#so glad a tech with absolutely NO ulterior motives could take one look in my mouth without any tools or xrays

[girlbob-boypants]

I hope my stepfather loses his other little nut to an evil wizard clearly cursing him for being a grade A cuntmuffin

[experimentalmadness]

Cin Vhetin Ch. 8: Judgement

Chapter Summary: Din and Zethu are out on assignment and things get tense. 

In which absolutely no one talks about their feelings and everyone is still firmly in the enemies to lover slowest of burns moods. 

Pairing: Din x OC/Reader (however you prefer to read it)

Masterlist: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7

Ao3 Link

It’s a long one, folks just an fyi. Feel free to swap over to the Ao3 link if it’s easiest. And please lemme know if you are liking this story. :) 

***

Zethu was still expecting a trap.

She had raised all kinds of hell when the Mandalorian had stated point blank they’d be taking his ship and leaving her’s behind. But in the end she relented. It made a kind of sense she didn’t much feel like arguing over. Two ships were always more noticeable than the one. Besides if the Mandalorian didn’t intend to take her back to Nevarro to claim what’s hers, she could always kill him. 

Zethu shifted herself awkwardly into the seat behind the pilot’s chair. Her ribs hurt. Her face hurt. Her bones hurt, but she kept her mouth shut tight. Maybe the bounty hunter was just waiting until they were in deep space before blasting her out the airlock. Maybe he was waiting for her to let her guard down just long enough to slip a vibroblade between her cracked ribs. She fidgeted, hating everything about this entire situation. 

The Mandalorian seemed oblivious to Zethu’s distrustful stares boring into the back of his helmet. He took them up and out of Nevarro’s atmosphere and Zethu gave one last mournful look through the viewport at her lovely Lancer. She let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding when they reached the relative quiet of space. 

The Mandalorian began punching in the coordinates in the nav computer to make the jump to lightspeed. Zethu braced herself as space warped around them. Normally she enjoyed that initial rush, the flow of energy as light and time distended and contracted. Now all she noticed was how it aggravated her injuries. 

She’d be trapped on this ship for at least a day. 

No way out. 

Something moved against her leg. Zethu jolted and immediately regretted the action, holding her side. She tried to lean forward to see what had brushed against her, seeing one tiny green claw batting at her calf. With one eyebrow raised she reached down and was rewarded with a childish giggle as she held the kid up by the collar of its little brown robe. “Don’t look now, Mando,” Zethu snickered, “but we have ourselves a stowaway.”

Zethu laughed at the double take the Mandalorian immediately performed. “What the—you’re supposed to be with Cara!”

The child offered up what Zethu was certain was an articulate excuse, but alas, it was in baby nonsense. She set the child down on her lap. “Sneaky little bug, aren’t ya?” 

“Get down from there.” It was extremely satisfying watching him gesture for the kid to leave Zethu’s lap. 

“Aw, I’m not about to hurt the kid.”

“Now,” the Mandalorian clarified. 

Balancing itself precariously the kid hopped down from Zethu’s lap, trundling over to the Mandalorian and hopping up onto the console instead. Still chuckling to herself, Zethu cautiously stood up from her chair, stretching out bruised muscles. The Mandalorian was mumbling quietly to the kid, huffing something about “what am I going to do with you?” and “Cara is gonna lose it.”

So she was surprised when he suddenly snapped his attention back to her as she made her way out of the cockpit. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Uh? Clearly not out into space?” With that she dropped down the ladder into the ship proper. 

It wasn’t much. Neither was her ship either if she was being honest. She tapped a few slats and prodded obviously sealed closet and storage spaces. Punching a few buttons revealed a veritable armory. She whistled as she surveyed the blasters before the doors were suddenly shut in her face. 

The Manadalorian was at her side, kid swaddled in one arm, the other jabbing accusingly at her. “Don’t touch anything.”

Zethu backed off innocently enough, slumping down and sitting up against the opposite paneling. The kid squirmed out of the Mandalorian’s arms and went toddling back over to her. It seemed to be interested in examining the buckles on her boots. “You know I have no idea why the imps want this little bug. Gonna be honest though, they also failed to tell me I’d be going up against a full blown Mandalorian when I took the job,” she grinned. “After Raydonia I upped my price. They were...not happy.”

“Who do they say you’d be after, then?” he leaned against a crate and even through the helmet Zethu could tell he was watching the kid closely. 

Zethu shrugged. “Just some hunter who reneged on a deal. Think they were afraid standard mercs would back out if they knew. You guys do have a bit of a reputation, you know.”

“Still gonna collect?” 

“Yup,” Zethu said without a moment’s hesitation. “I also have a bit of a reputation, Mando,” she winked. 

“So,” the man crossed his arms, “what’s the plan for Coruscant? I wouldn’t advise going in blasters hot.”

“Hah! Not unless we wanted to get arrested by the Republic. No, I got a little germ of an idea. If your friend’s info was correct and you can get me into the tech center I might be able to draw out Gedos without firing a shot. At least until we get him somewhere more secure.”

She ran a gloved finger down the kids’ long ear. It giggled, wiggling its head and playfully batting at her hand. She didn’t much want to think about Gedos Sal, or what was going to happen on Coruscant. 

“The other Offshoots who saw you wanted you dead,” The Mandalorian pointed out. His modulator gave him a similar flat affect to his voice as Zethu’s own once did, but he hadn’t put in any of the regulators she had done to tune the emotion out. She heard his curiosity...tinged with a bit of disgust. Honestly, his judgement of her life was getting tiresome. 

“Gedos won’t.”

Your parents would be proud of you. She was eight years old again, dirt-faced and bloodied as she kneeled, bent over in electro-stocks, hands and neck shackled by the sparking blue electricity. Remember you’re the best of them.

“His mistake,” Zethu snapped. “It’s to our advantage. We get him secure, we get him back to Numidian—”

“And then we settle this.”

Zethu stared hard at the tinted visor of the Mandalorian’s helmet. “Yeah. Once and for all.”

***

Din couldn’t remember the last time he had been near Coruscant’s orbit. Flying into the heart of the former Galactic—now Republic—space was not the norm. Sure, hunters made the trip all the time in search of marks and the galaxy’s biggest city had a fairly lucrative underworld, but it was no place for a Mandalorian. He glanced over his shoulder at his reluctant companion and saw Zethu Desh looked equally concerned as she stared hard out the viewport. She probably wouldn’t want to come this close to the Republic either. 

The Crimson Dawn operative had called her a terrorist in Arkanian space. It didn’t take a particularly good imagination to wonder what she could have done to be slapped with that crime. Sedition against her own people and murder were the other charges leveled against her. She clearly had little love for her kind. But whatever her flaws at least she fought like a hell of a warrior. He could respect that.

Din brought the Razor Crest in for a landing and his dislike for Coruscant rose tenfold. There were no good hiding places to land out of sight. The massive city rose up before them complete with traffic, skyscraping spires, and neon sign postings. He swore under his breath.

“Head out to the Works,” Zethu mumbled into her hand. Her face was pressed into her palm as she rested facing the viewport. 

“The what?”

“Abandoned factory district. ‘S quiet there. We’ll have a bit of a walk towards the city proper but it’s better than paying Coruscant landing prices. Less noticable too. You wanna go east from here.”

Staring at her would not determine if she had an ulterior motive for the landing site, and Din didn’t have another viable solution to refute her. Shrugging, he took her advice and headed east, keeping his altitude as high as he could to avoid possible sensors or trackers. Who knew what the New Republic had installed in the atmo to count incoming ships. He traveled at Zethu’s directions until the skyline leveled and a trail of black smoke entered the sky. 

Fire and ash gushed from pipes across the surface and rusted over factories dotted the landscape. Din took the Razor Crest in lower, doing a quick scan and sensing no living heat signatures. In the end, he decided on landing the ship in the shadow of one of the larger factory shells. There was plenty of flat available surface nestled between the abandoned structure and the massive pipes. 

“Alright,” Din swiveled in his seat. “You are going to stay here in this time!” He pointed at the child who had once again, despite his insistence, found its way onto Zethu’s lap. 

“Sure, keep the kid in the ship on one of the biggest cities ever. It’s not like its known to wander off, right? That sounds like a great idea,” Zethu mocked. 

She had a point. He hated that. “I’m not taking the kid into a fight.”

“If we do things right there won’t be much of a fight,” Zethu stood up, gently placing the kid back on the ground. “The little bug’ll be fine. More than I can say for leaving it here on the hope it doesn’t disappear without a trace.”

“Didn’t seem to care for the kid’s well-being when you were trying to blast us out of the sky months ago.”

Zethu only shrugged, a sharp-toothed half grin appearing on her face. “Not trying to do that today, though am I? Honestly, Mando could we try and stay in the moment?” She dropped out of sight down the ladder. 

There wasn’t much for it. He gathered his weapons and the child and disembarked. Instantly, Din was glad he hadn’t left the kid behind. The Works were a vast, ashen-covered district with trap after trap for a small womp rat like the kid to get lost in. And it had a terrible habit of trying to sneak out. They’d have to work on that. 

Zethu hadn’t been kidding about that walk back to the city. Without a speeder or an air taxi it took the three of them well into the early evening to bridge into the underbelly of the city proper. “How long do you think a work day is here?” Din asked. “Any chance of Gedos still being at the tech centers by the time we could reach them.”

“Fair point,” Zethu shrugged. “Luckily we got plenty of options for a stake out.”

“What? No. I’m getting us a speeder and we’re heading back to the ship.”

“Like hell we are!” Zethu laughed. “I don’t know about you, but I’d rather sleep in a bed.”

“Zethu!” but she was already walking away, hands in pockets. “Zethu!” with another curse he chased after her. “Maybe this will come as a shock to you, but I need to keep a low profile.”

She rolled her eyes at that. “You’re on Coruscant, Mando. No one cares who you are or what you do, or where you came from. Here, you just let me do the talking. And give me the kid.”

“No.”

“Look, I’m not gonna—”

Din drew his blaster and pressed it none-to-gently into ribs he knew were still heavily bandaged. “I said no.”

Zethu batted the blaster away, but backed off, glaring at him and rubbing her chest. “Fine,” she growled and Din heard her curse in Arkanian. 

They picked up an airtaxi without an issue, heading in no particular direction, but Zethu seemed to have a vague idea of direction. Din wanted to ask her when the last time she had been on Coruscant had been, but Zethu didn’t seem to be in the sharing mood anymore. And she had been right about one thing, no one seemed to be paying them any serious attention. 

His armor caught a few curious glances, but for the most part the city was teeming with folk just trying to reach their destination. Most never even bothered looking up from where they were driving or walking. Zethu continued to steer them on. They rose a few levels in the planetary city, but not too high. Judging from the decor they were still in the seedier underbelly, and that was fine by him. 

Din was in danger of getting completely lost but Zethu brought them to a dimly lit hotel where a female Rodian greeted them in her language. As Zethu promised she did the majority of the talking. 

“A room for me and my partner, please,” she said. 

The Rodian said something that made Zethu laughed. Admittedly his Rodese was a little rusty, but he was positive they were talking about him. “What? No, you think he’s a real Mandalorian? Trust me, friend, you don’t want to know what he had to do to get that armor.”

At the Rodian’s response Zethu reached into her pockets for a handful of credits, sliding an appropriate amount over to the receptionist and, with two fingers, sliding a few extra back. “A tip,” she winked. “We were never here.”

The Rodian responded with a little bow, taking her extra credits. “Hah! Exactly, city’s so big all types of people come this way,” Zethu said with another big smile as she gestured for Din to follow her to the lift. 

The minute the doors sealed she let out a breath and the jovial expression on her face melted away. “Rodians are so easy,” she said without malice or much of anything at all. Those colorless eyes held no visible animosity, but there was a hard line around her mouth. All business again. 

The lift let them out in a suitably comfortable space. The child, as if sensing they were in a relatively safe area, wriggled free of his grip and wandered into the room, climbing up on one of the two beds. “This’ll do,” Zethu shrugged out of her crimson jacket. “I’d say make yourself comfortable, but I doubt you will.” 

Neither was she. She wouldn’t stay still for a moment, checking cabinets, drawers, and thoroughly shaking out the bedsheets. Looking for possible surveillance? Hidden weapons? Probably both given their shady location. “You know I’ve always wondered, do Mandalorians actually sleep with their helmets on?” she sniggered as she finished her sweep.

“While you’re here? Yes.”

“You’re funny, Mando,” Zethu winked as she unlatched the transparisteel screen, leaning out onto the miniscule balcony. The sounds of the city filtered into the room, speeders and hawkers, droid whistles and a steady thrum of music playing in one of the many clubs of the Undercity. “Never really had an excuse to get to know most of my marks before.” 

“You seem to know your way around. When was the last time you were planetside?” Din ignored her attempts to rile him up. He meticulously laid out his arsenal on the edge of his own bed, shifting the kid away from the rifle and vibroblades each time it waddled too close. 

“Eh...long time. Works good on Coruscant if you can get it and not upset the local mercs, but I prefer living in the Mid to Outer Rim,” Zethu wasn’t looking at him, content to sit herself by the balcony ledge and stare out towards the city. 

“Away from the Dominion.”

At that her gaze did snap back to him. She glared hard for a moment, before a little of that anger seemed to slough off as she gave a large sigh and roll of her shoulders. She leaned her head back against the screen. “Yeah. Away from them.”

“A terrorisim charge must make getting bounty work hard,” he counted the rounds of ammunition he still had, hearing Zethu’s hateful laugh. 

“You know for some crime syndicates it makes them give me a higher starting offer. When most people hear of you evading the Arkanian Dominion for two whole decades word gets around.”

“When people hear you kill your own without hesitation I imagine that gets around, too.”

“Oh fuck you, Mando.” Din had never heard such malice from the merc before not even prior to their marathon fight. He turned around half expecting to see her ready to fling herself at him, weapons out, but she was still sitting patiently by the balcony, only her face showed the real wrath. Her body was poised and still. 

“I got the terrorism charge slapped on when I blew a couple of Adascorp facilities sky-high. Didn’t even know about it until I saw my name show up on someone’s datapad. House Adasca never leaves loose ends, but screw ‘em. Screw the damn Adascacorp, the Dominion, and every. Single. Arkanian, left on that iceball wreck of a planet. You don’t get to judge me, Mando. I was born in a dark, abysmal mineshaft with Arkanian overseers so harsh they wouldn’t even let my own mother off her shift long enough to give birth to me. That’s how much an Offshoot miner’s life is worth where I come from. We were genetically invented to obey and scrap and bow to our Arkanian masters. My parents tried to incite the miners to rebellion. Some great uprising of my Offshoot brethren that would “unite us all” or some absolute spacejunk. All it got was them shot by a firing squad while the rest of “my” people went on like nothing changed. I stole a freighter first chance I got. Should never have let anyone else on it. But some people in my mining crew found out. Said sure, why not. Better than going into the galaxy alone, right? Serves me right. Second we get spotted by Dominion ships half of them are blubbering about maybe we should just head back and ask for forgiveness. I wasn’t going back. So I shot the three who begged. That’s my big crime against my people, Mando. And I’d do it again. Survival is everything. What sins have your Mandalorians committed to stay alive that you get to judge me for mine?”

Din had nothing he could say to that. Zethu’s eyes never shifted from him, never flinched. The wind tousled her silver hair across her face as she shook her head at him, turning to stare back out the window. She took a deep, controlled breath in and it was only then Din saw how tight she had been clenching her fists against her lap. 

“I hate this damn planet,” she said quietly, the anger leaving her voice bit by bit so that she sounded smaller...sadder even than Din would have guessed possible. “You can’t see the stars here.”