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A simple child,
That lightly draws its breath,
And feels its life in every limb,
What should it know of death?
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Din Djarin connected the floating capsule to his own controller, and began to manoeuvre the asset close to him. He felt a lingering phantom touch of this child’s small hand on his finger, as the mandalorian had had to pull his hand free from the tiny grip to begin their journey back.
As he moved through the ravaged encampment, towards his borrowed blurrg, Din sighed at the thought of how complicated a child job will be.
What could possibly make this being so wanted?
He hoped it would be fine to eat the simple rations he had on board.
What could The Client need a child, a baby, for?
No.
These were not questions the mandalorian should be contemplating. He just needed to keep it alive for the journey back to Nevarro. Though it didn’t seem to be complaining at its new situation, and even chirped and cooed on the walk back to the Ugnaught’s residence, its eyes wide and continually searching, its ears fluttering.
...It could almost be a foundling.
No.
It was a job.
It was not the way of the guild to ask questions.
But maybe he should enquire to Greef what they want the asset for.
Covertly.
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He wasn’t an ally for this child, and yet, as the mudhorn beated her giant front leg, and lowered her body downward, the child raised his small arm and used a kind of impossible sorcery, suspending the giant beast midair, in a feat only seen in holos and the like. The child was saving the mandalorian. His job, this asset, was saving him .
Well, kriff.
Moments later, Din Djarin sat up next to a still mudhorn, covered in putrid slush, with his chest heaving. He sat, and stared across to the crib, a heavy pit settling deep in his stomach. Rationally, he was an enemy to this child, and yet, this child had done something that should be impossible to save him .
It did not know better. Could not know better.
Din slogged to his feet and went over to it, he saw that the asset had fallen back into his crib, bright eyes now closed over - he would think him only sleeping - if he had not witnessed the inconceivable actions that must have been the child. Rather, Din gathered the child must have exhausted himself with such a display. How could something so small do so much.
Din was just grateful the child was not dead.
The promised beskar was needed for the covert.
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The child woke up on the way back, apparently able to overcome it’s tiring contest with the mudhorn. He chided the kid, as he began to turn the mandalorian’s ship into his own playthings.
Later, Din would wonder if the child had ever owned a toy - owned a possession that was not his oversized robe that swaddled his small body.
Instead, in that moment, he spared what little time he had reflecting on how he had gotten into this mayhem of a job.
He had to give the child over.
He did.
That was the mission.
He would hand over the asset and return to Greef Karga for the furthest bounty possible.
The ship would no longer carry the child’s quiet coos, he would no longer have to restrain an asset in his lap, feeling that small moving weight on his legs. The tiny life would no longer be under his care.
Things would return to normal, and he would gain the beskar that had been taken from Mandalore. The amount promised to him would provide much for the foundlings. The future. This was the way.
Din Djarin, the bounty hunter, had interacted with the foundlings less and less over the years, as his work for the guild kept him out of the covert more often than not. Yet he could easily recall his time as an older foundling, holding the young toddlers, who were not yet old enough to don the armour, as the elders gathered them for lessons.
And if the small thump of the asset’s foot against his thigh - as it gazed at the stars blurring into streaked lines - reminded Din of a time many years ago, then no one would know but himself.
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Metal striking metal became storage doors banging closed, blasterfire above his head, and his father’s dark eyes finding his for the last time. Din watched as the armourer finished welding two plates together, the clanging reverberating through his skull.
The asset was handed over. The beskar was retrieved. The guild would still welcome him. The covert was secure.
This should feel right.
What use did the Imps have for a baby? The funny looking green species had felt like a foundling whilst nestled in his arms. The asset had saved him, his captor, at great cost to himself. The child had cried out as it had been taken away, causing Din to feel like he could not catch his breath.
He wondered whether the kid had ever owned a real toy rather than a piece of a ship.
The mandalorian returned to his razor crest, but he could not take flight. Instead he retraced his steps down the gangway and set out to recapture a child.
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The child bloomed on Sorgen. It was the perfect world to raise a womp rat like him. Quiet, full of life, greenery, and an abundance of frogs to capture and eat. The kid cooed and trilled constantly, winning hearts, and finding playmates easily in the small village.
He began to show cheek, evading the mandalorian’s clutches at bath-time, and once finally washed and swaddled, running amok again into the muddy banks of the krill ponds.
He would pointedly ignore Din’s sharp words and tilted helmet for a final splashing kick, before being picked up and re-bathed.
Din, whilst often exasperated, could not stay annoyed for long. At first, he did not know much about this child, beyond him being a hunted, small being with strange powers. Now, he seemed to exert his energy into every limb, and every whim.
He would flourish here, in this village, under Omera and her daughter’s care. Din would miss the kid, but he couldn’t provide this life.
A ship wasn’t adequate living conditions for a child.
His care had only brought the child closer to death.
Best to leave him be.
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The bounty hunter was still smouldering by the time a snap decision was made. As much as Din wished otherwise, this child was hunted still, and there appeared to be no end in sight. Cara had managed this one, but they had been found out.
To be constantly on a ship was no place for the kid, but the fate otherwise was unthinkable. It hurt to see how much this child was wrapped up in the cruelty of this universe. That it would be forced to travel with him, or become hunted. Or worse.
The kid was wide-eyed but silent as they trundled away from the village, but when Din brought him onto the ship once more, he let out what could be called a cry and hiccough.
Water seemed to slowly pool at the bottom of his dark eyes, and he let out another quiet cry.
Din placed him on his own bed-space, and crouched down until he could meet those large eyes through his helmet.
“Hey, listen to me kid. I’ve got you. We’ll find somewhere new. We got to keep those big ears safe, mhmm?”
The child kept peering at him intensely, but his small cries seemed to peter out.
Din reached out with both arms and stroked his gloved hands down the large sleeves of the kid, ending on his tiny clawed hands, and squeezing them both between two fingers.
“I know I’m not much, but I will keep you safe. I promise.”
He reached into his bed-space, and grabbed a thin but warm blanket, and hung it in such a way that formed a small hammock hanging over the foot of his own bed.
“How about we start with somewhere to sleep? You can rest just above me.”