The Mandalorian's Slave

Fools

Time is a blur. Everything is racing by, yet I feel infinite. Maybe I'm crazy. I'm certainly acting crazy.

Only a fool would attack a squadron of storm troopers armed with nothing but a blaster and a retired IG droid. But love makes fools out of all of us.

I feel as though I'm alive. That every moment before this was dull and only a half-life. I dodge blasts before they've even been fired. I hit Imperials with unimaginable accuracy. I am one with the universe, with the precarious race of time.

Part of me is aware of Cara, Karga, and the Mandalorian joining the fight. I feel a surge of emotion rise up, but I push it down. The moment is all that matters.

I hear an explosion, followed by a wounded scream from Cara. I turn to help, only to be intercepted by a strange man.

He radiates power as he marches through the smoke and debris. Still firing wildly, I take a moment to study his face.

The man is wearing black armor, accompanied by a flowing cape. So he's got a flame for drama then. His short black hair is slicked back, revealing a weathered brown face. He has a pencil thin mustache hovering over what appears to be a permanent sneer. I'm no genius, but this guy can't be good news.

With a sanguine casualness, he fires his blaster lazily. It hits the Mandalorian on the head, sending a loud ping echoing in the small courtyard.

The Mandalorian turns, ready to fire, but the man in black is faster. He fires at a small generator near the Mandalorian. Before I can scream in warning, the entire world seems to be ripped apart.

I'm flown backwards, by body painfully thumping on the solid ground. I force myself to my knees, my ears still ringing, and begin crawling toward the Mandalorian.

Cara is at his side already. She drags him into the small building that they've been taking shelter in. I follow, my lungs rasping as Karga and IG-11 cover for us.

"Stay with me, buddy." Cara grunts. "We're gonna get you out of here."

"This is our only path out." Karga points at a small sewage vent. "Can you clear it?"

"Stay with me," I whisper to the Mandalorian as I crouch by his side.

As I grip his hand, I'm vaguely aware of IG-11 threatening Greef Karga. It's a bit too late for that. As I hear the droid saw away at the vent, one prayer repeats itself over and over in my mind. Please let the Mandalorian live.

"I'm not gonna make it." The Mandalorian takes in a ragged breath. "Go."

"Shut up. You got a little banged up, that's all." I give his hand a squeeze. "Besides, you're my owner now. You can't get rid of me that easily."

"Leave me."

I reach up to cradle the Mandalorian's head, only to find my hand sticky with warm blood. Fuck. Things are worse than I thought.

"I need to take your helmet off." I say softly.

"No, Aster. You leave me. You make sure the Child is safe." With a pained gasp, the Mandalorian rips off a Beskar amulet. "Here. When you get to the Mandalorian covert, you show them that. You tell them it's from Din Djarin." He gulps a shaky breath. "You tell them the foundling was in my protection, and they'll help you."

Part of me realizes that the Mandalorian has finally told me his real name. But none of that matters now. Not if he isn't going to make it.

"We can make." I feel hot tears stream down my cheeks. "We will make it."

"Come on! Let's go!" Cara bends down to heave the Mandalorian to his feet.

"I'm not gonna make it and you know it." His voice is weak.

I feel a rush of heat as flames erupt from the open windows. They're going to burn us alive.

The flames catch easily, filling the area with acrid smoke. I cough, my eyes burning and my heart breaking.

"Aster. You protect the Child. I can hold them back long enough for you to escape. Let me have a warrior's death."

"I won't leave you."

"This is the Way," the Mandalorian says sadly.

I fling myself over the Mandalorian as a fresh wave of flames enters the building. I won't leave him. Ever.

I turn to see a storm trooper carrying a flamethrower standing in the doorway. This is it. My final moments alive.

Then I feel something. As more flames shoot directly toward us, the Child raises his arms. As if they they hit an invisible barrier, the flames bounce back toward the Imperial officer.

The Child falls backward, exhausted after saving our lives.

"The vent is open!" Karga hollers. "It's open, let's go!"

"Go," the Mandalorian urges me.

"Escape. Protect the Child, no matter what. I'm staying with the Mandalorian." I hand the Child to Cara.

"Promise me you'll bring him." She says fiercely.

"I promise."

The ceiling behind us caves in. My skin burns. I'm a fool to hope this could end well.

"I need to remove your helmet. I can still save you. I can heal you, the way the Child healed Karga."

I reach toward his helmet, only to feel the warm barrel of a blaster pointed into my chest.

"Try it and I'll kill you."

"Glad to see you're finally showing love and affection."

"It is forbidden." Removing his helmet, love, all of this. But we're a pair of fools. "No living thing has seen me without my helmet since I swore the Creed."

"Legally, I am not a living thing. I'm property, an object, owned by you."

Here goes nothing. With a click, his helmet slides off.

I wasn't sure what I was expecting under his helmet. Someone cruel-looking and ugly maybe. I wasn't expecting a handsome face, bloodied and wounded, framed by thick, dark hair and accompanied by beautiful brown eyes.

"There's some good news, and there's some bad news." I reach my hands out, the same way the Child did.

"Bad news?"

"You got hit pretty bad."

"Good news?"

"I'm a sucker for brown eyes." I offer the Mandalorian a hesitant smile as I concentrate. I feel something. A deep pull in my stomach. With my fingers splayed, I picture his wounds healing themselves. I close my eyes my focus. And then I hear him gasp.

When I open my eyes, he's better. Not completely , but good enough. I lean down, kissing the Mandalorian on the lips. He kisses back with such desperation that for a moment, I swear the flames fade.

"You were a fool for thinking that you could get rid of me that easily," I tease.

We limp into the vent, two broken people in a very broken galaxy. But together, we almost make a whole. And somehow, there seems to be hope in the universe.