Niko and Amberlyn followed Drash through the smoky atmosphere of a small Mos Espa cantina. In the back booth, a slender, cerulean-skinned, Dathomiri woman sat alone sipping a drink. Her ornate necklace sparkled as she lifted her head to look at the shadows that loomed over her table.

"Drash!" The greeting was one of familiarity. "You brought friends."

"This is Niko and Amberlyn." Drash introduced the Mandalorians, motioning for them to sit across from her alien associate. "They need your help."

"The name's Bavi." Delicate blue fingers decorated with rings and jewels stretched across the table for a handshake. "What can I do for you?"

"We need to find a death stick dealer." Niko began.

"We own a club." Amberlyn added. "We were sold death sticks laced with spice. People died. We need to find out where it came from."

Bavi chuckled. "And Fett couldn't help with this? So much for the Daimyo."

"It was synthetic spice." Drash added. "Boba said only Imperial labs can make it that pure."

Bavi's teasing smirk soured into a worried frown at the word Imperial. "Who sold it to you?"

Niko shrugged. "A Rodian."

Bavi gazed out the window, deep in thought. "Go to Coruscant." She responded. "On level 1217 there's a bar called Danken's Den. There is a Rodian smuggler—Toshan— who works out of there. He might be your guy."

Aclik Karanlik blinked the trance from the Sith holocron from his eyes. He lazily reached for the glowing indicator on the comms station on the desk in fromt of him— a new message had arrived.

The visage of a shriveled figure enshrouded in a dark hood flickered above the device. A raspy, grating voice filled the room. "Aclik." The Emperor entreated." Come to the Imperial base on Coruscant."

The pilot balled his hands into a fist over the controls of the Lambda shuttle. "All due respect, sir," he snapped at Aclik, "I could jump to hyperspace if you'd stop pacing."

Aclik Karanlik held onto the copilot's chair as his shuttle jumped to lightspeed. "The Emperor himself called me to Coruscant." He countered. "Do you have any idea what that means?"

Boba Fett folded his arms across his chest as he peered from his throne to his associates below. "No." The Daimyo decreed. "Coruscant's too dangerous. Especially the lower levels."

"But—" Niko begged, "Without getting to the bottom of this, we can't reopen our club. We can't make a living."

"And whoever did it could strike again." Drash added. "They could come here."

Drash was right.

Boba sighed, resigned to being responsible for such a dangerous mission.

Krrsantan bellowed, the revered Wookiee warrior offering to go on the mission as protection.

"No, Santo." Fett advised. "You'll draw too much attention."

"I'll go." Fennec offered.

"Fine." Fett agreed. "We'll take my ship. I'll drop you off."

Aclik stepped out of his shuttle expecting the usual for an imperial shipyard— disorganized regiments of stormtroopers, and snobbish officers looking for a power trip, inclined on making things difficult for one of Aclik's rank. Rather, a high-ranking officer greeted him with a cordial bow. The officer ushered him past the customary security checkpoint, down a wide hallway, and onto a waiting elevator. The elevator descended to somewhere within Coruscant's depths. When the door slid open, the officer again smiled and bowed. He stepped aside, signaling for Aclik to step out.

The room was large and dark except for buttons blinking on laboratory equipment and the aquamarine glow from a series of bacta tanks. Aclik ventured further into the room, drawn to the deepest reaches of the chamber by the dark side of the Force. He gawked in awe at the advancements all around him— fragments of which he recognized as his own achievements.

Each tank contained a sample of living tissue, twitching and bobbing, connected by a tangle of tubes and wires to life support systems above. Other tanks housed creatures— some animals, some aliens, some humans, all deformed. Aclik shrugged— such is the price of science.

The dark side compelled him deeper still into the chamber. Beyond the grove of bacta tanks, a larger tank stood alone. Its frosted cylinder concealed the humanoid figure that floated within. A withered hand pressed against the tank and a powerful voice boomed in Aclik's mind.

"Son." Sidious said.

Aclik's breath hitched at the word. He had loved, yet hated when the Emperor called him that. He knew that it was the Empire's doing that had vaporized this family on Alderaan, yet he longed for a father figure.

Darth Sidious spoke through the Force into Aclik's mind as his deformed hand groped the glass of the tank in which his physical form floated.

"Your training has come to this. It is time. Destroy Mandalore. Destroy Din Djarin and the child will turn to the dark side. The Sith will be unstoppable. The Force will show you what you must do."

Wary watchers shifted in the shadows of the squalid streets of Coruscant's lower levels. Niko, Amberlyn, and Drash stayed close to Fennec, the younger warriors relying on the seasoned assassin for safety here in one of the least safe places in the Galaxy.

"Danken's Den!" Drash exclaimed a sigh of relief. She strode ahead towards the door. "Finally we're here."

Fennec outpaced her. "I'll go first."

Fennec stepped inside, shielding the young ones behind her as if they were her family— because they were.

"Mornin'," a burly alien looked up from polishing cups. "We're not open for—" he looked at his chrono. "Another four hours."

Niko took a step towards the bartender. "We're here to see Toshan."

The alien stopped drying the mug that he held. His beady eyes narrowed into a suspicious gaze. "Alright—" he paused. "Follow me."

At the end of the skinny hallway at the rear of Danken's Den, the bartender pounded on a door. "Toshan! You have visitors."

"Alright! Alright!" Came a muffled reptilian shout from behind the door. Shuffling and rustling noises followed. At last, the door slid open, revealing a rodian, his reptilian eyes still glossed over with sleep. Tiredly, he asked, "What can I do for you?"

"You!" Niko pointed his finger at Toshan's chest. "You sold me the death sticks!" His hand balled into a fist. "Do you have any idea how many people you killed?"

"I didnt kill anybody." Toshan insisted. "That's between my supplier, and you, the buyer."

NIko hung his head and stepped back, silenced by guilt. Toshan was right— had he never bought those death sticks, the tragedy at Club Insomnia would have never happened.

"Who's your supplier?" Amberlyn asked.

"Like I'd tell you!" Toshan sneered.

Fennec stepped forward and Toshan scrambled back. The iconic silhouette of this elite assassin was the stuff of legends in the Galacic underworld. Fennec Shand was not to be trifled with. "Who gave you the death sticks?" She demanded.

"F-fine. Aclik. Aclik Karanlik. He's an Imp scientist." Toshan confessed.

Back on the Chimaera, Aclik again gazed into the red glow of his holocron. The dark side impressed upon him the name of an obscure planet— the estuary world of Salinius.

Aclik sent a message to the bridge to set a course for Salinius, then studied the planet. Suddenly, the dark side's sinister plan became clear. Salinius's bedrock was rich in a rare mineral— a main ingredient of one of the most powerful explosives in the Galaxy.

Drash radioed Boba for a pickup as an airspeeder ferried Fennec and her friends back to Coruscant's surface. Fennec kept her weapon ready and an alert eye trained on her still seedy surroundings as the speeder ascended. "Don't worry." Fennec urged. "Fett will get us back to Tatooine as quickly as possible so you can get back to Mandalore."

"But it was another Imperial attack." Niko lamented.

"We have to tell leadership." Amberlyn admitted. "This is bigger than we thought."

"Boba's on his way." Drash confirmed. She turned to Amberlyn. "You can use the holocomm on the ship to contact Mandalore."

Din Djarin crossed a Sundari patio on his way to the palace conference room. He slowed his pace, allowing Grogu's pram to catch up with him. This platform had been the same one he'd launched off of months before, just before he was ambushed by the clone that would kidnap Grogu.

Din gazed at the kid happily levitating the knob from the Razor Crest, then continued into the meeting— a safety meeting with Bo-Katan and Axe, again not unlike the one he'd been in before the clone had come for Grogu. Ever since, this area of the palace had brought Din less than pleasant memories.

Just like that fateful night, Koska, Axe, and Bo-Katan sat around the table. The holocomm in the center of the table flashed with a fresh message.

"First matter of business,"Bo-Katan began, "Club insomnia."

"Wait." Din said. "There's a message." He activated the holocomm.

Amberlyn's image floated above the device. "We spoke to the smuggler that sold us the death sticks." She confessed. "We found out where they came from— it was Aclik."

"That settles it then." Axe said. "Aclik is attacking by unconventional means. We have to play it safe. Club insomnia cannot reopen."

Koska rolled her eyes. She sighed. "It's been months since the battle of Mustafar. We've got enhanced security in place. Nothing has happened since."

"She's right." Bo-katan said. "Our economy won't thrive under these restrictions."

"We should be careful." Din advised.

"Careful is one thing, fearful is another." Bo-Katan replied. "We're Mandalorians. We aren't fearful. The club will reopen."

Aclik Karanlik beheld the beautiful blue-green world of Salinius through the bridge windows as the Chimaera pulled into orbit over the planet.

"Sir, your shuttle is ready." The first officer told him. "The foreman of the mining collective— Harlon Soww—is expecting you."

"Harlon Soww" the portly little man's bushy beard bristled with every word he spoke. He stretched a sure hand across a sturdy desk. "Aclik Karanlik, is it? You're Imperial? Or are you a chef?" He chuckled. "I heard you were a chef."

Aclik flashed a suave smile. "Both, actually. I'm a scientist. Salinius contains high concentrations of—"

"Chantarum." Harlon finished the sentence. The foreman continued. "It's a rare mineral with unique properties." He tapped a button on his desk and a hologram illuminated the office. "It can be manipulated by a remote signal, and it's explosive." He looked Aclik in the eye. "I must warn you though, once it explodes, it's highly radioactive."

Aclik's business professional demeanor mixed with an overtone of mischief. "That sounds—suitable."

"Great." Mr. Soww bellowed. "I can have four crates of it ready by morning."

"'Four?" Aclik repeated, indignant. "I need twenty!"

Harlon scrunched his brow in consternation. "We can't mine that much. Chantarum's a toxic material. It'll poison the locals' water."

"You know what." Aclik again showed the warm manners of a businessman. "Don't worry about it. My men will take over the mining collective's operations from here, and we'll take care of the locals too."

Grogu snuggled into his fresh clean pajamas, a burlap tunic like he wore every day, this one just a little softer and easier to sleep in. He peeked over the side of his pram. Mando emerged from the royal bedchamber's fresher. He wore only a clean flight suit. His armor and helmet lay stacked and ready against the wall. Grogu wondered why Mando never wore pajamas— maybe because he'd been through enough to know to always be ready for trouble, or maybe he was hiding the scars from all the trouble he'd already been through. Maybe always being dressed felt safe.

"Alright, Kid." Din said as he sat on the edge of the bed. "Been a long day. Time for bed." He tucked Grogu into his pram, pulling the royal red blanket up to the child's chin. He turned off the lights and climbed into bed.

Grogu listened to the rustling of fabric as Mando tossed the bedsheets over himself. Minutes passed and the royal bedchamber was silent. Mando's breathing had not yet deepened into the even cadence of sleep. He was still awake.

Lately, Mando had taken longer to fall asleep. Grogu could tell that the political duties and endless meetings that came with the title of Mand'alor weren't Mando's favorite thing. Grogu had overheard conversations between Mando and Bo-Katan about the possibility of another Imperial attack. Bo-Katan never seemed to pay attention to the warnings. Mando had tried to keep Grogu distracted with Jedi training, and even the occasional lesson from the Armorer, but there was no fooling a fifty year old Force sensitive kid.

Grogu sat up, peering over the edge of his pram into the nighttime gloom, gazing concerned at his father.

"I see you, womp rat." Din said, his face half buried in a pillow. He sat up and held his son. "Don't worry about me."

Grogu gave a disapproving growl.

Din sighed. "I know, Grogu, I know you know. Leading a planet isn't easy. That's why I'm teaching you. I'm glad youre doing a good job of learning. You will lead Mandalore someday."

Grogu whimpered and climbed from Mando's lap onto his chest. He hated the devastating truth that those words implied— someday he'd have to rule Mandalore all alone. Someday Mando would be gone.

The remaining members of the mining collective hurriedly fled onto a freighter as it lifted off. Simultaneously, stormtrooper transports touched down. Troopers spilled out of the ships and into the mining base while commanding officers took stock of the mining equipment abandoned by the fleeing mining collective.

In the Salinius forest, a gentle foot stopped without making a sound. A shimmering vibroblade swiped a flower from its stalk. Andra stopped and watched. She tapped the side of her helmet to hone in on the activity as just beyond the tree line, the harsh mining collective that had occupied her planet fled, making way for a far worse oppressor— the Empire.

Andra hurried home with her harvest of herbs. She unwrapped the napkin she'd carried them in, dumped the herbs in a kettle with water, and hung the concoction over the hearth— a herbal tea for her brother Mizran to counteract the toxic effects of working in the mines.

Mizran hunched over the dining table, his head against his hands, his tarnished beskar helmet on the table beside him. Andra slid him a cup of the brew. "If you wouldn't have bought that new speeder bike, then wrecked it, you'd be able to bounty hunt like the rest of Clan Crystal instead of working in those mines."

Mizran grunted and took the cup. Andra's older brother, Calan, came in from his forge. He hung his beskar hammer and tongs on a hook by the door and pulled off his helmet. "Any idea what's going on at the mine?"

Andra swallowed back a lump of fear in her throat before answering. "The Empire."