Balance || The Mandalorian [ON HIATUS]

✦ Eighteen

"You ready?"

Mando's voice broke me out of my reverie, and I shook my head to clear my thoughts from their muddled state, nodding in response and pulling the hood of my cloak over my head. Taking Grogu with us as a lesson learned from our previous mission, Mando and I departed the Razor Crest and stepped foot onto the surface of Dolus.

At first glance, there was only one way to describe Dolus: gloomy.

The planet was dark, covered almost entirely in jagged black rock formations and onyx-colored sand. Stormy clouds hung overhead in wave shapes, casting shadows every which way and causing a looming feeling of foreboding to prickle at the back of my neck. Sharp gusts of wind sliced at my exposed skin like icy knives, scattering sand with a sound akin to a cloak slithering over the ground. Grogu whimpered, hiding himself in the soft fleece of the sling in which he was strapped to Mando's chest. I felt suddenly grateful for my armor - the salvaged chromium had been a nuisance amidst Tatooine's blistering heat, but provided much-needed protection from the bitter cold of Dolus.

The structure of the buildings around us were reminiscent of Tatooine - short and mainly rectangular, made of stone - but were a drab, slate gray in contrast to the dull beige shade that seemed inescapable on the humid planet.

In a way, Dolus and Tatooine were opposing poles of a magnet, and yet they were alike in some unseen way. It was nothing more than an inkling, a sense of familiarity, yet disconcerted me nonetheless.

The sensation of deja vu that had crept over me magnified tenfold as I took in the dreary atmosphere and the several people passing Mando and I as we stood on the rough path. They slowed their paces considerably as they proceeded, taking in our armor-clad figures as well as the child strapped to Mando, which only served to heighten my apprehension. 

Not to worry, y/n. It's just another planet. A strangely familiar, weird-looking planet.

Focusing on the Force flowing through all the beings, the world around me helped calm my nerves, grounding me, if only for a moment. For what seemed to be the tenth time since our escape from the Guild, the sensation of my lightsaber resting against my hip brought me comfort, knowing that possibly the most important part of me was, in fact, safe and sound.

We began to proceed towards the center of the city, straying to the sides of the well-traveled path in order to avoid any unwanted attention. Passing under a cracked, weathered stone archway, Mando and I entered the industrial starport.

The port was compact for a planet of Dolus' size, comprised of a dozen or so stalls of various merchandise under a domed roof as well as a hangar in which small ships were docked.

Most of the population wore masks or hoods over their faces to conceal their identities, making us almost fit in amidst the local people, if not for Mando's mirrorlike armor that reflected the dim light.

 As we entered, the attention of the sparse crowd seemed to snap directly to our figures, murmured conversations giving way to surprised whispers. Many scurried out of our - or rather, Mando's - way, cloaks swishing behind them in their haste to leave. Those who lingered in the area gave us sideways glances and poorly disguised double-takes. 

Mando and I turned to glance at each other, then continued into the port.

Although his aloof exterior betrayed no emotion outside of a few short moments on the Razor Crest, I could sense the twinge of apprehension that troubled Mando. The revelation made him seem more real, more human - an phenomenon that had seemed to have been happening more often as of late.

Around half an hour later, we had replenished all the necessary supplies, storing them in a cloth satchel. The sight of the satchel filled with domestic items, as well as the sling in which the child rested on Mando's chestplate made us seem almost normal, although our identities and ongoing predicament were anything but.

Mando and I began the trek back to the Razor Crest as the three suns of Dolus began to set behind us, illuminating the sky in brilliant shades of orange that contrasted the dreary tone of the planet's surface.

I was about to breathe a sigh of relief when I realized that something was off. 

The feeling of trepidation that prickled at the back of my neck had returned, and with greater intensity. The Force rang warning bells in my mind, urging me to draw attention to my surroundings. Subtly, I cast my gaze around the narrow alley through which Mando and I traveled, seeking out anything out of place in the darkened area. 

Then, I saw it: a mere flicker of a shadow against the stone wall beside me.

Narrowing my eyes, I focused on the dark shape that seemed to trail behind Mando and I as we tread lightly over the sandy ground, observing it grow gradually in size to form the silhouette of a person. A brief flare of fear set in as thoughts of bounty hunters and assassins eliminating, or worse, capturing us and the child ran through my mind. I tried to push away the notions, recalling my training and forcing rational thought to overcome sheer panic. 

Almost imperceptibly, I turned my head to the right by a few degrees. hoping to catch a glimpse of whoever was following us. 

The hooded, cloaked figure was clad head to toe in gray, blending against the side of the stone wall with ease. Tall and towering, the figure dwarfed even Mando's imposing stature in comparison. They could have been a Mon Calamari, a Mirialan, or even a Gungan - it was impossible to discern. 

"Mando," I hissed, immediately drawing the helmeted man's attention. "Five o'clock." Inconspicuously, Mando turned his visor to the right, then back forward to meet the jagged landscape. Not looking in my direction, he nodded slightly, Beskar helmet scarcely moving to acknowledge my statement. Slowly, he brought a gloved finger to meet the visor of his helmet, then let it drop back down to his side.

For a moment, my brow knotted in confusion, before I realized that Mando must have been referring to the heat sensor embedded into his helmet that allowed him to make out camouflaged living beings. Sneaking another glance backwards, I discreetly observed as the cloaked figure following us raised a gloved hand, holding up three fingers. A moment later, there were two, and then one.

Too late, I realized the significance of the gestures. 

With a great uproar, two figures dressed similarly to the one trailing behind Mando and I jumped in front of us, aiming rifles before we had any time to react. Jumping into action just a few seconds too late, we drew our blasters, and I fired a warning shot that passed cleanly between the two, just barely grazing the fabric of the larger person's chest. A low, guttural growl resounded and I felt a sudden throbbing pain on the top of my head, knees buckling as I crumbled to the sandy ground.

A clang of Beskar and an urgent voice calling my name were the last things I heard before the world around me faded into darkness.

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