Hey everyone!
Thank you so much to those of you who favorite and followed on here, I always really appreciate it :) It seriously adds to the process of writing to get those notifications. So thank you!
And I also want to give shout outs to all you truly awesome people who left comments: the wonderful She-Elf23, the fantastic Kondoru, the amazing Nanyin, the phenomenal acacia59601, and the astounding HMTyping. Thank you guys so, so much for taking the time to say hi and comment, it's really fun to read and you're so incredible for taking the time. Hopefully, you guys enjoy this chapter too!
I don't have much to say other than there are a few medical things in this chapter, all of which were sourced from google so if anything is too wrong, I apologize! I work in about that farthest field from medicine so I'm trusting the internet.
Alright that's all for now so, without any more ado...Enjoy!
Din jerked upright to screaming alarms. Only to curl, groaning, over his chest as agony followed half a moment later. He breathed through his nose a few times, trying to get a handle on his reaction and ease the pain that was begging him to stay sedentary. Unfortunately, none of that stopped what he knew were landing alarms. He was coming up on the planet, which meant he needed to get moving. Forcing himself up, Din stumbled forward and slowly climbed the ladder, while trying to ignore the way the action pulled at the patches still stuck to his wounds. As his head cleared the passage, Din crawled a few feet into the helm before he pushed to his feet. He nearly fell into the seat and slammed his hand down on the alarm. Blessedly, the wailing quieted, even as his ears continued to ring, albeit at a duller volume. Stretching for the fob, Din pulled up the sector map, hoping beyond hope that he was in roughly the right place.
As the patched browns of Rutan's land masses appeared below him, Din scrambled to locate the fob information on the map. It looked like they had landed, they weren't moving as fast as they had been before, but it quickly became obvious they were not on the planet below. He checked the information again and growled when he realized his assumption was correct. They were on Besberra. More specifically they were on Zirtran's Harbor - a space station that orbited the planet on the same path that Zirtran's Anchor had years before it mysteriously disappeared. But as was always the case, places that were good for trade rarely remained without that trade for long and places near major trade routes were easily rediscovered.
Thankfully, Din wasn't as far off as he assumed he had been. It wouldn't take long for him to get to the starport and at least this would give him a chance to get back into his armor. He punched in the coordinates and slammed his fist onto the navigating computer. The Horizon jumped into hyperspace. And determination overrode Din's discomfort. Spinning out of the chair, he wavered momentarily, but set his jaw and pushed forward. Carefully climbing back down the ladder, Din slowly picked up the pieces of his armor as he made his way to his bed. But before he put the armor back on, just to be safe, Din replaced the patch on his chest. He pretended to miss the gout of blood that escaped when he pulled the saturated bandage free. Nothing about that wound had healed in the few hours he had been asleep. He couldn't stop though. Making sure the seal was tight, he pulled the leather padding over his head, and began the process of rearming.
It was second nature and within five minutes, he was sitting on his bed, his helmet balanced on his lap. Turning, Din pulled the last two adrenaline shots out of the medpack. Pressing one into the pack on his waist, he contemplated the third for a few minutes. He was exhausted and hurt and he wondered if he would have enough left to fight. They had attacked in numbers so he had to assume they would have reinforcements. Clasping the shot in his fist, he picked up his helmet and stood. Only to stumble backward. He threw his hand out to the side to keep from falling over. Shaking his head, Din hoped moving forward would be enough to offset the obvious effects of the blood loss he was desperately trying to ignore. Clutching the shot tighter, he sucked in a calming breath and moved to the ladder. Slipping his helmet on, Din climbed into the cockpit just as the proximity alarms started going off again. Settling numbly into his seat, he started the landing procedure moments before he got authorization from the tower, "Gunship, you have clearance for port 4. Proceed to that hanger bay."
"Port 4. Copy." Din heard the weakness in his own voice but tried to ignore that too.
On the fixed engine, the landing was smooth, but the ship settling into the dampeners still rattled his head. He couldn't let himself pretend any longer. Din took a deep breath, pressed the shot to his leg, and depressed the plunger. Closing his eyes, he waited for the effect to hit him. Once he felt more awake, he descended into the hold and readied a few weapons before he opened the ramp.
As Din made it to the base of the ramp, he saw a portly human standing in the bay, his hands on his hips and a scowl written across his face. Stepping foot on the metallic floor seemed to be the trigger and an angry torrent of demands met him. Din disregarded it. The fob was already in his hand and as Din pressed determinedly passed him, the hanger owner laid his hand on the hunter's arm. Without flinching, Din turned slightly with his blaster in his hand, and pointed squarely at the man's chest. His voice was gravelly, but the threat was clear, "Take your hand off me or I will ensure you don't need any money." The man threw his hand up, releasing Din's arm. The angry scowl shifted into clear fear and he quickly said, "We'll talk 'bout it when you return."
Din holstered his weapon and stalked out of the hanger.
The space station was a clunky metallic structure, a haphazard blend of variously corroded patches that still managed to hold multiple levels of interaction – legal trade and otherwise. It was a maze of an entrepot with smatterings of languages blending with the mechanical sounds necessary to maintain an atmosphere in space. The whining of air ducts was emphasized over the low hum of the massive spaceport's engines. Everywhere, creatures mulled around, some were bartering, others fighting, and still more simply existing but the amount made it nearly impossible to traverse the walkway without being jostled. And Din was thankful for his helmet as each impact from the less observational occupants sent shockwaves down his spine. On multiple occasions, he bit his tongue to keep from audibly reacting.
Instead, he focused on the fob. They were still moving but the constantly pulsing electrical equipment and the slow but consistent rotation of the station made it difficult to pick out the exact direction he needed to go. At best he had a general location but there was no way for him to know what floor they would be on. For a brief moment, he stood frozen, staring at the dark tracking device.
Realizing his lapse, he shook his head and pressed forward. He needed to move if he was going to make this count. As he slipped through the crowded spaceport the best he could, Din tried to reason out where they could be hiding at. His initial instinct was to go down. His assumption being that there was an Imp of some kind caught up in this situation. They dwelt in the deep shadows, away from the eyes of those who wanted something different than oppression and control. They dwelt where they belonged. But if he was wrong, that bias could cost Grogu. And he couldn't discount the fact that Grogu's kidnapping had taken place at the Jedi Temple. The Outer Rim fostered many criminal syndicates, some more nefarious than others and not all of them had imperial ties. Grogu could have been a target of any one of them, and they might not have been as shady as the Imps. It ultimately left him nowhere.
The fob was still blinking, its monotonous tone ensuring Grogu had not yet been sold to whatever fate the buyer intended.
Short of more information, Din stuck to the railing that ran on the parallel sides of the station, leaving a gaping wound cut down the center of the construction, crossed only by thin walkways that seemed perilously suspended across space. Even with that, it was difficult to see anything more than a floor or two below, but it seemed like a shame to waste a chance. He moved as efficiently as he could, his wounds pushed to the back of his mind as he focused on finding his son.
Not long after the fob indicated he was nearly on top of the kidnappers, Din watched as they moved back the other direction. But no one who looked like his target had shoved passed him.
He was on the wrong floor.
Leaning over the railing, he tried to find some indication of which way to continue his hunt. When no miraculous sign showed up to guide him, Din took a chance. Finding a stairwell, he bolted down. If he had to guess, it was Imps and so he decided to take his chances.
As he hit nearly the bottom of the allowable traffic in the station, he doubled back. Where the upper levels were full of creatures crowded shoulder to shoulder, this part of the station was devoid to almost the same degree. If they were down here, it would be easier for the hunter to catch them.
Din stuck to the shadows this time, assuming the shine on the beskar would be more of a give away than his general presence. He was beginning to see fewer creatures and to make sure he didn't miss anything; Din activated the infrared setting on the helmet. It illuminated a new world. Still, none of it revealed the presence of a small creature. Frustrated, Din followed the length of the corridor long enough to see the ending wall. Apparently just because the station was circular didn't mean all the pathways along it were. As he came up on that wall, and the subsequent stair back up, Din caught movement down an alley to his right.
Turning slowly, Din crept to the edge of the alleyway. There were four humanoids walking shoulder to shoulder. But as Din watched, the creature in the middle turned slightly, and he caught sight of a small creature suspended at its side.
Growling low in his throat, Din snapped the rifle off his shoulder and lined up a shot at the larger creature on the far right. He let out a slight breath, once this started he only had a small window to make it work. Fortifying around that thought, Din pulled the trigger. As the target disappeared, Din switched his focus to the far left. That creature, similarly, disappeared in a poof of charcoal and smoke. Rounds expended, Din returned the rifle to his back as he strode forward, pulling out his blaster while the two targets left bolted down the alleyway. Din took aim at the one without the bag and fired, dropping it immediately. But he was afraid to hit the last target. The last thing he wanted was the full weight of the Klatooinian to land on his son. He had no idea what shape he was in and he couldn't risk it. Instead, Din started to run.
The pace quickly sapped the last of his energy and Din realized he was starting to lose ground. If that hunter got anywhere close to his drop-off, Din had to assume he would have back-up and that would put him at a major disadvantage. He needed to end this.
He needed to move faster.
Probably faster than was strictly safe.
But in this case, he had no choice. Grogu being sold was far worse than his own discomfort.
Din needed a new plan and quickly. As he ran, he pulled the blaster free again and took aim at the Klatooinian's opposite shoulder. If he could spin him in the right direction…It wasn't a bad plan but it only kind of worked. The creature was knocked off balance and stumbled, letting Din catch up a little more but not enough for him to close the gap nearly enough.
Din wanted to swear but he was having a hard enough time breathing as it was, no sense in wasting the air. Switching blaster hands, he decided to try a different tactic. He shot the Klatooinian again, causing it to stumble and slow down a second time. Pushing harder, Din managed to close the gap enough to throw his arm forward, activating his grappling line. He got lucky and caught the hunter around the neck. As the line went taut, Din pulled with as much strength as he could muster. The motion tore at Din's injuries and he felt the patch on one of his wounds slip, but the Klatooinian's feet kicked out uselessly as he fought to stay upright. It didn't work. Din retracted the line as he stalked forward, his prey was finally within his reach. If the gasping sounds were any indication, none of the tension on the line had been released. And Din was not ready to rectify that.
Din knelt next to the strangling Klatooinian and pulled hard on the grappling line, letting it retract a bit further. The Klatooinian's eyes bugged as the line cut into his throat. Din looked into the creature's wide eyes and snarled, "I told you, you wouldn't survive if you took him." Then he pulled hard on the line once more. Both of the Klatooinian's hands flew to his throat as he tried to dig his fingers under his thin line. He didn't succeed and the Klatooinian kicked a few times before Din shot him.
Exhausted, Din fell back from the body and released the line as he called, "Grogu."
The sack at the dead creature's side moved a few times before the flap opened and Grogu's head poked out, ears first. The quiet, relieved coo eased the anxiety that had been sitting on Din's chest. The hunter leaned forward and slid the bag off the Klatooinian's shoulder before rifling through his pockets, finding the fob and a money bag of some kind. He ignored the reason why it felt so necessary for him to rest for a moment longer. Not that he had much time to consider it before he heard pounding footfalls. "Time to go." Din said hurriedly before slipping the bag over his head and lurching to his feet. But his stamina flagged quickly and Din was forced to look for a place to hide. He would need to limp back to their bay and there was no way he was doing that while trying to get away from reinforcements. He didn't particularly want to fight either. About a third of the way from the body, there was a small maintenance alcove. Din ducked into it.
There were a few stacks of miscellaneous boxes pressed against a control panel of some kind. Din shoved the crates out of the way and slipped behind them. Crouching low, he pulled his rifle off his shoulder and reloaded before he set the neck on the closest boxes, using them to steady any shot he would have to take. As he was setting up a defense, Grogu squirmed, cooing, and growling as he pressed down on the edge of the bag. Din slid the bag off his shoulder. Gently setting Grogu down, Din gently patted his head as he intermittently passed his gaze toward where the body lay. "I get it, kid. But you need to stay down and stay quiet, please." There was desperation in his voice, and he heard the worried chatter from his son, but he had more immediate concerns as three humans and another Twi'lek came into sight, and Din's heart caught in his throat. If they had fobs, he would have to fight. But when they didn't immediately look in their direction, his fear eased. Instead, the four inspected the dead, talking amongst themselves.
The backup searched the area for a time before shrugging and seemingly giving up. Din waited with bated breath as he watched them huddle together for a moment, their arms moving animatedly as they discussed…next steps…a new plan…he wasn't sure but the pounding building in the back of his mind wasn't helping with his discernment. Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, they melted back into the shadows.
Threat gone, Din fell back against the wall, letting out a bated breath. Pulling his rifle up, he rested his head against it and closed his eyes as he gathered his fraying reserves. He knew he would need to use that last shot if he was going to get back to the Horizon before he passed out. But that survival instinct that had kept him going for so long told him to wait. That it could ultimately be more dangerous, especially if he collapsed before making it back. As it was, even coming down off the effects of the last shot, he was having trouble keeping his vision straight and his hands from shaking.
Waiting was his best bet.
But, damn, if Din wasn't exhausted. He was starting to get comfortable staying in his current position. Then he felt pressure against his boot. Opening his heavy eyes, he pulled his head just off his rifle and saw Grogu staring at him, his head cocked to the side. And that exhaustion evaporated. He had to get his son to safety. If they could get into the ship and use the security protocols, no one would make it into the ship. He just had to get there. He needed to focus.
Reaching forward, Din rubbed his fingers along Grogu's drooping ears. "Hey pal, it's okay, I'll get us back to the Horizon. And then we'll figure out what to do next." He tipped his head up slightly, looking at the satchel before he said, "I need you to hide in there again." Grogu looked over at the bag, his ears drooping just a little more. He turned his sad gaze back to Din before he seemed to sense something. His ears perked up and without any argument, he sat down in the center of the bag and pulled the fabric over his chest. One clawed hand then reached up and tugged the flap over his head. Disguise finished, Grogu peeked out just enough to see where Din was.
Despite everything, Din chuckled before using the butt of the rifle to push himself to his feet. Steadying himself, he gently picked up the satchel and slung it over his head once more, checking to make sure Grogu was covered. He took a few deep breaths through his nose to clear the narrowing tunnel vision he dealt with as he stood. Stumbling only once as he stepped around the crates, Din shook his head and focused.
They had to get back to the Horizon.
He heard his son chattering quietly and every once and a while he caught a note of fear amongst the sounds. Din wasn't quite sure what he was doing but it was grounding to hear it. It gave him something more to focus on than just putting one foot in front of the other. And even that was getting harder.
He touched the shot in his pocket, just to ensure it was still there.
Climbing the stairs taxed Din's flagging strength more than he expected and he stumbled as his heavy foot hit the metallic floor his ship was docked on. Din lurched forward and awkwardly threw his arms forward to catch himself, even as his balance did the job. Still, only after a few more steps Din faltered again. Of the patches he had used to close his wounds, only one still felt like it was holding, and the other two had started to bleed again. He had to get back, but his feet weren't working with him. The near misstep was enough to break through his singular focus.
He wrapped his hand around the shot again, his survival instinct warring with his duty. If they could just make it back, he could send out a distress signal. That way if he died Grogu would still have someone – Din knew Cara would answer. But, if he passed out here, Grogu was done. The decision wasn't a hard one, but it did scare him. Regardless, Din ducked down an alley and pulled the shot from his pocket. Without another thought, Din drove the injector into his leg, and waited the requisite time for it to start working. It was the third time that day, and the effects seemed compounded well beyond what they were when he took that first shot. Din felt his lungs tighten and his hands start to shake as his body reacted terribly to the drug.
But it also chased away the narrowing field of vision and forced him to be steadier on his feet, even as his heartbeat echoed loudly in his ears. Knowing he had to capitalize on this while he still could, Din picked up his pace. He had to make sure not to pull too much attention, more than he normally did for his beskar, but he also needed to move quickly. As Din made it into the throng of people once again, Grogu stuck his head up, the flap falling across his ears but not slipping off. Still the movement drew Din's attention. A quiet rebuke was on his tongue but as soon as he met Grogu's worried expression, it died. Instead, he patted the top of the bag and quietly said, "I'll be fine, kid. It's enough to get us back to the Crest. It might get a little bumpy from there, but we'll deal with that when we get to it." He closed his eyes tight when he felt the tiny, clawed hand press into his tingling leg. Well, if that didn't justify his decision, little else would. Even with the situation, Din smiled sickeningly.
When they finally made it to the hanger, Din was met with the same grumpy human as before, but he seemed to have found some backbone as he raised his voice again. This time, he was yelling about docking expenses and fuel resources. Unable to fully comprehend the content of his tirade, Din tossed the bag of credits at the man. He had no real idea what was in it, but figured it had to be enough, at least for a few days. Without waiting to see, Din pressed passed him.
In any case, the yelling stopped, but Din missed the man's expression when he opened the bag, his eyeline following the Mandalorian as he climbed into the belly of the ship.
Din made it up the ramp upright and pressed the command on his wrist to start the security protocols. But he only made it a few more steps before he collapsed to his knees. His vision narrowed dangerously, and Din felt his body giving under the stress of everything he was trying to ignore. Unable to keep himself upright any longer, Din had enough consciousness to fall onto his left side to keep from crushing Grogu. He struggled to break his fall and instead landed on his shoulder. It effectively, painfully, broke his fall, but it meant Grogu would be alright.
He gasped under his helmet as his choices caught up to him and his body rejected the treatment he had taken throughout the last day and a half. Din could handle a lot, but he seemed to have reached his breaking point. He tried to crawl toward the ladder, but his arms wouldn't comply, and he slowly came to the recognition that he wasn't going to make it. Guilt crushed him as he realized he had condemned Grogu to dying with him. He couldn't send out a signal from the hold and there was no way he was going to make it up to the bridge.
His body bucked as the adrenaline wore off and he coughed on a foam that formed in the back of his throat. Pain blended with fear and heat to the point where he felt like he was burning from the inside and freezing from outside. Or the other way around, his muddled mind couldn't quite understand. He shivered and twisted as he desperately tried to get a handle on the involuntary motions. He couldn't be done yet, there was still more to do. But then he caught garbled cooing. Dragging his gaze up, he met Grogu's worried expression. The little one was standing before him, switching between pressing his hands against Din's shoulder and his helmet. Din swallowed back enough of the foam to choke out, "You need to get a distress call out, Grogu. Call Cara, she'll make sure you're okay."
The little creature cocked his head to the side and tore his gaze from Din long enough to look up at the porthole to the cockpit. But when he looked back, the fear was clear on his face.
Din groaned as he nodded encouragement, but the motion was enough to cause his head to spin and he coughed again, more violently this time. It left him gasping as his gaze narrowed to black. He was with it enough to feel his body go limp and in the twilight moments, his stomach twisted as he recognized Grogu's frightened panic. But Din had nothing left to fight with. Instead, he apologized moments before the black haze of unconsciousness beckoned and he had no choice but to obey.
Grogu felt Din give up.
He felt the visceral disquiet of his buir as he passed out, still fighting to stay awake. It sent ripples of panic and fear through Grogu as he pressed harder against Din's helmet desperately, trying to get a response he knew wasn't coming. But as he begged, Grogu's innate ability to sense through the force whispered the wrongness of the body before him. But that shocked him into action. Grogu pressed his hands onto the helmet and closed his eyes as he used the little Luke had taught him. He concentrated on removing Din's helmet. It seemed like his buir was having trouble breathing and maybe removing the helmet would be enough to help. He focused on doing so gently, his ears twisting when he heard the hissing release that meant he had done something right. He continued to imagine it sliding off, revealing the dark mussed hair and brown eyes he knew. But once the metallic helmet settled gently next to him, Grogu opened his eyes, and didn't see any of that. He just noticed how pallid his buir was and anxiety burned hotter in his chest.
He needed to help. Now.
He hadn't learned much about healing, other than what he did instinctually. So, he fell back on that. He pressed his hands to Din's chest and closed his eyes, reaching out in a bid to understand what was happening. His ears drooped and he focused the best he could. As more of the damage was revealed, Grogu's panic gave way to blinding fear. Din was badly injured.
And his limbs were quaking. It looked like shivering but felt wrong.
Desperate to do something to help, Grogu focused on that. Spinning, Grogu's gaze landed on the sleeping quarters. Surging forward, he flicked his hand at the door, and it opened before he commanded the blanket to come to him. Controlling the deceptively warm fabric, Grogu gently draped it over his buir. He watched hopefully for a few minutes, waiting to see some kind of change, but nothing did. Din was still shaking under the blanket. Hurrying forward, Grogu laid his hands back on Din's chest and focused on the injuries.
But as he reached out again, he realized there were so many. There were bruises and broken skin, deep internal injuries, and whatever this poison was. And Grogu didn't know where to start. His gaze darted across Din's face, trying to understand what he should try to fix first. But the only realization he made as he studied the pain-filled features, was that this was his fault. Tears welled up in Grogu's eyes as he cooed at Din, hoping for a response. He didn't get one and frustration blended with desperation in his stomach as he closed his eyes, trying to find a center, the same way he had seen Luke do when he was meditating. That had worked for him before.
Grogu felt like he was inching toward it but then Din gave a choking cough and his attempt to find a center ended. He gave into the desperation welling in his chest. He knew he couldn't make Din whole, but he had to try something.
Taking a deep breath, Grogu focused on what he assumed was worst wound, whatever that poison was from the shots. That seemed to be the thing depressing Din's breathing and making his heart race. Maybe if he could take care of that, his buir would wake up again. Grogu focused and searched, looking for the poison the same way he had done with the big, winged creature years ago. But he couldn't find it. He knew it had to be there, he could feel it pulsing through Din's veins, but he couldn't focus on it. Couldn't separate it out from anything else. He closed his eyes tighter and focused harder, looking for the danger, but still nothing. Grogu relented and dropped back on his bottom. His buir wasn't any better. If anything, he was worse. There was a foam leaking out of the corner of his mouth and he was still shaking, even with the warm blanket tucked around him.
Grogu focused once more, trying to find the poison. But it wasn't there.
Conceding, he turned his attention to the freely bleeding wounds he could feel under the armor. There were three he could sense. As he mentally probed a little farther, he could feel the pain Din had been in as he had fought and Grogu instinctively leaned into his desperation to guide his actions. Doing so led the worst of the wounds to start to close and Grogu pushed to heal it faster before moving onto the others. As he felt the third wound close, Grogu fell back onto his bottom, his hands falling into his lap as he considered his buir.
Grogu watched him carefully, his eyes drooping as he fought the urge to fall asleep. He was still hurt too, and that bit of healing had taken more out of him than he imagined. Din's breathing had eased slightly, but little else changed and Grogu's tears fell as the reality caught up to him. He hadn't done anything useful. He crawled forward and snuggled into Din's shoulder tucking his head into the hard beskar and fighting the urge to fall asleep, dreading his inability to do something if anything got worse. And Grogu was petrified it would.
From where he was lying, Grogu turned his attention to the ladder to the helm. His buir had told him to send out a distress signal, but he was terrified to leave. Petrified that Din would die while he searched for the right button in an unfamiliar ship. Still, Grogu turned his gaze back Din and again back to the ladder. After a worried consideration, Grogu curled back into Din's side.
That's all I have for now. I will say this story is growing a little more complex than I thought it would but it's been fun to write so far so hopefully you're still enjoying it! Feel free to let me know what you thought in the reviews :)
I hope you have a wonderful night/day and stay creative!
-Lily
