THE MANDALORIAN: CHAPTERS 9-16

CHAPTER 12: THE CALL

Din tried to warn them, he yelled for them to run, but they were vaporized in front of him. Suddenly, Moff Gideon was standing in front of him and he lifted up the Dark Saber between his eyes. The weapon's white bolt of energy suddenly struck Din in the chest just as he was going to lunge for Gideon. The crackling energy was also enveloping a beskar shielded pram that was just out of reach. He watched in horror, he was frozen, helpless. Gideon slowly advanced and raised the Dark Saber over his head, and with a final echoing laugh the Saber came down on Din's head...

Din woke with a start, covered in sweat, and everything hurt. Even his eyelids hurt. He remembered the feeling of being cooked, and he also felt like every nerve ending in his body was still buzzing with the energy that had coursed through him. His helmet was on but the familiar weight of his beskar was missing, and he was thankful, that weight might have been more pain than he could bear...

Tarre!

Din forced his eyes open, and realized he was in the sewers, in the old covert, where they had converted the sewer colony into an infirmary before the battle.

Tarre, can you hear me!

Din couldn't feel Tarre at all. He forced his head to turn right, he could see the Armorer in the cot next to him, she seemed comfortable and well. He forced his head to turn left, and there he saw Tarre's pram, it was open, but it was above his line of sight so he could not see his ad'ika.

Din grunted with pain as he forced screaming limbs to lift his body up and reach out for the pram. He lunged and grabbed its edge, then pulled it down to his height and found Tarre still unconscious inside.

"Tarre!"

"Din! Stop!! You're going to rupture a muscle moving like that!" The Armorer put a hand on his shoulder, but Din would not stop until he had picked up Tarre and put him on the cot.

Tarre did not wake but felt the warmth of his father and curled up close to him.

Din finally laid back and felt sweat dripping down from his hair which was stuck to his forehead, and rolling down his neck and chest. He couldn't catch his breath.

"Slow your breathing, Din Djarin. Slower still," she sat on the edge of his cot and looked up at the medscanner above his head. "You must move slowly. The weapon had the worst affect on you, as you carry the most beskar of the entire Tribe. A few more seconds and you surely would have been vaporized faster than me."

Din looked back up at the Armorer and asked weakly, "Are you alright?"

The Armorer nodded, "I am injured, but I am recovering."

"How long —? What is happening?" Din whispered.

The Armorer put a hand on his chest. "The battle has been raging two days. This is the morning of the third. Both you and Tarre are the last to recover from the first attack at the Gate. The militia is holding its ground, and it appears that Gideon's forces have limits. The Star Destroyer above us does not contain a full compliment."

Din's heart quickened at that news, because it meant they had a chance.

"The Mandalorians have been conducting strike force and sniper warfare, instead of creating large lines that are an easy target for the weapon, but Gideon has not produced another copy of the same weapon since Tarre-Haal destroyed the first one."

Din's arm instinctively curled around Tarre a little tighter.

"Cara Dune has been a mastermind of the defense of the city," the Armorer added.