Forbidden Embrace

Mos Pelgo

"Andie!" The yell from Marni made me jump. Thumping my head on the pump press I was working on.

"Oh stars, where are you?" She flustered, I could hear her in the other room, shuffling about hastily.

"In the back, working peacefully!" I called, twisting my way back out of the awkward position I was in, stuck between the pump press and the cooler valve.

The older woman appeared around the corner, eyes wide with excitement, still carrying her bucket of feed for the banthas, she bustled into the room as I manoeuvred free of the mining motor.

"What is it?" I asked as she all but bounced on the spot.

"There's a visitor." She beamed. This place wasn't known for its tourism, or at all for that matter. As far as I was aware it had been wiped from all global and local maps of Tatooine. The only way I'd found it was through spending copious amounts of time at the cantina bar, back in Mos Eisley.

"What do they want?" I rubbed my hands clean of grease and stretched out, I'd been stuck in between the gaps in the motor for an hour. As soon as I got here I'd been put to work.

"No idea, he's at the bar. Tall feller, covered in fancy armour."

I spun around to face her.

"What kind of armour?"

"Like I said, fancy. Real shiny stuff, couldn't see him much actually for the sun shining off his helmet." I was out the door before she finished her sentence.

"Andie!" She called out as I hurried out the front door.

It surely couldn't be? Not so soon, I'd anticipated waiting weeks, months even for someone else to come looking.

I hurried through the town, doing my best to avoid the sand. How I hated the sand, trying to run on it felt counterproductive at best.

As I approached the bar I caught sight of an unfamiliar speeder parked out the front. Many of the locals had already gathered close by, whispering and chattering about the visitor.

The Marshal was already there, strolling into the bar in his stolen armour. He says he bought it, but that didn't make it his. As much as the Marshal bugged me, parading around town in beskar that he had no business possessing, hopefully it had drawn in exactly the type of person I was hoping for.

I joined one of the small crowds, a few I already knew by name but most were still strangers. Mos Pelgo wasn't entirely welcoming to new people.

They whispered about the man, clad in armour.

"What did he look like?" I piped up, asking the baker I'd become acquainted with.

"Intimidating."

"What armour was he wearing?"

"I dunno, but Arvin over there said he reckons it's Mandalorian." She nudged a thumb towards a stocky man the other side of the street.

"You're sure?"

"Blast these questions, just wait till he comes back out, child!" She scowled and moved over to continue talking to one of the others.

I tried seeing inside, but the midday suns cast too harsh of a light against the shadows inside, I couldn't see much besides Weequay, standing stock still behind the bar, staring at what must be happening in there.

Surely if it was a Mandalorian, a real Mandalorian, he'd have come here to claim back the armour. It was a rightful claim.

Before I had a chance to consider going into the bar myself, the ground started to tremble. After just a few weeks of being here, it was already a familiar sensation. The locals panicked, hurrying inside, under doorways but at least off of the sand roads between the buildings.