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dystopicjumpsuit · 11 months

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Stars Beyond Number - Chapter 11

Between the Motion and the Act

Rating: M - Minors DNI

Pairings: Echo x Riyo Chuchi; Gregor x OFC Cerra Kilian

Wordcount: 4.2k

Warnings and tags: fluff; a sneaky OT reference (literally wrote a whole scene just so I could make that joke); some angst; SMUT; oral sex; Echo x Riyo is GO!!!

Suggested Listening:

Summary: The team plans for Balmorra; Echo commences diplomatic negotiations with the senator from Pantora.

A/N: This story shares continuity with Martyrs and Kings and "Do It Again," but all three fics can be read as stand-alones.

Between the idea and the reality

Between the motion and the act

Falls the Shadow

—T. S. Eliot, “The Hollow Men”

cerulean-senator: Would you rather fight one rancor-sized tooka or ten tooka-sized rancors?

Echo grinned as he typed a response.

ur-fav-cyborg:That’s easy. I’ve already encountered a rancor-sized rancor, so I know the secret to defeating them. They’re hierarchical by nature, so I would rather fight the ten tooka-sized rancors and set them against each other. When they established which one was the alpha, I would challenge it for supremacy. My turn: would you rather eat nothing but dessert for a week, or no dessert for a year?

There was a pause as he waited for Riyo to respond. Rex and Cerra were debating the technical specifications they needed in their ship for the Balmorra mission. Echo and Rex had determined that their best chance of success was to extract Howzer when he was being transported. Rex’s mysterious contact hadn’t known exactly when that would happen, but had said it was inevitable. They’d pored over blueprints of the Gozanti-class cruisers that were being used as prisoner transports as they’d formulated a battle plan.

“What about a leech vessel?” Cerra asked. “Two points of entry.”

“That… could work,” Echo said. “Dock with the main vessel as a diversion, and then breach the hull with the leech.”

“We’d have to divide our forces,” Rex said.

“The pilot would have to stay with the ship anyway,” Echo pointed out. “Gregor can keep their troops occupied at the docking port while the extraction team boards from the leech.”

“Flank ‘em and spank ‘em,” Cerra said, tapping her beer bottle against Rex’s.

“Always so eloquent,” Rex teased as he took a swig.

“I learned from the best, and he learned from you,” she said with a grin. “You’re like my tactical granddaddy.”

“I thought you said I was a youngling,” Rex said.

“Granddaddy is a state of mind,” Cerra shrugged.

She slouched on the sofa with her boot-clad feet propped on the holotable, and Echo had the brief, tangential thought that Tech would have an aneurysm if he could witness it.

His comm chirped, and he checked the message immediately.

cerulean-senator: Wait, when did you fight a rancor? That sounds like a story worth hearing.

ur-fav-cyborg: I’ll tell you all about it next time I see you. Now quit stalling and answer the question, Riyo.

The reply was immediate and indignant.

cerulean-senator: I wasn’t stalling! I was thinking. I do like dessert, but a week of nothing but sugar might put me in a coma. I’ll have to say I’d rather go a year without desserts. Would you rather kiss a Gungan or a Wookiee?

ur-fav-cyborg: That depends. Are we talking a mouth kiss, or just a quick peck on the cheek?

cerulean-senator: Full-on mouth kiss, with tongue.

ur-fav-cyborg: In that case, I’d rather kiss a Pantoran.

cerulean-senator: You’re not going to charm your way out of answering the question, trooper.

ur-fav-cyborg: Worth a shot. Fine. Assuming consent from all parties involved, and given the knowledge that Gungan tongues are nearly a meter in length—which would present a high probability of death by choking—and considering that I’ve met some very nice Wookiees who almost certainly wouldn’t rip off my one remaining arm, I would rather kiss a Wookiee. But only if the Pantoran is unavailable.

“Care to share the joke, Echo?” Rex asked.

“Sorry, sir,” Echo said, stashing his commlink away.

“You know, we’re not in the GAR any more,” Cerra said. “He’s allowed to check his comm in meetings.”

Echo glanced quickly at Cerra, surprised that she had defended him. Rex sighed, and Echo immediately felt guilty.

“You're right,” Rex admitted. “Old habits are hard to break, but what are we fighting for if not the right to live our lives as we choose?”

Echo wasn’t sure what to say. Freedom was a complex thing to navigate when he’d been trained his entire life to follow orders. It was different with the Batch; they had always had a more relaxed dynamic, and all the members were accustomed to speaking their minds freely, even if the ultimate command decision defaulted to Hunter. But this was Rex, who’d saved Echo’s life more times than he could count, who’d been his longest-standing commanding officer, who’d hand picked him to join the 501st, who’d recommended him for ARC training, who’d believed in him against all odds, who’d fought to bring him back from Skako Minor when everyone else had written him off. Every instinct Echo possessed screamed for him to obey the captain.

Suddenly, he recalled something he’d overheard Cerra tell Rex. “He trusts you so much that he’ll do whatever you order.” Gregor had said something similar when he confronted Rex after the disastrous mission to 79’s. There was something about Rex that inspired absolute loyalty in his soldiers. The problem was, they weren’t just soldiers any more. Perhaps Riyo was right, and they had always been more than that.

Cerra stood and stretched. “I don’t know about you boys, but I could use some food.”

“Good luck finding anything,” Rex said as she dug through the kitchen cabinets. “I cleared out the conservator last night.”

“We have ration bars,” Cerra said. “I can’t wait ‘til Gregor gets back so we can eat some decent food again. Want anything, Echo?”

“I could eat,” Echo admitted. “Are we finished here?”

“I’ve got what I need to start looking for a ship,” Cerra said. “Rex?”

“We’ve done as much as we can with our current intel,” Rex replied.

Cerra tossed them each a ration bar, and when Echo’s comm chirped again, he checked it, careful to maintain a neutral expression.

cerulean-senator: Solid reasoning all around, but now I have blackmail material in the form of written proof that you want to kiss a Wookiee.

ur-fav-cyborg: Only under duress. Now it’s my turn: would you rather be too hot or too cold?

cerulean-senator: That’s easy! I would rather be too cold. You can do all sorts of fun things to warm up.

ur-fav-cyborg: Such as?

cerulean-senator: Drinking caf, wearing cozy sweaters, snuggling in front of a fireplace—and other things.

ur-fav-cyborg: What kinds of other things?

cerulean-senator: That’s for me to know and you to find out. My turn: would you rather have dinner with me or breakfast with me?”

ur-fav-cyborg: Both.

cerulean-senator: Great! When is a good day for you?

Echo choked on his ration bar and dropped his comlink. It skittered across the floor and came to rest against Rex’s boot. The captain arched one eyebrow and handed the comlink back to Echo without a word. Echo took it and sent a quick response.

ur-fav-cyborg: After the next mission?

cerulean-senator: Sounds perfect. I’ll meet you there and we’ll see where the night takes us.

Echo smiled and tucked his comlink away. Turning to Cerra, he asked, “Is your hand healed enough to spar?”

She nodded. “I’ve been wanting to practice those moves you showed me. Would you rather be my partner or my coach?”

“I’ll coach if Rex will partner with you,” Echo said. “Sparring is a little tricky with my prosthetics.”

“Rex?” Cerra asked.

“Only if you go easy on me,” Rex replied. “Remember, I’m a grandfather.”

Cerra snorted. “Sure, grandpa. When I fail to land a single hit on you, it’ll be because I’m going easy on an old man.”

Despite her self-deprecation, Echo found that Cerra was a decently competent fighter. It was true that she was far outmatched by Rex, but most opponents she was likely to face would not be genetically engineered supersoldiers with years of combat experience. She had good form and technique, and she took direction well. With a blaster and a few modifications to her armor, Echo suspected that she would be able to hold her own against a wide range of adversaries.

Just as Echo was contemplating the best armor mods to augment Cerra’s reach and upper body strength, Rex took her to the ground and pinned her. She tapped out immediately, contradicting Rex’s claim that she didn’t know how to back down from a fight. Rex stood and pulled her to her feet.

“Again,” Echo ordered. “And Cerra, remember what I showed you.”

She nodded and snapped into a fighting stance at once. Rex tested her defenses a few times, light punches to see how well she could block. He moved with rigid control, never taking it too far and risking hurting her. It was very different from the way Echo had been trained. ARC trooper training had been brutal and no-holds-barred. There was a very good reason that so few clones successfully passed, and that was that the training was extreme even by the Kaminoans’ standards. A nat-born wouldn’t just fail; they would very likely be killed or permanently debilitated.

“Attack, Cerra,” Echo ordered. “You can’t just dance around him all day.”

She hesitated, and Rex saw his opening. His fist darted past her block and tapped her jaw. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt, just to get her attention. She tightened her stance and returned the hit, albeit too slowly. Rex blocked her effortlessly.

“Like I showed you, Cerra,” Echo said. “Do it.”

“I don’t want to hurt him,” she panted.

Rex smirked. “You won’t.”

“That’s not Rex,” Echo snapped sternly. “That’s an enemy. Take him down, now. He’s going to hurt you. He’s going to hurt Tup.”

Cerra gasped and dropped her fists. Rex struck just as Cerra turned, his blow connecting much harder than he’d intended. Cerra staggered backward.

“Kark!” Rex exclaimed. “Are you all right?”

Cerra’s large, wounded eyes weren’t looking at Rex, though. She stared at Echo instead. A trickle of blood dripped from her lip, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“How do you know that name?” she asked, her voice shaken.

“You called Fireball Tup the other night,” Echo said, taken aback. “I thought it was a friend of yours.”

Cerra spun and stalked out of the sparring ring, not stopping until the barracks door slid closed behind her. Echo turned to Rex, whose mouth was set in a grim line.

“Tup was Fives’s best friend after Umbara,” Rex said quietly. “The three of them were more than close. They were inseparable. Cerra thought of Tup as her little brother, and he was the first she lost. And a few days later, she lost Fives, too.”

“Kriff,” Echo breathed. “I had no idea.”

“She keeps to herself,” Rex said. “Probably more than she should.”

“Why?” Echo asked bluntly.

Rex sighed. “Cerra is a soldier, but she’s not like us clones. We’ve always had each other, even when we didn’t have anyone else. But Cerra’s family turned on her when she needed them most. It’s not easy for her to trust.”

“I thought she told Gregor everything,” Echo said.

“She doesn’t even tell me everything,” Rex replied enigmatically.

Echo remembered now that even Gregor had not recognized Tup’s name the night that Cerra mistakenly called Fireball by it.

“Kriff,” he said again. “I need to apologize.”

“Better give her some space,” Rex counseled. “If I know Cerra, she’d rather just pretend none of this happened. She’ll be all right.”

“That doesn’t seem like the healthiest way of dealing with it,” Echo said.

“Do you want to be the one who tells her that?” Rex asked.

“Fair point,” Echo acknowledged. “Maybe I’ll take the speeder bike and get some air.”

Echo strode out of the garage and hopped onto the speeder bike, riding without paying much attention to where he was going. He avoided the Federal District, and after a while, he piloted the bike to the top of a ramshackle skyscraper. Maybe sometime long ago it had been a beautiful and prestigious edifice like 500 Republica, but now it was crumbling. Still, it had an expansive view of the city and the setting sun, and he parked the speeder on the roof after a quick recon determined it to be abandoned.

He stared out across the city of trillions, hating how alone he felt. He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Fives’s death than Rex had told him. They were soldiers. Cerra was a soldier. They were accustomed to losing people—it hurt like hell, but they knew the risks. What had happened to carve that deep well of pain in Cerra’s eyes? What was Rex not telling him? On impulse, he holocommed Riyo.

“Hello, Echo,” she said with a smile. “This is a nice surprise.”

“Is this a good time?”

“Yes,” she said. “I’m done with work for the day, and I’ve just finished eating dinner. I’m all yours for as long as you want me. Is everything all right?”

Kriff, she was pretty. Her full lips curved in an alluring smile, and the sparkle in her golden eyes was visible even through the shaky hologram.

“Yes,” he said. “Everything is fine. I just wanted to see you.”

“I didn’t think you got many opportunities to be alone,” she said.

“I don’t, but I needed some air. Cerra and Rex are back at the garage.”

“And where are you?” she asked.

“I’m not sure,” he frowned. “On top of some abandoned building in a part of the city where I would never bring you.”

“Is that safe?” she asked, concerned.

“I’m not worried,” he said.

“I’m a little worried,” she said. “Why don’t you come to my flat?”

Echo was startled. “Are you sure?”

“There’s a private landing platform that accesses my suite at the Pantoran embassy. I’m sending the coordinates and access code now.”

“In that case, I’ll see you soon,” he said.

Riyo paced in her suite, unaccountably nervous. It was strange; she could easily give a speech to tens of thousands of senators and dignitaries, but as she checked and rechecked her reflection to make sure her hair wasn’t doing anything strange and she didn’t have anything stuck in her teeth, her body filled with jittery energy. She smoothed her hands over her blouse, trying to brush away some of the wrinkles it had accumulated after a long day of committee sessions and meetings with constituents.

The door chimed. Not the main door; the private entrance at the back of her suite. A quick glance at the security holocams revealed Echo, helmeted and in full armor. Riyo’s heart lodged in her throat as she hurried to admit him. The door slid open, and Echo removed his helmet.

“Hello,” she said, feeling suddenly shy.

“Ma’am,” he said with a formal nod, and she realized this was just as awkward for him. Somehow, that eased her nerves.

“Please come in,” she said.

He glanced quickly around the room as he entered, and she wondered if he was looking for threats. It must be practically instinctive for him by now. His eyes came to rest on her, and he gave her a small, gentle smile that sent warmth tingling through her.

“Thank you for the invitation,” he said.

“Of—of course!” she stammered. “You seemed like you might need to talk to a friend.”

“Is that what we are?” he asked. “Friends?”

“I hope so,” she said.

“I hope so, too,” he replied. “But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t hope we could also be more. Is that something you want?”

There was something refreshing about his directness, accustomed as she was to the doublespeak and prevarication of her fellow politicians.

“I think you know the answer,” she said.

“I need to hear you say it,” he replied, taking a step closer to her.

Oh, stars, he smells amazing.

“Yes,” she whispered.

He raised his hand to her face, trailing his fingers along her jaw, brushing his thumb over her lips. She swallowed thickly as her breath became shallow and fast. She closed the space between them, tilting her head back to meet his gaze.

“You have the most beautiful eyes,” she said softly.

He slid his hand to the back of her head, fingers threading into her hair, and then he kissed her. His lips were soft and warm, and Riyo let out a quiet, involuntary moan as his tongue brushed against hers. She felt as though she were drowning in him—his taste, his scent, his touch. When their lips parted, she gradually became aware that her arms had wrapped around him, seemingly of their own volition, as she had explored his armored body with her hands. He was holding her, too, his prosthetic arm wrapped firmly around her waist, and he traced a path down her throat with his thumb.

His gaze roamed over her, taking in the way her lips parted and her breasts rose and fell with each quick breath, the way her wide eyes gave away too many of her thoughts, and she felt vulnerable, exposed, as though he had laid bare her entire soul. Look away, her mind begged. Don’t let him see. It’s too soon for you to feel this way. What if he thinks you’re a pathetic little girl with a silly crush? He could destroy you, grind your heart beneath his heel and leave you a mangled, bloody mess.

But somehow, as she looked deeply into his eyes, she knew that he would never, ever do that. That he would carry her heart as carefully and securely as he did his own. And so, she traced her hands lightly down his chest plate until she reached the belt that held up his heavy kama and unbuckled it with a deft movement. Next, she slipped her fingers beneath the shoulder straps of his cuirass until she found the clips that held the two pieces together, and one by one, she teased them open. She removed the plates carefully, setting them aside, and then stroked her palms down his chest and abdomen, feeling the firm, wiry muscles beneath the dark red fabric of his jacket.

He watched her with undisguised hunger, and when she stood on her tiptoes to lick the bit of exposed skin at the top of his neck, he snapped, pulling her body tightly against his and crushing his lips to hers in a ravenous kiss. He walked her backward until she pressed against the wall, and when he rocked his hips against her, she could feel the rigid length of his cock through their clothing.

“Oh, stars,” she panted, breaking away from his lips. But he didn’t end the kiss; he worked his mouth across her jaw and down her throat, licking and biting and sucking gently on her skin, and the sounds she made would have embarrassed her if she hadn’t been so aroused. “Don’t stop, Echo, please don’t stop.”

She felt his hand cup her breast and dimly wondered when he’d unbuttoned and slipped her blouse off her arms, but it didn’t matter, because he was making his way down her chest with that incredible, talented mouth of his, and then he was kneeling in front of her, and when he sucked her nipple into his mouth, her legs nearly gave out. She tugged at his pauldrons until they clattered to the floor, and then she felt the waistband of her trousers loosen and the fabric slide down her hips, leaving her utterly exposed.

Echo paused long enough to bite down on the fingertip of his glove and yank it off, and then Riyo felt the smooth, glorious slide of his skin against hers as he grasped her inner thigh and glided his hand upwards. She cradled his head in her hands as he sucked on her breasts, and when his fingertips brushed over her sex and felt her slippery arousal, he groaned against her.

“Fuck, Riyo,” he said, sitting back on his heels to take in the sight of her. “Look how beautiful you are. So, so kriffing beautiful.”

He leaned forward until he was nearly pressed against her, but before he touched her, he raised his eyes to her face.

“Is this all right?” he asked, his honey-gold eyes wide and serious.

“Yes, please yes,” she said. “Please, Echo, I need you to—oohh—”

Her brain skidded to a halt and took her power of speech with it as Echo slid his tongue into her, latching his lips over her cunt.

“Fuck!” she gasped, her voice barely a breath. “Gods, fuck, I can’t—”

He dropped lower and leaned forward, stroking his scomplink up the inside of her calf and encouraging her to drape her leg over him. His height made it a little difficult for her to reach, but once Riyo rested her thigh on his shoulder, he moved in between her legs, his tongue diving deep inside her as his thumb traced firm circles around her clit, not pressing directly on the sensitive flesh, but finding the perfect rhythm to drive all the thoughts from her head. Quiet grunts of pleasure escaped him, as though he had never tasted anything so delicious in his life.

Riyo was less controlled than Echo. She tried to keep her voice down so as not to draw the attention of the guards outside the doors of her suite, but she couldn’t suppress her whimpers and gasps as Echo devoured her like a man starved. Her leg trembled as pleasure swirled tightly through her body. Echo flattened his palm against her belly and slid up her body to cup her breast, squeezing gently and rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He gazed worshipfully up at her from between her thighs, and she locked eyes with him as the pressure in her abdomen finally snapped and sent her hurtling into ecstasy.

Her body crumpled, but Echo caught her, clamping his hand firmly over her mouth to muffle her cries, even as he wrecked her over and over with his mouth. At last, when he had wrung every last shuddering drop of pleasure out of her body, he lowered her onto his lap and wrapped her comfortingly in his arms, stroking his hand gently across her skin.

“That’s it, love,” he whispered in her ear. “That’s my lovely girl. You look so beautiful like this. You make such pretty sounds when you come. I hated to stop you. I wanted to hear every little moan and gasp and scream. Next time, love.”

Riyo shook her head. “Bedroom,” she gasped. “Soundproof.”

Echo smiled. “Lead the way.”

Cerra didn’t look up when the barracks door opened. The mattress shifted as Rex sat next to her on the bunk. He leaned close to peer at the holo she held.

“Was that at 79’s?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said.

In the picture, Tup’s long hair tumbled around his shoulders as Cerra hugged him close. They were both laughing uproariously as Fives made a crude gesture at the holocam. She remembered the night with crystal clarity, even though they’d all just done a round of shots with Jesse and Kix when Kix snapped the holo. Jesse had been teasing Tup about his non-regulation hair and had threatened to shave it off next time Tup fell asleep.

“Never!” Cerra had exclaimed, shrieking with laughter as she wrapped her arms around Tup’s head. “I’ll protect you, Tup!”

“Kix took this about five minutes before we all got bounced for being too loud,” Cerra said. “I’m honestly surprised we didn’t end up in the Corrie drunk tank.”

Rex cupped Cerra’s chin in his hand and tilted her face toward him. “Do you need bacta?”

She shook her head. “I’ll be fine.”

He leaned in to confirm that she wasn’t seriously injured then stroked along her jaw. “You’re going to have a nice bruise. Gregor is going to kick my ass when he finds out how you got it.”

“I’ll tell him I had an argument with the speeder, and the speeder won,” she said. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve dropped a vehicle on myself.”

“I’m sorry I hit you,” he said.

“No need to apologize, Rex. I know it was an accident.”

“Echo didn’t mean to hurt you, either,” Rex said in a low voice.

“I know,” she said. “It’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting it. I’ll talk to him in a bit.”

“He took the bike out for a spin,” he said. “It’s just us for now.”

“Just like the bad old days,” she said with the faintest flicker of humor. “Maker forbid.”

Rex had slept like the dead for more than half a day, but he still looked exhausted: the kind of bone-deep weariness that could never be cured by a mere few hours of extra rest. She wondered if she looked like that, too. His thigh felt reassuringly warm and solid as it pressed along her leg, and she shifted a little, seeking the comfort of his touch.

His breath ghosted softly across her skin, and she swayed unconsciously closer to him, close enough to see the individual hairs of the stubble on his jaw, close enough to smell the soap they all shared on his skin. His thumb traced back down her cheek, and when she raised her eyes, his gaze was riveted to her mouth.

“I’m not him, Cerra,” he whispered.

“I know,” she said quietly. “And I’m not her.”

At last, Rex dragged his eyes away from her mouth and shot her a rueful smile. “Quite a pair, aren’t we?”

She tried and failed to return his smile, then closed her eyes as he dropped his forehead to rest against hers.

“Rex?” she asked without opening her eyes.

“Hmm?”

“Do you ever think about giving up?”

“Every day,” he said. “You?”

“Every day.”

“Do you think you will?” he asked.

“Never.”

---

Next chapter

A/N: Want to read about the night from Cerra's hologram? It's from the first half of this one-shot: "Do It Again."

#bad batch echo #captain rex #captain gregor #riyo chuchi #oc: cerra kilian #echo x riyo chuchi #gregor x oc #star wars #the bad batch #bad batch fanfic #star wars fanfic #stars beyond number #dystopicjumsuit writes #Spotify

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swan-of-sunrise · 1 year

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Taking Care of Business (Chapter Thirty-Eight)

Summary: Bo-Katan and Clan Mudhorn track the Mandalorian mercenaries to Plazir-15, but they are recruited by the planet’s strange rulers to sort out an ongoing issue before they can meet them.

Pairing: Din Djarin X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: Originally, I was gonna write the entirety of the droid investigation into one chapter but by the time I wrote 4k words, I decided to split it up over two chapters instead lol thank you for reading, I hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Thirty-Eight The Malfunction (Previous Chapter)

“There they are.”

Looking up from the console’s buttons, Din’s brows rose in surprise when he caught a glimpse of the Nite Owl’s one-time stolen fleet; it was comprised of several Gozanti-class Assault Carriers, Kom’rk-class fighter transports, fang-class fighters and the Imperial light cruiser that once belonged to Moff Gideon. Seeing the light cruiser that (Y/N) had nearly died on and where they’d been forced to say goodbye to Grogu again sent a shiver down Din’s spine and although he knew that it was under the command of the exiled Mandalorian, he silently vowed never to set foot onto a ship that held such dark memories for his small family. “That’s quite a fleet.”

Bo-Katan continued to fly the Gauntlet across the clear skies of Plazir-15 as she spared him a brief glance over her shoulder. “It took me a long time to assemble it; most of it was captured from the Empire.”

“I knew they looked familiar.” (Y/N) got up from her seat and crossed the starfighter’s cockpit to lean against the console beside Din. “Could come in real handy taking back Mandalore.”

“Axe Woves is their leader now,” Bo-Katan replied with a small sigh. “It’s going to take some convincing to get them to join us.”

Din watched as the captain bit her lip and remained silent, the look of sympathy briefly crossing her beautiful features causing his heart to thrum in his chest. He was constantly amazed by his wife’s ability to empathize with the struggles of others, regardless of the language and culture barriers she’d often times run into; he remembered how kindly she’d treated the Tuskens and the Frog woman, how selflessly she’d defended the people of Freetown and Mos Espa, and how – despite the recent slew of confusing contradictions – she’d eagerly thrown herself into learning all that she could about the Way of the Mandalore. The conflicts and infighting amongst the various factions of Mandalorians was baffling to her, but that didn’t prevent her from spending their week of searching for the stolen fleet commiserating with the woman who already failed to unite her people once before and who was obviously fearful of failing once again.

Searching for any means of easing the nervous tension in the cockpit, Din asked, “I wonder what they’re here for?”

“This planet isn’t on the New Republic Registry, so I’d guess it’s an independent world that hired them for protection.”

(Y/N) cleared her throat and began fiddling with the frayed edge of her fingerless glove. “Can’t imagine Woves will be happy to see you…”

Bo-Katan absentmindedly nodded, clearly lost in her own ruminations ahead of their meeting with her former forces. “Yeah.” Disappointment filled (Y/N)’s eyes and Din placed a gloved hand atop hers for comfort as the Nite Owl continued. “I’ll land outside the fleet’s perimeter; it’s probably best if we go in on foot.”

Before either Din or (Y/N) could reply, a cheerful fanfare played over the starfighter’s communication radio and was accompanied by an equally-pleasant voice. “Welcome to Plazir-15, the Outer Rim’s only remaining direct democracy. You’ve been assigned a docking slip. You will be guided on the assigned path. Engaging automated guidance.”

The Gauntlet suddenly jolted and began flying towards the planet’s domed city, causing (Y/N) to stumble and Din to wrap a steadying arm around her waist as Bo-Katan slapped a gloved hand on the console’s unresponsive buttons. “What happened?”

“They’ve taken control of the ship.” With a huff of annoyance, Bo-Katan flopped back in the pilot’s seat and looked at Grogu seated beside her. “I guess we’re going for a ride.”

Grogu cooed in delight and bobbed his head along to the music still emanating from the radio, causing (Y/N) to giggle and Din to smile beneath his helmet. In no time, the Gauntlet touched down on one of the city’s landing pads and the ramp lowered on its own accord; they bid R5 goodbye and after exchanging wary looks with one another, the four of them walked down the ramp and began crossing the landing pad. “This is…interesting,” Din commented, forcing himself not to reach for his blaster when he caught sight of the Imperial Death Star and astromech droids positioned by the monorail platform.

“Welcome to Plazir-15.” The RA-7 unit gestured towards the occupied track at the top of the raised platform. “Please proceed to your hyperloop pod.”

As they passed by the Imperial droids, (Y/N) shuddered and looked over at Din and Bo-Katan in discomfort. “Why do they have Imperial droids on an independent world?”

“It’s the Outer Rim,” Bo-Katan replied with a shrug as they ascended the platform and stepped into the empty pod. “Your guess is as good as mine.” Din and (Y/N) sat on one end of the pod while Bo-Katan and Grogu’s pram sat opposite them and once the doors slid shut, the Nite Owl addressed the hyperloop’s automation. “Bring us to the bay closest to the Mandalorian fleet.”

“As per Article Nine of the Coruscant Accords, permission must be granted from High Senate for access to self-defense forces in the peacekeeping zone. Do you grant permission to scan your chain code?”

(Y/N) stiffened while Din and Bo-Katan allowed the automation to scan their chain codes and when she made no move to produce hers, Din’s brow furrowed in concern. “Alor’ad? Is everything all right?”

“…Yeah, yeah, it’s just…” The captain trailed off and silently held out her wrist so that the automation could read the chain code emanating from her arm band.

“Din Djarin, Bo-Katan Kryze and Solia Corrik…” Din’s eyes widened in shock and (Y/N) crossed her arms over her chest as she avoided their questioning gazes. “Your presence has been requested by the leadership of the planetary democracy.”

Bo-Katan gritted her teeth in impatience. “I’m afraid we have more pressing matters. Perhaps at a later time-”

“Please do not attempt to leave the vehicle. This is not a request.”

Without warning, the hyperloop pod shot forward and raced along its track. They scrambled to brace themselves and when they finally succeeded, (Y/N) sighed and finally looked over at Din. “Solia Corrik is the name my mother gave me when I was born and when she died, Solia Corrik died with her; I started going by (Y/N) (Y/L/N) when I fled Naboo – it was safer that way, easier to avoid Imperial detection, and it was what she wanted for me – and I’ve avoided having my chain code scanned at every chance I could, but I never had the heart to officially change my name. I’m sorry that I never told you, Din-”

“You have nothing to apologize for, alor’ad.” Din reached over and held one of her hands while the other caressed her cheek. “If you say your name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N), then that’s what I’ll call you. You respected my Creed without question and called me ‘Mando’ until I finally worked up the nerve to tell you my name, and you deserve the same level of respect.”

(Y/N)’s worried expression softened into a grateful smile and after giving the palm of his gloved hand a brief kiss, she took a glance out of the pod and bit her lip as she studied the domed city they sped through. “I’ve never been here before. Have either of you?”

Bo-Katan shook her head and Din removed his hand from the captain’s cheek to rest it on the handle of his blaster. “I haven’t even heard of it. Do you think we’re gonna have to blast our way out of here?”

“We’ll find out,” The Nite Owl replied, shifting in unease and exchanging a look with Grogu as the pod came to a stop and its doors slid open.

The three of them stood and exited the pod, slowly walking down the stark-white hallway while Grogu’s pram drifted along behind them; Din struggled to keep his hands hanging loose at his sides but he pushed through, his curiosity over the strange-looking planet only slightly overshadowing his cautious nature. The doors at the end of the hallway slid open to reveal a grand dining hall decorated with green ferns and woven tapestries, where beings of all shapes and sizes were seated around a sprawling table and enjoying a midday feast while musicians serenaded them with a gentle tune.

“Join us! Come!” A bearded man dressed in an opulent uniform exclaimed from the head of the table and beamed as he waved them over. “It’s a party, come! Everyone, special guests: Mandalorians! I hope you like secretions. Take a sip-sip! Come, please!” As they made their way around the long table, the bearded man sat back down beside a woman donned in an elaborate gown of blue, purple and pink. Din, knowing his wife’s affinity for fashion, glanced over at (Y/N) expecting to find an awed expression on her face, but his brow furrowed in confusion when all he saw was shock. “It’s truly an honor to meet such impressive warriors!”

Din and Bo-Katan sat on the man’s side of the table with Grogu’s pram while (Y/N) sat in the unoccupied seat beside the opulently-dressed woman, who gave them all a warm smile. “Welcome to our humble home. I am the Duchess of Plazir-15 and this is my husband, Captain Bombardier.”

While the Duchess spoke, Din’s eyes flicked over to Captain Bombardier and he pursed his lips in distaste when he spotted the badge pinned onto the front of his uniform. “Let’s address the bantha in the room,” The bearded man sighed and gestured towards the pin. “I was once a facilities planning officer during the war and thanks to the New Republic Amnesty Program, I was able to help rebuild Plazir-15.”

“You were Imperial?”

“He was,” The Duchess confirmed, resting a comforting hand on her husband’s shoulder before continuing. “Plazir suffered greatly under Imperial rule. My husband came here as part of his rehabilitation; he oversaw the rebuilding of this planet on which my family served as nobility since it was originally settled, and…” She held her husband’s hand and gave him a sweet smile. “We fell in love.”

Captain Bombardier chuckled and reverently kissed his wife’s knuckles. “We fell in love. We did fall in love.”

Watching the happy couple shamelessly revel in their romance, Grogu cooed in delight and the Duchess’ brown eyes lit up as she looked up at Din. “Could I perhaps hold the baby? Please?”

“He doesn’t take kindly to strangers…” Din carefully replied but before he could say another word, the child leapt through the air and landed neatly in the Duchess’ lap; while the royal couple laughed in delight and Grogu happily ate the small fish that the Duchess bribed him with, Din sighed in exasperation and sat back in his seat.

“Pardon me if I speak out of turn, Your Majesty, but was your gown designed here on Plazir-15?”

The Duchess gave (Y/N) a smile while she continued to feed Grogu. “The gown was but my petal parasol was imported all the way from Naboo many cycles ago, an anniversary gift from my father for my mother. When I inherited the royal wardrobe, I had my favorite pieces converted into holograms and the originals put into storage so that their beauty would never fade.” The Duchess quirked her brow as she assessed the surprised captain. “Your surname is Corrik, is it not? Any relation to the House of Corrik?”

“My mother was Lomiya Corrik,” (Y/N) replied, her eyes roving across the elaborate parasol while a melancholy smile formed on her lips. “She kept a record of every piece she ever designed, and this was one of her favorites.”

Beneath his helmet, Din couldn’t help but smile for his wife while the Duchess excitedly raved about the House of Corrik, who had nothing but her memories to remind her of her late mother; it must comfort her to know that her mother’s legacy continues to live on through her artistic creations, he thought to himself, ignoring the twinge of guilt as he recalled how her mother’s treasured journal had been lost in the blast that destroyed the Razor Crest so many months ago.

“In fact, Naboo helped to inspire Plazir’s transformation!” The Duchess explained as Din refocused his attention on their conversation. “You see, it was time for our planet to move into a new age. We held direct democratic elections for the first time in our history.”

Captain Bombardier nodded. “We are both royals and elected leaders.”

“And the Mandalorian privateer warships docked in your fields?” Din inquired.

“Oh, we hire them for protection; our charter forbids us from having a military because of my husband’s Imperial past.”

“But because of this, all of our resources go to growth and the people,” The bearded man added and gave (Y/N) a smile. “We also take great pride in preserving our planet’s history.”

Bo-Katan, trying her hardest not to lose patience with the eccentric couple, sat forward in her seat and clasped her gloved hands together. “I’d like to speak to these ‘privateers.’”

Captain Bombardier exchanged a brief glance with the Duchess. “That can be arranged…there is just one condition.”

“What?”

Din rolled his eyes at the not-so-subtle way the bearded man gestured towards the balcony and cheerfully announced, “You really must see the view. Right this way!” The other guests curiously watched them stand and Captain Bombardier waved them off. “We’ll just be a moment! Enjoy your meal, don’t get up! Let’s show our guests the view.”

“We have a problem,” The Duchess lowly explained as they walked towards the balcony overlooking the domed city.

“A droid problem.”

Din’s brow furrowed at the mention of droids. “What kind of ‘droid problem’?”

“Malfunction.”

“A coordinated malfunction-”

“We think.”

(Y/N) frowned in confusion. “What makes you think that?”

“The planet’s Imperial droids were reprogrammed for peace.” The Duchess’ words were tinged with a subtle accusatory tone as she gave her husband a knowing look.

“I can assure you they were completely rehabilitated for peaceful purposes exclusively.”

“We thought.”

“They were, my love, I personally oversaw the program!”

Din interrupted the couple’s light squabbling to ask a clarifying question. “What kind of malfunction?”

“I mean, nothing too serious at first. Unexpected power cycles, deleted task stacks…”

“Then it got worse.”

“Traffic accidents, heavy equipment failures leading to injury-”

“Assault.”

Din stiffened while (Y/N) raised an incredulous brow. “Assault?”

The Duchess nodded and Bo-Katan shifted her weight as she addressed the royal couple standing before them. “Respectfully, what does this have to do with us?”

“Our constables are ill-equipped to confront battle droids-”

“Battle droids?” Din’s heart dropped into his stomach, the only things keeping him from spiraling into the painful memories of his parents’ deaths being the sound of Grogu’s worried coos and the weight of (Y/N)’s hand resting on his bicep.

Captain Bombardier hastily shook his head. “Uh-uh-uh-uh, former battle droids. They’ve been rehabilitated for civic duty.”

“We thought.”

“They were.”

“Obviously not.”

Bo-Katan’s jaw clenched in annoyance. “The Mandalorian garrison outside your city walls can make quick work of your battle droids.”

“That’s just it. Our charter forbids any standing army from entering our city,” The Duchess explained as she gently caressed Grogu’s wrinkled head. “Our constables aren’t even allowed to carry blasters.”

“But you allowed us to be armed.”

“Exactly!” Din and Bo-Katan exchanged a look as Captain Bombardier continued. “The people have voted that we are a pluralistic society. You are Mandalorians; weaponry and armor are intrinsic to your culture, are they not?”

Din nodded. “They are.”

“…You see where we’re going here?”

The Nite Owl smiled despite her obvious exasperation. “You want us to eliminate your droid problem.”

“Exactly!” The Duchess beamed at them. “I knew you would help us!”

“Hold on there, Your Majesty. We didn’t agree to help you-”

“Please, Princess Kryze, Your Grace. This is not intended to be a work of charity.”

Bo-Katan’s nostrils flared as she struggled to keep her emotions in check. “Unlike my brethren outside your city walls, I am no mercenary.”

Captain Bombardier bowed his head in deference. “Apologies if that is the impression I gave. What I intended to convey is that I would hope that this ‘excursion’ would be viewed as an act of diplomacy between our two planets. In fact, Plazir-15 would formally recognize Mandalore as a sovereign system and petition the New Republic to recognize it as such.”

“The mercenary captain, Axe Woves, indicated that he split from you because you had designs on ruling Mandalore once again,” The Duchess added.

“…Those plans have been abandoned.”

The bearded man merely shrugged. “The offer stands nonetheless.”

Pursing her lips, Bo-Katan turned to look at (Y/N) and Din. “What do you think?”

“That having the support of both Nevarro and Plazir-15 will reestablish Mandalore’s political influence throughout the Outer Rim and signal to the New Republic that it deserves to be recognized as a sovereign system,” (Y/N) replied, crossing her arms over her chest as she considered the royal couple’s offer. “Politically, it’s a smart move that will only benefit Mandalore in the long run.”

The Nite Owl, impressed by the captain’s diplomatic answer, turned her attention to Din. “And you?”

“You had me at battle droids.” Her lips twitched as he gave her a small shrug.

“Then it’s settled. The three of us will investigate and eliminate your droid problem.”

The Duchess beamed in happiness and Captain Bombardier clapped his hands. “Thank you, Princess Kryze! There’s just one small thing to address before you begin.”

Bo-Katan’s gloved hands briefly clenched into fists. “Yes?”

“You and Din Djarin are Mandalorians, but Solia Corrik here is unfortunately not; if she will be joining you on your mission, then our charter forbids her from carrying any weapons into the city.”

Flinching at the casual use of her birth-name, (Y/N) nodded and began to reach for her blaster but Din’s hand shot out to stop her. “Alor’ad, wait. I think you should stay here at the palace with the kid.” His wife opened her mouth to protest but Din took a step closer and lowered his voice so that only she could hear. “(Y/N), I lost both of my parents to Separatist battle droids. I don’t wanna lose you and Grogu to them, too.”

(Y/N)’s expression softened in understanding and she nodded as she holstered her blaster and the Duchess spoke up. “Rest assured, your companion and the baby will be well taken care of while you complete your quest.”

“Thank you for extending your hospitality to my family, Your Majesty,” Din replied, bowing his head in respect and reaching forward to pat Grogu’s head. “Be good for our hosts, kid. Bo-Katan and I will be back before you know it.”

The child released a quiet coo and when Din turned back to the captain, she rested a hand on the beskar covering his cheek and gave him a small smile. “K’oyacyi, ner kotep beroya.”

Din’s heart warmed in his chest at his wife’s traditional Mando’a farewell: Come back safely, my brave bounty hunter. He leaned his forehead against hers in a brief Keldabe Kiss and placed his hand atop hers. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, ner cyar’ika alor’ad.” After she gave him one last smile, he forced himself to step back and turn to a pensive-looking Bo-Katan. “Ready to fix a droid problem?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Din and Bo-Katan were instructed by the Duchess to pay the city’s command center a visit so that Commissioner Helgait, the elderly head of security could brief them on the city’s ongoing struggles with their reprogrammed Imperial droids. The command center was filled with rows and rows of monitors displaying live security footage from all across the domed capitol city and from what Din could see, the people of Plazir-15 seemed content with their lives governed by direct democracy, albeit too reliant on their droids. None of them would be in imminent danger if they didn’t rely so heavily on droids to keep the city running for them, he thought to himself, a surge of the old familiar distrust of all droids causing his jaw to tightly clench.

“These droids were all reprogrammed to serve the community from the stockpile of captured Imperial robotics scheduled to be scrapped at Karthon.” Commissioner Helgait sat at his desk and pressed a series of buttons on its surface to pull up several archived security tapes. “The droid’s reprogramming was a complete success…until one day, an isolated event…” A garbage disposal droid was shown erratically flinging a rubbish can’s contents across an alleyway. “Then others. This is just a small collection of malfunctions that our security cameras caught.” The next footage to play depicted a B1 battle droid hurling a woman’s shopping bags, a chauffeur droid speeding through a crowded terminal and intentionally crashing a land-speeder into a wall, and a cook droid in a bustling restaurant attacking frightened patrons with knives.

“Turn them off.”

Commissioner Helgait looked over at Bo-Katan, who was staring transfixed at the monitors before them. “What?”

“Why not turn them all off? Who’s in charge of that?”

“I am,” The elderly man replied with a shrug. “There’s a fail-safe cutoff switch built into the system. However…”

In an incredible show of self-restraint, Din suppressed his frustrated sigh. “What?”

Commissioner Helgait chuckled humorlessly. “The citizens voted against any interruption in droid services. They can’t live without it.”

“And why’s that?” Din asked, already knowing the answer to his own question but allowing the head of security to speak.

“The citizens are no longer required to work and can spend their days engaging in recreation, the arts, and participating in our direct democracy. If we shut down the droids, our citizens wouldn’t know how to survive.” Commissioner Helgait sighed to himself and shook his head. “Our society would collapse.”

Bo-Katan tilted her head in confusion. “Then what do you want from us?”

“To seek out and decommission any remaining rogue droids, until we can fix the problem.”

Exchanging a wary look with Din, the Nite Owl heaved a small sign and nodded. “Give us the list.”

“Well, for that, you’ll have to go to the lower level and speak to the Ugnaughts.”

Din instantly perked up at that. “Ugnaughts?”

Commissioner Helgait nodded. “Ugnaughts.”

After thanking the head of security for his assistance, Din and Bo-Katan stepped into the elevator and traveled down to the city’s lowest level; his past friendship with Kuiil gave him an insight to the Ugnaught’s skills as droidsmiths, recalling how Kuiil had managed to revive and reprogram IG-11 to act as a nurse droid instead of an assassin droid. Shaking off the wave of sadness he experienced whenever he thought about his fallen Ugnaught friend, Din clasped his hands and remarked, “See what happens when you rely on droids?”

Bo-Katan’s brow arched in curiosity. “Are you taking this personally?”

“Just pointing it out.”

“Let’s just finish this so we can be on our way.” The elevator stopped and when its doors slid open, they stepped out into a bustling workshop and watched several Ugnaughts hard at work performing maintenance tasks on decommissioned and reprogrammed Imperial droids. “I am Bo-Katan Kryze. Which one of you is in charge?” The Ugnaught droidsmiths kept their attention on their work, so the Nite Owl forced a patient smile and tried again. “We were sent on behalf of the Duchess and Captain Bombardier to help you with your droid problem. Hello?” Again, none of the Ugnaughts acknowledged her words or their presence in the workshop, and Din huffed a quiet chuckle at Bo-Katan’s growing annoyance as she turned to look at him. “This is going nowhere.”

Instead of answering, Din took a step forward and loudly addressed the workshop. “I am Mandalorian Din Djarin, friend of Ugnaught Kuiil.” The droidsmiths finally looked up from their tasks as he continued. “You will answer our questions and help us with our task. I have spoken.” The Ugnaughts left their work unfinished and gestured for the both of them to join them at one of the workshop’s tables; Bo-Katan shot Din an impressed look as they took their seats and nodded respectfully at the droidsmith who handed her a cup of broth, politely taking a sip while Din spoke. “Thank you for your hospitality and for sharing your table with us. We were engaged to hunt down and eliminate the malfunctioning droids.”

“There are no such droids.”

The workshop was silent until Bo-Katan set her cup of broth down and rested her elbows on the tabletop. “You may not have heard the news down here, but your droids are wreaking havoc in the world above.”

The same Ugnaught smiled wryly. “There is not much of which we are not aware; these halls are the central nervous system of the city. I assure you, the droids are not malfunctioning.”

The Nite Owl blinked in confusion at the Ugnaught’s flippant tone. “Citizens have been harmed by these malfunctioning machines.”

“This is not the case. I have spoken.”

Din bit his lip, wishing that (Y/N) were there to employ her more natural talent for diplomacy; since she wasn’t, though, he took a deep breath and followed his wife’s example. “We’re not in any way suggesting that your work is to blame. The stories of Ugnaughts’ skill with smithing droids are legendary. We know that Ugnaughts are considered the hardest working species in the galaxy and we, like you, have been engaged with a task to perform. We will investigate the dangerous incidents, but we would appreciate your help.”

After considering his words, the lead droidsmith made a gesture towards his comrade and when he handed him a holo-disc, the lead droidsmith placed it in Din’s open hand. “Here are the locations of the droids you seek.”

“Thank you.” Din bowed his head in respect. “We are in your debt. I have spoken.”

The Ugnaughts nodded and watched them walk across the workshop, where they entered the elevator and traveled back up to the highest levels; neither of them spoke until they were seated in the hyperloop pod, looking out at the darkened night sky and admiring the twinkling lights of the domed city as they sped by. “What was that back there?”

“I’ve spent time with Ugnaughts.” Din shrugged and sat back in his seat. “There’s a particular way to communicate with them; accusing their work of malfunctioning is an insult.” He looked down at the holo-disc and scanned the Aurebesh printed across its surface. “Now, they’ve indicated that there’s a likelihood that the next event will be at the loading docks.”

Bo-Katan hummed in interest. “How sure are they?”

“Hard to tell, Ugnaughts always seem sure of themselves.”

The Nite Owl chuckled. “Well, it’s the only lead we’ve got so we might as well have a look around.” They fell into a comfortable silence and after a short while, their pod slowed to a stop at a bay overlooking the crowded loading docks. Exchanging a look, they exited the pod and made their way down a series of staircases, and a chill went down Din’s spine at the sight before them; B-2 battle droids, the same ones responsible for his parents’ deaths, were carrying cargo boxes to and from various ships and transport speeders, and their labor was overseen by several B-1 series battle droids. Although Din was relieved that (Y/N) and Grogu were safe in the palace, he couldn’t help but long for their comforting presence as he struggled to keep the memories of that terrible day at bay. “I haven’t seen battle droids since the Clone Wars.”

Din gritted his teeth. “I have.”

“Any of ‘em look suspicious?”

“They all look suspicious.”

Bo-Katan didn’t reply, his cryptic words hanging untouched in the air while they stepped down onto the dock and approached the nearest droid foreman. “Halt. This is a restricted area. You are to vacate immediately.”

The Nite Owl gave the stern droid a polite smile. “We have a few questions.”

“Show me your identification, please.”

“We’re here on behalf of the Duchess to investigate the droid malfunctions.”

“Yes, I saw the reports.” While Bo-Katan and the droid foreman talked, Din strayed off to where the battle droids marched in a single-file line and studied their imposing forms as they passed him by; he waved a gloved hand in front of one’s face and saw no reaction, but he merely repeated the gesture with the next droid in line. “Rest assured, I’ve had the entire line of loaders undergo maintenance protocols as a safety measure. The, uh, certification is on file. I wouldn’t do that if I were you!”

Din glanced over his shoulder at the droid foreman, unperturbed by its warning shout. “Why’s that?”

“Well, as a precaution,” The droid foreman carefully explained. “Their base function was warfare.”

“I thought they were just checked out.”

“They were-” Without waiting for the droid’s full reply, Din gave the next battle droid in line a hard kick; predictably, it merely staggered a little before returning to its place in line and carrying its cargo box to a nearby ship. “Uh, what are you doing?!”

“Then this shouldn’t faze them,” Din shrugged before kicking the next battle droid that passed them by, taking some pleasure in his rash and potentially dangerous experiment.

“Uh, sir? Excuse me! Sir!”

The next battle droid in line immediately stumbled when Din’s boot connected with its leg and dropped its cargo box but after it picked itself up, it suddenly back-handed Din across the dock and took off running. Groaning in pain, Din scrambled to his feet while Bo-Katan fired her blaster at the fleeing battle droid and sprinted after it, quickening his pace once he realized that they were dangerously close to the city streets; he could hear Bo-Katan running behind him as the battle droid knocked over a stack of rubbish and while he jumped over the makeshift obstacle, the Nite Owl propelled herself into the air to avoid the scattered mess. The alleyway opened up into a crowded street and frightened citizens screamed as the battle droid barreled through them, and Din and Bo-Katan were forced to shove their way after it.

Illuminated by the colorful neon lights of the various shopfronts, the imposing battle droid stopped to pick up a cargo box and throw it at them; Bo-Katan activated her jetpack to fly beneath the cargo box while Din dropped to his knees and slid on the smooth stone that paved the street. His body ached in protest but he pushed on, racing to catch up with Bo-Katan as she pursued the battle droid down another alleyway; the moment they emerged from the alley and stepped onto another street, they were forced to drop to the ground to avoid a power unit hurtling straight towards them, which exploded in a ball of fire as they scrambled to their feet and ran after the fleeing droid.

“Keep going!” Din shouted to Bo-Katan before peeling off and sprinting down the less-crowded adjacent alleyway; the battle droid passed the next opening before Din could reach it, forcing him to run into a cantina to continue his pursuit. Patrons shrieked in fright and darted out of his way as he charged through the cantina and when he caught sight of the nearest window, he seized the opportunity and dove straight through it; he tackled the battle droid and they landed on the street in a flurry of shattered glass, and he scrambled to draw his blaster as the battle droid jumped to its feet. But before it could attack, several blaster shots rang through the air and the destroyed droid collapsed onto the street to reveal Bo-Katan holstering her weapons.

“Are you all right?” The Nite Owl asked as she crossed the street and helped Din stand; when he gave her a breathless nod, her shoulders relaxed and they watched four constable droids surround them and the lifeless battle droid and project holographic crime scene barriers to keep any curious civilians away.

“This is a crime scene. Thank you for standing back. This is a crime scene. Thank you for standing back. This is a crime scene. Thank you for standing back.”

They both looked down at the battle droid’s sparking remains and Bo-Katan crouched to retrieve a rectangular object fastened at its waist. “I found a spark pad.”

Din’s brow furrowed beneath his helmet. “What’s it say?”

“‘The Resistor.’”

“Sounds like a droid bar.”

When Bo-Katan stood, she flipped the spark pad over and arched a brow before showing him the Aurebesh printing. “And there’s an address.”

The Nite Owl started down the street and with an exasperated sigh, Din ignored his aching muscles and followed after her. It was going to be a long, long night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mando-a Translations:

Alor’ad-Captain K’oyacyi, ner kotep beroya-Come back safely, my brave bounty hunter Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, ner cyar’ika alor’ad-I love you, my darling captain

A/N: Like I said last week, we’re having work done in the house and it’s been difficult finding time to write, but I’ll hopefully have the next chapter up on time! Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! Oh, and I’ve created a Spotify playlist of all my favorite music from the world of Star Wars, so if you’re interested in checking it out the link is down below!

Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2KuSKJhVOPPvxdJ9YHeo4M?si=2977ff31bf0c4bdd

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Taking Care of Business Masterlist

Tagging: @remmysbounty @sinon36 @seninjakitey @thatonedindjarinfan @ginger-swag-rapunzel @mostclevermiss @momc95 @welcometothepedroverse @sarahjkl82-blog @elinedjarin @itsnottilly @crowleysqueenofhell @goldielocks2004 @wondergal2001 @groovy-lady @impala1967666 @fluffy-canada-pancakes @icee228 @siimiasoi

#taking care of business #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #grogu #the child #baby yoda #bo katan kryze #the dutchess #captain bombardier #comissioner helgait #axe woves #koska reeves #star wars #din djarin x f!reader

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tarisilmarwen · 1 year

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Rebels Rewatch: “Fire Across The Galaxy“

It all comes to a head in the first season finale and I was not prepared.

This was longer but the new baby kicked her crocheted blanket onto the power button for my computer (I think) and turned it off and I lost a good half of it. I have attempted to reconstruct what I’d had as best I could but I may have forgotten a few chunks here and there. Anyway.

We return to the TIE landing strip that featured before in Sabine’s introductory short (hence the groaning, “The artist is back!” from the Stormtroopers and Sabine’s roasting of the guards like she’s fought them before) and would feature again waaaaay on down the line in “Flight of the Defender”.

Our target? That Gozanti-class cruiser in the background of the first shot.

This is really cute, Zeb’s hand on Ezra’s shoulder there, very casually as they wait in position. Love to see that touch-averse Ezra has become much more comfortable around the others.

Once again Rebels goes all in with the nice little animation tics, Ezra cracking his fingers and rolling his head before sitting down in the pilot seat. Love it when they add just small little motions and movements like that, makes the characters seem more natural in their environment.

The absolute weariness in that one Stormtrooper’s voice when he notices Sabine’s grenade and goes, “Not again.”

HNNGHGNNGHHHHHHHH SUCH A COOL SHOT, THE SMOKE CURLING INTO SABINE’S STARBIRD AS THE CRUISER FLIES AWAY.

And is that the “Victory” cue I hear in an altered staccato rhythm on trumpet?

*listens again*

Sounds like!

We finally get our fanfare again just to punctuate the exhilaration of that action-packed Cold Open.

Find me praising the lighting again, what a surprise.

Zeb frantically trying to prevent Ezra from confessing to Hera about the TIE from “Fighter Flight” like he’s the irresponsible older brother trying to stop his kid brother from tattling lololol.

The trio looking especially guilty here.

Not to be a biased shipper, but these two have such a chill vibe by the end of Season One, they’re not especially close yet but they’re starting to have a dynamic unique to them, outside of what they have with any of the others. They’re starting to develop their own particular friendship with each other, where they both engage in the quips and banter and confide secrets with each other.

Note that while Zeb knows that Sabine knows about the TIE fighter he does not know that Ezra has let Sabine paint it. That was something the two did on their own, apparently.

Doesn’t look half-bad, actually. There’s the dejarik pattern she’ll later paint onto her right shoulder pauldron, lots of Rebellion orange...

The cue reminiscent of the Jawa theme plays over this lovely moment, until Hera makes her speech. And... well, I said my piece in the previous recap, I’m not gonna repeat myself here.

Man, even Musafar looks gorgeous. Like a glass marble.

Grand starts picking away at Kanan’s bravado, reminding him of his Order 66 trauma. You can see his composure start to unravel as Grand speaks, the beautiful subtle facial animation this show specializes in put to perfect use.

Kanan’s practically trembling, look at the fear and guilt in his pinched expression.

Grand’s line here about Kanan being afraid of his own power is really interesting. It’s not actually something we’ve heard Kanan express as a fear before and yet it’s been implicit in his reluctance to reconnect with the Force in order to train Ezra. On some level Kanan is still afraid to fully take up the Jedi mantle again, guilty perhaps over how he ran from it for so long. To survive, yes, because he was a scared traumatized fourteen-year-old out on his own, but it still stings at him inside.

Cripes, look at the lava rivers on the surface.

Try not to think about the fact that Vader’s castle is down there somewhere, and they’re likely just waiting for permission to bring Kanan down.

Faint snatches of the Force theme play as Ezra senses out, looking for Kanan. This bit here where Sabine chides Zeb to give him a minute makes me think of the moment in “Jedi Night” when Ezra’s sensing out for Hera’s location from the comm tower and Zeb is also impatient there and Sabine tells him off then too.

Some things don’t change. XD

Once again a beautiful moment of synchronization between Ezra and Kanan as they both sense each other; Kanan’s soft gasp as he feels Ezra is everything hfkajfhasafda.

Props to the one Stormtrooper with taste who digs Sabine’s paint job ha ha.

Let’s appreciate for one moment that Sabine managed to jury-rig an EMP and stun blast strong enough to knock out a whole Star Destroyer with what she had on hand on the Ghost. No wonder the Imperial Academy tapped her to make superweapons for them.

Subtle animation appreciation moment: Ezra putting his hand on the molten edges of the cut in the wall he just made and then quickly drawing it back and shaking it.

Ezra once again taking the vent route. :)

Chopper calling for Rebel reinforcements to counteract Tarkin’s. I think by this point a few people had analyzed Fulcrum’s voice and figured out who it was so they must have felt pretty vindicated at the end of the episode.

He looks so tired. :(

Wait a minute... that looks like...

OKAY THAT CAN’T BE A COINCIDENCE.

OWWWW.

This also looks a bit familiar lol.

~It’s like poetry it rhymes~

Subtle animation appreciation moment: The way Ezra’s eyes dart around frantically as if looking for a way around the Inquisitor.

I love this, Kanan has to be exhausted and fogged up from the torture and serums but he tilts himself upright and places himself between the Grand Inquisitor and Ezra anyway because dammit that’s his padawan, he has to protect him.

Kanan makes creative use of the stun-blaster function on Ezra’s saber to distract the Inquisitor and get within melee range. Of course Ezra thinks it’s the coolest thing ever.

He starts out a bit heavy-footed, but slowly recovers his speed and agility over the course of the fight, rapidly switching up and changing modes on Ezra’s saber to keep the Inquisitor off-guard and guessing.

Be honest, you cheered a little bit the first time too.

Something else I love about this duel is how Ezra... doesn’t actually participate. He tries, but the most he does is get in a few lightsaber blocks. Which is wonderfully realistic, after all he only got his lightsaber a short time ago, he’s still learning, he’s only used it to block blaster bolts and cut through things thus far, this is his first real blade duel. No wonder he’s awkward at it.

Just watch him for the brief clashes. His arms are stiff, hilt clenched tight, he’s using nothing but basic Form 1 (Shii-cho), after starting from a messy Form 4 (Ataru) stance.

See, Sequel Trilogy, this how you depict a character who only just picked up a lightsaber and hasn’t had much training.

I just love his slightly panicked expressions here:

“OhcrapohcrapohcrapohcrapI’mgonnadie.”

Grand hurls his lightsaber at Ezra, grazing him across the cheek (slow motion reveals he blocked too low and caught a slice from the other blade). He topples off the walkway to one lower below, to Kanan’s horrified devastation. Which seems a little over the top at first until you realize:

1. Kanan didn’t actually see where Ezra was struck.

2. Ezra fell like a good fifteen feet and was still and unmoving.

3. Kanan’s Force senses might still be fogged up from the serums.

Sooooo yeah, he basically thinks Ezra’s dead here.

Kanan’s face pinches in grief for a moment before he composes himself and handles it like a Jedi. He breaths in, allows himself a second or two to feel the emotion, processes it, then releases it and lets it go, finding his calm and serenity again as he stands up.

And then prepares to kick some major ass.

“That was a mistake.” Deadly chilly Papa Wolf Kanan FTW.

Hell yeah.

The music for this whole sequence is interesting, offering only snippets and suggestions of themes rather than playing any of them out in full. We hear three short notes of the Imperial March as Kanan and Ezra enter the chamber to face the Inquisitor, the staccato trumpet pattern that plays a couple moments after that sounds like part of “Battle of the Heroes”. In the chaos of brass, chorals and strings the Force theme rises briefly above everything. Short stanzas of familiar leimotifs against a background melody that shifts from one part of the orchestra to the next, brass to woodwinds to the choir to the strings, mimicking the ebb and flow of the duel.

Hera sounds entirely too amused when she guesses Sabine’s plan is to beeline for the hanger where her painted TIE fighter is.

Multiple whispering voices in the Force (including distinctly Ephraim and Mira) rouse the unconscious Ezra, now sporting a pair of distinctive lightsaber burn scars across his cheek that, in a bold move for a cartoon series, he would keep for the rest of the show. Normally in kids cartoons, if a character has a scar at all it’s part of the tragic backstory, not usually seen inflicted onscreen unless in flashback, and new injuries are usually gone by the next episode. If not by the end of the same episode!

So this is a really nice realistic touch to have Ezra permanently changed (visually at least) by the events that happen here.

Once again Rebels says, “Status Quo? What Status Quo? I don’t know her.” and is better for it.

Another nice bit of realism: Ezra’s a bit groggy and out of it when he finally sits up, head wobbling a few times. Definitely concussed.

OKAY I’M NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO THINKS KANAN FOUND A SHATTERPOINT HERE RIGHT?

The pieces of Grand’s saber fall into the reactor core, treating us to some really nicely excellent explosion/destruction effects.

If I remember correctly a large part of the adverts for this season finale centered around the tagline: “Who will fall?” It’s now that we learn that it’s the Grand Inquisitor, who decides to self-immolate rather than having to face Vader or the Emperor’s wrath for this defeat.

And there he go. Bye Grand.

Please appreciate this reunion and their absolutely heartwarming expressions with me. :)

Rebels tends to treat TIE fighters as a lot roomier than they’re technically supposed to be, even with Zeb’s complaint it fits all three of them fairly comfortably. Minor technical lore nitpick.

Hera’s face when she hears Kanan’s voice on the line. <3

MMGH, oh my gosh was that--?

Was that just the first iteration of Kanan and Ezra’s “I’ve got you.” arc words?! I... I was not expecting that I need to--Gimme a minute here--

*WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEZE*

Okay I’m good.

See, Chopper didn’t technically have to run off and meet the Rebel reinforcements, if he’d stayed put and just detached from the Star Destroyer once everyone else was off it all they had to do was outmaneuver shots until they could all dock with the cruiser and they’d be basically home free.

Buuuuuut I guess the bugger couldn’t resist a chance to play the big hero. It’s not Star Wars without characters being needlessly Extra.

Kanan has Concerns about Ezra’s dark sense of humor, lol.

Ohhh I hear some of the Death Star trench run in our climax here, apropos.

AND THE CALVARY IS HERE!

This cue is a new theme for the Alliance, played in the normal heroic brass but not our familiar melody, the string harmony making it sound a bit more romantic, like from a pirate movie or swashbuckling 50s adventure. It has a very classic Hollywood sound.

Meanwhile Tarkin’s Star Destroyer goes down in flames, practically right on Vader’s doorstep, so you know he gotta be pissed about that.

Ezra’s theme playing out in brighter tones to compliment this lovely moment.

They’re adorable I love them.

The proudest parents. Look at how they look at their son. <3

Several plot elements have narrative payoff in this scene. Bail Organa reappearing. Confirmation that there are other Rebel cells. Sabine being relieved to hear that fact. And our learning who Fulcrum is. So many little bits and pieces from previous (often seemingly insignificant) episodes that are neatly tied up here.

Enter Ahsoka. Which I’m sure made many TCW fans go absolute nuts.

I love the implication that, through Kanan and Ezra, Ahsoka is also being pulled by the Force into stepping out of the shadows, back into the fight. True she’s been organizing behind the scenes, feeding intel here and there to weaken the Empire from within, but this was the first time several disparate cells banded together for an open strike, and at Mustafar no less! Potentially Ahsoka’s fear was partially behind her hesitation to allow the Spectres to go after Kanan, and then when Chopper told her they had gone and done it anyway, that little niggling Jedi voice inside her, that compulsion that all Jedi have (”The Jedi Code is like an itch.”) and, ohp, no, there I go, I’m gonna be in my Rebellion Era Jedi feels again.

My gosh Ezra looks so cute here, look at him. He’s practically blushing.

Heroic money shot.

WHEN I TELL YOU I ABSOLUTELY FREAKED OUT.

I think we had to immediately look at the bonus features for the sneak peek of Season Two because I was vibrating at that point lol.

And that was Season One!

Overall Season thoughts:

The self-contained nature of following one cell as it grows bolder and joins up with the larger Rebellion, staying mostly on one planet, lends a very intimate, kind of Bottle Episode feel. Lothal starts to grow very familiar to us. We get to spend more time with our primary cast, a vibrant, interesting assortment of unique characters, who aren’t constrained by the limits of characterization that a lot of Legacy film characters are. (A hurdle TCW had to struggle with, particularly when it came to Anakin, Obi-Wan, Dooku, Yoda, and more.) We don’t know their endpoints, so we’re free to just relax and enjoy the ride and watch how these characters grow and change.

And boy the show can pack a LOT of character development into a few short episodes.

Ezra gets most of it, obviously, much of it lampshaded in-text, but Kanan’s concurrent development is also very lovely, and their developing master-padawan relationship as they navigate things is one of the highlights to watch. Sabine’s trust issues and hinted painful backstory lend an air of mystery to her. Even Zeb and Hera, though a bit more static than the others, get moments where we glimpse hidden depths to them. Kanan and Hera are adorably lowkey #married, and Ezra and Sabine have lots of nice little moments that make the shipper in me squee. (I am a basic and predictable bitch.)

Early episodes are fun and kid-friendly, but the show gets very serious very seriously, always unafraid of shaking things up and allowing the characters to grow and mature and change.

The animation is gorgeous, on par with at least Season Three of TCW, and the music is always on point. There are some obvious budget constraints in places but Rebels attempts to minimize the impact those have on the story. (The constant facelessness of the Imperial officers actually helps depersonalize them in the eyes of the audience, making them blend like identical cogs in a machine.)

Rebels’s first season landed solidly on its feet. And the show rarely faltered afterwards. Next post we’ll be getting into Season Two, or as I like to call it, “You all owe me twenty bucks for calling this filler.” XD

#star wars #star wars rebels #ezra bridger #space dad and his precious pumpkin child #kanan x hera #sabezra #rebels rewatch #liveblog #music #soundtracks

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