The Mandalorian's Slave

Running (Again)

My sleep is short-lived. One minute, I'm tangled in the sheets with the Mandalorian, and the next, a rapid beeping interrupts my nightly concoction of dreams.

Din gets up quickly and leaves the bunker without saying a word. I linger for an extra moment, trying futilely to straighten my clothes and fix my hair.

I dash up the ladder and into the cockpit. Frog lady is still sleeping, slumped over in the passenger seat.

"Razor Crest, M-One-Eleven. Come in, Razor Crest," a voice crackles over the intercom. "Do you copy?"

I swear I feel two smaller ships flank us before I see them out the window. They're newer and definitely faster than us.

"This is Razor Crest," the Mandalorian replies groggily. "Is there a problem?"

"We noticed your transponder is not emitting."

"Yes," Din answers smoothly. "I'm pre-Empire surplus. I'm not required to run a beacon."

"That was before. This sector is under New Republic jurisdiction. All craft are required to run a beacon."

"Thank you for letting me know. I'll get right on it."

"Not a problem. Safe travels."

"May the Force be with you," Din says lamely.

"And also with you," the officer replies.

There's a moment of silence. My heart still thuds rapidly in my chest, every fiber of my being hyper aware of their ships.

"Just one more thing," the voice over the intercom cuts in.

"Yes?"

"I'm gonna need you to send us a ping. We're out here sweeping for Imperial holdouts."

Fuck.

"I'll let you know if I see any," the Mandalorian says uneasily.

"I'm still gonna need you to send us that ping."

"Well, I'm not sure I have that hardware online," Din lies.

"We can wait," the officer replies tersely.

"Yeah it..." the Mandalorian trails off dramatically. "It doesn't seem to be working."

"That's too bad. If we can't confirm you're not Imperial, you're gonna have to follow us to the outpost at Adelphi. They'll run your tabs."

We don't have time to go to Adelphi. Not to mention that we don't exactly have a spotless criminal history. I don't know everything the Mandalorian has done, but I know it certainly hasn't all been legal.

"Oh, wait. There it is," my master says with false enthusiasm. He presses a series of buttons slowly, hoping for some miracle. "Transmitting now."

The frog lady releases a loud gasp as she wakes up, her large eyes snapping open.

"Be quiet," I hiss, praying desperately that she understands me.

"What was that?" The officer asks.

"Uh, nothing. The hypervac is drawing off the exhaust manifold."

The frog lady continues to grunt loudly, despite my glaring looks directed at her.

"Carson, can you switch over to channel two?" Another officer asks on the intercom.

Fuck. We have to be busted.

"Copy," Carson replies.

We sit in dead silence, weighing our options. None of them are good.

"Was your craft in close proximity of New Republic Correctional Transport, Bothan-Five?"