Mandalorian Lost

Chapter 14

I didn't feel the full weight of missing my ship until this very moment.

Surrounded by an ex-Imperial sharpshooter, a horned behemoth, a moody Mandalorian, and an unnerving Twi'lek who's obsessed with said moody Mandalorian, I'm desperate to be back in my own ship.

Not necessarily the shuttle I stole from the second Death Star before it went up in flames. That's been my ride for five years, but it's not my ship. It's a means to get from point A to point B, though I suppose it isn't even that anymore. Who knows what Nevarro and its bounty hunters have done to it.

No, my ship was glorious. A work of art. One of the last of its kind, actually. It was a TIE Defender, one of the best things to come out of the Empire. My ship was equipped with special modifications I added myself, though the original design prototype didn't need much adjusting. Grand Admiral Thrawn, the spokesman of the ship model back when it was first being produced, made sure of that.

My ship was one of the last Defenders to be manufactured after the Empire suddenly switched its efforts to funding the Death Star and other projects. A twinge of regret always filled my chest at the thought of it. It was a second home to me—just enough room for one. I was a formidable pilot when I flew the Defender, but that was mostly because I knew it so well. I could pilot it with my eyes closed.

I lost it the day the second Death Star blew, five years ago. Alarms were blaring and the space station was falling apart around me, so I hadn't had the time to reach it for my escape. That's when I had to settle for the Lambda-class shuttle, a significant downgrade from my speedy dogfighter.

"Will you sit down?" Xi'an hisses from her spot on a crate near me, completely derailing my train of thought and reminding me that I am not, in fact, back in my Defender. A knife balances delicately on her finger, but she's glaring up at the horned alien, Burg. He narrows his eyes at her and slams his large hands on the ceiling above him and she hisses like a Lothcat.

The ship lurches and I feel the familiar gravitational pull of being launched into hyperspace. It feels strange to be sitting in the ship's cargo bay, Mando within my sight, while the ship is piloted by someone else. Then again, I suppose the droid is a better pilot than any of us.

Mayfeld is settled on a crate beside Xi'an, leaving me in the corner closest to the ship's landing ramp. I keep my back rested against the wall, my gaze constantly darting between each of the three criminals around me. Mando leans against the cockpit ladder, one foot propped on the second rung with his arms crossed over his chest. I can't decide who he's looking at under his helmet, but the guessing game keeps me occupied.

My attention is yanked back over to Burg when he starts pressing buttons. The cabinet he's trying to get into houses Mando's collection of weapons, which I haven't dared to fiddle with. He's a Mandalorian, after all, and I don't have a death wish.

Calmly, Mando presses a button on his vambrace and the cabinet closes again. Burg lets out a disappointed grunt and turns, fixing a glare on Mando. He looks like a whiny child, and Mando doesn't indulge him.

That is until Burg reaches for the control that will open up Grogu's compartment.

I push myself up in my seat, ready to jump to the child's aid, but Mando's already shoving the giant's arm down before I can stand. Burg growls, inching closer to Mando. In such close quarters, Mando would have to rely on brute strength to fight him, and as good a fighter as he is, I don't see him winning hand-to-hand combat against a man who is practically a mountain.

"Hey, hey, hey, okay," Mayfeld interjects before I can. "I get it. I'm particular about my personal space too." I'm surprised to hear such a civil response from someone like him. Burg tries to step closer to Mando, but he only maneuvers so he's in front of Grogu's compartment and Burg is by the ladder. His helmeted gaze tilts over to me for a fleeting second and I settle against my wall again. "Let's just do this job. We get in, we get out, and you don't have to see our faces ever again."