The Mandalorian's Slave

Sacrifices

In the distance, I hear the sounds of blaster fire and muffled shouts. The blacksmith is making her final stand, a sacrifice for a group of people she barely knows.

Our pace increases. I'm exhausted, but I manage to keep up. I know if I stop running, I'll never be able to start again.

"These are the lava fields," Karga announces. I wipe a thick sheen of sweat off of my forehead and let out a sigh of relief.

The warm orange glow of the lava fields greet us as we approach. The heat is nearly stifling here and the heavy smell of sulfur clings to air. We suck in ragged gasps of air, adrenaline the only thing keeping us going.

"This is definitely the lava river." I cough, my lungs burning from the smoke I inhaled earlier, along with a fresh wave of sulfur entering my airways.

We walk up to a rickety boat that appears half-burnt. I glance nervously over my shoulder. No doubt the stormtroopers are getting closer with each passing moment.

"The ferry droid is fried," the Mandalorian says, pointing to the burnt corpse of a droid.

"We push the boat out." Karga suggests. "We can get it to float downstream. Come on."

"It looks old. Will it take the heat?" The Mandalorian asks.

"You got a better idea?" Karga leans forward and begins pushing.

"Guess not," the Mandalorian mutters, and begins pushing too.

"Push," Karga shouts over his shoulder at Cara and me.

My Master releases a snarl of frustration before kicking the boat. A shower of rust flakes off, but it stays stubbornly still.

"Let's try this." The Mandalorian grabs a slender steel beam and pries it between the riverbank and the boat.

"You guys mind getting out of the way?" Cara unslings her gun. She releases a line of fire, breaking the boat apart from the hardened riverbank.

"Good job," I congratulate. I'm glad we don't have to push. I know I wouldn't be useful. My vision blurs and my head swims. I over-exerted myself earlier. But it was worth it. Saving the Mandalorian would be worth it no matter what the cost.

"Watch your feet," Karga calls as we clamber onto the boat. "It's hot."

"I never would have guessed that." I say, tucking a sweaty curl out of my face.

There's a faint whirring sound behind us. We all whirl around, guns ready. It's the ferry droid. It powers on weakly, slowly getting up from its bed of hardened lava. The droid clutches a long metal rod in its rusted hands. It greets us with a series of warbled beeps.

"I don't suppose anyone speaks droid." The Mandalorian spits the last word out as if it's a curse.

"I believe he is asking where we would like to go." IG-11 states.

"Down river," Karga replies, jerking his head. "To the lava flat."

The ferry droid lets out a cheerful chirp and begins using the metal cylinder as a paddle. Slowly, we take off.

I let myself relax a fraction. I want nothing more than to curl up on the floor of the boat and sleep for days. But we won't be safe for a long time. Not until we're far, far away from here.

Our pace is maddeningly slow. Along the banks of the river, red-eyed rodents peer at us. Any moment, a band of stormtroopers could leap out from the darkness, slaughtering us all. Except for the Child, and whatever twisted plans they have for him.