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The shot explodes in a blossoming ribbon of orange and yellow fire, sending sparks of flame ricocheting behind the barricade. Everyone flinches, jumping into the wall, and Zoya yells something indiscernible beneath the din of the explosion, but the Mandalorian can make out that at least two of the words were fuck!
"Hold your positions!" Cara commands, the tough-as-nails war veteran in her displaying its proud colors.
The AT-ST shifts again, still projecting the burning white light towards them. Zoya presses further into the wall, squeezing her eyes shut, a nervous sweat causing her fingers to begin slipping where she tries to clutch the rifle. She swallows, feeling a dozen trembling thoughts begin to filter on loop through her mind: pictures of Mando dying, pictures of her dying, pictures of them failing and going up in a cloud of flame. A gloved hand touches her shoulder, and she looks up, trying to keep herself calm.
Mando looks down at her, and when her eyes latch onto his visor, he nods. "You're okay," he says, and it's enough. Zoya releases a shuddering breath, realizing she'd never known how attached she was to living, how much she doesn't want to die. He squeezes her shoulder comfortingly, brows knitting together beneath his helmet.
"I am," she says, affirming it to herself.
"We're gonna beat this thing."
"We are."
The AT-ST creaks loudly, and a roar rises from the trees behind it. A massive horde of Klatooinians pours from the pines, weapons raised high above their heads and bloodlust painting viciously across their faces. They weave through the fog and the tall grasses with thundering footsteps.
"Open fire!" Cara screams.
The farmers set their newly acquired blasters upon the Klatooinians, and red, glowing bolts soon begin to rain down upon the tide of soldiers. Zoya hoists her rifle and peers through the sight, aiming at one of the tall things, raising a spear mottled with sharp metal points. Without lingering on the gravity of her actions, she exhales steadily and fires. The shot takes the Klatooinian in the middle of his head, and he careens forward, splashing into one of the ponds.
Mando raises his rifle beside her, firing off a few shots of his own at a rapid pace that Zoya's skill isn't developed enough to even try. His Amban rifle disintegrates one of the soldiers running between the AT-ST's legs in a flurry of gold sparks.
