Din followed Gallia Varro away from the wrecked bar, Grogu next to him. As was his custom, he had started to leave some credits on the countertop for the barkeeper as an apology for the mess, but Varro had stopped him with an elegant wave.

"I assure you Merrix can take care of this. Come with me to a place where we can talk business."

Soon they were back at the Merrix recruitment pavilion. Varro led him around the back. She walked confidently in the rough streets, and Din could see why. She was armed with a sizeable blaster concealed under her cloak, and from shadows and corners, Din felt many eyes watching—Merrix people who were probably much more competent than the group back at the bar.

A huge guard held up a canvas curtain for them, and Varro led them into an elegant room. Rugs and stylish furniture hid the fact that they were in a tent on a muddy street. "May I offer you refreshment?" she asked.

"No, thank you."

"Ah yes, of course. How unmannerly of me, I know that is not the custom." She settled into a stuffed, embroidered chair. She gestured with her head at a chair opposite, and Din took the hint. He sat and Grogu climbed carefully onto a tufted stool nearby. Varro raised her eyebrows at the boy. "May I inquire as to your small companion?"

"He's fine."

"That's not what I meant."

But Din had prepared his answer. "I was tasked to protect him and bring him back to his people. But we ran into some trouble. Now I'm looking for steady, low-risk work." All of this was technically true. Basically.

"Understood," she said. "From what I've heard of Mandalorians, it's all quests and honor and oaths. I'm prepared to offer you a job, but the workaday world may be far from what you're used to."

Din shrugged. "I need the credits and I need the stability." This was also true. "I've been in the Bounty Hunters Guild, mostly working solo, but I've served on ships and as part of larger companies." This was a polite way of saying he had served as a mercenary.

"So you play nicely with others."

"If needed."

"And your, ah, charge…?"

"Stays with me."

"Our transport isn't exactly family-friendly." Grogu followed the conversation closely with wide, innocent eyes. But was there something else—something wary and watchful? Din by now could detect nuances in Grogu's expressive eyes and face, and knew he was an observant boy. There was something about Varro's unreadable eyes, cool tone, and elegant manner that didn't sit right with Din either.

"He'll be fine."

"Again, not what I meant."

"He won't be trouble." He glanced over at Grogu with an unspoken right, buddy? Grogu blinked slowly, once.

"Well." Varro smiled thinly. "I'm sure we can accommodate your needs. A small price to pay for one of your caliber. Shall I draw up your agreement?"

###

Very soon they boarded the shuttle to the Merrix orbital station with others, mostly construction workers and guards. The atmosphere on the trip was less than cordial, and many hostile looks were thrown their way. But Din sat unbothered with his hands on his knees, facing straight ahead. Grogu pressed close to his side but was not fearful. The roughnecks looked away quickly if they felt Din's faceless, intimidating stare in their direction.

Din had given his bio-signature to the contract, with a special dispensation allowing him to retain his own armor and weaponry instead of Merrix gear. It was typical of the arrangements Din had made over the years. They were paying for the whole Mandalorian package, after all. But this time, there would be extra rations for Grogu. The agreement also had a rider that lethal force used on an inmate would mean immediate termination, in compliance with New Republic law.

When they docked, Din tucked Grogu in a bag to carry him for the walk to their assigned ship through the massive bay. He was surprised to find the station itself clean and well-organized. Equipment and supplies looked clean and well-cared for, crates neatly stacked. Din had delivered plenty of warm and cold bounties over the years to transfer stations like this and they were usually chaotic and dirty. Signs flashed everywhere:

Safety first!

Remember: Even on stun, your blaster is your last resort.

Dignity and safety for all: It's the Merrix way!

Follow all New Republic rules and regulations—it's the law!

White-shoed New Republic officers and droids escorted manacled prisoners from one ship to the next, or to temporary holding cells in orderly lines, all under the watchful eyes of Merrix guards. A very few, mostly Trandoshans, Devaronians, and other big species, were transported in portable pens. Some hissed at Din as he passed.

Grogu studied everything with round, curious eyes as they walked. Varro was right, this was certainly not a family-friendly place. "You'll be okay," said Din quietly, even though Grogu didn't seem afraid.

At the far end of the bay, uniformed deck attendants unloaded frozen prisoners from the hold of a shabby vessel that reminded Din, with a pang, of the Razor Crest. The ship looked like it belonged to a Guild member, a Twi'lek with a deep scar and ragged fatigues, but no one Din recognized. The New Republic officers looked at the bounty hunter with open disgust. Yet here they were, doing business with a company founded by one.

Was Merrix himself actually here?

The transport where Din had been assigned was new and shiny, reminding him of the ship where he had imprisoned Mayfeld. He stood by and watched the prisoners being loaded. It was an odd mix. There were plenty of big, dangerous types, including again some Devaronians and even a huge, pale-haired Wookie.

But if this was supposed to be a dangerous route, there was a disproportionate number of humans—and a certain kind of human. Male and mostly non-threatening, certainly no one who looked like much of a fighter. They looked frightened and overwhelmed to a man, flinching when the more violent prisoners passed, blinking stupidly at the floodlights. Even the frozen ones seemed to fit the description.

Could Mayfeld have been one of them? The man was hardly helpless, but not exactly imposing. Still, the unassuming ones were often the most dangerous. Just look at Skywalker. And Grogu himself. Once Din took up his post, he would have access to a certain amount of data and maybe learn something about "Mica."

Just as long as it didn't require a face scan.

Unwelcome memories tried to flood in. The weight of his own armor in a bag. The imperial armor cheap and ill-fitting, to say nothing of the helmet's smell. The desperate battle on the ground transport, the imp armor worse than useless. The shame of killing brave people who simply wanted to protect their home. Making his way to the seat next to Mayfeld afterward, trying not to groan in pain—his shoulder had never felt quite the same after that.

Being so focused on his goal that he removed his helmet for the face scan without a second thought.

More shame when he realized he couldn't even bring himself to speak, didn't know what he was supposed to do with his face…

Grogu squirmed in the bag and made a soft, questioning sound, almost as if he could sense the direction Din's thoughts were heading.

Din took a slow, deep breath and refocused. It was time to board, make sure his son was secure in their quarters, and take his post. But he had only gone a few steps up the ramp to the crew entrance when a howl echoed throughout the bay.

The Wookie had broken one massive arm out of the manacles and thrown aside a Merrix guard like a toy. Another guard approached with a stun lance only to have it ripped out of his hands and turned on him. The Wookie seized a third man by the neck and held him aloft while fending off his would-be rescuers with the lance. At any moment he could close his hand and crush the guard's windpipe. Other guards stood in an uncertain circle around the raging Wookie, staying away from the swinging lance.

"Stay here," Din told Grogu. He set the bag down and saw the boy scurry out of sight behind a crate. Then he approached the Wookie, holding up his hands. "There's nowhere you can go. This won't end well for you." Sometimes they listened to reason, especially when it came from someone with a flame-thrower.

But Wookies were famously hard-headed, something they had in common with Mandalorians. He roared in response. Din's ability to understand Shyriiwook was rusty at best, but he caught most of the meaning.

I will not go! My brother go, not come back. My human partner go, not come back. There is no return. I will die instead. And I will kill before I die!

Din felt a chill in his gut, but not at the threat.

The Wookie continued to howl and rage, but it didn't look like anyone else understood. Din could use the whipcord to seize him or take him off balance, but at the risk of the Wookie snapping the helpless man's neck like a stick. He had to get him to release his grip.

Non-lethally, of course.

Din took out the vibro blade and threw it one fluid movement. The blade plunged deeply into one of the Wookie's great feet. He bellowed in pain and dropped the guard and the lance onto the deck. This gave the other guards the chance to encircle the Wookie and stun him with their own lances.

As the unconscious Wookie was re-manacled, Din knelt to retrieve his blade before they thrust the prisoner into a holding pen. To his bemusement, the medics that scurried forward treated the Wookie with bacta spray on his foot before seeing to the guards.

"Typical," said a voice. "New Republic manacles are always shorting out at the worst times. Whatever else you want to say about the Empire, their equipment as reliable."

Din turned to see a short man in a subtle but expensive suit. It was Merrix himself. Din recognized him and knew of him, but had never worked with him. He had a reputation of being a better businessman than hunter, more adept at navigating the bureaucracies of the galaxy and greasing palms more than the rough side of the trade.

Of course, you didn't get into the Guild if you couldn't handle yourself. Din would not underestimate him, no matter how unassuming he looked.

"Mando," he said with a smile. "I didn't believe it when Gallia told me she hired a Mandalorian."

"Merrix," Din said. "I didn't realize you'd be here in person."

"Of course. I get the hard work done back on Coruscant, but I tour the ships and the facilities constantly. Have to keep my people on their toes."

"Doesn't anyone here believe in setting blasters to stun?"

Merrix smiled apologetically. "New Republic regulations. They monitor all of my transfer stations. Stun can cause long-term nervous system damage. We're all about prisoner's rights here at Merrix. We ensure dignity and safety for our charges."

I'll bet, thought Din.

"Plus, stun is the lazy way to deal with a problem, isn't it? Anyway, how is Karga?" Merrix had left the Guild some time before Din met Grogu, but they had definitely been in the same circles.

"Fine."

"I hear Navarro is quite a different place."

"It is," said Din.

"Hard to believe of Karga. The man I knew was hard and ruthless."

"People change," said Din. Merrix laughed.

"Oh, yes, I heard you weren't exactly chatty. But I'm not sure about people changing." At that moment Gallia Varro approached, draped in her plain cloak.

"I told you, didn't I?" she said to Merrix. Her eyes narrowed as she studied Din, then Grogu as he came to stand next to Din's side.

"You certainly did, darling. I think bringing a Mandalorian on board really showcases our commitment to diversity, don't you think?"

"Indeed. And our commitment to finding the best people. Both Mr. Merrix and I will be traveling on this ship for this journey."

"I thought you said this was a dangerous route," said Din.

"Oh, it is," said Merrix. "But by being present, we show absolute confidence in our staff and our ship. We will be staying in the secure executive suite on board. But it's one more reason to have someone of your abilities on board." He studied Grogu with an expression that Din didn't care for at all, as if he had discovered a new vermin trying to come on board. "But I should let you and your…friend find your quarters so you can take your post."

###

Din's shift ended hours later. It had been a long day, but so far the journey had been uneventful. Word had got around about the Mandalorian on board. The other guards respectful distance and the prisoners were cowed. It would be several days to their destination, the extra secure facility at a moon circling Theyra, a remote gas giant. The only droids on board were maintenance and operations units and the guards, like the prisoners, were nearly all human males.

It was a little weird, really.

He unlocked the door to the tiny room he now shared with Grogu, not much better than the accommodations for the inmates. He was greeted by a tiny ball of energy hurling itself into his arms.

"Hey buddy," said Din. "I'm glad to see you too." The boy was probably lonely and bored out of his mind here while Din worked. He had his little ball—and not much else. "We won't be on the ship long. But you were very good to stay here. It's important for you to be patient and lie low."

There were two bunks and a miniature 'fresher. Din placed Grogu on one bunk and sat on the other, taking out the meals he had fetched from the mess. He would eat later while Grogu slept. Now he cleaned his blade while Grogu devoured his bowl of stew. When the boy finished, he sat in his meditation position and stared up at Din with expectant eyes.

"You need to try to sleep," said Din. Grogu kept staring and gave that imperious little hand gesture. Din put the blade away and sat facing his son.

After some quiet minutes, Din felt again that odd feeling of Grogu seeing him without his helmet. Then that small, fast thought running near his own, a strange sensation but not unpleasant.

Now, though, Grogu seemed troubled.

Father, I am brave!

"You are," said Din. He spoke aloud, or thought he was. "You are very brave."

I am brave with you, Father.

But that Lady is bad. The Man too, but the Lady worse.

"I don't trust them either," said Din.

Grogu shook his head. Many bad feelings from the Lady.

And then, somehow, Din could feel what Grogu felt when he was near Gallia Varro. A series of impressions and feelings filled his mind:

Grogu's cell on Moff Gideon's ship, and his loneliness and fear. Moff Gideon himself, smirking, taking pleasure in Grogu's helplessness.

The base on Mandalore, the rows of tanks, the blank and cruel faces staring out, the terror Grogu felt when one of them opened its eyes.

The same cold malice that emanated from the man, the same hunger for order and power, seemed to emanate from Varro as well.

"Stop, Grogu," said Din gently, feeling his son's growing distress. He felt like he could gladly kill a hundred more Moff Gideons, in many creative ways. But now wasn't the time to focus on his own rage. "That's enough for now." The connection broke, and Grogu sagged wearily. "Now you rest," said Din. "It'll be fine. I'll keep you safe." And you'll keep me safe, he almost added.

He rubbed Grogu's back muttering "Good boy, my good boy" over and over under his breath, until he fell asleep.

It took a long time.