Chapter Text
Today’s the day!
The moment Aenna’s alarm sounds she’s wide awake and grinning. She hurriedly shoves her helmet over her head and pulls back the curtains shielding her small, hard bunk from view. She leaps down to the floor as lightly as she can so as not to wake her still sleeping roommates and practically skips to the communal refresher.
Today is the day her dream comes true. A dream she’s had since she was a frightened, starving foundling in the sewers of Nevarro. Today Din Djarin is taking her on a hunt.
Din Djarin is taking her on a hunt!
When he’d offered on Dantir Five to bring her along sometime she’d been thrilled, but she thought the chances he was just being polite were pretty high, so she didn’t dwell on it. About two weeks later, when he’d come back to Mandalore with another ship full of beskar, he’d sought her out and told her about a bounty he’d taken on - a Weequay pirate who was purportedly a very tricky person to pin down - and asked if she wanted to come along.
Outwardly, she’d kept her cool. She’d said, “it would be an honour, Beroya,” and agreed to meet him the next day to head out, all while internally screaming with excitement. As soon as the Beroya was out of sight, she’d hurried to the tunnels near the living waters where they had built a memorial for the fallen, straight to her brother’s name carved into the cave wall, and placed a gloved hand over the letters. “Arvine,” she’d whispered, leaning in close. “Arvine, you won’t believe it!”
She knew her brother would be excited for her if he were alive. Standing in the damp, quiet tunnel beneath the ruins of Sundari, she could almost hear his voice. “That’s great, kiddo! I wanna hear everything when you get back.” She didn’t know if he could hear her all the way up in the Manda, but she knew this would be her first stop upon her return.
In the ‘freshers, she showered as quickly as she could. It was early enough that her favourite cubicle was available - the one in the corner with the tiled wall on the left as well as the back. It didn’t make any real difference, but when they’d added the dividers to the old Imperial showers, they had to use whatever material was available, and the rough durasteel panels feel oppressive when they’re on three sides of the shower.
She keeps a wireless hairdryer with her toiletries, so she dries and braids her bright blue hair before placing her helmet back over it, careful not to catch her horns on the edge. She’s always been fortunate that her horns lie flatter to her head than most Theelin, so it was easier for the Armourer to accommodate them in a helmet - it’s just a little wider than most, and with softer padding at her temples.
She dresses in the ‘fresher, too, pulling on her thin under-layer, flight suit, flak vest, cape, boots, and attaching each piece of armour with reverence. She’d polished it all last night, and had been tempted to re-paint it, but was worried she wouldn’t have enough time for all the layers to dry. It only had a few scuffs, so it wasn’t a big deal. It might be better for it not to look too pristine, anyway. It’s going to be obvious enough that she’s the less experienced Mandalorian without looking like she’d never been in a real fight.
She pulls on her gloves last, covering the final slivers of purple skin, and she’s ready. She returns to her bunk to pick up the small bag she’d packed (spare clothes, ammunition, etc), shoves her toiletries bag inside it, and heads for the surface of Mandalore.
The air, as always, is tepid and stale, and gusts of wind whip up the glass dust and assorted detritus littering the ground. There are a number of ships lined up in the small clearing they’re using as a spaceport, but only one is unfamiliar.
It’s a pretty basic gunship, in decent condition, and fairly spacious. The hunter had needed a lot of space in the hold to transport the second shipment of beskar, which had apparently come from his scholar friend’s personal vault. Now devoid of beskar, the ship will give them enough space not to be on each other’s toes too much while hunting this bounty, which Aenna supposes can only be a good thing. Din Djarin has always been somewhat of a mystery to her and the other foundlings, so she’s always thought he must like his privacy. There’s the child, too, and Aenna knows from experience that children don’t usually do well in confined spaces.
She climbs the ramp, feeling like she shouldn’t be there, and hears the Beroya’s voice.
“I know it tastes bad, but you’ve gotta take it,” he says. He sounds tired and irritated. Not a good start.
“Bleh!” That’s the child.
“Just take the medicine, Grogu. You’ll feel better.”
There is a screech and the sound of metal clattering against metal.
“Hey! We don’t throw things at people,” a pause. “Ok, we don’t throw things at each other. Do I ever throw stuff at you?”
This might be the most Aenna has ever heard him speak at once. She feels she should probably make her presence known. “Beroya?” she calls uncertainly, her voice echoing through the empty hold.
There’s a silence, then she hears, very quiet, “this isn’t over,” followed by footsteps.
She sees his feet first as he descends the ladder at the bow end of the cargo bay. His tattered cape hides most of his armour until he hits the floor and turns to her. She’s always amazed by how shiny and bright it is - her memory of it can never compete with the reality of seeing a full suit of pure beskar in person. She’s suddenly very aware of the dull green durasteel alloy she wears, but she remembers when his armour was durasteel too, and reminds herself that she just needs to earn it.
“Aenna,” he says, stepping forward to clasp her forearm. “It’s good to have you on board. Do you have everything you need?”
“I do,” she replies, holding up her small bag of belongings.
He nods, then turns back to the ladder. “Let’s get going.”
She follows him back up the ladder. And finds herself in a utilitarian kitchen space with two curtained bunks and a door leading to a basic refresher. There’s another door up front that leads to the cockpit, where she can see four seats.
“There’s a proper cabin on the lower deck,” the Beroya says, “but it’s got a door that locks, so I’ve linked the lock to my vambrace and I figure we can use it as a brig when we catch our pirate. I hope you don’t mind a bunk.”
He hopes she doesn’t mind. She’s absolutely delighted! Sharing a space like this means she’ll be able to soak up his wisdom and experience the whole time, with no hours wasted in separate rooms. Plus she already sleeps in a bunk and her roommates in the barracks on Mandalore are not always the easiest to share a space with. For starters, Illuma snores something fierce.
She doesn’t tell him any of that. She just says, “a bunk is more than sufficient.”
He takes her to the cockpit, and asks her if she knows how to fly. She’s learned how in theory, practicing with a cockpit painted on a wall in the Nevarro sewers, but she’s never flown an actual ship. He gestures to the pilot’s seat and asks her to show him. She gets most of it right, just mixing up the order of a couple of steps and hesitating when some of the controls look different from the ones in the painting, but they lift off without the ship overheating. When they clear atmo he says “good job,” with a smile in his voice and she practically beams with pride.
There is an unhappy whine from the room behind them and the child’s pod floats into the cockpit.
“Are you sorry for throwing your spoon at me?” Din Djarin asks, and the long green ears droop. The child reaches out his little arms towards the hunter and he gets picked up with a sigh.
Aenna isn’t really a baby person, but it’s impossible to look at that child and not melt a little.
“Sorry,” the Beroya says. “He’s sick and doesn’t like his medicine. We’ve been awake most of the night cycle.”
And that’s why she doesn’t like babies.
The Beroya returns to the kitchenette with his son in his arms and the floating pod follows them automatically. Aenna watches him get out another spoonful of medicine and successfully feed it to the child before she turns back to the ship’s controls and mentally runs through the start up procedures again.
Before long, he’s back in he cockpit, a hand on the back of her chair.
“I’ve already plotted a hyperspace jump, so you can activate the autopilot,” he says, and his voice sounds weary. “The kid’s finally asleep, so I’m gonna sleep too. Feel free to look around the ship, use whatever you want from the kitchen. Don’t worry about keeping quiet - Grogu will sleep through anything and I’ve got noise cancelling, so if you want to cook or something that’s fine.”
She nods, taking in the slumped posture of his shoulders. Maybe they should wait until the child is well before hunting this bounty? She nearly says it, but she doesn’t.
“Ok,” he says. “Should be eight hours until we get where we’re going. I’ll wake up before then and we can figure out a plan.”
She watches him leave and disappear behind the curtain of the lower bunk, then turns back to the ship’s controls and activates the autopilot.
Eight hours. Ok.
****
Din Djarin emerges about six hours later and prepares food for the three of them before sitting down to run over the plan with Aenna. They’re sat at a fold-out table, using a few crates as seats, and the child is delightedly gulping down stew. Aenna is hungry, but she’s not going to put off work for something as trivial as hunger. She’s not going to starve.
“We’re heading to Batuu,” the Beroya says, reaching over with a cloth to wipe some stew off his son’s chin. “The bounty runs a shipping operation out of Black Spire - legitimate according to the New Republic, but it’s well known to be a front for a smuggling operation.”
Aenna frowns behind her helmet. “I thought he was a pirate?”
“So did I. Semi-retired, apparently,” the hunter replies, then folds his arms on the table. “The most important part of any hunt is prep. You need to find out everything you can about your target, and not rely on assumptions or what seems logical. This is especially important for big-ticket bounties. They pay more for a reason.”
Aenna nods seriously, filing all of this away in her mind.
“If I were looking for any pirate, I’d head to the mid-rim. That’s where all the reports of pirate activity come from. This particular pirate, though, is clever - that’s why the bounty’s so high - and he prefers a more permanent base. He used to run his business out of Florrum years ago, bounced around for a while, then set up this new company on Batuu.”
Aenna tries to remember anything she can about Batuu. It’s far away, on the edge of wild space and the unknown regions. It’s lush, and famous for huge ancient petrified trees that look like spires. It used to be an important outpost before the invention of hyperdrive, but now it’s a bit of a backwater. It’s on the other side of the core from Mandalore and definitely takes more than 8 hours to reach.
“We’re not going straight there. It’s too far away,” Aenna says, and the Beroya nods.
“That’s right, we’re stopping off for some more fuel and supplies. That’s another important thing to remember - always bring more supplies than you think you need. You never know what’s going to happen, and if you end up drifting through space for weeks you’ll be glad you brought some extra rations.”
After they eat, Din Djarin spends the remaining time before their supply stop filling Aenna in on everything he’s learned about their target. The pirate was sold into slavery as a child and escaped as an adult. He used to run his own pirate gang. He helped the rebellion and has some contacts in the New Republic, but not enough sway to lift the bounty placed on him. He used to be a member of the bounty hunters’ guild but had his membership revoked. He’s been trying to distance himself from the major crime syndicates with varying success.
Apparently the Beroya has a friend who knows their bounty, and he has been informed that the pirate-turned-businessman is very charming, very clever, very slippery, and, crucially, is familiar enough with Mandalorians not to be intimidated by them. They can’t just rely on looking scary, because this pirate won’t fall for it.
After picking up their extra supplies and putting everything away in the ship, the child starts getting fussy again. It’s another struggle to get him to take his medicine, and Aenna watches awkwardly while the impressive silver-clad warrior tries and fails to get the tiny green child to swallow a spoonful of medicinal goop. In the end, the hunter sighs and makes the child a bowl of bone broth, surreptitiously stirring the medicine into it before passing it to his son. The child looks at him suspiciously, but drinks the broth. When the bowl is empty he falls asleep, and his father lifts him into the floating pod and folds a blanket around him before pushing the pod behind the curtain of his bunk.
“He’s getting better,” he says, turning to Aenna. “He should stay asleep for a while.”
They play a game of dejarik and share a little bit of a blue drink called ‘spotchka’ that burns the back of Aenna’s throat and makes her head feel fuzzy. She still wins the game, though, and she accuses the Beroya of letting her win until he admits he’s always been terrible at it. He says he got the board as a gift and has rarely used it, but he heard from Koska that Aenna has a real talent for it.
Aenna has never been drunk, and she’s pretty sure she hasn’t had enough spotchka to be drunk right now, but she doesn’t think she’d tell the hunter how much she admires Koska if she hadn’t had anything to drink. She feels her cheeks burning under her helmet, and is glad no one can see it.
The Beroya hums thoughtfully, then says, “she’s very hot-headed, and you’re calm. Composed. Could be a good match.”
Is he teasing her?
“How old are you?” he asks with a suspicious note in his voice, as if something she said has made him doubt whatever age he thought she was.
“Seventeen,” she replies, watching him for a reaction.
He’s quiet for a moment, then huffs and picks up the spotchka, pushing the cork back in. “Probably shouldn’t have given you this,” he says, and puts it away in a cabinet in the small kitchen space. She doesn’t think he’s annoyed, but just in case, Aenna pushes her helmet up to gulp down the last bit of spotchka in her cup before he can take it away. She starts clearing away the dejarik board.
“Technically, we come of age at thirteen when we take the creed,” she says, aiming for playful but coming out a little more petulant than intended.
She’s expecting a snarky response, but when she’s met with silence, she looks up to see him leaning against the kitchen counter, watching her.
“I was seventeen when my teacher was killed,” he says. He sounds sad? Maybe? It sounds more complicated than just sad, but Aenna doesn’t know if she can find a word for it. “The tribe decided I was ready, so I didn’t get another teacher. I had to go out on my own.”
She tries to read his body language, but he’s very good at keeping it blank. “I’m sorry,” she says, hoping it’s the right reply.
He shrugs. “It happened. I’m still alive.”
Aenna doesn’t move or speak. She senses he has more to say so she waits, patient and quiet.
“I’m glad you’re not on your own,” he says. “I needed more guidance when I was your age and I made some bad choices. That’s not going to happen to you.”
A plaintive whine comes from behind the curtain of the hunter’s bunk. The child is awake. Din Djarin sighs, pushing away from the counter to retrieve his son. The child looks miserable, his little green face wan and his eyes glassy. She watches the Beroya wet a cloth with cold water and begin dabbing at the feverish child’s forehead, cradling him close, before excusing herself to the ‘fresher to prepare for bed.
She wishes she could ask what bad choices the Beroya made. Maybe when they know each other a little better she can ask. She can’t imagine him doing anything that wasn’t the right thing, regardless of the circumstances. He’s Din Djarin. The hunter who saved their tribe.
A small voice in the very back of her mind reminds her of the Imperial attack on the covert on Nevarro - the attack that killed Arvine. Her brother. Her only family.
She shakes it out of her head.
****
It takes three days to get to Batuu.
There’s not a lot to do, but they keep busy enough. There are three meals per day following a tight schedule that matches up with the child’s medicine schedule. Every time the child has to take his medicine, he resists, but every time he seems to be getting a little better. He always naps after eating, and while he’s asleep Din Djarin gives Aenna more information about their target or instructions for when they arrive.
When the child wakes up, fussing and unhappy, it’s time for his lessons - father and son go over star charts, learn about different species and languages, review the many types of weapons and when to use them, and read stories about Mandalorian history. It’s cute, but during these lessons Aenna goes down to the lower deck ‘fresher to shower and polishes her armour and her blaster in the cargo bay. She likes to time it so that she’s polishing when they get to storytime, so she can listen to the stories too.
She recognises them - mostly classic tales of the Mand’alore of old and some more recent histories as well - but the details are different from what she’s been taught. She asks him about them once and he admits he’s reading from a collection edited by his scholar friend. According to her, the stories they’d been told in the tribe aren’t accurate, and she’d provided these more historical accounts at the Beroya’s request. Aenna knows it’s silly to feel offended, but she doesn’t like the idea of an outsider telling them their stories are wrong.
The scholar is sending them transmissions, too. Well, she’s sending him transmissions. Aenna knows it’s rude to eavesdrop, but the ship is small and it’s difficult not to hear what’s being said. Mostly idle chit-chat, with the occasional update about the rich man whose vaults they emptied of beskar. Din Djarin mostly records his replies when Aenna has gone to bed, and he must think she’s asleep. At first she doesn’t know why the hunter is so reluctant to record them while she’s awake, but then she hears him talking about Kevol, the Mandalorian who had died during their rescue mission on Dantir Five, and she quickly realises she’s listening to a very private conversation. She buries her head under her pillow until she falls asleep.
By the end of the journey, she’s itching to get to work. When the five minute warning before dropping out of hyperspace rings through the ship, she’s in the copilot seat immediately.
A minute later, the Beroya steps in and settles in the pilot seat, the child shuffling after him and jumping into his lap.
“Ok, nearly there,” he says after checking everything on the ship’s control panel. He leans back in his seat. “You’re staying here, Grogu, ok?”
The child whines.
“We talked about this. You get to come on hunts all the time, but Aenna doesn’t. You can stay and guard the ship just this once.”
The green ears flatten and the child sends Aenna a dirty look, but he doesn’t argue further.
Aenna’s stomach lurches as they drop back into normal space. The blue and green orb of Batuu fills the viewport, clouds swirling peacefully in its atmosphere. She can see forests and a vast mountain range on the continent facing them. In the distance, curving over the horizon, is a deep blue ocean.
There’s some traffic around the planet, but not loads, so traffic control gets in touch with them quickly.
“Hello and welcome to Batuu,” a young male voice says. “Where are you travelling to today?”
“Black Spire Outpost,” the Beroya replies.
There is a pause as the controller processes their request.
“You may proceed to Black Spire docking bay six,” is the reply. “Have a pleasant day.”
They fly as directed, and the Beroya glances at her. “What’s the first thing we have to do when we arrive?”
“Check that the place we’re docking the ship is safe and secure,” she answers without hesitation. He nods. “And then?”
There are a few different ways to proceed depending on the circumstances. “We have a tracking fob,” she says, carefully, “so we can check if the bounty is nearby. If it’s beeping, we can follow it. If not, we ask around and see if we can find out where the bounty went.”
“That’s right,” he says, and pulls the bounty puck and tracking fob out of a pocket on his belt. “Why don’t you keep hold of these?”
She accepts the puck and the fob and holds them with reverence before tucking them into her own pocket.
“What’s the disadvantage of following the fob?” he asks, apparently not done quizzing her.
Luckily she’s been paying attention. “It alerts others that you’re tracking a bounty. There may be other hunters who will try to interfere and take the bounty for themselves, or someone could warn the bounty that you’re coming.”
He nods. The ship is pulling into the dock now. The bay is nice - clean, spacious, and bright. “That’s right. I don’t think we’ll need to worry too much about that here. This place is crawling with smugglers, many of them with bounties on their heads, so they’ll just be glad the fob’s not pointing at them. People tend to assume Mandalorians are bounty hunters, so we won’t be fooling anyone anyway.”
They land and he deactivates the ship’s systems one by one until it’s silent.
“Ok, Grogu,” he says, standing up with his son in his hands. “Naptime.”
The child squirms and protests, but he’s put in his pod.
“You’re still sick and you need to rest,” the hunter says, tucking him in. The third time the child breaks free of the blanket, his father sighs and straightens, fetching a blue cookie from the kitchen cabinet. “If I give you this cookie will you go to sleep?”
The child hesitates, then nods, holding a claw out for the cookie.
Aenna heads down to the cargo bay, checking her equipment. Her blaster is perfectly polished, her knives are sharp and well hidden in her boot and on her left thigh. Her energy shield is fuelled up and her whipcord is carefully stowed and ready to release. She gets out the puck and the fob, checking the holo of their target again. He’s wearing a hat and a heavy jacket, but looks pretty slender underneath it. His face is fairly nondescript, but she has trouble telling individuals of different species apart. She has a hard enough time with humans, let alone Weequays. She activates the fob and it’s beeping steadily. He’s here.
Aenna hears Din Djarin coming down the ladder and puts the fob and puck away.
“You ready?” he asks her, and when she nods he opens the ramp.
It’s a nice day in Black Spire, and the sun shines brightly into the docking bay. The two of them walk down the ramp and are met by a mechanic in grubby grey coveralls.
“Hey, need any work doing?” the mechanic asks, and the Beroya shakes his head.
“No, thank you. Just keep an eye on the ship. We won’t be long.”
Aenna circles the ship while he’s talking to the mechanic, checking to make sure the bay is safe. It looks pretty standard to her, and there doesn’t seem to be any danger. She circles back to Din Djarin as he finishes up his conversation with the mechanic and nods her approval of the docking bay. He inclines his helmet in agreement and they leave.
The streets are fairly busy with traders and visitors, some shady looking but most seemingly harmless. A few heads turn to stare at them, but they turn away in alarm when Aenna gets out the tracking fob. She turns left and right, watching the fob and listening. It beeps faster pointing left.
“That way?” she asks the Beroya and he shrugs.
“I’m following you.”
He obviously does know which way the fob is indicating, and she’d prefer some indication that she’s doing this right, but she does appreciate that he’s letting her take the lead.
She walks left and the fob picks up speed. People are giving the two of them a wide berth, eyeing the fob and their weapons with distrust. It seems the people here aren’t huge fans of bounty hunters. She passes another docking bay and the beeps slow down, so she doubles back. Docking bay five. He’s in there.
The Beroya puts a hand on her shoulder. “Well done. Now remember, you have to inform the target you’re there to collect their bounty. You inform them, show them the puck, give them the chance to come quietly.”
Aenna nods, taking a breath and putting her hand on her blaster. She can do this. She can. And if she can’t, Din Djarin will take over and she’ll try again next time.
She presses the release for the docking bay door.
There are a number of ships inside, mostly freighters or smaller cargo ships. It’s fairly busy, too, with cargo being loaded up and crews hanging around outside their ships. They step inside without anyone noticing, but as she walks down the row of ships, the crews start to react to the beeping fob. Some do their best to ignore it, but some are visibly anxious, whispering to each other and shuffling behind crates or into their ships. She sees some leaving the docking bay altogether.
They get to the far end of the bay and the beep from the fob is almost continuous now. There is a set of stairs leading up to an office that overlooks the whole operation, wide glass (or transparisteel) windows rendering the inside of the office perfectly visible from the floor. There is a Weequay up there sprawled on a chair behind a desk, his booted feet up on the table, casually scrolling on a datapad. He’s wearing the same hat from the holo but not the jacket, and when she points the fob at him, it’s obvious he’s their target.
She looks at the Beroya and he nods towards the steps encouragingly. She takes a deep breath, pocketing the fob and getting the puck out instead. She keeps her right hand near her blaster just in case and climbs the stairs, her footsteps clanging lightly on the metal. She tilts her head to check that the Beroya is still following her and confirms that he is - his footsteps are just silent. She needs to find out where he got his boots.
She hesitates at the door, her instincts telling her to knock, but decides that’s absurd and pushes through.
“I’m bu-sy,” the Weequay says, dragging out the word ‘busy’ in an unimpressed sing-song. She moves in front of the desk and places the puck in front of him, activating it so that he can see his own face staring at him in flickering blue.
The Weequay looks at the puck, then looks up at Aenna, otherwise keeping entirely still. “What have we here?” he says, his tone amused. He looks her up and down, a smile blooming on his face. “A junior hunter?”
She tries not to give anything away, but she’s pretty sure he spots her shoulders stiffening and the irritated breath she takes. He grins, turning to the Beroya next. He’s leaning on the door frame, his arms folded in front of him.
“Din Djarin!” their target sounds genuinely delighted, taking his feet off his desk to turn and fully face the Beroya. If the hunter is bothered by the use of his name, he doesn’t show it. He doesn’t show anything at all. “I thought you had stopped taking work from the guild? At least, that’s what they’re saying on the bounty hunter’s grapevine.”
The pirate ends this sentence with a wink. Does Din Djarin know this man? Surely he would have said if he did. Aenna looks at her mentor, uncertain, and in the moment when she’s not looking at the bounty he snatches up the puck. Her head snaps back to him and he’s looking at her again, turning the puck over in his hands.
“I didn’t know you had an apprentice. I remember your teacher - Inerva Kast, no? - she used to do the very same silent staring routine. This little one must have picked it up from you. Very intimidating. Just needs a little more confidence.”
Aenna feels her face heating up. She’s never done this before, but she wasn’t expecting the bounty to be so arrogant while sitting alone in his office with two Mandalorians. Luckily, before she can snap at him, the Beroya intervenes.
Well, he doesn’t do much. He uncrosses his arms and moves a hand to his blaster. “We can bring you in warm, or we can bring you in cold.”
The pirate’s grin gains an unpleasant edge. “That’s very nice - good line - but I’m afraid I’m far too busy. Hondo Ohnaka has a business to run! Leave your comm code and perhaps I’ll call you when I have some free time.”
The Beroya sighs and jerks his head towards the bounty. Aenna knows what to do. She pulls a pair of binders off her belt and rounds the desk.
“Ok!” the pirate says, pushing his chair back and getting to his feet. “There’s no need for such unpleasantries. I’ll come with you.”
Aenna doesn’t believe him so she keeps the binders out and extends a hand. “Give me the puck.”
He’s clearly feeling petulant because instead of handing it to her, he throws the puck onto the table. She sighs and picks it up.
The Beroya has stepped aside from the door, making space for Aenna and their target to leave. She gestures to the door with her blaster and the pirate rolls his eyes before grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair and obeying. They go down the stairs, Aenna’s blaster still on the bounty’s back as he shrugs on his jacket and the Beroya still lingering a step or two behind them.
This feels too easy. They get some looks from the other people in the docking bay, some of whom are presumably Ohnaka’s employees, but no one tries to intervene and no one even looks particularly worried. They’d been told this bounty was slippery - difficult to catch and even harder to keep in custody - and yet he’d just agreed to come with them with no-
Ohnaka darts suddenly towards one of the ships. Aenna fires her blaster at his legs, hoping to stop him without killing him, and he stumbles as the bolt tears through his right calf. It’s too late though - he’s on the ramp and the ship is already pulling out of the docking bay. Hands are pulling their target further into the ship as the ramp closes and he turns to wave at her with a self-satisfied smile and a smug little wink.
She feels lightheaded momentarily with the force of her rage, but snaps out of it when Din Djarin launches himself after the ship, soaring into the sky with his jetpack. Aenna can’t follow - she hasn’t yet earned her rising phoenix - but she only has a second to regret that fact before a blaster bolt to her chest has her stumbling back. Some of the workers on the dock are shooting at her - presumably on the pirate’s orders. She takes cover behind the nearest crates, firing back to force some of her assailants to duck, and only gets hit two more times before she’s safe.
She takes a breath and notes the directions the blaster bolts are firing from. Once she’s sure she’s located them all, she starts to fire back and takes out two of the attackers immediately. She has one important advantage over everyone else in this shootout - she’s wearing blaster-proof armour. When she sticks her head out from behind cover it doesn’t matter if someone manages to shoot her. She’ll be fine. She might have a bit of a headache later, but she won’t die - and she can shoot right back.
It doesn’t take long until all the shooters are down, and Aenna emerges from her cover to make sure the space is secure. She can see Ohnaka’s escape ship in the distance, flying somewhat erratically, and hopes the Beroya is ok.
It’s then that the Trandoshan decides to tackle her to the ground.
Her helmet hits the docking bay floor with a resounding clang that leaves her ears ringing. There’s a brief struggle where she tries to point her blaster at her attacker and he tries to pry it from her hand, and eventually she decides to reach down to her boot and draw her knife instead. She does her best to keep the Trandoshan’s attention on her blaster, but he must pick up on her divided attention because just as she goes to ram the blade into his ribs, he moves to snatch the knife and she ends up stabbing him through the hand instead.
He roars with pain, and Aenna shoves him away. She scrambles to her feet and points her blaster at the Trandoshan still lying on the floor and cradling his injured hand. She’s about to pull the trigger when-
“Stop!”
It’s Ohnaka’s voice. Aenna’s head snaps around to find him and sees him cuffed and bound, standing next to the Beroya a little further down the dock.
“Don’t shoot him. He’s a good worker,” Ohnaka continues.
“She stabbed me!” the Trandoshan whines, sounding absurdly like an upset child.
“Don’t be dramatic,” Ohnaka replies, and his body moves as if he would have waved a hand if his arms weren’t bound.
Aenna tilts her helmet at the Beroya, and he responds with a barely-there one shouldered shrug. She holsters her blaster and leaves the Trandoshan writhing on the floor to join her mentor and their bounty.
“I apologise, Beroya,” she says, inclining her helmet. “I should never have let him escape.”
The pirate rolls his eyes, but Din Djarin shakes his head. “You’re still learning. With experience you’ll be able to anticipate these things. It’s not a big deal.”
He’s being nice. She failed, and she’s lucky he was able to fix her mistake. Still, if he’s not angry with her, she has a chance to do better next time.
The walk back to their ship is uneventful, even with the increased staring and whispering from passers-by. Despite the limp from Aenna’s blaster bolt, Ohnaka walks as if he’s the one leading them to the ship, managing to look like he’s in charge even with the Beroya still holding the end of the whipcord pinning the pirate’s arms to his body. He even tips his head at a few people as they walk, greeting them so casually that this could almost be a nice morning stroll rather than his abduction by bounty hunters.
The Beroya passes the end of the cord to Aenna when they arrive in docking bay six, telling her to secure the bounty while he pays the docking fees. As Din Djarin walks away, Ohnaka turns his attention to Aenna with what he probably thinks is a dazzling smile.
“I fear our first impressions of each other were not the best,” he says, his tone magnanimous. “I’d like to introduce myself to you properly.”
Aenna jerks her head towards the open ramp of the ship. “Get in.”
“I am Hondo Ohnaka, once feared and respected as the great pirate king of Florrum, and now a legitimate businessman and owner of Ohnaka Transport Solutions. Currently hiring, in fact, if your bounty hunting career doesn’t work out. Some Mandalorians recently killed or crippled a number of my staff.”
He makes no move towards the ramp, so Aenna shoves him. The Beroya had warned her that bounties will say anything they can to get under your skin, so she ignores his comment about killed and crippled workers. They were shooting at her and she did what she had to do. Only an idiot or someone with a death wish shoots at a Mandalorian.
“Are you going to introduce yourself?” Ohnaka is still talking. “It would be somewhat rude if you don’t. You know my name, I know your teacher’s name, but I don’t know anything at all about you.”
Once they’re inside the ship, she sees him looking around with a calculating look in his eye and she has to drag him to the cabin they’ve designated the brig before he can find whatever he was clearly looking for. The pirate makes an approving sound as he sees his new quarters.
“Much nicer than expected. Clearly you have some respect for my station.”
“It’s the only self-contained room with a lock,” Aenna replies, and slams her hand against the door panel. It’s very satisfying to watch the doors close as he opens his mouth to speak to her again.
She stands by the door until the Beroya comes back, and after she confirms Ohnaka is inside, he makes sure the door is locked on his vambrace. Once the ramp is closed too, he casts a critical eye over Aenna and she resists the urge to squirm.
“Are you injured?”
She shakes her head. “No, Beroya.”
He watches her for a few more moments before inclining his helmet. “You did good today,” he says, and after the sceptical tilt of her head, adds, “I’m serious. That was a tricky one for your first hunt. It went better than mine.”
She still doesn’t believe him, but she’s been offered a tantalising hint of one of his personal stories and she has to know. “What happened on your first hunt?”
He huffs a laugh. “We were hunting a Falleen and I hadn’t replaced my helmet filters for too long.”
Ah yes - a classic mistake when dealing with species that produce powerful pheromones. Arvine had taught her that when explaining all the many, many reasons why she needed to maintain her armour correctly, filters included.
The Beroya shakes his head before continuing. “I let him get away and my teacher had to dump a bucket of cold water on me to bring me back to my senses. I was fifteen. It was very embarrassing.”
“Did you catch him in the end?” Aenna grins behind her helmet but tries not to laugh. She’s pretty sure he can hear it in her voice.
“My teacher did - two weeks later in another system.”
His teacher. Inerva Kast - another thing Ohnaka apparently knows about him. She wonders again if the pirate and the Beroya know each other, but to ask would be to accuse him of lying to her.
“I’m sorry about your teacher,” she says, impulsively. She watches his back straighten in apparent surprise.
“It was a long time ago,” he says, and gestures to the ladder. “Let’s check on Grogu and get out of this place.”