Promises and Deals | The Mandalorian

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"The Ugnaught can help."

"But do we have to go back to that terrible planet?" He arches a brow though she can't see. "Ugh, fine. I'll be sharpening my daggers." Flinging a hand over her shoulder, she ducks below deck once more.

Luckily, Mando had been waiting. "Do you recognize this?" Mando asks, pulling his drawing of Tiri's tattoo from his pocket.

Cara frowns as she takes the paper and inspects it. "It's familiar." She purses her lips. "It looks Alderaanian."

"I thought if anyone would know it, it'd be you."

"Why do you want to know?" She asks as she hands the paper back to him.

"Tiri's got it tattooed on her chest." Cara quirks a brow. "Been trying to figure it out."

"Well, there are lots of Rebellion leaders from Alderaan. Why don't you just ask her?"

He scoffs. "She wouldn't answer me. She keeps to herself."

"So you sneak around behind her back instead?"

Mando rolls his eyes. "Forget it. Just...don't tell her please."

Cara begins to smirk. "Well, looks like you two have gotten close—"

"Not a word."

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With the Ugnaught, Kuiil, now on board as the Child's babysitter, Alora still feels no better about the situation. Everything feels cramped with the Ugnaught's blurrgs and reprogrammed droid that Alora stays far away from along with Mando and Cara. The metal seems too warm for her tastes and sweat constantly builds up on her skin enough to make Alora consider removing her cloak, though she refuses, knowing of the Ugnaught's former life as an Imperial gene farmer.

She watches the warriors arm wrestle from afar as she plays with her daggers. The two appear to happily play on the other's strengths.

"I got you, Mando," Cara says with a smile.

"Care to double the bet?" Mando replies.

Alora rolls her eyes as she turns back to her daggers. Chocking sounds make her turn to see Cara gasping for breath and the Child raising his hand.

"No!" Alora shouts. The Child drops his hand in surprise at the rough voice while Alora stands, shaking her head. Mando has also gotten to his feet, taking the Child in his arms. "Friend, ok? Cara is a friend."

"That is not ok!" Cara shouts. Alora purses her lips, making her way over to the dropper and looking at her throat, though she is pushed away.

"Very curious," Kuiil says as he joins them.

"Curious?! It almost killed me!"

"The story you told me of the mudhorn now makes more sense."

"Stop talking!" Alora exclaims. "Just...be quiet!" Everyone stares at her as she points at the Ugnaught. "Not a word." Turning back to Cara, she says, "Let me see if you're hurt. I have some medical training."

Reluctantly, the dropper allows Alora to look around her throat only to find no signs of bruising.

She can feel Mando's eyes on the back of her head. "What is it?" He asks.

"What it is, I don't know," Kuiil replies. "But what it does, this—this I have heard of."

As Alora purses her lips, Cara snaps, "What? When you worked for the Empire?"

"When I was sold to the Empire in indentured servitude."

"Yet, somehow, you walk free."

"I bought my freedom through the skill of my hands and the labor of three of your human lifetimes." As Kuiil's voice gets more heated, his IG unit creeps into view. It comes close enough that Alora steps in front of the Child and Mando. "Do not cast doubt upon that of what I am nor whom I serve."

"Tell you what," Mando says. "I can really use your craftwork right now. Can you pad this container so the Child can sleep better?"

"I shall fabricate a better one. Then, perhaps, this dropper can see how one can win their freedom with the skill of one's hands."

"Thank you," Alora replies before glancing at Cara. "You may not like this situation—I don't either—but we are all here for the same reason. Either get over your personal feelings or leave, dropper. Now, I'm going to pilot this thing. Cool off."

As she climbs up above, she hears Cara mutter, "Yes, General."

Settling into the pilot's seat, Alora presses a few buttons on the console but otherwise leaves it be. This is Mando's mission and ship; he can pilot this hunk of junk.

"Get out of my seat."

Alora sighs as Mando takes his seat. She rests her back against the wall, watching him set a course for Nevarro silently.

"What's wrong?"

She frowns. "What makes you think something's wrong?"

He turns in his seat to stare at her. "Really? I'm not that much of an idiot, you know."

Sliding into the nearest seat, she takes a deep breath. "I don't like it when the kid does stuff like that," she says. "Especially not to friends. Problem is he's not willing to learn."

Mando nods but otherwise does not move. Almost like he's expecting more. Alora just clenches her jaw, trying to dare him to speak. He breaks first. "What drew you to the kid?"

"We're not so different, he and I. A long time ago, I made a promise to an old teacher. My job is to protect him. You can see why I might be just a tad anxious that we're walking into a trap."

"We don't know that—"

"You might not. I do." Alora crosses her arms. "It's hard to trust Kuiil."

"Why?"

"I know it's not his fault, but he was Empire," Alora replies. "I spent so long fighting them. I thought when we won..." She shakes her head. "I thought it'd be over, but it's not. I still think about those battles and the soldiers we lost. The Empire destroyed everything."

She can imagine Mando watching her through his helmet. She isn't usually so open about things, but she had just started speaking again. As conceited as it sounds, she likes the sound of her voice after so many years of silence.

"You know we're not giving you up, right?" Mando asks.

She flicks her eyes up to meet his gaze. "If it's me or the kid, give me over." The words sound forbidden, like acid falling from her lips.

"Tiri—"

"If it's me or the kid, I'll survive. He won't," Alora says. "Well, I might not survive, but I know how to deal with them."

Mando shakes his head. "We're not giving either of you up. Not again."

"I hope that's true."

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-L