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pazvizslaplasmathrower · 3 years

Text

father of hopes and dreams- Chapter 15

Read here or on Ao3

Chapter 14: Aerial Ace

Summary: Your young master is gone, just at the birth of your bond, he has left you for many years, leaving you to survive the galaxy alone. After sustaining an injury from a drunken storm trooper, someone faces the decision to either leave or help you in your moment of need.

Chapter Summary: Paz's suspicions begin to take root as he probes further into your past. Hopefully, there is help to be found at the next destination.

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: asdfghjkl;' nowww I think I know what I'm doing with this but not really lmao. But fair warning idk how the hell starship controls work. The comments I have received have given me so much motivation and joy! Many thanks <3

***___***___***

The woman did not wait for Paz Vizsla’s permission and approached his child rather quickly. On one hand there was a swelling pride knowing that someone seemed to care greatly for one of his small clan, but she had clearly, unknown intentions and the young one seemed rather irked by the merchant’s acquaintance. They quite literally hid from them, burrowing under their blankets. The Mandalorian could almost feel their growing anxiety.

“Hey, Kid. There’s no need to be scared.” With one hand, the woman peeled back a blanket. “I just wanna say-KARK!”

Stumbling backwards, she just barely kept herself upright and looking down at the offending hand, it was clearly bleeding. Poking their head up from the hammock, (Y/N) looked properly disgusted, their mouth twisted with displeasure.

“Ugh!” After a few deep breaths they retched. “That tasted awful!”

Still holding her hand, the woman gave a forced smile. “Cute kid, Mandalorian.”

After fully registering what had happened, Paz could see the woman was not too terribly hurt, and his foundling seemed fine, just put off. Begrudgingly, he apologized and urged (Y/N) to do the same. While the woman’s insistence was not appropriate, neither was biting her hand severely enough to draw blood.

“A’dika, please. Give your apology.”

“But she-!”

“(Y/N), I’ll not tell you again.”

The child huffed expressing their sarcastic remorse, and Paz realized w=this was the best that he would get from them given the circumstances.

“I am sorry I startled you, little one.” The woman admitted.

(Y/N)’s ears drooped.

“Just...forgive me for saying so, but I haven’t seen any like you before and I have, well, been around the galaxy a fair bit. But, I’m afraid I’ve come not to chat, but on business.”

Following Paz’s quiet lead she trailed behind him as he walked to the cockpit to gather the credits needed. From the corner of his eye, he could catch her stealing glances back at the foundling who eventually jumped from their spot and into the refresher. As previously determined, he handed the woman a bag of credits, her grip was strong and very determined. Oddly, she seemed uninterested in the money, more distracted as if her mind was elsewhere, somewhere far away.

“Ah,” she smiled, “thank you very much for your business. If you would like I could-”

“No.” Paz squared his shoulders. “Give my thanks and appreciation to your employer. You have already done more than enough for us.”

The woman nodded, fixing a few brown hairs that had gone astray. “If you should need anything else, do not hesitate to reach out. I do believe that you have our contact information?”

“Hm. That I do. If you do not mind, I must start work straight away.”

Paz gestured to the back corridor and deliberately led the human woman from his ship, not giving her another opportunity to speak or look back into the ship. She was nothing to be actively fearful of, the Mandalorian could tell she would do no harm, at least with malicious intentions. But the way her eyes took in the child made him defensive. He wished that the foundling would have just hidden away to begin with. To ensure that the woman went on her way, Paz Vizsla watched her disappear into the crowds milling about, but before turning back into the ship, he could have sworn seeing the blonde man from the day prior.

***___***___***

After the second time, you had rushed to the fresher, the door could not shut and lock quick enough. Those brown eyes were calculating...judging...yet not threatening. Still, the young woman’s strange nature had been enough to frighten you into hiding. Her presence lingered, even as you could tell she was long gone. Perhaps she had been connected like you and your master were. Though they had spoken of Jedi being near extinct, not many were left alive after the fall of the Republic. So if the woman had been anything like you, then she must have been unaware or willfully ignorant. But then why had her simply being in your vicinity caused such anxiety? Feeling so completely overwhelmed, you let your eyes close, finding sleep would be the best remedy.

Rubbing the sides of your temples, you laid on your stomach your nerves having finally settled. The whirring sounds of mechanics must have been the Mandalorian working on the repairs much needed, the seller must have sold this at a discount for such reasons. As your guardian was occupied and giving you space, you decided to check up on the growth of your...current problem, their hiding place was becoming quite restrictive. Undoing the ties, you let the bag fall to the ground and for a moment all you could do was stare at yourself in front of the mirror, taking in the sight behind you. There they were. A part of your own body, very much there and real. No longer a fleshy, loathsome sight, though still very much small, your wings were a third of their full maturation. Covering the skin and bones were now captivating feathers, quite dark, nearly obsidian, but iridescent if you turned your body a certain way. Though new they already seemed quite resilient in nature, the primaries, secondaries and coverts, not one was less lustrous than the others. Bending your arm awkwardly you reached around to gently brush a few fingers against the plumage, gliding the skin against one that jutted out. Surprisingly, the edge of the feather just barely cut your finger, drawing a thin line of blood. Deciding the edges were best avoided, you tapped the center of one, fascinated at the solid consistency.

The oily sheen that coated your wings felt rather uncomfortable, so you took the liberty of running a quick shower. After drying off the familiar parts of your body, there was the matter of the wings. Those muscles were still in their infancy and had not been used due your keeping them a secret from the galaxy. Flexing the sinewy flesh, water flitted off and with each fluttering, the sensation became that more comfortable. Satisfied with the drying, you picked the backpack from the floor, at once realizing the task before you.

“(Y/N)?” There was a slow tapping on the door. “A’dika, are you alright?”

Silently cursing, you nearly fell over, slippin on the damp floor. “Yeah! I’m good! Just took a nap and then an, uh, shower.”

“Hm… Alright. Well, if I could get some help when you’re finished, after I’ll get your evening meal ready.”

“O-Okay!”

You waited until his footstep faded off before letting yourself take a deep breath. Force, thank the stars, he had not waited for you to come out. Fueled by the anxiety that your secret would be uncovered, you tensed the weak muscles of your wings, bringing them close in together while keeping your arms flexible. Stretching the bag open as far as possible, you barely managed to cover them completely, though the pressure forcing the limbs together was extremely uncomfortable, bordering on painful. Even so, you put on a placid face and left the refresher, following the mechanical noises until you could see Paz in the engine room, fumbling around with a variety of tools.

“Ah, there you are. Hand me the hyper screwdriver if you will.”

You knelt on the ground, looking over a number of devices, none of which you actually knew the names of, but each had names you had bestowed upon them when playing Jedi versus Stormtroopers. From where he was hunched over, Paz looked at you, probably expectantly. At a loss, you pointed to one tool only to have him shake his head. Again and again the process was repeated, your guardian naming each one as you went until you finally had the damned hyper screwdriver in hand, tossing it to the Mandalorian who sighed.

“Have you ever done work on a ship before?”

“Not really?” Shrugging you could feel your stomach clench. “I’m a kid and I’ve also never owned a ship before in my life.”

“And what of your master?” Paz countered.

“They didn’t own one. We just caught rides as they came, y’know?”

It was true, money was never plentiful, and your teacher was not fond of New Republic transportation, so they went out of their way to find only the most leery individuals that were doing their best to avoid the Republic and any ex-Imperials. Those ships had been run by those who were simply satisfied that the starships were running effectively. So there was no mechanical expertise learned on your travels. Yawning, you felt the need to preen, your wings feeling irritated in their confinement. Paz Vizsla seemed to notice this irritability, and immediately you stopped moving.

“Are you feeling alright?”

“What?” Laughing, you tried not to look into his visor. “I’m just hungry.”

He set his tool down, considering you for a moment before putting his things away and moving out of the engine room. Tentatively you followed, sensing that Paz’s apprehension was growing steadily, you knew it was only a matter of time until he would have to pry. Even though you had napped earlier, your body was asking for respite as well as a substantial meal, the delayed but rapid growth was taking its toll. While the Mandalorian went about preparing the foodstuffs, you stayed in the hangar, nearly nodding off without anything to do. It was a shame really, in your life with your teacher and now this life with the Mandalorian, there was a looming sense of uselessness. Of being so utterly disinterested with nothing to do. Perhaps with this Mandalorian the adventures were to come, but with your teacher, anything remotely exciting had been scarce. There was always the crucial necessity of being safe, of being alive, and your master’s anxiety surrounding survival had started to seep into your own mind, keeping you from the world outside each hiding spot the both of you made a temporary home of. Some of that fear still lingered even now, but there was an actual reason to stay hidden, to have parts of you stay hidden. And often when one is hidden, there is not much to keep oneself occupied. It was not as if you had any belongings anymore. Everything was gone the moment your eyes closed on whatever planet you had lost your master on.

“(Y/N). (Y/N?”

Groggy from being lost in thought, you lifted your head, “Huh?”

“Here. I secured more rations, but please try to eat more than the meat.”

Reaching up, you took the tray from Paz Vizsla’s large hands, smiling in thanks for his kindness and efforts. And despite the greens tasting like poison, you made yourself devour them completely. When everything was finished, you made sure to sip the juiced in the bottom of the tray that remained; nothing was to go to waste. Feeling only half full, you tried to find satisfaction in what had been given, but to even dream of more...no.

“Are you feeling alright, young one?”

“Just tired.” Not a lie, but only a fraction of the truth.

Paz Vizsla slowly joined you on the floor crossing his legs like you had. “I can only help if you tell me what the matter is, A’dika.”

“I never said I needed help.”

“You seem more than tired.” The modulated voice cracked for a moment, though not out of emotion.

“It’s nothing, I just need sleep.”

Once you had cleaned up from dinner, he let you rest. Neither of you mentioned the strange woman who brought the parts for the ship. She was to remain unspoken of, for some time. The Mandalorian informed you that he would be taking off to a place his friend the Armorer knew where the both of you could find some help that could potentially aid your memory. Despite feeling the constriction at your back, you were able to drift off, the monotonous sound of the ship lulled you to sleep. There were no real dreams, at least ones that you were accustomed to, just a cacophony of colors surrounding your consciousness, enveloping you in a soft chill. It only seemed like a matter of minutes that you had entered the welcoming realm of unconsciousness when something started to startle your subconscious. It was this muted screech in the back of your mind that slowly started to grow louder, then all at once the full power of an alarm assaulting your sensitive ears. Disoriented and confused you pushed yourself up seeing the world inside of the ship was now bathed in a red light, if that was not distressing enough, the ship would lurch every moment now and then.

In a hurry you fell out of the hammock, your knees properly smacking against the floor. Part of you wanted to take the time to don your armor, but when the ship jerked yet again, you decided against it. Fumbling towards where you had seen Paz Vizsla last, feeling a brief surge of relief at the sight of him in the pilot’s seat, one hand gripped the controls while the other furiously worked a board of buttons and switches. You wanted to call out but words failed, unable to unclench your throat, you rushed to his side.

“DAMN! Kark, (Y/N), get back into the hangar, find someplace safe to hide!” Paz demanded.

Looking over at the ship’s radar system you could see a few other ships were hot on your tail, and when the Mandalorian steered the ship suddenly, you could see that the star ship was under unfriendly fire. It was a miracle you had not been sent flying back into the small corridor, and despite Paz Vizsla’s protests, you climbed into the co-pilot’s seat and tightly strapped yourself in.

“Wh-Who’s trying to kill us?!” You finally managed, as the craft lurched forward again.

The Mandalorian gave what could have either been a misplaced chuckle or perhaps a cough. Often you found yourself wishing he would just take the damn helmet off; without the vocader he would actually sound human.

“New Republic fighters. They’re after the ship, looks like we bought stolen goods, young one.” From further within the craft the pair of you could hear something crackle and then pop violently. “And...And you swear you’ve never done anything technical?!”

“If I did, I’d be helping, yeah?!”

“Here. Take my seat.” He ordered.

Dizzy from the gravity of the present moment you just stared until the Mandalorian took the initiative to unbuckle you from your seat and then placed you where he had once been, moving the seat closer to the controls.

“I don’t know how to fly a kriffing ship!” You cried, not sure where to put your hands, though judging by the radar, you had only a few moments to make a decision.

“Don’t worry, A’dika,” he reassured you with a heavy pat on the back, “it’s just like playing a holo game!”

He gave you no time to argue or protest, darting somewhere within to fix what had potentially ruptured. Quietly, you murmured consolations to yourself, reaching forward to grab the control column, deciding to keep an eye on the screen showing you where the enemies were. When everything rocked to the side, you figured you were certainly not moving swiftly enough. What would your master do? Kark, you master would have avoided this whole debacle in the first place. Hell, the Jedi would certainly have reprimanded you for going off in search of him, the danger far eclipsing the mystery of what had befallen them. But here now, there was no safe choice, and there was another life that had been thrust into your young hands. Even now as your heart pounded, you could feel no semblance of your teacher.

Letting out a rather long string of curses, you abruptly steered the ship from another volley of fire. Sweat beaded and poured down your face, yet there was no time to wipe it away. Your attention was divided amongst the control display, radar and the kriffing space in front. With each second that focus sharpened, and Paz had a point, the main controls for the most part were just like the holo games that you had started to play on his data pad, except there was the very real possibility of dying. A blinking light from the communications panel prompted you to press the button just below without thinking.

“Blue eleven to...Royal Ark, do you copy? You are ordered to stand down! I repeat! Stand down!”

“Ohhhh kark! Paz!?”

He must have still been working desperately on the repairs, too occupied to hear your plea. The fire ceased giving you a bit of respite.

“Royal Ark, identify yourself!”

If it were not for the labels, surely you would have incidentally blown both you and paz into oblivion. And given your master had instructed you somewhat on Galactic Basic, you found the transmission switch.

“Um, Royal Ark to Blue...Blue eleven?”

There was a long pause and even though the New Republic fighters were now only tailing the craft you still had a vice like grip on the control column.

“Are...Are you a child?” The static voice came over incredulously.

Flexing the muscles in your throat you flicked the switch, “No, of course not!”

Glancing down there was a very large lever that you had noticed upon your first time on the ship, its mere size enticing you to move it immediately. Occasionally, you had observed many a pilot manning their transports, and from that you absolutely knew there was a host of buttons to press before pulling on the massive lever, though now with the ship currently damaged, the ruling government breathing down your neck and the overabundance of anxiety fueling your every move, it seemed like a viable option. Tipping the controls forward, you tried to force the ship to go faster.

“Royal Ark! You have been ordered to cease and be escorted to the nearest New Republic base! Identify yourself! Stop!”

Through the communicator you could hear the Republic leader’s comrades growing increasingly agitated. Becoming more irked, you pushed forward, and from far behind you could hear the Mandalorian stumbling about, shouting in a language you could not interpret. All autonomy you possessed seemed to slip away, while a desperate need to escape took hold. All together the grating sounds of the damned alarm, the Republic bastards shouting orders, the rattling of durasteel and the new barrage of fire came together in a most unholy matrimony tearing an unbridled scream from your lungs. And all at once there was a piercing energy that coursed through your body as you forced the large lever forward, forcing your body to shake and then go rigid for what felt like eternity. But nothing ever remains the same as when that moment of shock ended your body jerked forward and your head properly smacked against the console sending you into violent but welcome unconsciousness.

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