the discretion; this was not the kind of place to be waving around any amount of wealth. “An advance, should you take the job. And seven more of the same upon safe delivery of the girl.”
It was not an insubstantial amount. More than what seemed reasonable for a simple transport job, even taking into consideration that he’d have a second mouth to feed for the duration. “What’s the catch?”
With a smooth gesture, his companion pushed back her hood, returning his gaze with careful green eyes. She was human, younger than Din himself, but with a look about her that suggested she’d lived more than her share of years. She studied him for a long moment. “It’s absolutely imperative she be kept hidden from the Empire.”
Din exhaled in a quiet huff. There was always something. “She’s a target?”
“No, no, nothing like that,” she assured him. “No one’s looking for her. We’d just like to keep it that way.”
“A direct route is out of the question. It’s too risky to travel that close to the core worlds.” There was a war going on, after all. Din preferred to keep out of it, but it was wise for a Mandalorian to avoid the core, and the major hyperspace lanes, and anywhere else where he might attract unnecessary Imperial attention.
“And that’s why I need someone with knowledge of the back routes. Of the Outer Rim.”
“There are many who do,” he pointed out.
“And someone that I know can keep her safe.”
Din leaned back in his chair, considering. It was a far cry from his usual work, but the money was good. Really good. And if he kept to the back routes, it should be easy enough. It would take maybe a week, and he might be able to find other work on that side of the galaxy while he was there.
“She’s a teenager, not a young child,” his companion said then. “Quiet, capable. She won’t be any trouble.”
It was on the tip of his tongue, the question of what the Empire could possibly want with a teenage girl from Kijimi. Din swallowed it back. That wasn’t how things were done.
“Fine.” He held out a gloved hand. “I’ll do it.”
A hand emerged from the robe to meet his and, when it pulled away, the beskar was in his palm. Din tucked it into a pocket.
“I’ll bring her to your ship at first light,” the figure said. “Get her safely to Maz Kanata at Takodana Castle. She’ll be expecting you.”
With a nod, Din got to his feet, collected his rifle, and left the bar without a backwards glance.
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The sun had just begun to come up when two figures approached the Razor Crest. It had stopped snowing, but the air was still bitterly cold. Din lowered the ramp, walking out to meet them. The client he’d met the previous day was attired exactly the same, the long robe and deep hood concealing her entirely from view. Beside her stood the girl, perhaps thirteen or fourteen, small for her age. She was dressed in leggings, worn boots, and a tunic made from a heavy cloth, and a small pack was slung over her shoulder. Her dark hair was pinned back from her face, and her brown eyes, as they looked up at Din’s helmet, were cautious and curious.
His client gestured to Din. “The Mandalorian is going to escort you to Takodana,” she said to the girl, who nodded, her eyes never leaving him. “Be safe.”
Din watched with a measure of curiosity as the girl’s attention finally shifted to the robed figure beside her. He’d assumed they had some sort of relationship; what word had the client used, her charge? It had been said with a trace of hesitation, as though the speaker was uncertain it was the right descriptor. And now, as they parted with barely a word or a gesture, and the girl crossed to where Din stood, it struck him that they hardly seemed to know one another at all.
Not that it mattered. He turned towards the ship, gesturing for the girl to follow him. “Come on, kid.” She complied without a word. At the top of the ramp, he paused to close it behind them and then led her further into the Crest. “You can use the bunk.” He pressed the button that revealed the small space, the door sliding upward with a hiss. “We’ll be traveling five or six days. One stop for fuel, if we’re lucky.” He nodded to the left of the sleeping quarters. “Vacc tube's just there.”
“Don’t you need it?” It was the first words she’d spoken since they’d met. “The bunk.”
Din glanced down at her. She was looking straight ahead, at what passed for his sleeping quarters, and the top of her head was only just level with his shoulder. “I’ll sleep in the cockpit.” He tipped his head, as something occurred to him. “Have you been on a ship before?”
She looked up, eyes flicking over his helmet. “Yeah.”
Good, Din thought. This would be easier if she wasn’t brand new to space travel. “I’ll get us in the air. Cockpit’s up there.” He indicated the ladder to his left, before moving towards it, but paused with a foot on the bottom rung. “Don’t go poking around.”
“I won’t.” The girl set her bag down on the bunk.
He hoped he could trust her word on that. The last thing he needed was a teenager rifling through his weapons storage or stumbling across the portable carbonite unit. Din stifled a sigh, climbing up the ladder. Not for the first time, he wondered if he was making a mistake.
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She hadn’t appeared in the cockpit by the time he’d made the jump to lightspeed, and Din wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. But when he climbed back down the ladder, she was sitting cross-legged on the bunk and looked up at his approach. He paused just outside the door.
“Hungry?”
She nodded.
He inclined his head. “Come on.”
He rifled through his food storage, pulling out a couple of ration bars. He had plenty enough food for the both of them for the duration of the trip, but the options weren’t extensive. He tucked one in his belt to eat later, in the privacy of the cockpit, and tossed her the other.
“Catch.”
She’d been looking the other way, but her hand shot out to snag it from mid-air, as her head snapped back to face him. Din raised an eyebrow under his helmet. Good reflexes.
He took a seat on a nearby crate and, after a moment, she followed suit. She opened the ration bar and took a careful bite, with the kind of practiced self-restraint that comes from not knowing when your next meal will be.
“You have a name, kid?”
“Winta,” she mumbled around a mouthful of food, waiting to swallow before speaking again. “What about you?”
“Not one I use,” Din answered truthfully. Realizing she probably needed a way to address him, he tacked on: “Most people call me Mando.”
“I’ve never met a Mandalorian before,” Winta confessed, before taking another bite.
“I’m not surprised.”
“Is it true you never take your helmet off?”
“No.” Winta’s eyes lifted to look at him. “I just don’t take it off in front of anyone else.”
“That’s what I meant,” she pointed out, beginning to roll her eyes in an expression of exasperation before evidently thinking better of it. “Sorry.”
Din watched her silently as she finished the ration bar, brushing her hands off on her leggings. Unaccustomed to small talk, and equally uninterested in attempting it, he stood again. Winta, too, hopped to her feet.
“You can sit,” he told her. “I’ll be in the cockpit.” Halfway to the ladder, he paused, adding: “You can come up if you want.”
Winta nodded, but didn’t move to follow. Din left her below without another word.