WIRED, d. djarin ¹

02.1

.･ ̣ ✵ ･ *.

⠀⠀⠀ MANDO WISHES THAT he could sleep as well as the tiny green creature that's passed out in his cockpit. He can't. He also wishes that he had Kuiil's expertise in mechanics. He does not.

⠀⠀⠀ What he does have is an indecent number of questions. In fact, he's started to rank them.

⠀⠀⠀ At the top of the list: What talent does that little green kid have that let him stop the mudhorn in its tracks and lift it in the air? Mando's no scientist, but even he knows that the amount of force required to move such a massive beast is massive.

⠀⠀⠀ Then there's the fact that the creature never touched the mudhorn. Mando tries to replay what happened. This is at least the tenth time he's done this, and he still can't quite grasp it.

⠀⠀⠀ The mudhorn was charging at him, and he was going to die. Mando grimaces. That's the unpleasant bit.

⠀⠀⠀ Panicked, he glanced at the child. He still cannot explain why. The kid had his little hand raised. Then the mudhorn stopped, and began to float.

⠀⠀⠀ That's the next question: how does such a little thing have such a massive power? Why? Where does it come from? Did someone give it to him, or show him how to use it? If so, who? Those are all the important questions, actually. The rest are mechanical, and he can ask Kuiil.

⠀⠀⠀ Sparks dance and leap around Mando as he welds his ship back together. Every time he finds more damage - and there's always more - part of him wishes he'd vaporized more jawas.

⠀⠀⠀ The better part of him reminds himself that he's no better than them, that he's torn things much more important than Empire-era ships apart, for the same reason. Money. Calamari flan, beskar, anything with mandated value that will let him survive. At least he can someday use 'no better than a jawa' as an insult.

⠀⠀⠀ That, in turn, makes him think of the thief, which frustrates him, because he cannot understand the guilt that tugs at him. His eyelids are heavy, and still, he ponders the question.

⠀⠀⠀ Maybe it's because she was young, or because she acted so nonchalant about her  capture. Almost as if she knew her capture was inevitable. And still, she fought. It makes little sense to Mando. 

⠀⠀⠀Besides, he reminds himself, she is a thief. Too tired to think further, he leans his head against the ship and lets his eyes drift shut.

⠀⠀⠀ KUIIL SHAKES HIM awake, and Mando realizes that he fell asleep. He doesn't know when, only that the suns are high in the sky, and Kuiil seems cheerful. Or, what might pass for cheerful, because Kuiil is difficult to read.

⠀⠀⠀ Like the thief, whispers that frustrating voice in his head. He still does not know her name, because the puck didn't list it. Mando shakes the last tugs of sleep from his head.

⠀⠀⠀ "How's the kid?" he asks blearily.

⠀⠀⠀ "Still asleep."

⠀⠀⠀ "I figured. Thank you. How's the Crest"

⠀⠀⠀ "Almost ready." There's a note of pride in Kuiil's voice, because he was the one to repair the mechanics, and the engine, and basically everything remotely technical.

⠀⠀⠀ "I am in your debt," Mando says with a nod of his head. Without waiting for a response, he gets to his feet and makes his way to the cockpit. The kid is indeed still asleep, tiny mouth parted slightly.

⠀⠀⠀ Not a child, he reminds himself. A fifty year old creature with unfathomable power and a large bounty.

⠀⠀⠀ But try as he might, Mando can't shake the sense that the thing really is just a child. He sighs. Thinking about that is unpleasant, because it makes him question himself, and Mando cannot do that if he wants to survive.

⠀⠀⠀ He steps back out of the Crest, standing back to analyze the remaining work. Not a lot. In fact, barely any.

⠀⠀⠀ Kuiil walks toward him, hands covered in slick dark grease. "My work is done," he says. "She should be able to fly again now."

⠀⠀⠀ "Thank you," Mando murmured.

⠀⠀⠀ "No thanks necessary."

⠀⠀⠀ Mando shakes his head. "Please, allow me to give you a portion of the bounty."

⠀⠀⠀ "That I cannot accept," Kuiil says. "You are my guest, and I am thus at your service."

⠀⠀⠀ "Very well," Mando relents. Then he looks at the mechanic.

⠀⠀⠀ "You know," he adds, "I could use someone with your skill set, and I can pay handsomely."

⠀⠀⠀ Kuiil is silent for a long moment, and when he finally speaks, his voice is kind. "I appreciate the offer," he says, "but I have worked my entire life to be free of servitude. I will not willingly throw myself into it again."

⠀⠀⠀ Mando nods. "That I can understand." Then he sighs, because this whole interaction feels wrong. "Well in that case, I can really only offer my heartfelt gratitude."

⠀⠀⠀ "And I offer mine," Kuiil returns with a smile. "You brought peace to my valley." He raises a bushy white eyebrow and nods toward the cockpit.

⠀⠀⠀ "I just hope you find peace for your heart. Good luck with the child," he says. "I pray it survives, and brings you your handsome reward."

⠀⠀⠀ There is no accusation in his words, yet Mando can't help but wonder what Kuiil would say if he were to speak his mind. Part of him is tempted to ask. But before he can speak, Kuiil nods to him.

⠀⠀⠀ "I have spoken," he says, and then he's gone.

⠀⠀⠀ WHEN THE CREST lifts off the sand, Mando breathes a sigh of relief. He has a plan. Fly to Nevarro. Turn in the bounty. Bring the beskar reward to the Armorer, and finally get new armor. Maker knows he needs it. The beskar he got for turning in the thief didn't replace much.

⠀⠀⠀ The Crest breaks atmo, and Mando glances at the child. He cannot, will not, lie to himself: it is a child. Just like the thief is. He wondered again what she'd stolen, if anything. If she had a family. If somewhere in the galaxy, she had parents who were waiting for her to come back.

⠀⠀⠀ He sighs. His job is not to question, his job is to do. His reputation relies on it, and, by extension, his well-being.

⠀⠀⠀ The planet falls away beneath him, and Mando leans back. He'll be okay.

⠀⠀⠀ He's just not quite sure that the creature beside him will be.

.･ ̣ ✵ ･ *.

i have rarely seen a character
with greater need of development
than this hunk.