Chapter Text
“The Mando I know of is on Tatooine.”
The last time Din had passed through the desert planet had been several months ago, chasing the bounty on Fennec Shand alongside the inexperienced Toro Calican. Back then, he’d been surprised to discover that the Bounty Hunters Guild had already ceased operations in Mos Eisley. He hadn’t been there in a while prior to then and was a bit put off by how empty the once-bustling spaceport was.
However, with the city so sparse, it meant the presence of anyone who stood out would be sold on the black market, fought over by information brokers desperate to earn a few credits. That said, Din could hardly believe his ears when Gor Koresh told him a Mandalorian had been living on Tatooine.
He was unconvinced. “I’ve spent much time on Tatooine. I’ve never seen a Mandalorian there.”
“My information is good, I tell you,” Koresh promised. “The city of Mos Pelgo. I swear it by the Gotra.”
Mos Pelgo... Din had no idea such a town even existed. He knew of Bestine, Anchorhead, Mos Espa, and Mos Eisley—basic locations everyone knew. Mos Doba had been a name that floated around the underworld a few times, a town enslaved by mercenaries that were freed by some rebels. Mos Entha, Jabba’s personal slave pen. Yet, Mos Pelgo didn’t ring a bell at all.
If anyone would know about it, it would be the mechanic Peli Motto—in charge of several discombobulated pit droids and a reliable docking bay. She guided him to the city of Mos Pelgo, using her R5-series astromech to project a map for him.
With one arm carrying the Child, Peli used her other hand to gesture around the map as she spoke. “This is a map of Tatooine before the war.” Swiping up once, she zoomed in on two slightly reddened areas. “You got Mos Eisley, Mos Espa.” Moving her arm again, the map moved quite a distance away to an area of flat land. “And up around this region, Mos Pelgo.”
Din stared at her. “I don’t see anything.”
“Well, it’s there. Or at least, it used to be,” Peli said. “Not much to speak of. It’s an old mining settlement. They’re going to see that big hunk o’ metal long before you land.”
Din turned back to the empty space on the map, contemplating if it was worth exploring. An old mining settlement that wasn’t even on the map didn’t lend him much confidence in finding who he was searching for. Yet, he couldn’t ignore that it made a good hiding spot for a Mandalorian.
Figuring he had nothing to lose in exploring the option, Din asked Peli, “You still have that speeder bike?”
“Sure do. It’s a little rusty, but I got it.”
Din sped across the Dune Sea, sand kicking up with his velocity. Mos Pelgo was quite a distance from Mos Eisley's spaceport; even after a day's trip, Din still had to camp for the night. Thankfully, he'd crossed several Tuskens who were generous enough to allow him to spend the night with them. He didn't get too much sleep, preferring to stay awake and keep an eye on the Child, but he managed to get enough to ensure he wouldn't be vulnerable to attackers.
By the time it was early afternoon, Din finally spotted a small town in the distance. Based on what he remembered from the map Peli showed him, it must be Mos Pelgo. He could count probably less than twenty structures there.
Din slowed the speeder to a crawl as he breached the outskirts of the town. The Child made some quiet sounds of uncertainty and Din resisted the urge to turn around to comfort him, knowing his focus was better trained on the strangers eyeing him. The town seemed to be almost, if not entirely, human-occupied. Every single citizen stared him down as he passed through—perhaps they never got many visitors. It wouldn't be much of a surprise.
Pulling the speeder bike to a halt outside the largest building—the cantina—Din helped the Child out of the bag, setting him down on the wooden planks that kept the town at least a metre aboveground. Din made his way into the cantina, knowing the Child was following close behind. He didn't trust the people enough to leave him unattended in the bag with a working speeder even if this was a hopefully-quick search.
Din looked around the cantina, seeing a Weequay tending the bar. The Weequay looked up immediately, asking, "Can I help you?"
"I'm looking for a Mandalorian."
"We don't get many visitors around these parts," the Weequay told him. Din thought so. "Can you describe him?"
Din didn't know why it came as a bit of a surprise that the bartender didn't know how a Mandalorian looked. With the town being so far out, it should have been expected. Din explained, "Someone who looks like me."
The Weequay made a face of understanding. "You mean the marshal?"
The marshal? The Mandalorian was protecting the town. Perhaps they would be more than happy to help him, then. As the Child peeked through the door, Din checked, "Your marshal wears Mandalorian armour?"
Glancing at the cantina's entrance briefly, the Weequay said, "See for yourself."
Din looked over at the doorway, seeing the thin frame of an armoured man silhouetted against the sunlight. As his helmet's HUD kicked in and made it easier to make out the details, Din could see now that it was indeed Mandalorian armour. With paint horrifically ruined, Din assumed this Mandalorian must have gotten into deep trouble... and emerged victorious. It certainly boded well for his quest.
Even with that going for him, Din found it a bit hard to say anything. This was the first Mandalorian he'd seen since departing Nevarro, with almost the entire covert there slain and the Armourer and Paz Viszla retreating off-world. It was a total relief to see another of his people alive, especially one who had carved a humble life as the protector of a vulnerable village.
Din couldn't help it. He was relieved and perhaps even a little excited. He'd found the one he was looking for.
The marshal perched his hands on his maroon belt, his dented and ruinous helmet barely glinting with the sunlight. "What brings you here, stranger?"
"I've been searching for you for many parsecs."
"Well, now you found me." The marshal walked into the cantina, the heels of his boots making light thuds against the flooring. Without the harsh contrast of the twin suns' rays and the dim lighting of the cantina, Din could pick out more details of the sheriff's armour now. Green and red made up most of the hardware's colours—duty and honouring a parent, both noble traits to bear. However, one colour stood out that did bring Din some concern; gold—vengeance.
Din stared at the gold marks that adorned the side of the helmet as the sheriff came closer towards the bar. His shoulder plate was decorated with a red Mythosaur skull. There was an emblem on the chest plate that Din couldn't recognise.
The marshal said to the bartender, "Weequay, two snorts of spotchka." Din couldn't say he was surprised the marshal was keeping the Weequay's name from him. A Mandalorian coming into town, regardless of if their protector was also one, was enough to keep someone on their toes. A wary Mandalorian would prove helpful.
The Weequay set a bottle of spotchka down in front of the marshal along with two small wooden cups. The sheriff hooked one finger into each cup, picking them up with one hand while his other grabbed the spotchka. As he redirected himself to the closest table, he invited, "Why don't you join me for a drink?"
Din paused. Well, this didn't have to mean he wasn't a real Mandalorian. Perhaps he would only lift his helmet high enough to sip his drink. Din had done that plenty of times when having meals on the Razor Crest with the Child, and he'd never seen his face. There was no point in jumping to conclusions. He took a step towards the marshal, deciding to join him.
Din stopped almost immediately when the sheriff's helmet came off entirely. The helmet made a pointed thunk as it was set down on the wooden table. Bringing his gaze up from the helmet to its owner, Din could see who this pretender was. He was several years older than him, judging from the lines of age at the corners of his eyes and the grey in his hair. His hair was swept carelessly off of his face in a style Din would've called charming if it weren't for the current circumstance. His eyes were a shade of hazel that could be easily mistaken for a light brown, and under the left one was a beauty mark.
On his face, a wide smile accentuated by a light chuckle.
“I’ve never met a real Mandalorian. Heard stories. I know you’re good at killin’. And probably none too happy to be seeing me wearin’ this hardware. So I figure only one of us walking outta here." The marshal topped up both cups with the blue drink before his gaze momentarily directed itself towards the Child who had busied himself with the spittoon. Smiling, he pointed at the infant. "But then I see the little guy and I think maybe I pegged you wrong."
He raised his cup of spotchka to his lips. Din asked, all trace of the earlier relief now drained, "Who are you?"
“I’m Cobb Vanth.” He lifted his cup towards Din with a brief smile. “Marshal of Mos Pelgo.”
Cobb had been avoiding calling himself a Mandalorian, Din noticed. "Where did you get the armour?"
“Bought it off some Jawas,” Cobb answered plainly as he finished off his spotchka, confirming what Din dreaded—his search for a Mandalorian had come to nought. The galaxy had presented him with a pretender.
Din stepped closer, feeling his patience wearing thin. “Hand it over.”
Cobb looked up at him before he scoffed sarcastically, putting his cup down with what Din took as pointed irritation. "Look, pal. I’m sure you call the shots where you come from but ‘round here, I’m the one tells folks what to do.”
Din made himself comfortable where he stood. He demanded evenly, "Take it off or I will."
Directing two fingers towards the Child, Cobb questioned, "We gonna do this in front of the kid?"
"He's seen worse."
"Right here then?"
"Right here."
Cobb stood up, kicking his chair to give himself room for a shootout. Din glanced down at Cobb's gloved hand, watching his fingers twitching as they poised over his holster. Din didn't make any more moves toward his own weapon— he was confident he could outshoot the non-Mandalorian. Truthfully, he also hoped Cobb would see there was a more peaceful way to settle this and not force Din to leave the town devoid of a protector.
Suddenly, Din could feel the ground vibrating beneath his feet. The HUD in his helmet informed him of some seismic disturbances. Cobb raised a finger to him to put their altercation on hold as he crossed to the door to check out the situation.
With a hunter's instinct, Din knew he might not get a better chance to kill Cobb than now—with his back turned, helmet off, and his attention on another threat, Cobb was the most vulnerable he'd been since stepping into the cantina.
Din's hand fell away from his blaster and he instead moved to stand beside Cobb outside the cantina's doorway. Alarms resounded as a warning to all citizens to seek out safety indoors. Din watched as the townspeople ran, abandoning their equipment and duties to run home. The sand rumbled so hard, Din could feel his body shaking even with the armour weighing him down.
The sand dipped as a large creature rolled through before disappearing beneath the surface once more. Though he'd been on Tatooine many times, Din had never seen a creature of that size or with those characteristics before. The beast then reemerged, opening its large jaws to feed on a bantha.
Once it went back underground and the alarms stopped, Din supposed it was no longer in dangerous proximity to the town. Slowly, the townsfolk began to exit their homes.
Cobb eyed where the beast had burrowed into the ground and let out a sigh. “Maybe we can work something out.”
As the marshal turned on his heel to reenter the cantina, Din followed him in. The Child had sought out a hiding spot in the spittoon—Din made a mental note to warn him not to play with things he didn't know about. Still surprised by the monster, Din asked Cobb, "What was that?"
The Weequay had returned to his post, sorting bottles and glasses that had fallen over. Cobb went back to the table he was at before, setting the two toppled cups upright once more. Not looking back at Din as he frowned at the wasted bottle of spotchka, he replied, "A krayt dragon. If you walk with me, I’ll tell you more about it."
Din was aware he was on a schedule. He had to get the Child back to his people—the sooner he reunited him with them, the safer both of them would be. Yet, he couldn't help but feel inclined to at least find out what that was. Even if clear memories of his parents were sparse, Din knew they raised him to be kind. Regardless of the fact that Cobb was wearing armour that didn't belong to him, Din wanted to know what was plaguing his town.
He turned towards the doorway, about to gesture for the Child to follow, when Cobb ordered the Weequay, “Watch the kid. He doesn’t leave here until we get back, yeah?”
Din looked back at Cobb—he was surprised and, truthfully, a bit suspicious. He wondered if Cobb planned to attack him outside the cantina and out of the Child's line of sight to spare him the trauma. Yet, Din had seen children when he first rode into town and they had a fire in their eyes that could only be lit by a marshal who made them feel untouchable. This was a man who was kind in spite of a hardened demeanour, a man who'd smiled at him even though he suspected Din was going to kill him.
He glanced at the Weequay who had emerged from behind the bar to tend to the Child. Din nodded once at him, then regarded Cobb once more. “Thank you. Lead the way, Marshal.”
The two men left the cantina, walking at a strangely leisurely pace across the boardwalk. It was almost hard to imagine that barely minutes ago, they were about to kill each other. Even now, a hunter's instincts told Din that this was yet another good opportunity to take the armour from him. He didn't take it, walking by Cobb's side.
The townspeople got to work, straightening toppled equipment and fixing anything that was broken. Everyone, ranging from young children to the elderly, was helping. Din saw an old man trying to pick up a vaporator and he walked over to him. Getting a good grip on the equipment, he offered, "Let me help you."
"Thanks," the man said, a bit astonished by the idea of Din helping him, it seemed. Cobb looked on curiously and if Din was reading him right, was perhaps warming up to him.
Din went back to Cobb's side, and the marshal began explaining, "That creature’s been terrorising these parts since long before Mos Pelgo was established. Thanks to this armour, I’ve been able to protect this town from bandits and Sand People. They look to me to protect ‘em. But a krayt dragon is too much for me to take on alone."
Cobb leaned against a structure and proposed, "Help me kill it and I’ll give you the armour."
Din considered it and his situation. He was on a tight timeline with the Child. The longer they stuck together, the more trouble grew in the shadows ready to drag them under. A dragon of that magnitude could easily push his plans back a week. He wanted to reclaim the armour, of course. Logically, it was clear that the most efficient solution to this was to shoot Cobb now that his hand was further from his blaster than Din's was from his own.
Then, again, Din's parents had surely raised him better than this. No matter how much easier of a mark one man was compared to a leviathan, Din knew this town would soon sink into the Dune Sea without Cobb to protect them.
He looked back at the marshal, a plan already forming in his head. "Deal. I’ll ride back to the ship, blow it out of the sand from the sky, use the bantha as bait."
A smile graced Cobb's features, wide and full of wishful thinking. "Not so simple. The ship passes above, it senses the vibrations, stays underground. But I know where it lives."
"How far?"
"Not far."
Din nodded, turning back to head back to the cantina as Cobb watched him go. "Take me there. Get a speeder and meet me at mine." Though Cobb didn't verbally respond, Din heard his footsteps grow fainter as he went to retrieve a speeder bike.
Din went back into the cantina, walking over to the Weequay and the Child. The Child had busied himself with some biscuits the bartender had given him from behind the bar. Din said a quiet thanks as he picked up the Child, bringing him back outside.
As Din carefully put the Child into the satchel on the side of the bike, Cobb approached them on his own. It was a single Radon-Ulzer engine with yellow and red panels protecting it, the edges blackened with carbon scoring. It seemed to be a custom bike from the looks of it. Perhaps the marshal was also a skilled mechanic and pilot.
Cobb pointed at the Child with two fingers, offering, "You sure that’s safe for him? Esteal’s got some kid seats to hook onto speeders if you need one."
While he thought it was obvious that Cobb looked out for the children in town, Din wasn't sure why he felt so surprised by Cobb offering a child seat. It wasn't unusual for people to take an instant liking to the infant—Cobb was no different and Din knew so by the smile he wore when he first saw the Child. Yet, Din also knew not everyone cared this way. Hell, the last time he'd taken the Child on a speeder bike ride, neither Peli nor Toro Calican had offered a safer alternative.
Din nodded once. "This will do fine... Thank you."
Cobb smiled amiably. "Gotta look out for kids, y’know."
Din still found it hard to believe he was so close to shooting this man barely half an hour ago.
Soon, the three of them made their way out of town. Din had picked up velocity faster, but Cobb's speeder caught up quickly. Once they were practically side by side, the two pilots having adjusted their bikes to go at the same speed, Cobb turned to him.
It was then Din realised he'd been staring. Why? He wasn't quite certain. Perhaps he was unsure how a man like Cobb Vanth came to be. He'd visited Tatooine many times—it wasn't like its people had a reputation for being nice to spacers, no matter if they had a child in tow or not.
As though reading Din's mind, or perhaps feeling a need to explain himself, Cobb started talking to him. He raised his voice enough for it to carry over the sounds of the wind and their engines. "You don’t understand what it was like. The town was on its last legs. It started after we got news of the Death Star blowing up. The second one, that is. The Empire was pullin’ outta Tatooine. There was blaster fire over Mos Eisley. The occupation was over."
Cobb's face fell slightly—even with the imminent vibration of the bikes, Din could see it clearly. Cobb must be reliving the memory as he recounted it. Cobb pushed on, though. "We didn’t even have time to celebrate. That very night, the Mining Collective moved in. Power hated a vacuum and Mos Pelgo became a slave camp overnight. I lit out. Took what I could from the invaders. Grabbed a camtono. I had no idea it was full of silicax crystals. I guess every once in a while, both suns shine on a womp rat’s tail."
Cobb glanced over at him, his frown suddenly morphing into a brief smile. Even if he'd known Cobb for barely over an hour, Din could see that the grin was fake. Cobb told him, "I wandered for days. No food, no water. And then… I was saved. The Jawas wanted the crystals. They offered their finest in exchange. And my treasure bought me more than a full waterskin. It bought my freedom.”
Confused, Din noted, "You said you escaped when they moved in."
"Freedom ain’t a black and white thing, Mando."
They entered Beggar's Canyon and Din didn't bother adding anything else to the conversation, knowing their attention was better off on making sure they didn't crash. The words still lingered at the back of his mind despite the silence that fell between them. Certainly, Din understood the matter of being in a cage of one's own making—too many times, Din felt trapped by his guilt, suffocated by his self-deprecation. Any time Din looked at himself in the mirror, he understood the inside of a prison.
He wasn't sure if that was what Cobb was talking about, and was equally unsure if he should follow up on it once they were in a safer location. It felt like something too personal, especially for them—almost enemies, not quite friends, somewhere on the line of allies.
Before Din could linger on the thought longer, Cobb raised a fist to get them both to stop. If he strained his ears, he could hear the distant sound of roars that was all too familiar. Din and Cobb both ducked behind their speeders for protection, raising their respective rifles.
Sure enough, a few massiffs crawled out from the crevices of the cliffs. Taking a quick glance at Cobb, Din could see the way he was holding his breath, bristling in place. The little twitches in his features and the way his hands adjusted nervously on the rifle gave it away—the marshal was afraid.
Din, wanting to ease Cobb's nerves, released a loud cry that made the massiffs stop in their tracks. They stared at him, waiting for his next move, and Cobb did the same. His eyes were wide, confused and apprehensive as he watched Din walk past him towards the creatures.
Cobb kept his rifle aimed at the massiffs, still, as he asked Din, “What the hell you doin’?”
Din raised a hand to him, a silent gesture requesting some trust from the marshal. Cobb's frown was expected, but there was little else Din could do to reassure him of his safety.
He got down on one knee in front of the nearest massiff. Slowly, he lifted a hand up to rub the side of it. The massiff began panting excitedly as the rest began to settle down. They were no longer hostile, now seeing Din as a friend. Looking up in time, Din saw some Tuskens approaching them. He recognised them—they were the same ones he'd crossed when he was chasing down Fennec Shand.
Din got back on his feet, gesturing with his hands in their local sign language as he said in Tusken, "The Marshal and I are seeking out the krayt dragon to kill it. We bring no harm or disrespect towards you. I would be honoured if you allow us safe passage."
The Tusken chieftain stepped up, responding, "Perhaps an alliance is possible. We want it dead."
Cobb spoke up from behind him, "Hey, partner. You want to tell me what’s going on?”
Din turned to face him, explaining, "They want to kill the krayt dragon, too."
When Cobb gestured with his head for him to come back—clearly, the marshal had opinions. Din said to the Tuskens, "My partner and I agree. Please give me a minute to talk to him."
The Tuskens waited patiently as Din returned to Cobb's side to talk in private. Cobb's voice dropped low to keep the conversation between them, making Din instinctively lean in closer to listen. "You sure they want it dead and they ain’t just tryin’ to get it near the town?"
"They want the pearl it holds inside its chassis."
Cobb's face twisted in irritation. "We already got them one last time."
Din made a mental note to ask for his old plan, hoping it could be adapted for the krayt. He pointed out, "And now they want another. This might not be the same tribe you retrieved the pearl for, too. The krayt is attacking your town and it’s ravaging the Tuskens’ land. You share a common enemy. As far as you’re both concerned, you’re on the same side. Do you want to work with them or not?"
Cobb bit his lip, glancing away momentarily to weigh his options. Din knew the Tuskens didn't bear the best reputation on Tatooine and supposed it wasn't much of a surprise that Cobb was hesitant to agree to seek their help. Eventually, though, Cobb sighed and said, "I think it’s a bad idea but I’ll give it a shot."
"Good," Din said, "I already told them you agreed."
He began to head back to his speeder without waiting for Cobb's response. He didn't need to see his face to know he was outraged. Cobb may be annoyed now, but Din trusted that he would see sense soon enough. Cobb was a smart man, that much was obvious. He just had to hope he was more open to collaboration than other Tatooinians.
Din told him, "They want to take us to their camp to spend the night so they can take us to the krayt first thing tomorrow. Don’t worry, it’s not far from here."
Cobb took a quick look at the Tuskens, hesitant. "I’d rather head back and meet them in the morning. You’re welcome to go with them if you want."
Din sat down on his speeder, a bit weary from Cobb's mistrust. Still, he knew there must be a reason for it. He'd just met him—surely, Din couldn't expect compliance from someone who'd had more rough encounters with Tuskens than he. He tried for a less exasperated tone than he'd normally have for a conversation like this when he spoke. "It’s easier to go to their camp. They’ll take us directly to the krayt’s home from there. They’ve agreed to keep things peaceful as we discuss what to do with it."
Scoffing lightly, Cobb said, "Well, you’ll forgive me if I ain’t buyin’ a word of what they’re saying. We’ve had a history rockier than this canyon and you want me to sleep on their turf? You’re askin’ too much from me—"
"Marshal," Din interrupted. "If you don't trust them, then trust me."
Cobb's smile was humourless. "Tall order, Mando. We almost shot each other not that long ago and now you want me to trust you with my life?"
He had a point. After all, that same thought had been swirling through Din's mind all day. Even so, Din knew how many shots he hadn't taken that would have ended this long ago. He knew there were just as many shots Cobb didn't take as well—when the dragon rolled through town; when he'd been tending to the Child on the speeder; when he was negotiating with the Tuskens. Din gripped the handles of his speeder bike as he looked at Cobb.
"I’m killing a dragon when I could have taken the armour off of your corpse. We both know it would’ve been easier. I haven’t had a thought to kill you since the dragon invaded your town. Otherwise, you’d be dead by now."
Cobb's eyebrow arched with doubt, staring at Din. "You think I’d be the dead one in this scenario?"
“I hope we never have to find out if I’m right.” Din set his feet on the bike's pedals. “We should go with them.”
Cobb's eyes narrowed but he secured his rifle to his speeder. "Fine. But I don’t trust you."
"I think you do."
“Yeah?" Cobb set one hand on his bike, turning halfway to look at Din. "What makes you think that?”
As Din's engine roared to life, he pointed out, “If you didn’t, I would be dead by now.”
Cobb stared at him, blinking once like he was reluctant to believe what he knew was true. The argument drained from him as Cobb boarded his speeder. "Let's just go."