Grogu pointed at the beach and whined.
"Not right now, kid. We're here on business. Maybe after we talk to Captain Teva."
Another whine. The blue water did look lovely, as did the white sand sparkling in the sun. But Din wasn't comfortable with the idea of Grogu playing at the water's edge by himself. The travelers' guide swore that the animal life on Adelphi wasn't dangerous but Din had an unhappy history with creatures near water. And ice. And deserts. You never knew what was lurking on these Outer Rim planets.
"Later."
Grogu frowned but followed obediently after Din as he headed into the canteen. Some eyes turned their way—they always did when a Mandalorian walked in—but this wasn't Din's first time here. Soon the pilots and mechanics turned back to their drinks and conversations. The barkeep approached, smiling tentatively.
"Didn't think we'd think to see you back so soon. Can I get you something—ah—to go, for later?"
"No, but you can bring the kid a snack. Something with protein."
"Oh, didn't see the little rascal down there. Does he have any dietary restrictions?"
"Well, no," said Din.
Grogu was happily digging into a bowl of crispy worms when Teva sidled up to the bar.
"Didn't think I'd see you back so soon," he said. "Thought you might be settling in on Navarro still. How goes it on Mandalore? You heard anything?"
"There's a lot of work to do," said Din. He didn't particularly want to share the news he had heard about the various clans and factions hammering out their issues—sometimes literally. Best to keep Mandalorian business private. "And I have a job of my own. I'm looking into something for Greef Karga. But I think it'll interest you too."
The older man took a deep drink, regret on his face. "I hope I can help him this time."
"What do you know about Merrix Fleet Services?"
"Just that they're all over the Outer Rim. Too many convicts, not enough ships, so the New Republic contracts out. Transporting prisoners is risky, even with droids." Teva gave Din a pointed look.
"Karga and the new marshal say prisoners are going missing, going all the way back to when Navarro was a Guild hub," Din continued, ignoring the look. "Families are asking but not getting answers. The previous marshal tried to look into it with the New Republic but got stonewalled. The common thread is Merrix."
"Misplaced prisoners." Teva shook his head. "Great. This isn't the first time I've heard about this problem."
"The New Republic knows about lost prisoners? What are they doing about it?"
"They're trying to keep it quiet so people won't panic. Remember Narkina 5, the prison factories? It brings back bad memories of the Empire."
"Has anyone actually tried to find the lost prisoners? Instead of worrying about bad memories?"
"A little, but you know how it is. Resources are tight. These contractors have powerful friends. And no one is very sympathetic about criminals. The last thing the New Republic wants is to look soft on crime."
Unbelievable. "I'm looking into this mostly as a favor to Karga, but I need resources."
Teva nodded. "I have some discretionary spending allowed in my budget. Just don't be messy."
"I'm never messy." Grogu slurped down a last worm, looked down at the empty bowl, then up at Din with expectant eyes. "One snack is enough."
"You sure you want a kid with you?" asked Teva.
Everyone has an opinion when you have a kid, Din thought. "He's my apprentice," said Din, and Grogu held up his head importantly.
"If you say so," said Teva. Din turned to leave, and Grogu hopped down from the stool to join him, but Teva wasn't done. "Pretty ironic," he said. "How many of those prisoners are bounties you brought in? And now you're trying to find them all over again."
Din left with Grogu at his heels.
###
The moons glowed in the night sky as Din rinsed out the meal kits in fresh water. They had set up camp just outside the perimeter of the base, the part of the compound set aside for traders and contractors. The night wind from the ocean felt cool and Grogu had helped Din gather fuel for a small fire.
"We'll head out in the morning early," said Din. "I have a few ideas where to start. I'll look at the data from IG once more." Grogu blinked slowly. "Get some sleep. Busy day tomorrow."
With a sigh his son curled up on the rough blanket near the fire and shut his eyes. On his vambrace projector Din pulled up the data once more. He knew very well where they were heading tomorrow and he didn't like it.
Merrix's company had built an orbiting prisoner transfer station—and it was orbiting Sorgan.
He flipped to one of the holo interviews. Din knew it by heart, but he couldn't help watching it once more. A middle-aged man in travel clothes sat on a stool, his face pained. IG's voice spoke.
Sir, for the record, please state your name, your home system, and your profession.
Len Derask. I'm from Corellia and my family runs a chain of canteens serving the shipyards.
Please state the name of the person you seek.
My son, Jase. Jase Derask.
His record indicates a history of burglary and smuggling. Arrested by the Guild, transferred to the New Republic, and shipped to the Karthon Chop Fields for a two-year sentence.
Yes. I know. You don't have to tell me. He contacted me from Navarro after he was brought in, told me he was sorry. The problem is that was three years ago. That was the last I heard from him. I tried to set up a holo visiting day, they're supposed to have some rights in there. But they said he wasn't there. I tried contacting the New Republic office on Corellia but no one could tell me where he was. If he was released, he would have come home. He doesn't have any credits. I thought I'd try Navarro, I don't know where else to go. I had to sell off one of my restaurants to afford transport here.
I am sorry, sir. The records available to me only indicate what you have already learned.
He's not a bad kid. I know he did wrong, but he's my son. I tried to get him into our family business but he got in with the wrong crowd. If you can just help me find him, I know…I know I can get him back on track, if I can see him again…he was such a sweet little boy once…
The man broke down and wept.
Recording ending, said IG's voice, oddly gentle for a droid.
Din thought he remembered this bounty. A scared young guy over his head, betrayed and hung out to dry by his "friends" when things got hot. He had quickly surrendered and cooperated for the trip back to Navarro because he was terrified of being frozen, terrified of Din.
An easy job. And there were so many like him over the years.
The code of the Guild said no exceptions and no questions. Mandalorians did not look kindly on lawbreakers either, and for many years Din had been hardened against tears and pleas from parents and spouses. But now things had changed. He had changed. Or maybe he had just grown soft.
Din stretched out next to the kid, one arm under his head, and stared at the fire for a long time. After a time Grogu stirred, yawned, and looked at Din with sleepy but serious dark eyes. He could always tell when Din was asleep or awake, but now it was if he could see under the helmet again.
"Go back to sleep, buddy."
Still the dark eyes studied him.
"Grogu. I'm fine. Back to sleep."
Grogu yawned and snuggled close against his side. The little boy's breath gradually turned deep and slow, and finally Din stopped thinking about the weeping father and followed his son into sleep.
###
"You remember this place, right?" said Din. Grogu chirped in response. They had landed some distance away from the village to avoid alarming its inhabitants, who were rightly paranoid about outsiders.
The track was muddy, so they walked instead off trail, on fallen leaves and among the undergrowth. No reason to leave footprints. The sound of rain on the forest canopy above made a gentle tapping sound. Apparently it was wet season on this continent on Sorgan.
At last they came through the trees to the wide krill fields surrounding the village. Din and Grogu walked on the raised paths towards the clusters of buildings at the center. Some of the farmers recognized him and waved. Grogu waved back with wide, happy eyes. Din nodded curtly.
The rain picked up just as Din came to a well-remembered door. It pattered on Din's helmet and armor as he readied himself to knock. But before he could, the door opened.
"Oh, my little sweet friend!"
Winta, a little taller now, knelt down to Grogu and held out her arms. Grogu squealed and flung himself into her embrace.
"Winta, who is…" And then there was Omera at the door. She held a basket in her right hand, a spoon in her left. Her hair was tied back from her face, small dark tendrils hanging down. Her mouth opened in surprise.
"Omera," said Din. "I'm sorry to surprise you like this."
She smiled then, but did it seem strained? "No. It's so good to see you. I've often wondered how you were faring. And the little one." Din and Omera both looked down at Winta and Grogu.
"His name is Grogu," Din said. "And I've adopted him as my son."
"Grogu? That's so cute!" said Winta, hugging him tightly. Grogu was eating this up. Omera smiled, and some strain was taken away.
"I'm so happy for you," she said. "What wonderful news. Please, come in out of the rain."
###
After Grogu downed two bowls of krill soup, Winta took him out to see the neighborhood children. The rain had stopped, and they were all playing some kind of tag in the muddy little square. Kids shrieked in delight as Grogu hopped away from his small captors.
"I didn't know he could do that," marveled Omera.
"He's learned a lot," said Din. "And it looks like Winta has grown a lot too."
"Oh, yes. She's got a good head on her shoulders. She's so good with the littler kids."
"The village looks prosperous. Peaceful."
"Well, yes."
There was something odd about her tone. A few moments of silence, except for the children from outside, while Omera took small sips of her own soup. "I came because I learned something about Sorgan, and it might be connected to a…job," said Din. "And I knew you were someone whose judgment I could trust."
Her lips quirked upwards. "Well, I don't know about that, but I'll try to help."
"What do you know about Merrix Fleet Services?"
"They came about a year and a half ago. They set up a compound near the trading post for their workers and supplies while they built their station. Lots of trouble with roughnecks, construction workers and guards off duty. But we've been able to keep our village safe. We have… a bit of a reputation." Omera grinned, briefly.
"That's good."
"But a lot of younger people are deciding they'd rather take jobs with Merrix instead of krill farming. Money's better. And things are changing. I'd say I wish Merrix had never come, but…" That strained smile again. "I'm married now."
Din said nothing.
"His name is Mica. He's not from here. He came to work for Merrix, and we met when I came to the post for supplies. We talked, he came to visit the village, and then he just…stayed. He loved it here."
I bet he did, thought Din.
"He quit Merrix and decided he would take up farming. He said he wanted a quiet life. It was a little fast but it seemed right. He was good with machines, great sense of humor. And so kind to Winta. He was a soldier once, but he never wanted to talk about it. The past is past."
"So…where is he?" asked Din. He hoped that came across as gentle.
She sighed. "Mica got in a brawl with some guards at the post. They were harassing a local woman. One of the guards died and Merrix pressed charges since the dead man was an employee. He was convicted by the regional tribunal. They put him on a prison ship and they took him away. No one knows where—not the New Republic, not his former co-workers. That was nine months ago and I don't know where he is or why my messages to him won't go through." She looked down and pressed her lips together very tightly, but she did not cry.
"I'm sorry."
"It's been hard for Winta, too. She's lost too much already." Omera shook her head. "So I'm glad you trust my judgment. But in one area, my judgment isn't maybe all it could be."
"Look," Din said. "If he's the kind of man who would stand up for someone who needed help, then your judgment's just fine. No matter what happened. And he's not alone. I'm looking into some others just him, missing convicts. Families try to find them, but they hit dead ends."
"And it has to do with Merrix."
Din nodded. "How do they hire locals? At the post?"
"Yes. They're constantly hiring, they must have a lot of turnover. There's a recruitment pavilion in the middle of the settlement, plus they have agents everywhere at bars and markets, spotting talent. If you're going there, please be careful."
"I'll be fine." He looked around the interior of the simple, comfortable home. "Do you have any image of Mica, at all?"
"We don't take many images. Maybe one or two, from when he was trying to fix a leaking pump. He wanted me to record what happened when he tried reconnecting a switch." She began to rummage in a trunk, turning over blankets until she pulled out an aging data pad with a cracked screen. She pulled up an image and handed it to Din. "Here's Mica."
Din saw an image of a man kneeling along with Winta by a piece of machinery half submerged in water. Bald, pale, snub nose, round face.
Red stubble.
Din stared a long time.
Mandalorians did not spend a lot of time wondering about big, metaphysical, supernatural forces ruling the universe, like the Force or whatever it was. Their philosophy was focused on practical, everyday things: family, clan, honor, fighting.
But the kid—and now this—made Din wonder. There certainly seemed to be something greater at work in the galaxy.
And it seemed to have a very strange sense of humor.
He handed back the pad. "I'll do everything I can to find him and bring him back to you safely. You have my word."