Well, in 2021 I really hit a Mandalorian phase :) I loved the artwork in the end credits as it was sooo nostalgic. Kind of like those painted scenes on the back of cereal boxes in the 80′s and the Star Wars transfers you could rub onto the scenes.
So, I wanted to do some of them as grey scale works for poster prints for my study wall and thus the collection increased quite quickly.
Full details can be found on my DA page here: https://www.deviantart.com/starfire-productions
Nightfall was upon the odd trio before they could get to the Razor Crest.
After an ambush by four Trandoshan warriors in the canyon leading away from the compound, Din and Zakia settled for licking their wounds on a small sleeping roll with one lantern before them. The fight had ended in their favor, with the four inexperienced warriors being no match for a Mandalorian and highly trained mercenary. Their reason for attacking was what concerned the hunters.
“We weren’t the only one with fobs.” Din sighed as he sat himself near the fire.
Zakia, having been silent since terminating IG-11, simply nodded. She felt hollow. It was a feeling that hadn’t been thrust upon her in years, not since the incident with her own child. Her two personalities- one a bounty hunter and the other a damaged human with ridiculous baggage- fought for dominance.
She snuck a glance in the child’s direction, and it cooed as soon as she was paying attention. The green monster sat upright in its bassinet, staring over the lip with sad eyes. It seemed to know something was wrong, but Zakia refused to tend to it. She bit her lip and turned back to her Mandalorian, desperate to distract herself.
“Let me see your arm.” She said softly.
Din watched her carefully through the visor, checking for any sign of tears or outward emotion. He knew good and well why she was upset, and he couldn’t say the sight of the child hadn’t taken him aback as well. They shared every parent’s worst nightmare. Trudged through the slums of wrecked cycles and hormones together. Din had held Zakia, even when she had cried in sorrow and beat against his chestplate. When she blamed him and their life for their loss. And she had comforted him when the realization that their child was no more had actually set in. In spite of all of the emotion, he refused to pity her and do things for her on this job. Din knew she was hurting, but he knew even better how much Zakia hated pity. She would ball it up and throw it back in his face if he dared provide it.
“It needs to be cauterized.” Mando told her, removing his pauldron and setting it on the ground. The wound was from a knife, and stretched several centimeters across his upper arm, so he moved his sleeve out of the way best he could. Din sat facing the lantern with his legs outstretched, and Zakia rotated so her crossed legs were pressed sideways against him and she had clear access to his wound.
“Where’s the pen?” She asked softly, one hand dropping to his thigh and rubbing gently beneath his armor.
He provided the requested device, and braced himself for the electric pain he knew was coming. Zakia switched the tool on and neared his flesh, muttering a soft apology before starting. Din sucked in a breath, but remained still.
“I’m trying to hurry.” Zakia murmured over the sparking tool, hands cool and refreshing on his hot skin.
“You’re okay.” Din said.
She continued working, using the tool to meld his flesh back together. Zakia was almost through when her hand jerked and the cauterizing pen shocked against intact skin. Din cursed and recoiled away from her.
“Zakia!” He snapped without thought. “What- oh.”
Din tilted his helmet to the side, looking at Zakia’s side where the child stood quietly. It had one hand lifted towards his wounded arm, the other on her knee to help push itself up. The blonde was frozen, chewing on her lip nervously. Taking it as a cue to step in, Din climbed to his feet and snatched the child up. His arm protested every move, but it was minimal enough that Din didn’t flinch. He deposited the kid back into the bassinet and took up his original spot beside Zakia.
“I didn’t mean to jerk, I’m sorry.”
Din shook his head, “Just finish it, please.”
She nodded quietly and did as he said. After the wound was cauterized and bacta was applied, Zakia dug out an old and cracked sewing kit from Mando’s pack and fixed the shirt overtop. Her small hands replaced his pauldron, lingering on his shoulder.
“All done.”
Din dipped his head. “Thank you.”
Zakia gave him a tight smile. She pulled out all of her weapons, and began to clean them methodically as Din pulled his chestplate off. The connections had been damaged during their time fighting earlier in the day, and he was attempting to solder the split connections. He kept an eye on Zakia as she sat beside him and cleaned the dust from her blasters, the solemn look on her face beginning to worry him more.
“Again?”
Zakia sighed from beside him, closing her eyes and tilting her head towards the sky. The child was at her side again, reaching for Din’s arm. The blonde scooched away from it, but at Din’s look stopped.
“I got it.” She moved to grab the child, but Din held up a hand. He knew she was trying to avoid becoming attached to the toddler, and didn’t want to make it any harder.
The Mandalorian was up and replacing the child before Zakia could, pressing the small button to close the cradle. Zakia watched him, bottom lip curled into her teeth as she gnawed on it. Din returned to his spot and sat, exhaling heavily.
“I know you’re thinking about our child.” He got straight to the point, knowing Zakia would be on him if he didn’t. “And I’m sorry if I’ve been difficult.”
Zakia sniffed, setting her weapons to the side and occupying her hands by taking Din’s chestplate from him. She maneuvered herself to sit in front, hands reaching out towards the fasteners on his chest.
“It’s not your fault, Din.” She started, “This child is our job, and I don’t want it to cloud my judgement.”
He let his upper body move as Zakia tugged at stubborn straps and twisted fraying wires between her fingers. “You’re not a droid, Zakia.”
She halted, hands still on his chest. Her icy eyes stared into the black of his visor. “I’m just frustrated. And tired after everything today.”
Zakia omitted her feelings about children from her statement and turned away from Din, stretching out on the small bedroll. Her head was pillowed onto her arms as if to sleep, but he knew better. She was going to tear herself up about the child until they were done with this job.
“It’s an enemy. Think of it that way.”
Din wished he could believe his own words.
_______________________________
They awoke early the next morning and trekked on in the hot sun.
Zakia tugged at her headwrap, adjusting the fabric on her face. Not only did it provide protection from the sun, but mercifully blocked the floating bassinet from her peripheral vision. She was trying to maintain professionalism and refrain from making any sort of connection with the tiny green alien but it was harder than necessary. The child had a constant urge to coo in her direction, and its little hands generally pointed towards her. Zakia ignored the gesticulations, continuing on beside Mando.
They walked for what seemed like eons, following the directions provided by Mando’s HUD. Zakia adjusted her weapons and kicked at the sand, stopping when Mando did and always surveying the horizon for threats. It wasn’t until they found a rocky outcrop above the one the Crest was perched on that any noise permeated the sound of their footsteps. Zakia’s jaw snapped shut as she looked on, turning to Mando to gauge his reaction.
“Jawas.” She muttered.
There was a whole clan, waddling about around what remained of the Crest. The thieves had stripped the ship to its bare bones, and they took turns hauling pieces up the ramp of their sandcrawler. Mando didn’t speak, only released the rifle from his shoulder and knelt down. Zakia recognized the disruptor slugs he slid into the weapon, and stood behind him as he looked through the scope.
“Be ready to move.” He grunted. Three shots followed his words, each punctuated by the sound of Mando reloading. Zakia watched three Jawas disintegrate, and the rest scattered with anxious squeals and frantic gibberish. Her stomach lurched at the thought of being stuck on Arvala-7, but she wouldn’t let herself dwell on it.
Mando scrambled to his feel, pulling a chipi from his vambrace and fastening it into Zakia’s blaster holster. “Keep the kid.”
Her mouth opened with intent to argue, but she couldn’t get a word in before Mando was sliding down the rocky cliff and chasing after the sandcrawler. Zakia threw her hands in the air, looking over the edge at the rough ground.
“Stay with the kid.” She mocked, but turned in Mando’s direction as his shape grew smaller. He was halfway across the huge valley already. “What are you gonna do, stop a sandcrawler?!”
Her annoyed shouting failed to reach the ears of anyone but the child, who replied with a soft whine. The bassinet remained with her, and moved slightly as she paced the cliff. Zakia tried to ignore the child’s giggles, and resorted to climbing down the rocks.
“Freakin’ Mandalorian.” Zakia muttered, scrabbling for footholds on the sand. “Freakin’ Jawas.”
She continued her muttering until she reached the bottom. Zakia made her way to the Razor Crest, eyes taking in each and every missing piece and panel. Wires hung limply from the ceiling, and some lines sparked dangerously close to her head. She ducked away from the offending sounds, and cursed when she saw her belongings gone as well. The arms cabinet was cleaned out. She sat on the stripped bunk, rubbing her temples.
“Typical.” Zakia sighed.
A babble tore her away from her thoughts, and she looked up as a tiny green form toddled up the hatch and moved towards her. The child gazed curiously, touching every safe and non-sparking surface it could. Zakia was going to chew a hole through her lip if she didn’t stop.
“I guess it's you and me, huh?” She scuffed the toe of her boot against the metal floor.
The baby cooed, drawing closer. It watched her closely like it was hoping to touch her but scared she would lash out. Zakia’s heart jumped to her throat as her brain blanked. She couldn’t help but imagine if this was her child- not that a child procured from her and Din would be green. What if her child had survived? Got lost with no one to protect it?
Zakia tracked down a spare pen and piece of paper fluttering about the ship, and scribbled a note for Mando. She knew he’d come back to the ship. The child watched her curiously, and Zakia tried not to notice until she was finished writing.
“Well, kid. I guess we go back to the Ugnaught, yeah?”
Zakia made it back to the Ugnaught’s home just before dusk. He expressed his surprise at her state of living, but then insisted she called him Kuiil and make herself comfortable. The child had escaped its cradle, but wandered harmlessly about the small hut.
“Your companion also made it out?”
Zakia dipped her head as Kuiil handed her a cup of tea and surveyed the child. “Yes. Jawas tore apart our ship, and he chased after the sandcrawler. A fool’s errand if I’ve ever seen one.”
“I agree. The Jawa will require a trade to return parts.” The old man tinkered about his workbench, lifting a handheld soldering iron. “I need to repair my windmill’s control. You are welcome to come enjoy the sunset.”
She accepted the invitation, herding the child out into the fresh night air. It cooed up at her, and Zakia felt her stomach twist. Any sound it made sent her into some buried, motherly frenzy that she tried with all of her might to suppress. She supposed it was ingrained in her subconscious, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t squash it until it suffocated.
“You are scared of this child?” Kuiil asked as he neared the ladder attached to his windmill.
Zakia flushed. Was it that obvious she was trying to avoid it?
“I’m just treating it as a bounty. Nothing more.” Zakia sat on the dusty ground, back leaning against the entrance of Kuiil’s house.
“I sense something deeper.” The Ugnuaght seemed to catch himself. “Though I know some things are of personal concern alone.”
Relenting to her wave of emotion, she turned to Kuiil. “I lost one. A child. Almost two full years ago.”
“I am sorry.” He turned to once again eyeball the small creature. “I understand this must be very difficult for you.”
Zakia shrugged. “It’s not as much about the child, I’m just… angry at my own mind, I suppose. It has been many cycles since my loss, and I can’t stop thinking about it now. I rarely do, normally. But since we found it, the memory is all I see.”
Kuiil sighed heavily. “I haven’t always been alone. But the loss of someone so close- it never fades. Once one becomes a parent, they never stop.”
“I’m sorry. For whoever you lost. I can’t imagine being alone in a place like this.” Zakia kept one eye on the toddler as it pawed at the dirt but stayed within eyesight.
“I am happy in this place. The fear of being alone seems to be yours, yes?”
Kuiil’s words sliced her like a knife. The scar on her face seemed to sting at the approximation, and she nodded. “I suppose it is. I used to be alone all the time. I hunted by myself, even during some lasting conflicts after the war. Everything has just been so different since the miscarriage.”
Kuiil rubbed his small hands together. Zakia was surprised just how much he was helping her unfold the mess of her mind. “May I ask a personal question?”
Zakia nodded once in consent. She was never one to decline wisdom or counsel from elders.
“The Mandalorian. He was the father?”
She drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. A nod followed. “He was.”
“Have you discussed this with him?”
Zakia dipped her head. “He knows why I keep my distance from the child. Mando is just- he’s better at compartmentalizing things than I am. He will have no problem turning in the bounty.”
Kuill shook his head, finally gripping the rungs of his ladder. “Not about this child. About yours. About your fear of being alone.”
“Like I said. Things have been different since we lost the baby. He comforted me then, but we were always close. We keep distance while on the job, but after I recovered physically we weren’t quite the same. We’re still together, it’s just- it’s different than it was.” Zakia cleared her throat after she spoke, trying not to let her tears escape.
“Then perhaps you should try and right things. Men are not as intuitive as you’d like to believe, I’m afraid.” Kuiil took two steps up the ladder rungs and turned to Zakia. “I have spoken.”
And she cried.
It was something she hadn’t done in a very long time. Her walls caved suddenly and the tidal waves they had been holding back crashed over her consciousness like a tsunami on the ocean dunes of Karnak. Zakia thought of the child they lost and of Din. Of everything they had lost when it happened. They had both pushed each other away. They were still lovers, still together, but Zakia yearned for the way it used to be.
The child looked at her, concerned about the tears. She swallowed her guilt and held out a hand, sniffling as the child blinked at it. He plucked at her fingers gently before waddling away after a bug, disinterested in her outstretched digits. A small chuckle fought its way up her throat, and she dropped her head back against the hut. Kuiil’s work produced a soothing hum that reminded her of being aboard the Crest, and she closed her eyes, drifting into an in-between state of relaxation her body was urging her into.
“Someone nears.”
Kuiil’s gruff voice reached her ears after what seemed like only a couple minutes of shut-eye, but her stiff joints indicated it had been quite a bit more. She squinted in the pale light of dusk, watching a familiar figure cross the desert ground.
Mando.
Still overrun by emotion from her conversation with Kuiil, she scrambled to her feet and ran to meet him by the base of the windmill. He paused when she came running, tensing himself for a fight.
But Zakia didn’t stop. She ran straight into his arms, renewed sobs shaking her body at the sight of him. Everything her and Kuill had talked about bounced around her skull, and her arms hugged Din’s neck tightly. Zakia hid her face in the dirty, sweat-smelling fabric of his cowl but she didn’t mind. Din was her person- the one constant in her life since she had lost their last chance at normalcy.
He was obviously surprised, stiff and unmoving. One hand lifted to brace her lower back, but he remained stoic otherwise. They usually refrained from this type of contact while working, but the sobs that overtook her outweighed his professional concerns. “Zakia? Zakia, what’s wrong?”
She shook her head against his neck. “I’m scared, Din. S-scared of losing you, of l-losing anything else. And I haven’t b-been the same since our baby.” Zakia breathed heavily, “I wouldn’t trade our life for anything, but I miss you.”
A chill ran down his spine at the mention of their child, and Zakia’s broken voice cut him to his absolute core beneath the armor. His eyes lifted to Kuiil, who stood at the top of the windmill with an approving gaze. The Ugnaught nodded once, and went back to soldering. Din’s mouth went dry and his eyes stung beneath the helmet. But he understood. Some exchange must have happened between her and the old man that stirred the pot of emotions that bad been brewing.
“I don’t know what happened tonight-” Din returned the embrace, arms wrapping tightly around Zakia’s quivering abdomen. “-but you know I’m with you. Always.”
Her head lifted from his shoulder, and her hands came up to hold either side of his helmet. Zakia’s glacial eyes pierced through his visor like a laser, and he was thankful she couldn’t see the tears that were undoubtedly building behind his own eyes. Her fingers drummed on the beskar as if it was his skin.
“I love you.” She told him quietly.
Din didn’t have to verbally return her statement to express his feelings. He ducked his head so the visor was pressed into her shoulder. The tribulations of the day finally set in, and the exhaustion was creeping into every part of his battered body. It wasn’t often they interacted like this with an audience, but whatever the Ugnaught had said to Zakia opened a door that had been long shut in their relationship.
“Come on. Kuiil knows how to get your parts back.”
