My sleep is strange and plagued with dreams. I feel as though I'm standing on the verge of reality and fantasy. I'm floating above my body, staring down at myself. The faded quilt is wrapped tightly around my body as I sleep. My golden-brown curls are a frizzy, tangled mess as I toss and turn restlessly. My brow is furrowed and my lips turn downward in distress.
I drift past my body and into the cockpit of the ship. The Mandalorian sits in the pilot's seat, head facing towards the incomprehensible blur of stars and planets. The blinking red and green of the dashboard reflect off of his shiny armor. I sense a tenseness around. A melancholy unhappiness.
"He lacks purpose. His is not fulfilling his fate."
I blink. Where did that voice come from? It was strange, neither male nor female. Powerful. And I'm almost certain the voice came from inside my head.
I'm crazy. Insane. Perhaps I got heat stroke or this is some sort of fever dream. There is no way this is happening.
"You know this is real. You are awakening."
I want to protest but I can't. This is real. This is the truth. Something is happening. Something strange.
The ship begins to shudder as we enter a new planet's atmosphere. The lights flicker and I draw in a deep gasp and wake up.
My arms and legs feel like lead and my brain thinks sluggish thoughts but I force my to get up. I roll the mattress up tightly and fold the blanket. I don't want to get in the way of whatever mission Master is about to start.
With everything tucked away, I make way to the cockpit. The Mandalorian sits as stoically as ever, face forward as he guides the ship to landing. I gasp as I see the planet below me.
I see a swirl of cool colors. There's gleaming white snow that's gleams silver in the light of the faded sun. Pale swirls of blue mark where the deepest snowdrifts are. It's a frigid world. And it's absolutely beautiful.
The Mandalorian must notice me gaping because he asks, "Would you like to go outside for a moment?"
"Yes, please, if it's not too much to ask for." I am entranced by this world of faded colors.
The ship lands with a loud crunch as the crust of snow breaks under our weight. Satisfied that we landed well enough, the Mandalorian gets up and leaves the cockpit. I follow him obediently as he enters the lower quarters. We walk to a small door that I'm unfamiliar with. Then again, everything about this new ship is unfamiliar.
Master types in a code, too quick for me to see it, and the door slides open. I'm surprised with what I see. There's a wide assortment of deadly weapons, of course, but there's also a small piles of extra clothes. They're simple, but clean and folded.
He carefully selects a few weapons. I wonder what his reasoning behind bringing along each weapon is, but I know that's too intrusive to ask. The Mandalorian is a professional. He's killed before, and I have no doubt that he'll kill again soon. My Master moves fluidly, each action thought-out and precise. I wonder if he feels emotions, buried deep underneath his heavy armor.
He leans forward and grabs a large cloak. "Here," he says as he hands it to me.
"Thank you." The cloak is several sizes too large on me and the fabric is rough and scratchy. The sleeves go past my hands and my hem drags on the floor a bit. But I don't mind. The cloak is warm and that's all that matters.
The Mandalorian stares at me for a moment before heading back to the upper quarters. I would give anything to know what he thinks. What he feels. I follow him, walking carefully so I don't trip on my own clothing. Master pulls down a lever and the door lower toward the ground.
Almost immediately, I'm greeted by cold air. It's sharp and fierce and stings my face. I fumble with my hood and draw it over my face. I'm surprised by how persistent the cold is. It's nothing like the heat, which is slow and drawling and takes its time. The cold is hungry and inconsiderate and takes what it wants when it wants. And yet, there's beauty to it.
The snow is a spotless white. The wind catches bits of it and whirls it around in a savagely chaotic pattern. As the snow dances through the air, it glimmers like diamond dust.
I'm shivering uncontrollably but I manage to say, "Thank you. It's beautiful."
The Mandalorian doesn't speak. He nods and walks back up the ship's ramp. As always, I follow.
"I'll need that cloak now. Stay here. I shouldn't be gone long."
With numb fingers, I unclasp the heavy cloak. Even though the ship is warm, the cold lingers in my fingers, nose, and toes.
The Mandalorian slips the cloak and turns to leave when I blurt out: "Wait!"
He stops. "What?"
I feel something. Something dangerous and angry and hungry. My cheeks flush as I realize how ridiculous that is. "There's something here... something dangerous."
He stares at me and I can only assume that he's planning my murder. "We're on a lake, but we're safe. This bounty is crafty, but not dangerous."
I nod, not knowing what else to say. He probably thinks I'm deranged. In the past day I've spoken and acted out of place so many times I'm surprised that I haven't been hit. Mater Burgess would not have tolerated this. I have no choice but to stay silent as I watch the Mandalorian enter the world of ice and snow.
The hatch closes behind him and once again I'm alone on the ship. If I were smart, perhaps I would steal it and fly away to some far-off galaxy. But just because I think I could fly the ship doesn't mean that I actually know how. And my Master is a bounty hunter. I'm sure he could track me down nearly effortlessly.
I have no choice but to retrieve my blanket and wait in the cockpit, which seems to be the warmest area on the ship. I hate going to the lower quarters, even if it's possibly warmer down there. I stare out into the storm and watch the snow swirl as the wind carries it away. It's so different compared to Jakku, yet it almost reminds me of the sandstorms there. Opposites are not always as different as we think they are. Hot and cold are so similar and so is light and dark. We just choose to hate one and love the other.
The wind howls relentlessly and I swear I feel the ship sway when the gusts pick up. At least I'm warm. And safe. At least, for now I am. I pull the quilt up tightly around my shoulders. It's almost relaxing, being here in a world that's so remote, so sheltered to the rest of the galaxy. My eyelids feel heavy. The dreams last night seemed to drain me of all my energy. I feel a warm, velvety feeling as drowsiness conquers my brain. My chin rests on my chest as I slowly drift asleep.
My eyes snap open. I feel something. Something hungry and eager. I look out the window to see a small craft approaching the ship. I recognize the dark cloak of the Mandalorian, but there's two other figures that I don't recognize. One, presumably, is the bounty. Perhaps the other is some sort of transporter. But that's not where the feeling is coming from.
The vehicle moves quickly across the ice despite how flimsy it looks. It circles around the ship to wear the hatch is. I leave the cockpit and wait next to the door. There's a small window nearby. I wipe the thick steam off of it and peer outside. The storm has died down a bit so at least the visibility has increased. I see a strange man with dark blue skin waiting by the hatch. I wonder if that's natural or a product of the cold.
My Master hands the transporter a small bit of money and turns to fix something on the Crest's exterior. The transporter speeds away, his ragged hood flapping in the wind. He's almost out of sight when an awful cracking sounds fills the air. The ice below the transporter erupts as a beast breaks through the frozen barrier as if it were nothing.
The monster is easily bigger than the ship but incredibly fast. It's covered by a thick layer of blubber that I'm sure is bullet proof. Its mouth is a gaping hole filled with gnarled, sharp teeth. It swallows the transporter whole and then turns to face the ship. It barrels towards us with amazing speed. The ice breaks and it charges, pieces spraying in the wintery air. I scream and immediately jab the button the open the hatch.
The beast is too fast. It lets out a hungry howl. I can hear the blue man screaming as the hatch slowly lowers. We won't make it. It'll swallow the ship whole. I only have one choice.
I run to the cockpit and ignite the engine. My hands seem to know exactly what to do. I hear the thrusters roar to life and the ship lifts up off the ground. I'm dimly aware of the gasping sounds of the blue man and the thuds of the Mandalorian's footsteps. I yank the steering wheel upward, praying that the beast will be scared by the sound of the engine.
For a brief moment, I think I've done it. Then I feel the ship lurch downward. I hear the pitiful sobs of the blue man and the swears of my Master. Fuck. My hands fly, pressing a million buttons and pulling a million levers at once. I have no idea what I'm doing, but my body seems confident. I hear the sounds of a blaster going off and a pained squeal. The extra weight vanishes and the ship skyrockets upward.
I laugh. I did it; we did it. Then reality sets in: I have no idea how to fly. The ship seems to know that because it spirals uncontrollably through the air. I'm flung from the pilots seat. My head slams painfully against the floor and my vision goes blurry. Master is going to kill me. My head spins but I make out heavy boots stomping towards the console. Gloved hands jerk the steering back into place and slam a few buttons. The ship rights itself.
"Are you ok?" Is that concern in the Mandalorian's voice? I must have hit my head hard.
I nod weakly and stand up. The world spins around me but I try to look stable. I can already feel the lump forming on my forehead. I notice my quilt sprawled on the floor and I stoop down to pick it up, only to collapse on top of it.
"Sorry just dizzy." That's a lie. Black dots obscure my vision.
"You're not ok." The Mandalorian offers me a hand and I gladly take it. He pulls me to my feet as if I weight nothing. I feel woozy as I slide into the passenger seat.
"Well that was eventful wasn't it?" I turn to the source of the voice. It's the blue man. His face is round and strange and reminds me of one of the catfish that Master Gard used to eat. The thought of that makes me giggle, which probably makes the Mandalorian think I'm delirious. A sickly sweet smell fills the cockpit. It reminds me of a strange mix of rotten fruit and brackish water.
I nearly gag on the smell when the bounty says "I'm afraid I got rather shaken up. Is there a toilet on board? I must cleanse my glands."
I have no desire to know what that means but the Mandalorian nods. "Lower quarters. To the left."
The blue man bows respectfully and leaves the cockpit. Unfortunately, the rotten smell lingers.
"I'm going to go take care of him."
"Kill him on the toilet?" That seems harsh, even for a seasoned bounty hunter.
"No, his kind doesn't use the toilet. He's planning something. So am I. It's time he gets frozen."
My Master leaves me alone for what feels like the millionth time in a day. My head throbs so I lean it against my seats headrest. Maybe I should take a nap. I close my eyes, feeling my mind's eager pull to sleep.
"Wake up." I jump. How long was I asleep? "It's not good to sleep long with a head injury," the Mandalorian continues.
"Sorry. About sleeping and almost destroying your ship." My cheeks flush at the memory. Why would I do something so stupid?
"You saved us. How did you know how to fly the ship?" He seems genuinely curious, not angry or upset.
"I have no idea," I admitted. "It was like my body just knew what to do. Then, when that thing actually let go, my body didn't know what to do anymore."
"Hmm." He lowers himself into the seat next to me. "Don't fall asleep. I know a place on Nevarro I can take you."
"You don't have to do anything. I'm fine," I insist.
"No, you're not. Don't argue with me, Aster." So he does know my name.