The Mandalorian's Slave

Beskar

I didn't want to fall asleep. But the second she told me to, I did. My consciousness plummeted into a dreamless world of black velvet.

I'm not sure how long I was asleep. I open my eyes and see that I'm still in the dimly lit infirmary, lying on a lumpy cot. The female Mandalorian is sitting nearby.

"Good as new?" There's a level of cockiness in her voice.

"Yes. Thank you." I do feel better. My head no longer throbs and I actually can form thoughts now. If only my stomach wasn't growling so loudly. "Is my Master here?"

She shakes her head. "No. You're one lucky girl you know."

"I was born a slave I don't exactly find that lucky." I know I shouldn't be bitter. In a strange way, I AM lucky. But there's moments like this when the resentment seeps out of me and I lash out at others. I know my trauma isn't an excuse. But sometimes I just can't help myself.

"And it's the fact that you're a slave that's saving you. Outsiders aren't allowed here, only foundlings and Mandalorian's. But technically you're not an outsider because you're not a person. Slaves are, legally, objects."

I look away so she doesn't see the tears burning in my eyes as she says I'm not a person. I know she doesn't mean it in a harsh way. But I am a person. I'm capable of love, hate, sorrow, and pain. Yet everyone seems to forget. Even I forget that sometimes.

"Of course, not everyone agrees with his logic. A lot of people are very pissed at your existence right now. But your Master just brought back enough Beskar for his armor and new weapons for the foundlings, so he can live today."

"So he is here?"

"Here as in underground, yes. Here as in this room? No."

I stare at the armored woman sitting across from me. I have a million questions bubbling up inside of me, from what's the creed to what's Beskar, but I keep my mouth shut. The best slaves are silent.

I sit quietly in the cot as I stare at my sparse surroundings. There's five other cots in two rigid lines filling the small infirmary. Starch white sheets are pulled tightly over them. Flickering torches burn on the walls, filling the room with a smoky pine scent.

I sense someone approaching before I hear them. Loud footsteps clanking on hard, stone floor. It's my Master.

As always, his mood is a mystery to me. But. I do notice a new breastplate gleaming amongst his armor. And strapped at his waist are a deadly assortment of new weapons.

"Is she ok to leave?" He asks the other Mandalorian, not me.

"Yes she's perfectly fine now. Probably should avoid head injuries though."

My Master jerks his head as a sign for me to follow, and I comply. We file down the same narrow hallway that we entered from, except this time my head doesn't feel like it's about to explode. Neither of us say anything as we navigate the winding tunnels.

After what seems like an eternity, we are returned to the surface. The sun is setting, bathing the world in shades of bloody red. My stomach growls as we snake out way through the run-down alleyways and into the market. The scent of spiced meat practically makes my mouth water.

"I'll buy dinner. We'll eat it on the ship."

"Thank you sir."

He buys us a smoked hen that's loaded with seasoning. My eyes are glued to the delicious looking carcass as we make our way toward the ship.

I'm practically begging for the hen as we prepare for takeoff. Master splits the hen into two and hands me one half.

"Thank you," I gush, hoping he can hear my gratitude.

"You might want to rest up. This next mission is dangerous."

"You want me to come with?" I can't keep the surprise out of my voice.

"I'm not sure what I want yet," the Mandalorian admits. "I just know countless people have died trying to collect this bounty. But the reward is precious to pass up. Beskar steel."

I don't know what that is. But I'm too hungry to say much as I retreat to the room that I have made my own.