4. Strange but Not Threatening

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Even with the rear gate still open, the ship had an aroma of soldering wire and an aura of hard living. But it was in good shape for a near-relic—well taken care of. It certainly wasn't a comfort craft, with no portholes in the hold, improvised crates for seating, more crates for tables, and a single stowaway-bunk. But she had already forgiven it all due to the Crest's pedigree.

Built and run by the Galactic Republic as a rugged military transport, it had its own hyperdrive and two powerful engines giving the ship long range even at sublight. More valuable still was its status as a legal ghost. Pre-Empire and pre-New Republic, it wasn't required to register on either network, making it ideal for low-profile travel.

She had never been in one, and rarely turned down the opportunity to see a new (even if ancient) type of ship in person—particularly a rare one. She kept her attention, however, balanced between her surroundings and her temporary... travelling companion? Boss? (No, she didn't do bosses.) Handler? Collaborator? Whatever he was to her, she wanted to figure him out quickly.

Mandalorians were more rare than Razor Crests and steeped in legend. Obviously, tales of their history, culture, skills, and plight had come up in her ongoing attempts to absorb all of the galaxy's knowledge. This first one she'd met had yet to give her much to compare against what she'd learned, other than his rather remarkable appearance and all-business attitude. As always, her first tactic was to observe rather than pry; people tended to reveal far more when you weren't overtly trying to get them to.

Having finished checking a series of switches, he started gesturing around the hold.

You can stow your things in that cargo net... if you have anything.

He seemed to have noticed, halfway through his statement, that she carried only a satchel, but continued on.

There's just the one bunk, but there are a couple of bedrolls in that compartment. Cockpit seats three, and you can ride up there as long as you're hands off with the controls. That cabinet is off-limits. How did you recognize a Razor Crest?

Rolling a question into the end of his grand tour of pointing at things caught her off guard and she snapped her eyes to him before collecting herself and narrowing her gaze.

Information dealer.

Her curt reply was met with a change in the Mandalorian's stance, as he once again shifted his weight to one side and brought a hand to his hip.

I guess I should be glad, then. Alright. Let's talk information. I need a heading—a world that's remote in the region, or nearby but not easy to access, though not entirely inaccessible. Or a world with large, unpopulated areas due to natural deterrents like climate or landscape.

She shook her head slightly.

That's not going to work. I can see the list forming, and it's long.

How long?

This is the Madlands. Little here is easy to access, even when it's not far away. You've probably described more than half the planets in the sector.

He sighed and she continued,

If you tell me more specifically what you're looking to find on this world...

It was the Mandalorian's turn to shake his head.

NO.

He sighed again, and softened.

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