The Mandalorian: Miscalculations
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prose_alchemistTitle: Miscalculations
Author:jordannamorgan
Fandom: The Mandalorian
Rating/Warnings: Mild PG for bounty-hunter violence.
Characters: Din Djarin, Grogu (“the kid”), original character.
Setting: Between seasons one and two.
Summary: An old acquaintance offers Din a proposition… and misjudgments are made on both sides.
Disclaimer: “The Mandalorian” belongs to LucasFilm and Disney. I’m just playing with it.
Notes: Written for the prompt word “Pet” atfan_flashworks.
Jafet Mose sincerely hated Mando’s guts.
He had ever since the old days, back when they’d both run with Ranzar Malk’s crew. It stemmed from a potent blend of envy and contempt; for no matter what job they were on, the Mandalorian had always stolen all the thunder. He inevitably drew the most attention and respect from clients just for being a Mando, leaving the rest of them too often treated like his mere sidekicks and tagalongs. …Not that he didn’t back up the reputation of his people. No, he did that only too well, regularly making the most kills and performing the most impressive feats. Mose’s own life was saved by Mando more times than he’d cared to keep count of—and that had chafed at him for all the years since.
After the killing was done, Mando wouldn’t even drink with them in celebration of jobs successfully completed, and that annoyed Mose too. He showed no conceit in his accomplishments, and he never bragged. He quietly treated everything his skills achieved as if it was effortless, while the rest of them struggled just to keep up. Somehow, that casual attitude about his talents was only salt in the wound to Mose’s pride.
Considering all of that, it took an unlikely twist of fate to bring Mose to work with Mando once more, years later.
It was only something of a desperate measure. The quarry Mose hunted had managed to elude him for weeks, hiding out in the swamps of a forsaken backwater planet. Now his funds for supplies were running low, and he was sick of slogging through the dreary wet for days at a time. He might have considered abandoning the job altogether, if the commission hadn’t come from a Hutt with an infamously short temper. Rumor had it the skins hanging on his walls belonged to people who had failed him—including a bounty hunter or two.
So it seemed like nothing less than good luck when, while resupplying in town, Mose walked into a tavern and saw Mando sitting in a shadowed corner. The beskar he now wore was new and gleaming as his old armor had never been, but the helmet was still recognizable enough.
On the other hand, the small green… thing that sat across the table from him, slurping a bowl of soup?—Now, that was quite the peculiarity.
…Whatever. Mose needed help to get his current job done, and if anyone could wrap up a situation quickly, it was Mando. For the sake of keeping the skin on his bones, he could swallow both his pride and his dislike of the man.
“Well, Maaando,” he drawled, swaggering over to the Mandalorian’s table. “It’s been years.”
The helmet barely tilted upward to peruse him. Mose had no illusions that he hadn’t been both noticed and closely watched from behind that thing ever since he came in the door.
“It has,” Mando agreed, his voice absolutely toneless, while the critter opposite him looked up at Mose with impossibly large and curious eyes.
“You still going around with Ran’s crew?” Mose asked.
“I quit not long after you did.” A pregnant pause. “Though he did try to kill me a few months ago.”
An abrupt cackle of surprised humor forced its way out of Mose. Ranzar Malk was also a guy he’d never particularly liked. “So I take it you killed him instead?”
“He got what he deserved.”
With that implication, Mose thought just maybe he could start to like Mando a little better. “What are you up to these days, then?”
“Some business of my own.”
“Any chance you can take the time out to make some quick credits?”
“Depends on the job.”
“Well, I’ve got one that oughta be easy enough for a guy like you. I’ll admit I’m having some trouble with it by myself. See, there’s this… What is that?” Mose diverted at last, no longer able to contain his curiosity, as the little green creature picked up an unused wooden spoon to chew on it absently.
“Don’t know. …It just followed me after I killed its owner.” Mando’s tone was casual, but Mose had a fleeting sense that there was something inordinately measured about his words.
“So it’s what, some kinda pet?”
“I guess you could say that.” The Mandalorian leaned forward, suddenly intent. “What about this job of yours?”
In the end, it took less persuasion than Mose had expected to enlist Mando’s help with the job. After agreeing to an even split of the bounty, they bought fresh provisions, and then set off into the swamp together to track the quarry. Somewhat to Mose’s surprise, even Mando’s strange little pet accompanied them; it rode in a bag slung on his hip, its enormous eyes and ears just peeking out to take in the surroundings.
Considering Mando pretty much stopped talking altogether once the hunt commenced, watching the critter became Mose’s only diversion from the monotony of following his silent new partner through the muck.
He continued to ponder what exactly it was. After all, it wore clothing of some sort, which wasn’t exactly normal for a mere animal—and its bright-eyed gaze seemed so observant and curious. Mose couldn’t help wondering if it wasn’t a more intelligent life form than Mando gave it credit for.
…At least until they took their first break for rest, and Mando set the creature down on the soggy ground. Because then it promptly took off after a frog, which after several minutes it managed to clumsily catch… only to swallow the slimy amphibian whole.
Mando didn’t react to the critter’s disgusting snack in the slightest. Maybe that was how he let it get all of its food. Honestly, it didn’t seem as if he was paying much attention to it at all, only picking it up like an afterthought when the time came for them to move again. He put it back in the bag without saying a word to it, and they continued on their way.
A few hours after darkness fell, they came upon a patch of elevated dry ground beneath a spreading tree, and chose to make camp for the night. Mose shot a small animal and roasted it over the campfire. He offered a share to Mando, but the warrior declined—instead merely tossing an overdone chunk of meat on the ground for his pet, who had been sniffing the air and looking wistful at the smell of it cooking. Mose could have sworn the creature looked a little confused by the offering at first, but after an uncertain moment of staring at Mando, it pounced on the morsel. It proceeded to eat, albeit more slowly and with less enthusiasm than it had shown for the soup or even the frog.
Had it expected to be fed by hand? How very odd. Somehow, Mose couldn’t quite picture Mando coddling an animal that way.
When the two hunters bedded down—although it was questionable how much sleep either of them would get, as they inevitably kept a wary eye on each other—the creature tried to snuggle against Mando’s ribs. He moved it aside, not quite ungently but with a certain firmness, and turned his back to it as he rolled over. …Hearing the sad, dismayed little noise it made as it crawled under an edge of his cape instead, even Mose felt slightly bad for it.
And while it wasn’t like Mose had any particular love for animals himself, he felt his resentment toward Mando starting to inflame all over again.
The two bounty hunters finally located their quarry at sunset the next day, holed up in a half-rotted fishing shack on the edge of a deeper bog. After a brief firefight, it was Mando—of course—who made the killing shot, taking only minutes to put down the quarry that had stymied Mose for weeks. …His sidelong remark about the helpful distraction Mose had provided did not improve the other man’s mood.
Since the commission required only proof of termination, they cut off the quarry’s head and put it in a cryobox Mose had brought along. The rest of the body they tossed into the bog, to be disposed of by the man-eating fenosaurs that lived in the deeper channels of water. Then, with darkness setting in, they settled down in the fishing shack themselves. The roof and walls were half collapsed, but the floor elevated on stilts remained sound enough to keep them dry and safe from fenosaurs for the night.
The evening that followed was much the same as the previous one. Mando gave his pet scraps from their dinner and proceeded to ignore it, sitting back to rest with his arms folded over his cuirass. Mose scowled and tossed the critter a piece of his own meat before curling up as well. He hugged his knees to his chest and glared over them at Mando, quietly stewing in the fresh reminders of everything else he’d always hated about the guy.
A couple of hours must have passed that way. Mando remained still, drawing the long, steady breaths of a man in repose, while Mose sat burning with a resentment that kept him awake.
Eventually he couldn’t take it any more, and he decided to put a premature end to their partnership.
He knew better than to try killing Mando in his sleep. The warrior was curled into himself in such a way that his armor would protect his vital areas from any blaster shot, and the chance of getting under the edge of the beskar with a knife before he could react was equally laughable. Reluctantly, Mose decided to settle for taking the cryobox and skipping out on him. With a full night’s head start, he’d be able to reach the client well before Mando could, and claim the entire bounty for himself.
Cautiously, silently, Mose stood and crept over to the box; but as he was bending to pick it up, his attention was sharply drawn by a soft little sigh.
It was only Mando’s pet stirring in its sleep, wrapped up once again in a tattered corner of his cape. Mose stared down at the tiny thing for a long and thoughtful moment… and decided at last that he would kill it.
This would be part of his exercise in spite, for whatever it was worth. As little regard as Mando had shown for the critter, the mere fact that he kept it around at all proved it had to mean something to him. Besides, it would probably be better off anyway if it was put out of its misery.
Slowly drawing his knife, Mose began to edge closer to the little creature.
His vision was suddenly filled with a blinding flare of scarlet light. The brilliance made everything go dark for a moment afterward, but he heard the knife clatter to the floor, and found with a rising sense of panic that he couldn’t catch his breath.
In the hazy murk that flickered through the blackness only briefly, he glimpsed the Mandalorian now calmly sitting upright—with his blaster dangling casually between his knees.
The voice that drifted into the dying man’s ears, as if from a very great distance, was more terrifyingly hard and icy than he had ever heard it before.
“If you’d just tried to take the box, I might have let you walk out of here only missing a hand… but nobody touches the kid.”
Kid… The kid…?
An incredulous shock converged with the final collapse of communication between Mose’s brain and body, and he tumbled backward, crashing through a dry-rotted wall to plunge into black water below.
Ripples and bubbles danced above him like liquid light… and then there was only darkness.
In the aftermath of Jafet Mose’s ignominious demise, Din Djarin heaved a sigh and holstered his blaster. Then he turned to look at the little green figure tangled in his cape. The kid had been awakened by the commotion, and now gazed up at him, big eyes wide with a wondering uncertainty—but absolutely no trace of fear.
Din gently lifted his foundling, setting him on his drawn-up knees, and encircled him loosely with his arms.
“Listen, kid… I’m sorry for the way I treated you these last couple days. But I was only trying to protect you.” A gloved hand hesitated for a second before lightly stroking the back of the kid’s head. “That guy never liked me. I knew I couldn’t trust him, so I thought you’d be less at risk if I downplayed how…” He caught himself on the word that sprang to his mind with such natural ease, but chose to use it anyway. “How important you are to me.”
The kid pointedly made a raspberry noise, narrowing his eyes.
“I know, I know. It didn’t work anyway—so we’re not going to try that tactic again. And I promise, I’ll make it up to you.” Din smiled beneath his helmet. “So how would you like fenosaur eggs for breakfast? Yesterday I saw a couple of nests a little ways back. Once it gets light, we can be there in a few minutes with the jetpack.”
Whether it was his words or simply his tone that the kid understood, all trace of reproach immediately vanished—to be replaced by perked ears, sparkling eyes, and a happy smile.
“Okay. You’ve got a deal.” Din patted the kid’s back. “Now let’s get some sleep.”
As Din began to settle himself more comfortably, the kid squirmed down from his knees to nestle in the crook of his arm, close to his heart… and everything finally felt right again, for the first time since this misadventure began.
© 2022 Jordanna Morgan
Author:
jordannamorganFandom: The Mandalorian
Rating/Warnings: Mild PG for bounty-hunter violence.
Characters: Din Djarin, Grogu (“the kid”), original character.
Setting: Between seasons one and two.
Summary: An old acquaintance offers Din a proposition… and misjudgments are made on both sides.
Disclaimer: “The Mandalorian” belongs to LucasFilm and Disney. I’m just playing with it.
Notes: Written for the prompt word “Pet” at
fan_flashworks.Jafet Mose sincerely hated Mando’s guts.
He had ever since the old days, back when they’d both run with Ranzar Malk’s crew. It stemmed from a potent blend of envy and contempt; for no matter what job they were on, the Mandalorian had always stolen all the thunder. He inevitably drew the most attention and respect from clients just for being a Mando, leaving the rest of them too often treated like his mere sidekicks and tagalongs. …Not that he didn’t back up the reputation of his people. No, he did that only too well, regularly making the most kills and performing the most impressive feats. Mose’s own life was saved by Mando more times than he’d cared to keep count of—and that had chafed at him for all the years since.
After the killing was done, Mando wouldn’t even drink with them in celebration of jobs successfully completed, and that annoyed Mose too. He showed no conceit in his accomplishments, and he never bragged. He quietly treated everything his skills achieved as if it was effortless, while the rest of them struggled just to keep up. Somehow, that casual attitude about his talents was only salt in the wound to Mose’s pride.
Considering all of that, it took an unlikely twist of fate to bring Mose to work with Mando once more, years later.
It was only something of a desperate measure. The quarry Mose hunted had managed to elude him for weeks, hiding out in the swamps of a forsaken backwater planet. Now his funds for supplies were running low, and he was sick of slogging through the dreary wet for days at a time. He might have considered abandoning the job altogether, if the commission hadn’t come from a Hutt with an infamously short temper. Rumor had it the skins hanging on his walls belonged to people who had failed him—including a bounty hunter or two.
So it seemed like nothing less than good luck when, while resupplying in town, Mose walked into a tavern and saw Mando sitting in a shadowed corner. The beskar he now wore was new and gleaming as his old armor had never been, but the helmet was still recognizable enough.
On the other hand, the small green… thing that sat across the table from him, slurping a bowl of soup?—Now, that was quite the peculiarity.
…Whatever. Mose needed help to get his current job done, and if anyone could wrap up a situation quickly, it was Mando. For the sake of keeping the skin on his bones, he could swallow both his pride and his dislike of the man.
“Well, Maaando,” he drawled, swaggering over to the Mandalorian’s table. “It’s been years.”
The helmet barely tilted upward to peruse him. Mose had no illusions that he hadn’t been both noticed and closely watched from behind that thing ever since he came in the door.
“It has,” Mando agreed, his voice absolutely toneless, while the critter opposite him looked up at Mose with impossibly large and curious eyes.
“You still going around with Ran’s crew?” Mose asked.
“I quit not long after you did.” A pregnant pause. “Though he did try to kill me a few months ago.”
An abrupt cackle of surprised humor forced its way out of Mose. Ranzar Malk was also a guy he’d never particularly liked. “So I take it you killed him instead?”
“He got what he deserved.”
With that implication, Mose thought just maybe he could start to like Mando a little better. “What are you up to these days, then?”
“Some business of my own.”
“Any chance you can take the time out to make some quick credits?”
“Depends on the job.”
“Well, I’ve got one that oughta be easy enough for a guy like you. I’ll admit I’m having some trouble with it by myself. See, there’s this… What is that?” Mose diverted at last, no longer able to contain his curiosity, as the little green creature picked up an unused wooden spoon to chew on it absently.
“Don’t know. …It just followed me after I killed its owner.” Mando’s tone was casual, but Mose had a fleeting sense that there was something inordinately measured about his words.
“So it’s what, some kinda pet?”
“I guess you could say that.” The Mandalorian leaned forward, suddenly intent. “What about this job of yours?”
In the end, it took less persuasion than Mose had expected to enlist Mando’s help with the job. After agreeing to an even split of the bounty, they bought fresh provisions, and then set off into the swamp together to track the quarry. Somewhat to Mose’s surprise, even Mando’s strange little pet accompanied them; it rode in a bag slung on his hip, its enormous eyes and ears just peeking out to take in the surroundings.
Considering Mando pretty much stopped talking altogether once the hunt commenced, watching the critter became Mose’s only diversion from the monotony of following his silent new partner through the muck.
He continued to ponder what exactly it was. After all, it wore clothing of some sort, which wasn’t exactly normal for a mere animal—and its bright-eyed gaze seemed so observant and curious. Mose couldn’t help wondering if it wasn’t a more intelligent life form than Mando gave it credit for.
…At least until they took their first break for rest, and Mando set the creature down on the soggy ground. Because then it promptly took off after a frog, which after several minutes it managed to clumsily catch… only to swallow the slimy amphibian whole.
Mando didn’t react to the critter’s disgusting snack in the slightest. Maybe that was how he let it get all of its food. Honestly, it didn’t seem as if he was paying much attention to it at all, only picking it up like an afterthought when the time came for them to move again. He put it back in the bag without saying a word to it, and they continued on their way.
A few hours after darkness fell, they came upon a patch of elevated dry ground beneath a spreading tree, and chose to make camp for the night. Mose shot a small animal and roasted it over the campfire. He offered a share to Mando, but the warrior declined—instead merely tossing an overdone chunk of meat on the ground for his pet, who had been sniffing the air and looking wistful at the smell of it cooking. Mose could have sworn the creature looked a little confused by the offering at first, but after an uncertain moment of staring at Mando, it pounced on the morsel. It proceeded to eat, albeit more slowly and with less enthusiasm than it had shown for the soup or even the frog.
Had it expected to be fed by hand? How very odd. Somehow, Mose couldn’t quite picture Mando coddling an animal that way.
When the two hunters bedded down—although it was questionable how much sleep either of them would get, as they inevitably kept a wary eye on each other—the creature tried to snuggle against Mando’s ribs. He moved it aside, not quite ungently but with a certain firmness, and turned his back to it as he rolled over. …Hearing the sad, dismayed little noise it made as it crawled under an edge of his cape instead, even Mose felt slightly bad for it.
And while it wasn’t like Mose had any particular love for animals himself, he felt his resentment toward Mando starting to inflame all over again.
The two bounty hunters finally located their quarry at sunset the next day, holed up in a half-rotted fishing shack on the edge of a deeper bog. After a brief firefight, it was Mando—of course—who made the killing shot, taking only minutes to put down the quarry that had stymied Mose for weeks. …His sidelong remark about the helpful distraction Mose had provided did not improve the other man’s mood.
Since the commission required only proof of termination, they cut off the quarry’s head and put it in a cryobox Mose had brought along. The rest of the body they tossed into the bog, to be disposed of by the man-eating fenosaurs that lived in the deeper channels of water. Then, with darkness setting in, they settled down in the fishing shack themselves. The roof and walls were half collapsed, but the floor elevated on stilts remained sound enough to keep them dry and safe from fenosaurs for the night.
The evening that followed was much the same as the previous one. Mando gave his pet scraps from their dinner and proceeded to ignore it, sitting back to rest with his arms folded over his cuirass. Mose scowled and tossed the critter a piece of his own meat before curling up as well. He hugged his knees to his chest and glared over them at Mando, quietly stewing in the fresh reminders of everything else he’d always hated about the guy.
A couple of hours must have passed that way. Mando remained still, drawing the long, steady breaths of a man in repose, while Mose sat burning with a resentment that kept him awake.
Eventually he couldn’t take it any more, and he decided to put a premature end to their partnership.
He knew better than to try killing Mando in his sleep. The warrior was curled into himself in such a way that his armor would protect his vital areas from any blaster shot, and the chance of getting under the edge of the beskar with a knife before he could react was equally laughable. Reluctantly, Mose decided to settle for taking the cryobox and skipping out on him. With a full night’s head start, he’d be able to reach the client well before Mando could, and claim the entire bounty for himself.
Cautiously, silently, Mose stood and crept over to the box; but as he was bending to pick it up, his attention was sharply drawn by a soft little sigh.
It was only Mando’s pet stirring in its sleep, wrapped up once again in a tattered corner of his cape. Mose stared down at the tiny thing for a long and thoughtful moment… and decided at last that he would kill it.
This would be part of his exercise in spite, for whatever it was worth. As little regard as Mando had shown for the critter, the mere fact that he kept it around at all proved it had to mean something to him. Besides, it would probably be better off anyway if it was put out of its misery.
Slowly drawing his knife, Mose began to edge closer to the little creature.
His vision was suddenly filled with a blinding flare of scarlet light. The brilliance made everything go dark for a moment afterward, but he heard the knife clatter to the floor, and found with a rising sense of panic that he couldn’t catch his breath.
In the hazy murk that flickered through the blackness only briefly, he glimpsed the Mandalorian now calmly sitting upright—with his blaster dangling casually between his knees.
The voice that drifted into the dying man’s ears, as if from a very great distance, was more terrifyingly hard and icy than he had ever heard it before.
“If you’d just tried to take the box, I might have let you walk out of here only missing a hand… but nobody touches the kid.”
Kid… The kid…?
An incredulous shock converged with the final collapse of communication between Mose’s brain and body, and he tumbled backward, crashing through a dry-rotted wall to plunge into black water below.
Ripples and bubbles danced above him like liquid light… and then there was only darkness.
In the aftermath of Jafet Mose’s ignominious demise, Din Djarin heaved a sigh and holstered his blaster. Then he turned to look at the little green figure tangled in his cape. The kid had been awakened by the commotion, and now gazed up at him, big eyes wide with a wondering uncertainty—but absolutely no trace of fear.
Din gently lifted his foundling, setting him on his drawn-up knees, and encircled him loosely with his arms.
“Listen, kid… I’m sorry for the way I treated you these last couple days. But I was only trying to protect you.” A gloved hand hesitated for a second before lightly stroking the back of the kid’s head. “That guy never liked me. I knew I couldn’t trust him, so I thought you’d be less at risk if I downplayed how…” He caught himself on the word that sprang to his mind with such natural ease, but chose to use it anyway. “How important you are to me.”
The kid pointedly made a raspberry noise, narrowing his eyes.
“I know, I know. It didn’t work anyway—so we’re not going to try that tactic again. And I promise, I’ll make it up to you.” Din smiled beneath his helmet. “So how would you like fenosaur eggs for breakfast? Yesterday I saw a couple of nests a little ways back. Once it gets light, we can be there in a few minutes with the jetpack.”
Whether it was his words or simply his tone that the kid understood, all trace of reproach immediately vanished—to be replaced by perked ears, sparkling eyes, and a happy smile.
“Okay. You’ve got a deal.” Din patted the kid’s back. “Now let’s get some sleep.”
As Din began to settle himself more comfortably, the kid squirmed down from his knees to nestle in the crook of his arm, close to his heart… and everything finally felt right again, for the first time since this misadventure began.
© 2022 Jordanna Morgan