Chapter Text
Mi’kai sighs, long and deep, running a hand through her hair as she stares out the long hexagonal window at Sundari, the light tinged with blue as the sun sets on another day.
Another day of listening to her people. Another day stuck inside, in meetings, dealing with every aspect of running the city. Being the Mand’alor. Mi’kai yearns for adventure, yearns for something that cannot be found within these walls. She brings her attention to the door to her office that opens at that moment, Bo-Katan striding through as if it were hers. And on days like today Mi’kai wishes it were.
“Manda’lor, we have a problem.” Bo-Katan says, stopping short of the desk and looking down at Mi’kai, her face painted with seriousness. Bo-Katan had become Mi’kais trusted adviser, her right-hand woman.
Mi’kai wrinkles her nose. “You know I don’t like it when you call me that.”
“That is your title. We are in your offices.” Bo points out, looking around the room, barren as the day you took it. “I see you haven’t listened to Jorrahs advice on re-decoration.”
Mi’kai purses her lips. Jorrah was the appointed decorator, though not by Mi’kai herself. Jorrah was a friend of an old Mandalorian senator, given the position through politics. Not that Mi’kai paid any attention to this side of things, preferring to stay out of it, informed through Bo-Katan, or Ezra, depending on whether he’d been sneaking around Mandalore.
Mandalore.
Ever since Mi’kai had been crowned the Manda’lor, its citizens had returned in droves, and with the extra hands, plus the assistance the New Republic offered, the city had been rebuilt in no time, a thriving hive of activity. Even tourism had picked up in the area and Mandalore moved forward as part of the New Republic, embracing its past and moving forward as protectors of the peace.
“Anyway,” Bo-Katan presses on. “There’s been another kidnapping.”
“Another one?” This was not news to Mi’kai, although the notification of a new kidnapping was. It was a galaxy-wide issue, children suddenly disappearing. It was more widespread than reported though, since a lot of the missing children had no home, or had been displaced by the Galactic Civil War. “Has it been reported to the New Republic?”
“Obviously.” Bo-Katan says. “They have said they are looking into it, but the New Republic can’t be everywhere at once.”
Mi’kai’s gaze returns to the window, thinking about her ship in the hanger, desperate for the day to finish up so she could work on it, and spend time with Sabine and her tenacious son, who, since learning to walk either had to be watched carefully, or put on a leash. Sabine had scowled when Mi’kai had presented her with the gift, half as a joke, half serious after Caleb had gotten into the cockpit of her ship and would have taken off if Mi’kai hadn’t been there to catch him. She’d only taken her eyes off him for a second. Caleb had loved the little bantha backpack and thought the leash was simply its tail.
“The reason I have brought this to your attention, is that the child in question is Mandalorian.”
Mi’kai’s head snaps to look at Bo-Katan, confusion and caution written across her face. “One of ours? How did that happen?”
Bo-Katan looks solemn, bowing her head slightly. “We had a pair of operatives investigating reports of stolen beskar that was being smuggled out of a planet. There was…an incident, and they did not survive the skirmish.”
Mi’kai ducks her head in respect, her hand coming to rest across her chest piece is solidarity with the fallen citizens.
“They were able to get a signal out, to warn us that things had gone south. Rau received the signal and by the time he arrived, their child was missing. He spoke with the town, but all they could say was that the child was taken. They don’t know by whom.”
“Rau?”
“The child was part of his clan.”
“How is he taking it?”
“Not well would be an understatement,” Bo-Katan says with indignation. “He has been less than pleasant to deal with.”
“Remember that he lost his clan to the Empire,” Mi’kai says coolly. “It is his first true loss since then. We must allow him time to grieve.” Mi’kai stands up, grabbing the helmet that set on her desk, wiping away a thin layer of dust that had settled on the viewfinder with a hint of disgust. It had been too long since she donned this helmet, left Mandalore on a trip that wasn’t diplomatic. “I’ll get my ship ready.” Mi’kai moves to leave, but Bo-Katan holds steady.
“There’s something else. The real reason we need you on this.”
“What is it?”
“The child. She was – is - force sensitive.”
Mi’kai considers this, her eyes falling back down to her helmet, safely in her hands, the T-visor staring back at her. “I’m on it.”
“It might be wise to reach out to your old contacts.” Bo-Katan says carefully. “For help.”
“Din?” Mi-kai replies with a small snort. Bo-Katan nods, her eyebrow raising slightly. “You know he doesn’t answer my comms.” Mi’kai scowls. Din owed her nothing. She shouldn’t feel disappointed, or slightly hurt that he hadn’t answered her calls, reached out. Mi’kai lets the façade fall into place on her face. She didn’t need him. She was a Mandalorian. She was a Jedi, once.
“Then get creative.”
A challenge. This, Mi’kai could use. “Naturally, you’re in charge while I’m away.”
“I assumed as much.”
“I don’t suppose I could convince you to take up this post full time?” Mi’kai says with a small amount of cheek.
Bo-Katan replies with a tight smile, humouring the Mand’alor. “You know that isn’t how this works. And stop asking.”
Mi’kai winks at Bo-Katan, Bok-Katan stepping to the side to let Mi’kai pass.
Mi’kai heads straight for the hanger.
“Where, on Mandalore, is my ship. Sabine!” Mi’kai yells once she reaches the hanger, excited to spend some quality time with her ship. Sanctioned quality time. Only to find her ship missing, replaced by something that resembled a standard Mandalorian starfighter, except it was smaller, big enough for a single pilot only and had an additional fin on the top.
“So you’ve seen the prototype? Desperate need for a paint job, but good to go.”
“Sabine,” Mi’kai says as controlled as she can, but her balled fists at her side would suggest otherwise. “Where. Is. My. Ship.”
Sabines’ expression is playful, her hands held up in concession. “I didn’t strip it, if that’s what you’re worried about. Although I do have a few upgrades I wanted to talk to you about…” Sabine starts as she grabs Mi’kai by the arm and takes her to the hanger over, Mi’kai’s ship sitting there. Mi’kai ignores Sabines long list of modifications, walking over to her ship and running her hand against the hull. She was exactly as she was the last time Mi’kai took her out for a spin. Mi’kai’s chest pangs at how long ago that had been.
“Going on a mission?” Sabines question cuts through Mi’kai’s wistfulness. Mi’kai nods.
“Great! So you can take the prototype?” Sabine is enthusiastic, telling Mi’kai about all its features but Mi’kai cuts her off with a shake of her head.
“Not this time Sabine. I have to be recognisable.”
“Where are you going?”
“Nevarro.”
Mi’kai walks along a familiar street, market stalls lining the streets, the weather pleasant as a sunbeam tickles her bare face. She looks down and see’s she is without her armour, no weapons attached to her clothes. She turns her head as she hears a familiar peal of laughter and sees herself, no more than a few years old, racing down the street.
“Mi’kai!” An older mans voice yells and Mi’kai looks down the street to see her father, just as she remembered him with his kind eyes. This was her memory.
“Mi’kai, stop!” Her father yells but he’s happy as he chases his daughter down the street as she follows after a small fluffy animal that had escaped its enclosure. Mi’kai, the adult Mi’kai, follows them as the younger version of herself flies down an alley and she turns the corner, a few steps behind her father to see herself crouched, the animal cornered, Mi’kai’s – the child version – hand outstretched, the animal, with its large ears upturned wrinkles its nose, and hops over to Mi’kai, nuzzling into her hand.
“Mi’kai, you can’t run off like that!” Her father says in exasperation, his words punctuated by the whine of a TIE fighter as it flies overhead, doing its routine check.
“He was scared daddy, I had to find him and bring him home.”
Mi’kai’s father looks taken aback at his daughters’ words and he’s careful as he speaks his next ones. “What do you mean, scared?”
“I could feel it.” Mi’kai says as she picks up the animal and holds it against her chest, smiling as the fluffball licks her face. “I could feel them.”
A flash of panic crosses Mi’kai’s fathers face. Mi’kai realises now that this was the first time she ever exhibited force powers, something that she could be hunted for and killed. Not that she knew at this time that her father was a Jedi. Her mother didn’t reveal that until after they’d lost him. Mi’kai tries to not let the bitterness of that withheld knowledge taint what was a pleasant memory for her.
“Come on ad’ika, let’s get you home.” He says, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and guiding her out of the alley to take the animal back to its owners. Mi’kai could feel the concern rolling off him in waves, and she’s not sure if it’s because she now knows the consequences of the revelation, or whether as a child she picked up on it as well.
Mi’kai wakes with a start as her ship beeps incessantly at her, and she removes her feet from the console, rubbing her eyes. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but the lull of hyperspace had drawn her in. And besides, there had been nothing else for her to do.
Wrong, she realises as she picks up her datapad, no less than thirty communiques from Bo-Katan. She replies to the first one, saying that she was out of range and would be returning in an indeterminate amount of time. She hoped Bo-Katan would believe her, but she was not that naïve.
“Submit your clearance codes.” The voice filters through the cockpit, the ship having fallen into range of the Nevarro control centre.
“Submitting now.” She replies, punching in the codes that Greef Karga had given her. She’s given a landing bay and as she flies over the city to her destination, she realises how far Nevarro had come since she’d been here last, how much good Greef had done for the planet. She gets briefly stuck behind a tourist shuttle, touting how it took people to the naturally heated spas of Nevarro and Mi’kai is pleased that tourism had increased for them. Even if it meant it took her almost an hour longer to get in than she anticipated.
As she sets her ship down in the hanger bay – an actual structure now, and not just a patch of dirt on the outskirts – she passes a few credits to the attendant with explicit instructions not to lay a finger on her ship. She shouldn’t take pleasure in the fear that she felt pass through him, but it was effective in getting him to keep his promise.
“Mi’kai!” Greef Kargas voice carries easily across the terminal, his arms splayed wide once he sees her, still smiling and waving to the others spilling into the transit space.
“Karga.” Mi’kai gives a simple nod of her head, her helmet hiding her actual expression, which was one of impatience.
“You don’t show your face even for friends?” Greef says with a gentle tease, although she suspects that he wasn’t entirely joking.
“I have a bounty to set.” Mi’kai’s voice is loud enough for a few people surrounding them to hear and a Pantoran gives her a curious look as Greef wraps his arm around Mi’kai, ushering her away. Mi’kai shrugs off his grasp.
“You know we don’t do that sort of business here anymore.” He says in a low voice before speaking louder so the others could hear. “We are a prosperous city, and you must spend some time at one of our lovely spas.” His smile is wide, but Mi’kai can feel he is anxious to keep up the front that the planet was safe. Bounty hunters seemed to conflict with that image. “We should talk about your trip in my office.” Another placating smile to the room, and Mi’kai allows herself to be guided to Kargas office, hidden, but with a full view of the main courtyard where people milled about, seemingly happy.
“I want to set a bounty.” Mi’kai says as soon as the door is closed, remaining standing just by it as Karga fixes himself a drink and stands by the large doors behind his desk, the ones that lead out to the balcony. “No hello-Greef-how-have-you-been? No ‘my, what a wonderful city this has become’?”
“There’s no one you need to impress here Karga.” Mi’kai says evenly. “You can dispense with the pleasantries.”
Greef looks put out, drinking an amber liquid from the crystal glass. “So you want to set a bounty? Whose the unlucky fellow?”
“Me.”
“You? Why the maker would you set a bounty on yourself?”
“There is someone I need to get in touch with. They have been difficult to get a hold of.”
“Lovers spat, eh? I’ve been there.” Karga says.
“No,” Mi’kai’s response is sharp. “I have matters to attend to with this individual.”
“The puck needs to go to a specific person I take it?” Karga is evidently curious, since this was an unusual circumstance.
“I need you to give him this.” Mi’kai says, walking forward to set a tracker on Kargas desk. “Nothing else. You will also need to notify me once the tracker has been given as it won’t activate until it is in his hands.”
“Whose hands?” Karga was desperate to know at this point.
“Din Djarins.”
On his ship, Din catches the floating ball that was hovering around his head, Grogu cooing as Din hands it back to him. “I know kid, long hyperspace journeys are boring. We’re almost there.”
Grogu makes another noise and since Din had spent so much time with him, he knew exactly what each one meant. He wondered if the child would ever speak, but he didn’t know how his species worked. Or what his species was. “I don’t really know why Karga was so desperate to see us either.”
Grogu looks lost in thought as the ship beeps, signalling the drop out of hyperspace, the blue light fading into black. Din will never get over how smooth the transition was, a far cry from his old ship that always shuddered between states, as if it wasn’t sure whether it would be its last. Din had seen the Mythosaur under the wing eventually, and he hadn’t had the heart to get rid of it despite needing his tinted visor to look at it.
“Ka!” Grogu babbles and Din nods.
“Yeah, we’re going to see Karga.” Din guides the ship to the designated bay, setting it down and getting out, holding Grogu while the carrier floated beside him in case the kid wanted to be put down. He does, as soon as they reach the busy terminal.
“You’ll run off.” Din says when Grogu coos at him, tugging on his flightsuit to be let down. In response, Grogu opens his mouth slowly and widens his eyes, causing Din to chuckle, the sound of his voice filtering through his helmet. “Nice try, but no.”
Grogu pouts and makes a noise of displeasure as Din continues to carry him, making his way to Karga’s office.
“Mando!” Karga invites Mando in enthusiastically. “And the little one.” Karga takes Grogu from Din when Grogu reaches out his little green hands towards him. Karga appraises him, which Grogu seems to like by the noises he was making. “Have you grown?” Karga says with a tilt of his head and a waggle of his finger. Grogu responds with a laugh, before pointing at the ground and Karga sets him down.
“No leaving this room.” Din says as he follows Karga to the desk.
“He couldn’t get out, he can’t even reach the door controls!” Greef sounds so sure, but Din knows better, his chair tilted so he can watch his son, who inspects the room before heading straight for the door.
Grogu reaches out his hand, eyes half closed in concentration and the door whooshes open. Before Grogu can waddle his way through, Din shoots out his grabbling hook, hitting the controls and the door slams shut, Grogu cooing unhappily as he turns to look at his dad.
“No.” Din says firmly. Grogu slowly turns. “Grogu, no.” Grogu’s arm lifts up. “That’s it.” In a few short strides, Din scoops Grogu up, setting him in the chair next to him. Karga hands him a ball, which Grogu immediately starts floating around the office.
“I have a bounty for you.”
“I didn’t think you were in that line of work anymore.” Din comments.
“I don’t, usually. Special request. Wanted you, and you only. Cut was good enough for me to bend the rules a little.”
“Who set the bounty?” Din asks.
“Anonymous.”
Din sighs. “Who is the bounty?”
Karga pulls open a draw at his desk and sets a tracker in front of Din who picks it up. It was off. “That’s it?” Din asks with disbelief.
“That’s it.” Karga confirms. “But the reward is good. Twenty-five thousand credits.”
Din balks, but the reaction is hidden by his helmet. Grogu picks it up anyway, tilting his head at his father with a questioning coo. “That’s a lot of credits.” Din says, setting the tracker back on the desk in front of him.
“Enough for you to take it?”
Grogu claps his hands as if he understood what was going on. And with the training he had, perhaps he did. “Yeah, I’ll take it.” Din picks up the tracker again. “You can’t give me anything else? No starting planet, no name, no descriptions at all?”
Karga shakes his head. “That’s it.”
“You must be getting a fair amount of credits for this.”
“That, and a favour. Which is worth a lot more than twenty-five thousand credits.”
Din pockets the tracker and stands up, Grogu hopping gracefully to the ground to follow him.
“You’re leaving so soon?” Karga says with disappointment and Din turns slightly to look back at him. “I can’t convince you to stay, enjoy the spa with your son?” Din doesn’t react. “Who am I talking to.” Karga says, staring at the unmoving helmet. “Mandalorians are all the same.”
Din is interested once he hears that statement. He hadn’t spoken with another Mandalorian in a long time, not since… Din shakes it off. She was probably busy. She hadn’t reached out, she didn’t need him. It might be nice for Grogu to see her again, but no. Din shakes out the train of thought. “Goodbye, Greef.” Din says simply, grabbing Grogu and heading out the door.
Greef Karga shakes his head and lets out a puff of air. “Mandalorians.” He mutters to himself.