* So first of all, thank you to all of you for reading this story so far. Second, it might be a while until the next update. Me and my editor need to work on a few details for the upcoming chapters.

Once again, thank you.

Plans Change

During the shootout in Nevarro, while Din was escaping with the Child, he had shot Greef Karga. Somehow, he survived, as evidenced by the most recent incoming transmission.

Greef had a proposition for him. To end the life of the client who kept sending hunters after the Child. In turn, the Empire might choose to leave Nevarro alone, allowing Greef and the guild to resume normal bounty work.

The caveat? The Child would be used as bait in order to get close enough to the client to take him out.

Greef's plan was detailed yet straightforward. It was also clever, and extremely dubious. The likelihood of it being a trap was high. At any point during the plan, the risks nearly outweighed the reward. As Din listened to the message, he almost switched it off before it ended. The idea of willingly bringing the Child anywhere near the Empire was ridiculous. Out of the question.

However, when the message was done, Din sat that for a few seconds, just to think.

Eventually, he turned to face to face the Child, who was sleeping soundly in the crate. Safe, and out of danger. For now.

Thus far, Din handled any bounty hunter that came their way with no mercy, no negotiation. Protecting the Child took priority, not only by Creed but also by moral.

But the reality was that they couldn't keep running forever. Sooner or later, worse trouble could find them.

The Empire would eventually get sick of bounty hunters. Next, they would probably send stormtroopers, which Din could easily dispatch. After that, though, it was anyone's guess. Even though the Empire had fallen, their loyal followers were still numerous. And they still wanted the Child. Din had to decide what was riskier.

Running to the point of exhaustion, and potentially failing?

Or bringing the fight to the enemy?

The Child murmured in his sleep, completely at ease and probably unaware of how dangerous the galaxy was for him.

Din turned to look out the windshield, eyes narrowing with determination. The decision was simple. If it ensured the Child's safety, then it only made sense.

If Greef wanted to scheme, then fine. Let him scheme. But Din wouldn't allow himself to be played, if that ended up being the case. If they were truly going to eliminate the client, then he wanted to be in control from start to finish. This meant that he had some planning to do.

Mandalorians could be prideful, not to mention introverted. But those that were pragmatic knew there was safety in numbers. While Din trusted so very few in this universe, he knew exactly where to look.

He turned the Razor Crest, and entered hyperspace. By the time they jumped out of it, they were almost at their destination.

The Child was waking up, having more than likely sensed the sudden change in course. He yawned, and gripped the edge of the crate. He stood as tall as he could in an effort to see out the windshield. With a slightly frustrated mutter, he clambered out of the crate, and dropped to the floor.

He went over to the pilot's seat, staring up at Din expectantly. Sighing, Din picked him up, but didn't set him on the console, knowing what kind of mischief he could cause. He opted for holding him and allowing him to see where they were going.

Upon realizing they were approaching Sorgan, the Child let out an excited babble.

Din shook his head. "Sorry, kid. We're only here on business. We'll visit your friends some other time."

After placing him back in the crate, he gripped the controls again and started the landing process. The Child's ears drooped, and he let out a disappointed murmur.

Upon hearing the sound, Din's hands paused over the console for a moment.

He sighed again, more heavily. He couldn't even debate visiting Omera's village. Aside from the fact that they might attract another bounty hunter there, they also didn't have time. He thought about flying over the village and letting the Child see it, but perhaps that would only make him even more disappointed.

Din shook his head, a motion that jolted his neck. His focus should be on the plan that would ensure the Child's well-being.

They arrived at the cantina where they first met Cara. Sure enough, she was there, and in the middle of a wrestling match. Once she won, and upon noticing Din, they sat at a table and talked. Din gave her the rundown of what was going on, and how he would appreciate having her there as back up. She declined at first, still feeling the need to lay low.

Any other time, Din would've relented and been on his way. But he was…Desperate wasn't the right word for it, or at least it wasn't one he would ever use. So, he kept it simple.

He said that the client was Imperial.

After only a moment's pause, Cara was smirking.

On the way to Nevarro, Din put the Razor Crest on autopilot. Going down into the hull of the ship, he opened the weapons locker and let Cara take her pick. Though this raised her enthusiasm, she was still skeptical about what to expect. They talked about the plan, the pros and cons.

There was a problem with plans. They had a habit of changing.

They had left the Child in the cockpit alone for less than five minutes. For the next five minutes, the ship was in chaos, because the Child had climbed onto the console and grabbed hold of the controls.

Din swiftly picked up the Child, placed him in Cara's hands, and regained control of the ship. All the while, the Child giggled exuberantly. As everything stabilized, Din's eyes darted over the screens in front of him, just to make sure nothing was damaged.

After Cara put the Child in the crate, she huffed and said, "We need someone to watch that thing."

He nodded slightly. "Yeah."

"You got anyone you can trust?"

He thought about that for a second. And he remembered that there actually was someone else that might help them. "Yeah," he repeated, and started changing the direction of the ship.

She raised a brow suspiciously. "You gonna tell me who?"

"He's an Ugnaught," he explained. "Lives on Arvala-7."

She nodded slowly, satisfied by that answer, knowing it was a remote place where no one would hassle her.

There was a clacking noise as something fell and rolled across the floor, followed by the Child squeaking.

Without looking away from the console, still trying to get some things back in order, Din asked Cara, "Could you pick that up for him?"

There was a pause. "...Is this a piece of your ship?"

He nodded.

"You sure he can have this," she asked.

Din glanced back at her, and shrugged calmly. "He won't play with anything else."

Cara shook her head a little, but handed the silver ball back to the Child. His ears perked up as he took it from her.

She sat down in the other passenger seat. After a few minutes, she asked, "How come you aren't mad at him?"

"About what," Din asked.

"About how he almost capsized the ship just now."

He glanced at her again. "We stopped him in time."

"Why was he doing that, anyway?"

Din turned to face her, not understanding why this was bothering her. "Hard to say," he said. "Could've been boredom. He gets into things sometimes. Besides, I'm the one who left him up here alone."

Cara's brows were knitted together, waiting for him to answer the question, even though he already did so.

So, he added, "He's just a kid. I see no point in getting mad at him." And he left it at that.

After some regular travel and a stint in hyperspace, they quickly arrived at Arvala-7. He was pleased to find that Kuiil was doing well. Not much had changed in the last couple months. This little corner of the galaxy was still fairly peaceful.

The only notable change was the fact that IG-11 was still very much alive. In an instant, Din was standing and raising his blaster, with Cara following his lead.

Kuiil tried to mediate, but Din almost didn't want to hear it. "That thing is programmed to kill the baby," he all but snarled. He had been dealing with threat after threat for months, and this would be no different.

Kuiil explained how he found IG-11 in the wreckage after Din took the Child from the settlement. He had apparently reprogrammed it, even…nurtured it, much to Din's absolute disdain.

And now it was serving tea. It was almost pitiful. Din hadn't had a reason to laugh in years, but this almost broke that streak. Almost. He never had a sense of humor when it came to droids anyway.

And yet, it begged the question… "Is it still a hunter?"

"No," Kuiil assured. "But it will protect."

Din wasn't convinced.

As the evening went on, Kuiil still had some of his chores to do. After asking Cara to keep an eye on the Child – especially with a droid wandering around – he joined Kuiil, and explained some of the situation.

Kuiil was not fazed by any of this, and offered a solution. To reprogram IG-11 to protect the Child specifically. Din opposed this idea fiercely. If it were any other person, he would've stopped listening altogether. But Kuiil was a different matter. He was the epitome of neutrality and level-headedness. And the amount of help he'd given in the past was invaluable. So, Din heard him out.

"Do you trust me," Kuiil asked.

"From what I can tell," Din answered. "Yes."

"Then you will trust my work. IG-11 will join me."

Din was ready to argue. In the recent weeks, he had already allowed one droid onto his ship, and it almost ended horribly. He wasn't about to let another one on. Especially this one.

"And we do it not for payment," Kuiil continued. "But to protect the Child from Imperial slavery. None will be free until the old ways are gone forever."

And in that moment, Din had found multiple reasons to relent. This was obviously personal for Kuiil, given his history with the Empire. However, he did not prioritize vengeance, or greed. He prioritized the very reason they were doing all of this. The reason why Din had first visited this planet so many months ago.

"Okay," Din said simply.

The Child was…confused. Which wasn't a foreign feeling. Many things in this universe confused him. Like why he couldn't remember certain things. Or why he couldn't visit his friends on Sorgan. Or why bounty hunters kept coming for them.

He also didn't understand why the Razor Crest suddenly felt so cramped. For some reason, Cara, Kuiil, some blurrgs, and the droid were on board. With the ship on autopilot, everyone was gathered in the hull, the most spacious part of the ship.

The Child was quietly sitting in the crate, observing and trying to make sense of things. Having company on the Razor Crest was bizarre, but at least it was people they knew. However, the man was deeply suspicious of the droid, constantly placing himself between it and the Child.

For a while, the ship was quiet, save for the blurrgs grumbling amongst themselves.

"Arm wrestle," Cara suddenly asked, turning towards Din. She shrugged. "Pass the time 'til we get there?"

There was a pause. "You're on." He dragged a few cargo boxes out, to use one as a table and the others as chairs.

"Name the bet," Cara said.

Din scoffed lightly. "Friendly competition?"

She smirked. "Nice try, but I prefer money."

They sat down across from each other. Their hands were clasped tensely together, arms straining against their combined brute force. The Child watched the confrontation. His ears were out sideways, and his concern was steadily growing.

"I got you, Mando," Cara said through gritted teeth.

"Care to double the bet," the man grunted.

The Child had never seen combat like this, where two opponents were sat down, at close range, and where the fight could change any moment. But they stayed like that, neither of them faltering. To the Child, it was a stalemate, and none of it made any sense whatsoever. He thought that the man and Cara were friends, but perhaps something had changed? Or perhaps he'd been wrong altogether?

The man could always turn a fight in his favor, and he was neither winning or losing, but he looked like he needed help.

The Child wanted to help. He had to. The man had protected him so many times, and he would do the same.

With no more hesitation, the Child raised his hand. Through the tips of his claws, he willed something he would never be able to actually see. He didn't quite know what he was doing, and he wasn't always successful with this. But had had been successful with the mudhorn.

There was a rush between his fingers.

Cara stilled, but she did nothing else. She didn't let go of the man. The Child squinted his eyes, and tried harder. He could feel his own body tremoring from exertion.

Cara finally backed off. She leaned away from the man, hands flying to her throat as she gasped and choked.

He wanted to look at the man to see if he was alright, but he couldn't. Stop Cara, stop the fight, help the man. That was all the Child could see at the moment.

"No," the man was suddenly shouting. "No, no! Stop!"

The Child snapped out of it, and found himself being lifted right out of the crate. He squeaked loudly, startled. The familiar hands that held him were tense and strict, easily getting his attention.

"We're friends, we're friends," the man urged frantically. "Cara is my friend!"

The Child shook his head slightly. Was confusion going to become ever-present now? He didn't even know what was going on.

"That is not okay," Cara gasped out.

"Very curious," Kuiil muttered in fascination, stepping closer to Din and the Child.

"Curious," Cara hissed. "It almost killed me."

As some bickering commenced, the Child looked around, trying to piece things together.

Cara was offended. The man defended her and put a stop to everything. Cara was a not a threat, it seemed.

The man still held him, with his feet dangling in the air. He didn't like being held this way, not by anyone. It lacked emotion. It lacked comfort. The man didn't pick him up often to begin with. Yet even now, as always, he wasn't harsh. He didn't hold him with anger or malice, but there was definitely anxiety. Though it was dissipating as he listened to Cara and Kuiil, the Child still had to suppress a shiver.

He only wanted to help.

The man looked down at the Child, and his ears perked for a split second, wondering what the man would do next. The Child wasn't afraid – there was never a time where he feared him – but he'd never seen him react like this before, especially to something he had caused. The Child was quiet, absolutely still, and waiting.

The man moved him. In less than a second, the Child found himself resting in the crook of one arm. The Child exhaled silently, and settled there. The man had been so upset with him just moments ago, and now he wasn't.

Eventually, the man spoke up. To the Child's relief, his voice was back to his usual neutral tone. "Tell you what," he said to Kuiil.

Now, to the Child's disappointment, the man gripped him with both hands once more. But this time, with no anxiety, and it was simply to put him back in the crate.

"I could really use your craftwork right now," the man said. "Can you pad this container so the Child can sleep better?"

Kuiil inspected the crate. "I shall fabricate a better one."

"What all do you need," he asked.

"You gather materials you aren't using. And I will make do."

The Child watched the man move about the hull, and he pushed another storage container forward. This one was filled with scrap metal, which the man often used to make repairs and patch jobs for the ship.

"Take what you need from here," the man insisted.

Kuiil glanced at the contents, and nodded. "Now, I need room."

The man nodded once, and went over to the crate.

"The Child can stay," Kuiil said. "I might need him for measurements."

The man stalled. And then he snapped his gaze to the droid, who was standing attentively at one end of the hull. "Tell it to power down," the man said.

Kuiil sighed, and asked the droid to do so.

The Child murmured questioningly when the man and Cara went up into the cockpit. His confusion didn't last long, which was a welcomed change of pace.

Fascination became the focus when Kuiil began to work. He kept digging through the storage container, bringing out pieces of metal. He was using the tops of storage containers as a makeshift workbench. He was also using a sparkler tool to mesh things together, and its bright light was mesmerizing.

He was building something round – almost oval shaped. The Child leaned over the edge of the crate, trying to figure out what he was making.

Kuiil put the sparkler away after a while, and set about organizing his workspace. The Child watched, finding this to be a familiar sight, just like how the man was meticulous in how he operated the control console.

Kuiil started speaking. "From what I was always told, Mandalorians are not known for being gentle. Only ruthless. Barbaric." He used a rag to clean some of the tools. "I don't believe everything I am told. I prefer seeing with my own eyes. Hearing with my own ears."

Kuiil turned to look at the Child, who tilted his head thoughtfully. He blinked a little, his ears going up and down as he tried to understand him.

For some reason, Kuiil deemed this to be a satisfactory response. "I have spoken," he murmured. He resumed his work.

The Child sat down in the crate. He watched as best he could from this angle, but now Kuiil's back was to him, blocking the thing he was making from view.

From up in the cockpit, Din heard Kuiil call up, saying that his project was done. They would be at their destination any minute now, so he asked Cara to keep an eye on things in the cockpit. She nodded wordlessly, still wanting some distance from the Child. Din certainly didn't blame her. But she was okay, and she assured him that this didn't change the plan.

Din stepped down into the hull, skipping the last few rungs. When he saw what Kuiil had made, he pointed to it and said, "That's a surprise."

Kuiil was in the process of collecting and putting away his tools. "A good one, I hope."

"Yes," he nodded. "An ideal one. Does it hover yet?"

He nodded. "And it can be controlled with your gauntlet, just like the last one. We only need to make the modifications."

Leaning over what looked to be a workbench, Din extended his wrist. He could see that the Child was standing up in the crate, leaning precariously forward over the edge. When the gauntlet was ready, Din took the new pram off the bench and set it on the floor. He pressed a few buttons, until it hovered a few inches off the ground.

Din heard the Child's feet land on the floor.

"It can hover higher than that," Kuiil said.

Din nodded. "I need to see what he thinks of it first."

Eagerly, the Child walked around Kuiil to see what it was.

Within a second, eagerness turned into hesitation, which was a rare occurrence for the Child. Cautiously, he stepped towards the pram. He placed both of his hands on the outside, his claws scraping lightly against the metal.

Din pushed another button. Its door opened with a hiss and a whir. Doing so formed an edge around the outside, and the Child gripped it. Standing on his tiptoes, he peered inside.

The noise he made almost startled Din. It was something between a small yelp and squeak. The Child took a few steps back from the pram. He shook his head a little and babbled stubbornly, almost scowling at it.

Kuiil sighed. "I'll try not to be offended, I suppose."

Din shook his head slowly. "It's not about your craftmanship."

"Then what?"

For a few moments, Din didn't take his eyes off the Child, noting every little apprehensive movement he made. At some point, the Child noticed Din was watching, and he seemed to stare at him straight through the visor of his helmet.

Decidedly, Din went over to the crate to retrieve something from it, and then returned back to the pram. The Child watched him closely, paying specific attention to the blue blanket now in Din's grasp. His face scrunched when Din laid the blanket inside the pram. He reached his claws upwards in a feeble attempt to take the blanket back.

After he was done with that, Din crouched down next to the Child, and he felt an unexpected tightening in his chest at just how anxiously the Child was looking at him.

"You have to get in, kid," he explained, his voice low in an effort to sound reassuring. "It's gonna be the safest place for you while we deal with the client."

The Child muttered dubiously

"It's to keep you safe," he clarified, trying again.

Once again, the Child touched the metal, very, very tentatively.

Din's voice dropped lower. It was a cadence that was almost soft and…one that he didn't know he was capable of. "It isn't the same pram," he murmured. "You won't be locked away."

One of the Child's ears flicked, the one pointed in Din's direction. It was the same ear that once had a small cut on it, many months ago.

He glanced at the ground, and Din was relieved to see his eyes relax into contemplation. The Child tilted his head, looking at him in the process.

Din nodded, and gestured to the pram. The Child blinked steadily.

Once again, he gripped the edge of the pram, only this time he hauled himself up and over. Now that he was inside it, he slowly sat down on his blanket. He looked around at the interior, his claws grasping the padded sides and smooth metal ceiling.

Din stood up, and he and Kuiil watched him, waiting for a verdict. The Child noticed they were looking at him. He cooed under his breath, a small sound of positivity.

Kuiil asked, "What did that mean?"

Din shrugged. "I think it means he likes it. Or that he's trying to like it." He paused. "Thank you."

Kuiil nodded once.

Cara's voice echoed down to them. "Hey, guys," she was saying. "Nevarro's just up ahead."

Before leaving the Razor Crest, Din told the Child he would probably have to close the pram often. The Child only stared up at him, and Din was once again reminded of not knowing how much he truly understood. But as he pressed the button to close it, he studied the Child's face carefully. Thankfully, he showed no distress, so he closed the pram.

He, Cara, and Kuiil got the blurrgs ready, mounted them, and left the Razor Crest. Din demanded they leave IG-11 on the ship, for multiple reasons. He still didn't want it anywhere near the Child, and he didn't want to be distracted by the presence of a droid.

Outside, Greef and a small team of bounty hunters were waiting. It seemed that both sides thought to bring security measures, and neither were offended. Din realized that this was the first time that Greef was seeing the Child.

As per Greef's instructions, he landed the Razor Crest far from the town, not wanting the Empire be suspicious of their activity. They would walk for the remainder of the day, camp out for the night, and then arrive in town by morning. As they traveled, Din kept the pram closed for the most part, only opening it for a few seconds here and there to reassure himself that the Child was doing fine.

Night fell quickly, and it was almost pitch black out. Using some lava, they quickly got a fire going, and someone had the foresight to bring meat to cook on a spit.

Din opened the pram, and he didn't plan to close for a while. The Child blinked against the darkness, and his eyes traveled skyward. Out here, due to the steam and smoke coming from the lava rivers, stars were often not visible from on the ground.

The Child muttered disappointedly, but his mood changed when Kuiil fed him some dinner.

Din was sitting right next to the Child, not eating of course, and eyeing the bounty hunters who were on their side of the fire pit. To be fair, they also kept an eye him. These bounty hunters were sitting directly across from a high value target. And Din was guarding said target, had been for months, and had more than likely built up quite a reputation in the process. If that was the case, he was proud of that reputation.

Despite the distrust in the air, the night was peaceful.

For a while.

Nevarro had these creatures known reptavians. Nocturnal hunters, and sometimes they traveled in groups. No one heard the beat of their wings, just the screeching when they made themselves known.

They descended on Din and everyone else, diving in and out of the darkness and frequently striking blows. There was a shout from Greef at some point, but Din would address that later. He positioned himself in front of the pram and fired his blaster into the night. If the shots hit their target, he had no idea. He closed the pram just as the fight was getting started. He got tossed around for a bit, but nothing he couldn't get up from.

Either the reptavians got fed up with getting shot at, or they decided that an entire blurrg was adequate food, because they were flying away as quickly as they'd arrived.

Din, Cara, and Kuiil flanked the pram, weapons aimed at the sky, until they figured that enough time had passed.

Din quickly knelt down and opened the pram to find that the Child was alright. He was looking around and murmuring confusedly.

Greef, however, was not okay. Not only were the scratches on his arm deep and wide, but the wound also contained venom that was spreading rapidly through his system. The only med-pack on hand wasn't enough. For a moment, they all assumed that the only course of action was to stand by his side until he succumbed.

Din was mainly neutral, if not slightly sympathetic. After all, Greef was going to die a miserable death. However, it was his bounty hunters that had terrorized Din and the Child for months now. The sympathy was short-lived.

There was movement out the corner of his eye. The Child had climbed out of the pram and was walking across the ground towards everyone. Din could see that his eyes were fixated on Greef, specifically on the injured arm. The Child reached his hand out.

Cara was trying to work to save Greef, and noticed the Child. "Get this thing outa here," she said through gritted teeth.

"Wait," Kuiil urged.

The Child placed his hand over Greef's arm, his eyes almost closing in what was more than likely concentration.

Greef grunted. "He's trying to eat me."

Any other time, Din would've scoffed, but all his focus was on the Child, and on the wound. Gradually, many things happened at once. The wound stopped bleeding, it was closing, Greef's cries of agony lessened, until…The wound was no longer there.

Hours ago, he'd been using his powers to strangle Cara. And now, he was using it to heal. It was to heal an enemy, but he didn't exactly know that. He didn't have a reason to think about that.

The Child let go of Greef's arm and plopped backwards onto the sooty ground. His eyes were still squinted, now very tired, but at least he didn't pass out, like what had happened with the mudhorn.

Din, Cara, and Kuiil all looked at each other in astonishment and wonder.

They were interrupted by the Child huffing a little. After a delayed response, still reeling from how incredible that was, Din picked the Child up and held him in one arm. The two of them made eye contact.

The Child managed a weak smile. And Din nodded at him.

As he started taking the Child back to the pram for some rest, Greef sat up straighter. "Mando," he called, causing Din to turn around. "Why did he do that?"

Din didn't have a straightforward answer. It wasn't like he could read the kid's mind. But he had a theory. A very simple one. "I think he just wanted to help."

The next morning came around, and it consisted of a little more traveling. Suspiciously, the bounty hunters walked ahead, and talked amongst themselves. Din and his friends hung back, also talking, and wondering what the bounty hunters could be planning.

When the town came into view…Greef shot his bounty hunters, much to everyone's sheer confusion. Greef had originally been planning a double cross, until the Child had saved his life.

And once again, the plan had changed. If Din could get close to the client without the Child being involved at all, that would be ideal. Greef, Din, Cara, and the pram would go into the town. The Child would go with Kuiil back to the ship, and they could seal themselves inside. Kuiil provided a comlink, in order for Din to have long distance communication with him.

Everything was put into motion very rapidly, determination fueling everyone.

The Child looked curiously over Kuiil's shoulder, watching everyone else walking in the opposite direction.

As it turned out, the client would not be a problem for much longer. Other Imperials shot him. And they kept firing into the cantina, forcing everyone to dive for cover. Troopers were waiting outside, and more were arriving. They couldn't leave the cantina.

They weren't getting back to the Razor Crest anytime soon.

Through the comlink, he told Kuiil to leave, to get himself and the Child to safety.

From there, things went to hell.

It wasn't a simple client who wanted the Child.

They were riding towards the Razor Crest. The Child could see it on the horizon as they gradually approached. The blurrg was huffing strained breaths as Kuiil urged it to run quicker and quicker. At some point, the Child's face was pressed against Kuiil's shoulder and he couldn't see much of anything. Worry had already filled him a few miles back.

The man's voice could be heard over the comlink, asking if they were back to the ship yet.

The Child still couldn't see it from this angle, but he could hear it. Something mechanical buzzing behind them. With every passing second, the buzzing grew closer and closer.

Blasts were fired. The blurrg stumbled and lurched. Kuiil grunted and gasped sharply, his voice echoing all around.

The Child was suddenly airborne, flung from his friend's grip. Upon hitting the ground, his world went dark.

"You have something I want," the Imperial stated. "You may think you have some idea of what you are in possession of. But you do not."

"Kuiil, are you back to the ship yet? They're onto us…Kuiil come in!"

"In a few moments, it will be mine."

"Kuiil, do you copy? Kuiil!"

"It means more to me…than you will ever know."

"Kuiil, are you there! Come in, Kuiil. Kuiil, come in. Kuiil! Are you there?! Do you copy! Kuiil?...Kuiil!"