- 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦.
For as long as Kasia Torelo can remember, luck and survival have gone hand-in-hand.
Kasia was only seven years old when the Empire attacked her planet. Singled out for their telep...
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"Hand me the—no not that! No, no, no the one to the right of that," Mando instructed Kasia as he pointed emphatically at the lug wrench. Finally grabbing the correct tool, Kasia made a face at the Mandalorian as she passed it to where he stood working on the Razor Crest.
"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" she asked a moment later as she watched him struggle with one of the engines. At her words, he paused what he was doing and gave what she supposed was as close to a deadpan stare as his helmet allowed. At the look she put her hands up in the air, "Just asking."
"Excuse me," a voice suddenly called from behind them. On instinct Kasia whirled, right hand going to the blaster at her side. Two men were approaching, farmers by the looks of their cloths.
"Excuse me, sir?" the other man tried again, his eyes focused on Mando. Kasia tried not to take it as an insult as she examined the two of them. Yes, they certainly appeared to be some sort of farmers, she decided as she racked her brain to recall what crops Sorgan predominantly produced.
"There something we can help you with?" Mando asked as he turned back to work on the engine. His voice—though not hostile—was cold and certainly uninterested.
"Uh yeah," the shorter man holding the lantern stammered. "Raiders," he managed to get out as the pair of them came closer, glancing at her before turning their attention back to Mando.
"We have money," the other one piped up.
"So, you think we're some kind of mercenaries?" Mando asked obviously uninterested, and Kasia chuckled slightly. Oh, this was not going well for them so far.
"You are a Mandalorian, right?" the taller one finally asked cautiously after trading a glance with his companion.
"Or at least wearing Mandalorian armor. That is Mandalorian armor, right?" the one with the lantern finished his friend's thought, sounding overly eager.
Mando said nothing and Kasia, wanting to throw the poor farmers a bone, nodded, "It is."
At her confirmation, Mando shot her a glare as the shorter one began yammering on, "See? I told him. Sir, I've read a lot about your people- uh, tribe," he stammered, following Mando as he strode to work on the other side of the engine. "If half of what I read is true..."
"We have money," his friend finished.
When Mando glanced down at the flathead screwdriver at her feet, Kasia sighed and scooped it from the floor before tossing it to the Mandalorian. Smoothly he caught it and went back to work as Kasia brought a hand to her still somewhat wounded shoulder and rubbed it slightly.
Kasia glanced at Mando who continued working. "How much?" she finally asked, filling the silence.
"It's everything we have," the farmer responded quietly. Kasia's heart shrunk in chest as she felt a wave of desperation and sadness role off of the pair. Whatever they had... they didn't think it would be enough. "Our whole harvest was stolen."
