The Mandalorian's Slave

A New Assignment

This isn't what I pictured at all. After leaving Jakku, I expected Nevarro to be... different. I pictured forests so dark and deep you could practically feel the life pulsing within it. I pictured blue-green lakes and crashing waterfalls. What I did not picture was a acrid, volcanic planet.

My eyes are glued to the windshield as I stare at a planet bathed in a million shades of red and brown. There's steaming lava fields and ash spewing from what appears to be a volcanic geyser. I'm intoxicated by the reds, coppers, golds, oranges, and crimsons. It's so similar to Jakku yet so different. It's breathtaking in a way I've never known before.

The Mandalorian seems unfazed, as if he's seen this a million times before. Maybe he has. His hands are steady as he guides the Crest towards a small yet chaotic city.

"Stay here," he says again. As if I'm an insolent child. "I've got business to do. It might take while."

"Is there anything you would like me to do?" I want to be on this man's good side. He is my new Master after all.

"No." His answer is firm and definitive. I don't bother replying as my face flushes red.

The Mandalorian gets up and stomps toward the lower level of the ship. He's about to thaw out Master Burgess. And gods know how many others he has frozen down there.

I don't bother leaving the cockpit. I simply stare out the window at the sun-bleached buildings. The streets are narrow and crowded and people shove through them as though they can't move fast enough. No one is dressed up. Everyone's clothes are in a certain state of disrepair. Some have holes while others are lucky enough to just have stains. There's humans and aliens mingling together as though they are one being. I know I must look stupid with my mouth hanging open but... wow. I never knew life had so much to offer.

I don't leave my seat all afternoon. I watch as the sun blazes down on the strange city sprawled out before me. I want to leave the ship, to go out in the alleyways and smell the air and see the people and hear them speak. But that would be disobeying a direct order from my Master and I can't afford that.

My stomach growls loudly, a reminder that I haven't eaten since the night before. I wonder if this Master intends to feed me, or if I'll have to go scrounge for food myself. Master Burgess only allowed me to eat his table scraps. Master Gard gave us rations depending on how productive our day was. And this new Master... I don't know his name. I don't know anything about him. All I know is that he's a bounty hunter who killed Master Burgess. And it's my fault he's dead.

I killed him. I can't stop myself as I picture the way Master Burgess hung in the air, suspended in time. I can see the snarling rage on his face, his meaty finger eager to pull the trigger. I can feel my fear, cold and pure, paralyzing me. And I can feel something else inside of me, a feeling of power and fire and raw energy.

The Crest's door creaks open as I'm jolted from my thoughts. The Mandalorian comes in, his arms full of supplies. He carries a box of ration packets and a small mat.

"The market didn't have much." He tosses the mat on the floor, along with a small quilt and food packet.

"Thank you." I speak quickly, not wanting to seem ungrateful. And I am grateful. This is so much more than I expected.

"You may sleep up here if the lower quarters make you uncomfortable." He points to the ration. "Eat."

"Thank you. Really, thank you." I can only manage a few words as I gather my new belongings. Maybe my life really is going to change. Maybe it won't be great, or even good, but it could be tolerable. Maybe even have a few happy moments sprinkled here and there.

I bring my stuff into a room that I assume is where the crew would gather for dinner if there was a crew. The lights flicker slightly in this room. I wonder how the Mandalorian hasn't slept yet. I've done nothing and yet I'm exhausted. I feel the ship lurch underneath my feet and I wonder where we're headed. I wonder if it's appropriate to ask.

This is a new life, a strange life, but maybe not a horrible life. I carefully lay down my bedroom and blanket. The mattress is thin and lumpy, but it's a mattress none the less. And it doesn't matter that the blanket is small, I'm small too. I'm still under five feet tall and slaves are never exactly fat.

I know the Mandalorian is coming before I hear or see him. I realize I can feel his presence, like a swirling steel wall. No, I'm just sleep deprived and probably delirious.

He enters the room and I realize how impressive he looks. He's well over six feet tall and muscular. His armor suits him well. He radiates power. I do not want to be on his bad side.

"I've got a new assignment. We're headed to a small icy planet that sounds like hell. It will be cold so..." he points at my quilt. I nod in understanding.

"Thank you for telling me." I say while bowing my head. He nods and leaves the room, the lights flickering in his wake.

I sigh as I take my bonnet off. I hate that thing. It's scratchy and ugly and it makes my hair all scrunchie. I carefully tuck the bonnet under my mattress and begin detangling my hair. My hair falls into thick, untamable curls and without a brush I feel like I'm wandering in the desert without my canteen. I use my fingers until my hair finally looks halfway decent.

As I stare up at the dull gray ceiling, somehow I know my life will never be the same again. Not even close.