The Razor Crest signaled to the Mandalorian that he had reached his destination. With a firm grip, the hardened warrior pulled back the hyperspace lever, and the streaked starscape of hyperspace snapped back to normality. The ship’s sublight engines surged with smooth acceleration as its pilot deftly manipulated the controls. Almost immediately after exiting hyperspace, he became aware of the massive Imperial presence. It was hard to miss, with TIE fighters swarming around him, escorting his ship to an Imperial Star Destroyer. He sent a signal to the latter, received docking instructions, and followed them precisely.

Guiding the ship through the force field protecting the troops from the vacuum of space, he smoothly lowered the ship down. The landing struts barely touched the metal surface before he leaped up from his seat. With a swift motion, he punched the button to lower the landing ramp and promptly walked down it into the docking bay.

With measured steps, the Mandalorian made his way to and descended the ramp and walked towards a Moff who was obviously waiting for him.

The older man’s appearance caught his attention immediately. The Moff looked tired and worn out, lines of stress etched across his face. The bounty hunters instincts detected something different about this encounter.

The Moff’s voice carried a mix of weariness and authority as he simply addressed the Mandalorian with a curt, “Mandalorian.”

The Moff couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief as he observed the Mandalorian’s demeanor. It was clear that he had made the right choice in seeking out this particular bounty hunter. The Mandalorian was not just a soldier; he was a true warrior. Every aspect of his being exuded an aura of strength and experience.

He could see it in his stance, in his walk, in the way he held his hands, in the way he observed the situation in front of him, and in the way he spoke.

The Moff had encountered countless soldiers in his career, but there was something different about the Mandalorian. It wasn’t just his formidable armor or the weapons he carried; it was a combination of intangible qualities that set him apart. The Mandalorian’s stance exuded confidence and readiness, as if he were always prepared for any eventuality. His walk was deliberate and purposeful, showing a sense of purpose that went beyond mere duty.

As the Mandalorian’s gloved hands rested near the grip of his blaster, the Moff couldn’t help but notice the ease with which he handled his weapons. It was clear that this bounty hunter had spent countless hours honing his skills, becoming a master of his craft.

But it wasn’t just his physical abilities that impressed the Moff; it was the way the Mandalorian observed the situation with a keen and calculating eye. He seemed to assess every detail, analyzing potential threats and opportunities with an almost innate instinct. It was the mark of a seasoned warrior, someone who had faced adversity and emerged stronger for it.

And when the Mandalorian spoke, it was with a controlled and measured tone. His words held weight, and he chose them carefully, revealing a mind that was as sharp as his combat skills. There was a sense of authority in his voice, a quiet assurance that demanded respect.

For the Moff, who had grown weary of dealing with ineffectual soldiers and political maneuvering, the Mandalorian’s presence was a breath of fresh air. He knew that in this warrior, he had found someone who would get the job done, no matter the odds.

Without preamble or the need for small talk, the bounty hunter simply asked, “you have a job for me?

The Moff appreciated the Mandalorian’s directness, and he nodded in response to the straightforward question.

“Yes, I do,” he replied, his tone serious and earnest. “There’s a delicate matter that requires your unique skills and discretion.”

The Mandalorian’s helmeted gaze remained fixed on the Moff, giving away nothing of his thoughts or emotions. His silence urged the Moff to continue, to divulge the details of the task at hand.

“What is it?”

“Cargo transport.” the man said, unsurprised by the bounty hunter’s no-nonsense approach. Some things never changed, no matter the circumstances.

“What is it?” the Mandalorian inquired, ready to assess the task ahead.

“A prisoner,” the Moff replied.

“Carbonite?” the bounty hunter asked, referring to the frozen carbonite blocks often used to immobilize dangerous targets.

“No,” the Moff shook his head. “He shouldn’t be any trouble for you, though. He’s broken.”

“You sure?” the Mandalorian sought reassurance, knowing that even subdued prisoners could pose unexpected challenges.

The Moff smiled, “Come now, Mando, you know how thorough I am.”

The Mandalorian let out a sigh of resignation, acknowledging the Moff’s attention to detail. Nodding in acceptance, the bounty hunter was prepared to take on the assignment. He was no stranger to transporting prisoners, and he understood the importance of being cautious even when dealing with someone deemed incapacitated.

“So we’re good?” the commanding officer asked, his curiosity evident. It was a rare occurrence for him to ask rather than command.

“As long as you’ve got the credits,” the Mandalorian replied, his businesslike tone leaving no room for negotiation.

The Moff reached into his coat and produced a large bag of credits, handing it over to the bounty hunter. “This enough?” he inquired.

“It’ll do,” the Mandalorian responded, his expression concealed by the helmet, but his satisfaction evident in the acceptance of the payment.

The old man chuckled at the transaction. “Follow me,” he beckoned, leading the way.

As they moved through the docking bay filled with impeccably aligned stormtroopers, the Mandalorian trailed closely behind the Moff. The bounty hunter was used to walking the line between cooperation and independence, and this arrangement suited him well.

They entered a long, dreary, gray corridor lined with locked doors, a grim reminder that this was a prison. The walls, ceiling, and floor were all made of solid metal, accentuating the sterile and claustrophobic atmosphere. The echoing clinks of their footsteps on the metal grating reverberated through the corridor.

Navigating through the maze of confinement, they finally arrived at a particular cell. “Here,” the Moff announced.

He pressed a button and the door slid open and inside was a young man, he was beaten, battered and bruised and couldn’t have been no more the 20.

“Is this him?” the hunter asked with a tinge of disappointment in his voice.

“Yup, one of the most dangerous individuals in the Empire,” the Moff replied with a lighthearted tone, smiling as he spoke. “Well, aside from you.”

The Mandalorian grunted, acknowledging the comment without much interest.

“Get up, kid, your ride is here,” the Moff instructed the prisoner.

The kid looked at the Mandalorian, narrowing his good eye in suspicion.

“This him?” the kid asked, seeking confirmation.

“Yup,” the Moff nodded. “Best in the business. He’s Force-sensitive, so if he gives you trouble, I highly recommend you space him. So, it’s up to you, kid. He can take you in warm or cold.”

“That’s my line,” the Bounty Hunter quipped, showcasing a hint of humor beneath the helmet.

The kid managed a smile and stood up, silently acknowledging the Mandalorian. The bounty hunter nodded back, his response unspoken but understood.

“Here,” the Moff handed over a Lightsaber handle to the Mandalorian. The bounty hunter accepted it and thumbed it, familiarizing himself with the weapon. “This is your proof to the other party that he is who he says he is.”

“Okay,” the Mandalorian replied, tucking the Lightsaber handle securely away.

The kid let out a sigh of resignation and slumped, seemingly accepting his fate. “Fuck you,” he muttered.

“Have a nice ride, asshole,” the Moff retorted, maintaining a certain level of banter even in this serious situation.

Despite the harsh words, the kid smiled and inclined his head slightly. A stormtrooper then entered the scene, taking hold of the prisoner roughly and pushing him down the hall. They began their journey, and the kid had time to think as they walked.

Throughout the march, the kid kept eyeing the Lightsaber handle with curiosity, the symbol of the prisoner’s powers and identity. The stormtrooper’s rough treatment didn’t deter the kid’s intrigue, and he couldn’t help but wonder about the destiny that awaited him at the hands of this skilled and enigmatic warrior.

“Eyes front, kid,” the Mandalorian commanded.

James nodded, his emotions fueling the power within him. The spark of anger ignited a burst of energy, and the Force responded to his call. As they turned the corner, he spotted his opportunity—a small object that he sensed through the Force.

His mouth tightened, his eyes focused on the distant target. With a calculated move, he reached out with his mind, seizing control of the object—an abandoned maintenance droid in the corner of the corridor. He yanked it into the air with the strength of the Force and directed it toward the unsuspecting stormtrooper.

The droid flew through the air with surprising speed, and the trooper barely had time to react. “What the...” was all he managed to utter before the droid collided with him, knocking him off his feet.

The trooper’s blaster clattered to the floor, and he struggled to regain his footing. James seized the opportunity, taking advantage of the trooper’s momentary disorientation. With a swift motion, he summoned the Lightsaber from the Mandalorian’s belt into his hand.

Activating the weapon, James parried a few incoming blaster shots from other stormtroopers nearby. With newfound confidence in his connection to the Force, he deflected the shots effortlessly, sending them back at their sources.

“Holy shit!” was all the trooper could say as he dodged out of the way. He blasted off a wild shot. James took that opportunity to grab his Lightsaber with his mind. It flew from the Mando’s belt and into his hands. Quickly he had activated it and broke his bindings. The trooper fired and James blocked, parried, and sent it back at the trooper, hitting him in the head. He felt the bounty hunter preparing to fire and turned, blocking the shot harmlessly into the wall.

“You heard the Moff,” the Mando hissed. “Warm or cold, doesn’t matter to me.”

“So as long as you get paid?” James questioned, his voice tinged with skepticism.

“Yup,” the Mandalorian replied bluntly.

“So much for Mandalorian honor,” James muttered, his disappointment evident.

The Mandalorian’s helmeted head turned slightly, the dim light reflecting off his beskar armor. “That IS Mandalorian honor, kid,” he retorted firmly.

The Mando fired, and James skillfully blocked the blaster bolt with his Lightsaber, sending it back towards the Mandalorian. But in that fleeting moment of reaction, he saw a kid—a young, green alien, standing in front of the bounty hunter. The child’s large, innocent eyes gazed up at the Mandalorian with a mixture of curiosity and trust.

In that moment, the vision seemed to trigger something deep within him. As if in response to the connection he felt with the child, he heard a hauntingly familiar voice echoing in his mind—a voice that sent shivers down his spine. ‘I sense someone here more powerful than you.’ he heard Vader’s voice.

In that crucial moment, James had a profound realization—the Mandalorian was protecting an innocent child, and harming the bounty hunter would endanger the young alien.

Drawing upon the Force, James extended his reach and yanked the kid away from harm’s way, moving him to a safer spot. Reacting swiftly, he hurled his Lightsaber towards the Mandalorian, knowing that the blade would strike the beskar armor, rendering it harmless. As anticipated, the weapon rebounded off the indestructible metal and veered off to the right.

With lethal precision, the Mandalorian regained his footing and fired off another shot, this time targeting the prisoner. The blaster bolt struck the prisoner in the chest, causing him to drop to the ground, incapacitated.

As James succumbed to the darkness, he felt a sense of weariness wash over him. It wasn’t the first time he had experienced this overwhelming darkness.

The sound of respirators caught his attention. The distinct sound of mechanical breathing seemed eerily familiar, stirring a mixture of emotions within him. He knew that sound, and it sent shivers down his spine.

Vader.

“You are weak and pathetic.” Vader bit out of his grills “You are not even strong enough to carry the title of inquisitor. You are nothing to me.”

Vader’s harsh words pierced through the air like a blade, slicing through James’ resolve. The weight of the Sith Lord’s scorn was crushing, and he felt the magnitude of his own vulnerability in the face of such power.

As James slowly regained consciousness, the memories of his recent encounter with the bounty hunter flooded back. His head throbbed with a dull ache, a remnant of the ordeal he had endured. As he groaned, he found himself lying on a small cot within the confines of a ship.

‘oh, right, the Bounty Hunter.’

As James looked around the confined space of the ship, he felt the gentle sway of movement beneath him, indicating that they were still traveling. He took a moment to assess his surroundings, trying to ascertain their current situation.

The ship’s interior was dimly lit, with the soft hum of machinery creating a constant background noise. In the small crevasse where he found himself, he felt neither particularly warm nor cold, but the air carried a sense of containment, a reminder that they were confined within the ship’s hull.

Suddenly, his senses perked up, and he felt a presence nearby—a faint but unmistakable Force presence. His eyes were drawn to a figure moving toward him, and as the form came into focus, he saw a small child with big, dark, and curious eyes. The sight of the young being brought a warm smile to James’ face.

“Hello,” he greeted the child, his voice gentle and welcoming.

The young alien tilted their head, regarding James with a mixture of curiosity and caution. There was an innocence in their gaze, a reminder of the pure potential within every being.