The Mandalorian's Slave

Space

I have never flown before. Never sat in a working ship. Sure, I had fixed then before but slaves couldn't be trusted to fly. When I was younger I would have vivid dreams of flying away and leaving Jakku. I would see myself piloting the ship, despite never have being taught how to fly.

Now I'm sitting in a real ship, in a real seat, about to leave Jakku. It seems fake, surrealistic. How did Master Burgess just freeze like that? I fear that I know the answer. The strange feeling that I felt in the hallway swirls around in the pit of my stomach. There's something inside of me, something powerful.

I watch as the Mandalorian, my new Master, starts the ship's engine. Just like my dreams. His ship is older but in good condition. I've salvaged parts from Razor Crests before.

Sitting on the floor, just a few feet away from us, is Master Burgess's severed head. Apparently the rest of his body wasn't necessary. Seeing it causes shivers to run down my spine.

I grip the edge of my seat and the Razor lurches forward and takes flight. My intestines feel like a mushy stew. A wave of nausea washes over me, but so does a tingly feeling that can only be described as excitement. I realize I'm smiling, like some sort of idiot. I try to wipe it away, but that's impossible. For once I feel infinite. Powerful. Unstoppable.

"I'm going to put this head in carbonite before it stinks." The Mandalorian gets up and leaves the cockpit. Obviously the ship must be in some sort of autopilot. I'm surprised that he lets me sit up here alone, while I'm grinning like some sort of drunken idiot.

I know I should go ask my new Master if he needs help. First impressions are important and he already thinks I'm dumb. But I can't help myself as I stare at the bluish-white blur of stars and the velvety blackness of space. In this moment, nothing matters. Only the infinite swirl of chaos and life that is our universe.