Balance || The Mandalorian [ON HIATUS]

✦ Thirteen

With a shudder, the Razor Crest touched down roughly on Tatooine's surface, stirring up a small cloud of sand. Another happy landing.

Mando and I left the cockpit and placed Grogu into a small storage compartment where he would stay hidden. He had fallen back asleep, snoring softly with a peaceful expression upon his face. Hopefully, but not foreseeably, he would stay put. The little green child was quite the troublemaker when he was awake. Closing the wall panel, we lowered the cargo ramp and stepped out of the Crest.

Upon our exit, pit droids leapt up from where they lay on the ground and began to chatter amongst themselves. They hefted fueling equipment and filed towards the Razor Crest. I made to stop them - droids - but Mando acted first, firing a warning shot in the droids' direction.

They shrieked in shock and retracted into themselves, leaving scattered equipment lying on the sandy ground. I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose, knowing from experience that the head mechanic would be most displeased at the disturbance.

"Hey!" An indignated voice carried through the air. "Hey!"

The corner of my lip quirked up for a moment as the source came into view. Peli Motto marched angrily towards Mando, her jaw set and eyes narrowed. "You damage one of my droids, you'll pay for it." She did a double take, eyes widening, as she noticed me standing to Mando's left. "Y/n? Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?"

Peli Motto had been the first person to earn my trust during my time in hiding from the Empire. I was much younger then, hoping to find refuge in a hangar bay on an otherwise barren, sandy wasteland. To some degree, Peli had taken me under her wing, providing me with food, a modest pay, and a roof in exchange for services in repairing ships and the like.

Eventually, I had saved enough credits to purchase a ship and regain my footing in the galaxy, moving from planet to planet. I occasionally revisited Tatooine before ultimately cycling the charts and joining the Bounty Hunters' Guild on Nevarro. I had not ventured back to Tatooine in years as a result.

The planet's seemingly lifeless outward appearance had drawn a veil over the certain energy it had, energy that had abruptly diminished without a trace, and more importantly, indication - no tremor or forewarning from the Force.

Peli wasn't finished with Mando yet, turning back to him and giving him a death stare. The standoff was almost amusing, with Peli being a head shorter than Mando and making up for his intimidating stature with an equally unnerving expression on her face. Mando sighed. "Just keep them away from my ship."

"Yeah? You think that's a good idea, do you? Let's look at your ship." Peli strode past Mando and scrutinized the Razor Crest, banging on various areas to emphasize its less-than-perfect condition. "Oh! Look at that," she observed. "You've got a lot of carbon scoring building up top. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were in a shootout." Peli turned back momentarily and gave me a pointed look, to which I responded with a shrug. 

"You've got a fuel leak, too. Look at this, this is a mess! How did you even land?" She gestured towards me with her chin and remarked, "It's definitely no Callisto. Anyways, that's going to set you back."

Mando rifled through a small pouch. "I've got five hundred Imperial Credits." 

"That's all you got?"

"Six hundred," I added.

Peli scoffed lightly and snatched the credits out of our hands, examining them closely. "Well, what do you guys think?" The pit droids beep and chatter in response to her question, shaking their metal heads with disapproval. "That should at least cover the hangar."

"We'll get you your money," Mando stated matter-of-factly. "Just remember-"

"Yeah, no droids, I heard you the first time. I figured, since she doesn't like 'em either." Mando turned on his heel and left the hangar as Peli further narrowed her eyes in his direction. "How'd someone like you end up with this guy, anyway?"

I shook my head, "Long story." 

How had we ended up together? So far we went by an unspoken agreement to protect Grogu and stay together while doing so, but to what extent? As a fellow force-sensitive, the child's safety was my first priority, but how far would Mando be willing to go to protect him? 

Thinking about the idea only gave rise to more questions and a migraine.

Peli huffed. "Womp rat." Her voice was raised slightly to ensure that the Mandalorian's retreating figure would hear her. Mando made no acknowledgement towards Peli, only shaking his head lightly. With a brief smile at the mechanic, I followed behind Mando. 

As the hangar's sliding door closed behind us, Mando and I were greeted by the dull beige of Mos Eisley. Few passersby donning hoods walked the sandy streets, giving us wary glances as we proceeded further into the town. Dozens of stormtrooper helmets mounted on pikes adorned the exteriors of lusterless buildings, conveying a clear message - Imperials, former or otherwise, were not welcome here. 

Trying yet failing to draw as little attention to ourselves as possible, Mando and I made our way through the unnaturally quiet town.

As we neared the cantina, I placed a hand on Mando's pauldron to draw his attention. Mando tensed and stopped in his tracks at my touch. I winced, knowing I had taken him by surprise, and removed my hand immediately for fear of discomforting him.

"You go ahead; I have a contact. Rendezvous back at the hangar tomorrow?" Mando nodded, and I turned away, but he grabbed my wrist, preventing me from leaving just yet. Spinning back around to face him, I tilted my head in question. 

"Be careful," he said simply.

"I will if you do the same." Mando nodded once more and released his gentle grip on my wrist, continuing to the round building without another word. 

Well, that was certainly interesting.

Brushing the encounter out of my mind, I backtracked slightly, moving closer to the nondescript buildings in order to be disguised by the shadows. I passed one door, then another, and there it was.

The faded gray door was small and unassuming, hidden in the shadows by a tarp of the same hue. The shrouded location ensured that one would not stumble upon it unless by intention. Contrasting the dull color of the door, there were two symbols painted intricately at the top in ink black. Small splotches of color were scattered in the vicinity, indicating that the symbols had been painted over many times. 

One incorporated a six-pointed star with a line through it, surrounded by a curved shape that resembled the wings of a phoenix. It was a symbol everyone would have recognized several decades back, before the Empire's dissolute reign. The second of the two had an almost primeval simplicity, consisting of a circle and ring of twelve spikes grouped in threes. It was a peculiar, unfamiliar symbol to all except a select few, but carried a malignant weight nonetheless. 

I stepped closer to the door, glancing furtively to my left and right to make sure I was not being watched. Once I was satisfied that no one was paying me any attention, I located a spot around two inches away from the door frame. A small rectangle was etched into the stone, nearly indistinguishable save for its raised surface. I pushed lightly on the area and it glowed a bright blue in response, revealing a dusty yet state-of-the-art pin pad that contrasted Mos Eisley's rustic style.

I typed in the sequence of numbers, hoping the passcode had not changed since I last visited the place. 2-1-8-7. The gray door slid open, revealing a dimly lit passageway. Taking a deep breath, I stepped inside.

• • •