Tapping his fingers on the arm of his chair, Boba ignored Fennec’s sharp look from the side as he continued making noise. He had an excess of energy and needed some way to work it out and since they didn’t have a person Boba could bash into the floor, well, this would have to do.

Outside of the viewscreen, hyperspace flitted by in a shower of bright light and blue and nothing Boba could do would would make things go faster.

Din’s emergency signal had gone of, sent of by the man himself instead of the time limit Boba had installed. Had the cockpit been unused for a week, it would have sent of a message to Boba’s gauntlet but no, Din himself had sent of this one.

It meant that Din, reckless, stupid Din, had looked at himself and realized that he was in severe problems and needed aid and no amount of hailing on the comms had Din responding.

Boba wasn’t sure what that meant.

He could make some guesses of course but wasn’t sure which one would be the right one and human imagination could be so much worse than the truth. So he tried not to imagine what kind of situation Din had landed himself in even as he had stocked the medbay of Slave 1 to the brim with supplies.

The King of Tatooine trusted few, his position was still precarious and leaving wasn’t in his best interest but… Din…

Din, who had such difficulty in asking for aid for himself, Din, who Boba could trust with his own life and business, Din, who could not be trusted with his own life.

Din had asked for help for once and Boba would answer it and where he went, Fennec followed these days.

Plus, regardless how much she might feign disinterest, he knew she was fond of their silver covered mandalorian.

Which was why they were both flying through space to Atanan-V to find their lost bounty hunter.

Hopefully, they weren’t too late.

()()()

Landing the piece of scrap he had ‘borrowed’ from a scrapyard onto the muddy ground, Paz eyed the other ship with trepidation even as he knew there weren’t any living signs around, Paz having scanned the surroundings before he dared to land.

It wasn’t the Razor Crest and he wasn’t sure what to make of that.

Honestly, Paz wasn’t sure what to make of the emergency signal either, still faintly beeping on his gauntlet. Din Djarin was a stubborn son of a bitch and there had only been two instances before the covert was exposed on Nevarro that the di’kut had used it in all his bounty hunter years.

Both times Din had been on the verge of death and had they been any later, Din would not be here today.

If he was alive.

Paz wasn’t sure what he was going to find inside the other ship, if it even was Din.

But it couldn’t be anyone else, only Din, their beroya, had this particular emergency signal.

It couldn’t be sourced from a terminal, the inbuilt code meant it auto destroyed itself after a week, it had to input every week for it to be usable.

A security, to keep the covert safe, to ensure their beroya couldn’t be used for them if caught.

It could only be input by a person that knew it.

Din.

Just Din.

Their beroya, their breadwinner.

Disengaging the ramp of the barely flying scrap metal he had dared to fly, Paz hefted his canon onto his back and made his way out, knowing he needed to investigate, to make sure but not being stupid about it as he scanned the surrounding area with his helmet.

Good thing he did too, picking up the signals that the ship was currently active with defenses.

Paz paused uncertainly, staring at the ship. He wasn’t a slicer, had never had the patience or mind to learn that particular skill and seeing as how he should be visible from the cockpit, it meant that whoever was in there hadn’t disengaged it.

Or couldn’t.

Paz mind flashed to the last time Din had used the emergency signal, to the blood covered cuirass of the beroya as he was transported to the ship that had come to his rescue. ‘I don’t have that much bacta.’ Paz swallowed thickly, shifting on his feet, the mud squelching under his boots, dusky rain falling down around him.

When the signal had arrived, Paz hadn’t thought.

Just acted, as he often did if he was honest.

It could be counted as both a flaw and a pro honestly, a pro when in battle, acting quickly often saved his life. But other times, it landed him in situations like this, standing without proper gear and no backup.

The potential of a survivor from the covert had been too alluring, the idea of finding Din again slamming Paz with a need he thought he’d overcome by aiding Din with the foundling.

Standing outside the ship though, Paz wished he had thought to bring someone with him, to fill his ship with better supplies.

Because either Din was not in that ship or he was too injured to move and disengage the protections set in place.

Neither prospect was good.

Grumbling, Paz only got another minute of peace to stare at the ship before the sound of another ship in atmosphere had him tensing, his head snapping up and around to find a spot of growing darkness on the grey sky.

Another ship was approaching.

Enemies?

Or did whoever, be it Din or someone else, send for more aid than the beroya signal. Honestly, Paz hoped it was the latter.

Din would have been alone for a long time and the idea of him having backup was slightly soothing… but Paz wouldn’t know until whoever was arriving landed and since he couldn’t do anything else…

Paz settled to wait, his canon pulled of his shoulder and into his hands just in case as he moved closer to the ship without touching it.

If they were friendlies, they wouldn’t dare shoot on the ship at the very least. ‘Let us hope its allies, eh verd’ika?’ Paz mused as the ship came fully into view, an old Firespray from the looks of it.

Di’kut = Idiot

Beroya = Bounty hunter

Verd’ika = Little soldier