Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Senator Kristine Kochanski stood with her hands on her hips, glowering at the figure before her.  She was dressed in the pale regal attire typical of her position, yet she allowed her usual grace to slip from her frame, frustration taking it's place. A trio of slightly worried looking armed guards hovered within eyesight of the two, as they had done for the rest of their exchange. She paid them no mind, used to the paranoid treatment, and frankly too tired to care.

“I am telling you now Arnold, you are getting on that ship when it arrives. How many times must I explain its importance?”

Before her, with his cloaked arms crossed over his chest, and a disgruntled expression gracing his form, stood a man.

He was taller than herself, with aurburn hair framing a pale, anxious face, and a black tunic covering his frame. The polished, glinting handel of a lightsabre hung at his belt- which swayed slightly as he fidgeted. He didn't seem overly remarkable at first glance, however, in these parts he had built himself quite the reputation. The Jedi was preached galaxy wide as a saviour, Sithslayer, Deathstar destroyer, liberator of the galaxy and all that sort of thing. His name?

The one and only Arnold Judas Rimmer.

He hadn't meant to become such an important figurehead in the New Republic- not really. The whole hero thing had been blown far out of proportion by the council for 'the galaxy's benefit'. And besides, the heroic bantha crap he had actually managed had been wholly an accident, and unfortunate lack of communication between Obi-wan and himself. Leaving his home moon of Io to go travelling with a crazy old Jedi hadn't exactly been his idea, his mother had insisted, and Rimmer hadn't expected the lifetime commitment that came with it. A holiday of sorts or little summer project maybe. But not something he couldn't come back from! Still, not wanting to show weakness in the face of anyone the young, delicious looking man he had been had decided to just go with the flow. And it had been bound to make his brother's jealous, of course. Who wouldn't be?

But it had not come without consequences.

Loosing his hand had been a start. Slightly traumatising yes, but fixable.

Losing his life however had been much more permanent. And, in a stupid droid malfunction of all things! He had gone from being one of the luckiest idiots in the whole galaxy to a complete failure, come on- a food serving droid of all things!? What an unfitting end for the Republic's icon.

(He could still never stay in the same room as a certain cold summer soup).

Luckily for him -although he wasn't feeling it at this current moment- his role had been deemed important enough for his life force to be transferred to a hard light hologram, pre prepared by the Republic in case of an unforeseen accident like that. Handy. The change from being very much alive, to very much not, hadn't been as drastic as he anticipated. It mostly posed the issue of never ending paperwork on his part- and covering the shimmering letter 'H' on his brow with a skin coloured product (he refused to acknowledge he was in fact wearing Kochanski's makeup). The council weren't too fond of the news reaching the ears of the public after the discrimination and segregation faced by holograms in the last few decades. They were deemed unnatural and inhumane -and not to mention extremely expensive to run- by the living, and shunned from regular society. Any remaining holograms these days had learnt to hide their marks and stay quiet, much like Rimmer himself.

Laying low after the whole empire schmuck suited Rimmer just fine. He still went on the occasional 'missions' for the council, which was mostly some easy pirate hunting or non important negotiations to give the intergalactic television shows something to talk about, but spent the rest of his time advising his dearest friend. Not that she really needed it, but he liked to think his occasional interjections in trade meetings were useful. It was a simple life, and pretty enjoyable once he got over the constant stares and his crippling fear of public speaking. (He had a speech coach and multiple books to thank for that)

But, as things often did, his tiny roles had begun to grow stale over the last year or so, leading to various politicians demanding a bigger input from 'The Sith Slayer', which is what had led him here, in this room, being berated by Kochanski for his lack of appeal towards the newly reformed society of Mandalor.

The Republic had been attempting to reach out and gain a meeting with the infamous warriors for months since the reclaiming of their planet, and after many long silences, they had finally agreed to a negotiation meeting on Mandalor. On one condition.

The New Republic's main representative must be him. Arnold Rimmer. No exceptions.

The blue beskar-clad man who had delivered the terms via holo-message had made it very clear they wanted the Jedi on Mandalor, and it was either him or no one. Rimmer couldn't blame them really, negotiating with a Jedi could show a new dawn of time for the residents of the galaxy. An age old feud broken, ya-da ya-da. But he still didn't fully understand how Kochanski had agreed to it so swiftly, with no thought to his opinion at all. Sure, he would had definitely refused, but still! It was dangerous for him out there! Remaining revenge fuelled imperials, bounty hunters, you name it! Not to mention the long journey to the planet, and the supposedly harsh unforgiving terrain there if he actually made it. Or how about angry determined Mandolorian fighters wanting to prove themselves by defeating a well renowned Jedi? How was he supposed to cope!?

"Is Mandalor really that important- can't we just ignore it.?" he pleaded yet again, trying to ignore the slight whine in his tone.

Kochanski just glared at him.

"No. Don't be a coward. You know very well how important it is, besides, we've already made the announcements! This is exactly what we need to get other politicians off of your, and more importantly, my back!"

He sighed and ran a hand through his curls.

"Tell me, do you really want to work in the news industry like multiple people have suggested to me? I could do with the money you'd make."

"No! I know…I know it's important. To everyone"

The words 'to you' were left unsaid- writhing in the air until they faded away.

“Please Rimmer.” Her gaze softened, and the hologram was reminded yet again the pure stress Kochanski was constantly under- despite her best efforts to remain authoritative, the dark circles beneath her eyes gave her away.

There didn't seem to be a way to get out of this. But maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as he thought.

"But you could at least let me go with the others on the big ship." he tried, meeting the woman's eyes with as much hope as the hologram could muster.

Admitting defeat wasn’t fun, but the smile on the woman’s face almost made it worth the effort. He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring look. Putting the other factors aside, it was quite nice to be trusted with an important mission.

All the other New Republic visitors- the people that actually knew how to negotiate- were flying to the planet in about two days time on a large (and decently fortified) ship. With a pilot he knew he could actually trust.

But not him! Oh no, that would be far to easy.

According to the multiple people assessing the pros and cons of his journey, having the Jedi on such an obvious transport would be too risky, especially after the news of his departure had been spread. So, with advice from the same blue Mandalorian, 'alternative transport' had been arranged by their side. A craft that could supposedly slip unnoticed across the expanse of the galaxy, and hopefully lessen the chance of bounty hunters flagging him down. As far as the public were aware, Rimmer was in a well guarded ship leaving on the same day as the others.

Which he would have much preferred, to be honest.

He wasn't sure what Mandalorians would deem acceptable for a man of his standing, but his hopes were certainly not high.

“I’m not going to bother explaining it again. I would like my favourite Jedi to remain not blown up by Imperials thank you very much” Kochanski grumbled, before moving to the door and motioning for him to follow.

“Come on then- the Razor Crest will have entered the atmosphere by now.

As her figure disappeared through the metal door Rimmer followed anxiously.

“Razor Crest? You never said anything about a Razor Crest!”

...

The two ended up in the cleared landing bay as a rather battered looking ship came into view, with a suspicious amount of green paint splattering its rusted sides. Rimmer groaned for what felt like the millionth time today, and cast another pleading glance to the woman by his side. The hologram caught a whiff of amusement through the force, and he frowned.

"You're enjoying this."

"Maybe I am...but look on the bright side? If even you can't believe I would put you on such a ship, then who else would? It's safer than it looks."

Looking up at him with a wry smile, Kochanski handed him his bag-an ordinary cloth satchel. It only contained a few essentials, some emergency batteries for his lightbee, a handful of extra defence weapons and one of his books on meeting tactics.

Rimmer was the highest quality hologram money could buy, meaning he could survive off even the most minimal power source and still keep all his features, and he could venture a surprising distance from powered buildings or ships. It also entailed he never needed to carry extra clothes- the algorithm could change him whenever. Which was useful, but it also surprised him how much one could miss putting their arms through a shirt. Not an important issue though. He had bigger things to focus on.

Ahead of him, the Razor Crest finally shuddered to a stop on the ground, and it opened surprisingly smoothly. Kochanski pulled him into a hug, her hair tickling his chin as he made one last dissatisfied grumble.

"You'll be fine ok? You're in good hands. The Mandolorian is very good at this sort of thing, I promise."

Rimmer froze. Mandolorian?

Seemingly noticing his change in demeanour, the Senator stared at him confused. Then she laughed.

"Who else did you think could get into Mandolorian airspace to drop you off at the capital? You know all the trouble we've had even speaking to them!" she said with a bright smile crinkling her eyes.

The Jedi said nothing in return, suddenly feeling quite stupid. Rimmer wasn't really considered unobservant, but he certainly had his careless moments. It wasn't like there was anything wrong with traveling dictated by one of their kind...

Rimmer shuddered, hands instinctively fluttering down to grasp his weapon, before he stopped himself.

Suspicions were silly, he was travelling to their planet for Kriffs sake! But it would have been nice to know about. To mentally prepared for or something. From all the hologram had read on their culture they were complicated people, and Rimmer would have to undoubtedly stew in the pilot's bottled up emotions for the whole trip. Great. Just great.

He fixed his mechanical gaze back to where a lone figure had now emerged- his shining beskar armour a stark contrast to the dank ship's opening.

As far as dramatic entrances went, this was a pretty cool one.

The Mandolorian was male, evidently, with a strong sense of unease radiating from his covered form through the force. He hid it well through - walking down coolly until he stood a respectable distance from the pair. His hands, which were clothed in tanned brown gloves, looked a little lost. Rimmer got the sense that the warrior wanted nothing more than to grasp his blaster, but held back out of awareness of the situation.

A small smile tugged at the corners of the hologram's lips. His actions were painfully similar to his own, reminding Rimmer there was a real person nestled behind the obscene amount of metal.

Weaponry was clustered at seemingly every available space on the Mandolorian, each piece looking meticulously cleaning and cared for. Whether this was a surprise or not Rimmer didn't know. It didn't look like the kind of lifestyle where that level of care could be achieved...but who knows? Maybe he was a clean freak or something. The brunette definitely wouldn't be complaining if that was the case.

The hunter made a small, gruff noise in the back of his throat- reminding both Kochanski and Rimmer they were most likely oggling.

"Er, I've come for Mr Rimmer?" he said, the dark lines of his visor set in his direction, like rivets of pure obsidian.

The jedi frowned ever so slightly.

Even the voice modulator in the man's helmet could not mask the heavy accent he possessed- his words forming in a way Rimmer hadn't ever experienced before. And he wasn't sure how to feel about it.

"Sorry, I feel like that was obvious.." the man tried again, reminding the pair that neither had actually addressed him.

Kochanski shook her head slightly, snapping away from whatever thought train she had been on, before smiling up at the figure and offering her elegantly gloved hand, which he shook hesitantly.

"I apologise, I am Senator Kristine Kochanski. You will have to forgive me Sir, you are the first Mandolorian I have met in real life. I was quite blown away by the beauty of pure beskar." she said in an amazed tone.

If Rimmer didn't know anything better, he could have sworn she was blushing.

The Mandolorian seemed a little shocked. Kochanski was right, the armour was certainly a marvel to look at. The unpainted metal caught the low light of the landing docks in a wholly new way, the reflection almost seeming to bend and ripple along each section.

"I- Thank you. It's an honour to meet someone of your esteem Senator."

He turned to Rimmer, visor unreadable and still. The hologram swallowed nervously, as he was suddenly reminded of just how dangerous this being was.

"And this is Mr Rimmer?"

The hologram nodded curtly, forcing his eyes away from the captivating black of the eye piece. He didn't offer his hand as his friend had done (he wasn't wearing gloves! Who knows where the Mandolorian had been?) but the warrior did not seem to take offence.

"Pleasure to meet you."

"Hm."

The silence was loud. However, it was quickly broken by the woman beside him, who gave Rimmer a gentle push.

"I assume you will be leaving as soon as possible? You're welcome to refresh yourself if you wish Mandolorian, but you are on quite a tight schedule." she offered.

He shook his head.

"No you're right." Casting a look at Rimmer again, he tilted his helmet in a 'follow me' gesture, before turning tail and returning to his ship.

Rimmer looked back at Kochanski, who gave him an encouraging thumbs up, and padded after the armoured figure. The whole situation felt a little surreal, but he boarded slowly.

He had blown up a Death star for Kriffs sake, he could certainly handle a few days in a shabby space ship!

Chapter Text

"This isn't exactly what I expected..." the Jedi murmured, finally breaking the uncomfortable silence that had settled upon them.

"Pretty cool, right?" came the reply from beneath the helmet, his tone light despite the chilling crackle of the voice moderator.

Well, that was certainly one way to put it.

Rimmer cast a scrutinous eye around the razor crest's interior, as the hatch closed behind him with a mechanical hiss, sealing his fate. The Mandolorian seemed to have relaxed ever so slightly now that they had evaded the crowded landing bay, and he seemed stupidly unaware of the disgust in his tone. Or, he was simply choosing to ignore it.

He watched as the other man wove carefully through the clutter that was decorating every possible surface of the space- mounds of it constricting the already minimal space. A sharp smell of metal and oil pierced his nose cruelly, and he allowed his eyes to wander back to his escort, wondering if it was too late to run while he had the chance. Promises and honour be damned, this was pure horror.

Unbothered by the maze of mess, the Mandolorian continued to make his way onwards. The hologram visibly winced when his beskar clashed into a jutting out slab of another unidentifiable metal, but the other man didn't seem to care, only grunting quietly. How did he manage to look so put together when this way his living situation? It was truly bizarre.

He turned back in Rimmer's direction, as if finally realising the taller man was not on his tail.

"Something wrong?"

If he hadn't known better, Rimmer could have sworn he heard a huff.

Pausing to sweep another gaze around the space, he looked back up and gave the armoured man a grumpy look translating roughly to:

'Wrong? Of course something is wrong metal for brains! Tell me something, are you mentally deficient? Have all these years of fighting clogged your senses to a critical level? How could I possibly be ok?"

Well, admittedly it probably hasn't said all that. Just something vaguely disgruntled and unhappy. (The man was scary, what could he say?)

"Well..."

Rimmer swallowed back his displeased words after realising how squeaky and high pitched they sounded, dropping his gaze to the rusted floor again. He was painfully reminded in that moment just how deadly his unlikely companion was alleged to be, and just how little their society actually needed his little political visit. Sure, Rimmer couldn't exactly die again, but he could still feel pain like a human, which he wasn't all too keen on experiencing by the gloved hands.

The Mandolorian remained motionless for a disturbing amount of time, visor locked onto his face. Just when the tension got too much for him to bear, a loud sound pierced the cabin, making him jump.

Laughter?

The warrior was.. laughing? Not stabbing him? Not whipping out a strange plethora of weapons to impale his light-bee on?

Well that was a relief. Rimmer let out a shaky breath he didn't know he had been holding, and allowed a cautious smile to creep onto his face as the other man calmed down.

"You should have seen your face!" he wheezed, traces of amusement still lingering in his accented words.

"...huh?"

"Sorry. Don't worry about it- I guess you're not a fan of all the clutter hey posh boy? I like to collect souvenirs you see, reminds me where I've been." the man continued when Rimmer's words failed him yet again.

"Yes, I can tell."

Forcing himself to relax, he began to pick his way distastefully through the mess, to which the Mandolorian gave a pleased nod and disappeared up a ladder that he had not spotted before. The dark sleeve of his robe caught on something in the gloom at some point, but he heeded it little mind, unhooking it as hastily as possible.

"You'll probably want to hurry up mate, it's not wise to be down here when this baby takes off, trust me!" a muffled voice shouted from the unseen room, and the jedi scampered the rest of the way to the ladder- a rat in a shrinking cage.

Judging from the various shattered remains of strange objects that he had spied, the other was not exaggerating.

With a growing feeling of dread, he scaled the ladder, not looking particularly forward to the inevitable state of the cockpit.

Just as he poked his head through the hatch, a deep rumbling thrum began to shake the very foundation of the ship, and the hologram practically dove for the spare seat behind the pilot's. It was made of dark cracked leather, and suspiciously stained, but he couldn't quite bring himself to care. The holograms nerves were shot. (Well, they would be if he had nerves in the first place) And only once his seatbelt was very secure did he allow himself to calm his erratic breathing, and take a look around the surprisingly clear space.

Yes, he might have been over reacting a tad after hearing the engine start, but could you really blame him? He was in a very stressful situation for Kriffs sake!

It was certainly better than the holding area he had just been in, with only minimal clutter and decoration slapped across the metal walls. He supposed it must be dangerous to have miscellaneous objects so close when navigating the galaxy- at least the warrior seemed to have a tiny bit of common sense.

Speaking of him, Rimmer suddenly found himself aware of the fact that the other had been in fact speaking to him for a while as he waited for his passenger to settle, about nothing in particular as far as the brunette could tell.

"-really need to calm the smeg down, it's not healthy to be so stressed all the time. Especially when you're stuck with me for the journey. I consider it unprofessional, you get me?"

"I'm sorry."

Rimmer was surprised he managed to get any words out at all, but for once his body was on his side and gave a reasonable response to the walking fridge magnet. Also, what the hell was a smeg?

The Mandolorian seemed quite... different to how the jedi imagined. He talked a lot. A lot more than necessary for a normal person, and definitely much more than a religious warrior was supposed to. Surely they were supposed to be the strong silent types, no? It was odd, unnerving even...were they all like this?

A cold drop of dread seeded itself into the man's artificial stomach as he remembered he would soon be dealing with a whole planet of  these new, unpredictable people. And he would have to meet their leader. The Mand'alor: perhaps to be considered the galaxies greatest warriors, or most heartless killer out there. A true king of fighters.

How the hell was a soft boy like him supposed to cope!? Rimmer loved himself, but he knew his blindingly goodlucks and charm could only get him so far on a poisoned planet; a damaged society.

Oh bugger it all.

"Oi." the Mandolorian interrupted his chaotic thoughts with exasperation, turning in his seat to face the other.

"You ready? I'm afraid it'll be a tad, er, bumpy? She's not quite as stable as your swanky ships bless her..."

He ran a gloved hand sadly across the dashboard, before flicking a switch, obviously not caring to wait for Rimmer's confirmation.

"Hold on tight princess!" he shouted to be heard above the thrilling thrum of the machine.

The hologram would have complained, perhaps shouted in indignation at the blatant disrespect towards him, but the loud rattles of entering the planet's atmosphere cut him off entirely, and he was forced to swallow his bitter tasting pride. Though, the tips of his ears burnt a little.

From outside the window, Rimmer could see licks of white flame tearing into the craft as they ascended, and found himself slowly coming to believe that the very ground would disintegrate beneath his feet as they broke into flaming chunks that adorned the evening sky. Maybe that would be the easy way out- lightbee destroyed, no coming back from that! Well, as far as he was aware.

Clouds danced and evaporated around them like broken spirits, with every second growing a brighter light: a more certain end. This could have been planned, should the passage truly fail. What better way to assassinate a political idol than a simple flight gone wrong. Sure, a sacrifice of the pilot would have to be made...but the Mandolorians were a ruthless people. Rimmer was sure one measly, ostracised 'chauffeur' would not be missed. Well hey ho. Not like there was anything he could do about it.

Another mighty crack jostled his seat, and Rimmer decided to clamp his eyes shut and take some deep breaths. He would be ok right?

"You surviving over there?"a voice called out, and he was suddenly aware of the fact that the deadly shaking had ceased.

Also, he probably- no, definitely looked rather silly.

The Jedi cleared his throat awkwardly and unclenched his sweaty grip on his bag. He wasn't dead, they weren't exploded, and most importantly, the jedi hadn't just uncovered some dramatic murder attempt. Hurray for him.

"Yep. Yep diddly. Absolutely." he answered shakily.

This day was proving to definitely not be as relaxing as anticipated.

"I wouldn't worry, she's gone much worse places than this yeah? Chill out man."

Ha. If only Kochanski could see a Mandolorian telling him to 'chill out'. Though, as he bitterly thought back to the flush on her face, perhaps she wouldn't care all that much.

"Right. I wasn't worried."

"No?" came the amused reply.

Rimmer heard another of the man's all too frequent wheeze laughs make its way out of the armour, and he frowned. He could almost picture the crooked smile that must be plastered on that unseen face, a treasure that none had yet to behold. Shaking his head briefly to rid himself of unimportant thoughts, the hologram cleared his throat from the terror that had previously latched onto its depths.

"No. I trust this ship is well, safer  than it first seems I guess. Senator Kochanski surely wouldn't have put me in such obvious danger." Rimmer muttered, more as an assurance to himself than anything.

There was an old groan of metal as the Mandolorian swiveled the pilot seat to face in his direction, with the ship stable and making its own progress through the empty expanse of space. He leaned forward with his hands set on the metal plates of his thighs, and studied the jedi.

Finally, he spoke. "Kochanski, hmmm? She your little girlfriend Rimsy?"

A blank way made its way across the taller man's face, and he almost felt like laughing if his stomach wasn't still somersaulting in his throat.

"Don't call me that. And no, she's not. Not like it's any of your business"

"What, Rimsy? I think it suits you...no need to be so rude."

"No it doesn't." he paused, narrowing his eyes at the imposing figure.

"You never told me your name?"

A silence followed his words and the Mandolorian cocked his head a little, sending a wave of battling conflict through the force that hit Rimmer like a brick wall. His connection with the force was, well, random for a lack of better word. Sometimes he could go months without a single miserable twinge from someone around him, and some days the rush of thoughts and feelings overwhelmed him. Whilst most Jedi learn to accurately tune into the rushing power, Rimmer had never quite had the knack for it. Being dead didn't exactly help either. Yes, he believed he had a soul in some twisted way, but the brain the ancient power was latching to was purely mechanical. Perhaps sometimes it saw him more as human, and some more as machine. Rimmer didn't know, despite the numerous trips to the physiatrist Kochanski had frog marched him to, his identity crisis had never completely cured itself.

Still, he could have appreciated being held back from all the emotional connection on this particular venture. The rolling waves of too many feelings lapped at his chest as the hologram's eyes ventured back to the covered face, trying not to show too much affect.

"My name?"

As if flicking a switch, the sacred connection ceased, and Rimmer straightened his back.

"Or not, if you prefer."

"Well it's a bit of an iffy subject in my culture I suppose. Your name... it's one of the most personal things we can own you see?"

Rimmer froze, not wanting to have offended precious Mandolorian culture already.

"I'm sorry, you can just forget it."

"Nah you're good. Need to trust your pilot right?"

Panic erupted in his holographic veins.

"No wait, I said it's fine-"

"Lister. David Lister." the voice interjected in a neutral tone, and the jedi winced.

Lister? He played the word over in his mind, trying to understand the value and gravity of this gift. It was nice. A well rounded word, so to speak.

"Good to meet you, David Lister."

Rimmer watched the figure as keenly as was sociably acceptable, and noticed a small shiver run through his hands and forearms. Huh.

"Erm. Right. Now that's over with, best get some kip yeah? Not much else to do now..."

He swiveled back around rather hurriedly, and Rimmer couldn't help but feel it was only for the sake of no longer talking to him.

How rude.