The Mandalorian's Slave

Our Gamble

It's strange to think of the Mandalorian and myself as a team. But that's what we are now. At least, that's what he claims. But, in order to pull this off, we're going to need to make our team a little bigger.

Right now, we're a laughable group. There's the Mandalorian, one of the most skilled warriors in the galaxy. There's me, a slave who sometimes has magical powers. And there's a child with possibly the same powers. It sounds like the punchline to a bad joke.

Of course, there's not that many people we can rely on. Certainly not Ran or any other bounty hunter. Mandalorians aren't exactly sociable, so our list of friends is small. There's only two people we can trust: Cara Dune and Kuiil.

The ride back to Sorgan is pleasant. No one tries to kill us, which is an improvement. And as much as I hate Caben, I miss the planet covered in green.

There's only one problem: we don't know if Cara Dune still lives here.

We land in the same field we did last time. I scoop the Child into my arms and follow the Mandalorian to the exit.

"You can stay on the ship, if you'd like." He's worried I might see Caben.

"I'm fine. If this gamble of ours is going to work, we're going to need to be brave." My words sound a lot wiser than how I feel. In my head, all I can see is us dying a million different ways.

As we approach the diner, we hear chatter escaping it. Much louder than last time. The Mandalorian and I exchange a glance before entering.

The tables have been pushed back, forming a makeshift arena. In the center of the restaurant are two fighters, connected by a string of red electricity. One of the fighters is a tall male with a crown of horns. The other is Cara Dune.

The crowd screams, eager for bloodshed, as the two punch each other. The male flings Cara against the bar. He lunges forward to knock her out, but she dodges. The two exchange a whirlwind of punches and dodges. It's like a strange, deadly dance.

The fight is over quickly, with Cara pinning him in a headlock. Just as I think he's about to die, the other contender taps out.

"Pay up, mudscuffers! Come on. That's mine, thank you." Cara has a triumphant grin as a meager amount of credits are pressed into her hand. The Mandalorian and I let ourselves drift in the crowd closer toward her.

"Looking for some work?" Of course the Mandalorian skips any other pleasantries.

Cara glances at us and the look on my face. "Let's get a drink."

The Mandalorian speaks quickly as we're served mouth-watering food. On the house, we're told, for such an entertaining match.

"It seems like a straightforward operation. They're providing the plan and the firepower. I'm the snare." The Mandalorian speaks like this will be easy.

"With the kid?" Cara takes a greedy bite of food.

"That's why I'm coming to you."

"I don't know. I've been advised to lay low. If anybody runs my chain code, I'll rot in a cell for the rest of my life."

"I thought you were a veteran."

I sit in silence. She's going to tell us no. We're going to be doomed.

"I've been a lot of things since. Most of them carry a life sentence. If I so much as book passage on a ship registered to the New Republic, I'm..." Cara's voice trails off. We all know what she's not saying: her fate will not be pretty.

"I have a ship. I can bring you there and back with a handsome reward." The Mandalorian leans forward, persistent. "You can live a life free of worry."