Star Wars Oneshots

Rescuing a friend (Misc)

Din's Point of View

Din and Cobb walked side by side to a broken moisture vaporator on the outskirts of Mos Pelgo, where the town ended and the endless desert began. The spires rose high into the sky, sucking out what little vapor there was in the dry air and condensing it. This one, however, was putting its collected water back into the atmosphere.

When the Marshal and the Mandalorian got close enough to stand in its shade, they did so. Din's face was sweaty under his helmet -- its usual cooling system was gummed up with sand, just another thing that needed fixing.

Cobb set his tools down on the sand with a heavy thud. Taking a moment to cool off in the shade, Cobb leaned back and stared at the top of the vaporator. 

Din felt very exposed out here, far from the settlement and cover should a problem arise. Self-consciously, he adjusted his gloves, making sure every inch of skin was completely covered.

Cobb opened a panel on the back of the vaporator, bending over and peering inside. After poking at a few things, it seemed he'd diagnosed the problem. He pulled a Harris wrench from his toolkit and used it to tighten and loosen a series of bolts.

"Metal fatigue," Cobb said by way of explanation. "It's been out here a while."

Cobb pulled some more tools out and kneeled on the ground, grabbing wires and inspecting them. Din let him do his thing, blinking sweat out of his eyes.

There was movement in the corner of Din's vision. He turned his head, seeing a black blob on the horizon. "Hold up," he said to Cobb, turning on thermal imaging. The black blob was hotter than the landscape around it and coming closer. 

"What is it, partner?" Cobb asked, setting down his tools and coming to stand behind Din.

Din pointed. "Something alive is coming."

Cobb squinted. "Can't be sure of what it is from this distance. You happen to have your scope on you?"

"It's back in the hut."

"Think we should check it out up close?" Cobb wondered, unscrewing the lid of his canteen and taking a careful sip.

"I'll go. You stay here just in case."

"I don't think--" Cobb started, but Din cut him off.

"I'm the one with the beskar," Din reminded him.

"Alright. But if you're not back by sunset, I'm coming after you." The suns were only a couple of hours away from disappearing below the horizon.

After refilling his canteen from Cobb's and checking his ammo and rations, Din set off for a long walk across the desert. When he would reach his target was unclear; even the target itself was unknown.

Could it be a dewback or bantha, wandered away from its settlement? Or a dangerous hunter come to massacre? 

The longer Din walked, the more it appeared that the thing was alive but not moving, or moving so slowly he couldn't see it. Still, as he climbed the dune it rested on, he put one hand on his blaster.

The creature -- Din was sure of this now -- was lying on the sand, taking refuge in the tiny shadow cast by a wave of sand. When he was close enough to make it out, he used his HUD to zoom in.

It was a mastiff. It was clearly injured, with a deep gash in one of its legs. As a juvenile, its armored hide hadn't fully formed, allowing something to injure it.

Din took his hand off his blaster and picked up his canteen. Since it was separated from its pack, it would likely die of heat exhaustion before its leg had a chance to heal.

The mastiff growled as Din approached, but he held out his hands, showing he meant no harm. "Easy, easy," Din said softly in Tusken. It stopped growling, but eyed him warily.

Din took out his canteen. "Do you want some water?"

Hearing the precious liquid sloshing, it stuck out its tongue with thirst. Din allowed it to drink directly from the canteen, hoping that would lessen the waste. The mastiff drank greedily, then pulled back once it was empty.

Din, squatting next to it, inspected the gash in its leg more closely. The bleeding had stopped a few hours ago, it appeared, and sand had stuck to the clot as it traversed the desert. It was deep enough that it wouldn't be able to walk again unless it got some sort of medical attention.

Din thought of his options. If he waited until sunset, Cobb would come with a speeder, but Din wasn't sure how much time the mastiff had. He could take off his backplate and drag it behind him like a sled.

Checking the fuel level on his jetpack, Din judged the distance between him and Mos Pelgo. With the added weight of the mastiff, Din could probably make it back, if he flew low to the ground.

Din used his cape to bundle up the mastiff, careful not to disturb its injured leg. Once he was sure he had a good grip on it, he launched into the air, flying in as straight of a line as his gay brain could manage.

Just as Din reached the maze of moisture vaporators, the fuel meter beeped, indicating it was critically low. Din touched down, stumbling a little. The mastiff's breathing had slowed, which could mean it was relaxed. It could also mean it was dying.

As such, Din hurried to the hut of the village medic, urging his tired legs to keep going just a little longer.

Once he was within the town limits, Din rushed up the stairs and into the doorway of Jo's hut.

The young woman was sitting on her small bed, reading a book on a datapad. She jumped up when Din entered, braids swinging. "What happened?" Jo asked, instantly taking in Din's dusty armor and the mastiff he held in his arms.

"Found a juvenile mastiff way out. Leg pretty badly wounded. Possible heat exhaustion, but I gave it water," Din got out, trying not to wheeze. Why he was so invested in the reptilian canine, Din didn't want to dive into.

He put it on Jo's patient cot, and she put a hand on his forearm and gave him a reassuring smile. "Thank you for what you've done so far. I'll take it from here."

Din ducked out of the hut for a moment, wanting to return to his and Cobb's for a breath of fresh air.

As soon as he closed the door to their room, Din yanked off his helmet and sponged off his sweaty face. He'd go back out soon, to tell Cobb he's fine and to check on the mastiff. Maybe Cobb would let them adopt it?

Sitting on the edge of the bed, feeling a slight breeze on his face, Din held his helmet in calloused hands, feeling the cool beskar that had protected him more times than he could count. Pushing back memories, he jammed it on his head and left the house.

He stepped off the porch and ran into Cobb -- literally. "Woah there, partner," Cobb said, putting steadying hands on Din's pauldrons. "When did you get back?"

"Little bit ago," Din mumbled, looking at the ground. "It was a mastiff, it's injured, I have to go check on it--"

Cobb tipped Din's chin up. "Hey. Din. You okay?"

"Yeah."

Doubt lingered in the lines of Cobb's face, but he let it go. "Is it with Jo?"

Din nodded, and Cobb walked with him to her hut.

When they entered, Jo was reading her book again. The mastiff's leg had been cleaned and bandaged, and an empty water bottle indicated it had drank.

"Hello, Marshal," Jo greeted with a smile.

"Hey. You takin' care of yourself, Jo?" Cobb asked.

Jo nodded, smiling self-consciously. "Your mastiff buddy will be fine with a couple more days' rest. Can you take him back to your place? He'll need shade and plenty of fluids, but it'll be smooth flying."

Cobb asked Din a question silently, to which Din answered with a nod. "We can take him," Cobb answered for the both of them. "Thank you for everything you did."

"It was no trouble."

Din and Cobb left the hut, Din cradling the mastiff in his arms. "What do you think? Would he make a good guard dog?"

Cobb's lopsided smile told Din everything.