The Mandalorian's Slave

The Secret Lab

We're racing across the countryside, the wind running wild fingers through my hair. I'm wedged in the backseat of a speeder between Din and Cara, neither of which are dainty people. The scent of sweat and sulfur assaults my nose and their armor digs into my ribs, but the weightless feeling of speeding across the surface of an unknown planet makes up for it.

In the front of speeder, Karga sits next to Mythrol, who's driving. "The whole base is powered by a reactor," Greef says over his shoulder. His voice is barely audible over the thrum of the engine and the wind in my ears.

"We sneak in, overload the reactor, and get the hell outta there," Kara says confidently.

"Let's be fast." I can hear the apprehension in Din's voice. "And keep the speeder running."

We turn sharply, entering a canyon with high, black walls. Volcanic ash forms a haze in the air as snake our way down toward the base.

"There it is." Karga points to a building built into the side of the cliff. It's more of a fortress than anything, made of thick, gray steel. "You see it?"

The base is camouflaged well enough. No one in their right mind would think to search this area for a secret hideout. But as I stare at the formidable walls, fear grips my stomach.

"How close do you want me to drop you off?" Mythrol asks nervously.

"How about the front door?" It's formed as a question, but from Karga, I know it's a command.

"It's a little close for a civilian, don't you think?"

"I have two choices for you," Karga says, his voice filled with authority. "You take us in and I knock a hundred years off your debt."

"Or?" Squeaks Mythrol.

"Or I leave you out here in the lava flats to walk home with whatever's left in your humidity vest."

"Not much of a choice, is it?" Grumbles the blue alien, but he reluctantly edges the speeder closer to the base.

We approach the entrance to the fortress. I'm surprised by the simplicity of it; the door is little more than a slab of gray steel with a lock. I was expecting something grander, something bigger.

"All right," Mythrol says. "We can't go any further than this."

"Let's go," Karga commands.

Din leaps lightly out of the speeder. I follow him, my shoes crunching against the rough black soil. I grip my blaster as we tiptoe to the door.

The Mandalorian jabs at the control panel a few times. "Controls are useless," he declares. "They're melted."

"Well, it's probably not rated for lava," I say nervously, trying to lighten the mood.

"Imperial trash," scoffs Kara.

"Alright, I'm headed back," Mythrol says with a wave. "Hit me up on the comm, we could set up a rendezvous time."

"You park your gills right there until I say otherwise," Karga snarls.

"I'm starting to dehydrate, boss," the alien complains.

"Okay, how does thirty more years off your debt sound?"

"Can you at least be quick about it?"

"You wanna be quick?" Greef raises one deadly eyebrow. "Grab the flange cutter and help us out."

"Okay, fine," Mythrol whines. "But I don't like leaving my speeder like this, just so you know." He clambers out of the speeder, his movements slow and trudging.