Today Din's post was in the section reserved for humans. Again, he found all this segregation strange. And it was boring work, truthfully. These prisoners, thoroughly cowed, huddled in their cells and watched Din go by with expressions either numb or terrified.

The previous day had been more exciting. Din broke up a fight between two Trandoshans with the judicious use of his whipcord. Then, a Rodian tried to stab him with a makeshift shiv patiently whittled from a sliver of plastene. Din was about to transport him from a cell with a malfunctioning 'fresher when he made his move. He had been aiming for a gap between Din's armor but it snapped in half harmlessly against his back plate.

The Rodian was now very seriously regretting his rash action in a new cell.

The good thing about this location was that it was close to the Executive Suite where Merrix and Gallo stayed. They never left. A rotation of guards stood watch before the extra secure door, and Din wondered how he could get assigned to that post. All this quiet time today was giving him a chance to plan and think.

Way too much thinking.

He was not looking forward to seeing Mayfeld again. They were even, which was the way Din liked it. Mayfeld had betrayed him, true, but Din had paid him back for that. Then Mayfeld helped him free Grogu, and in return got freedom himself. It was very tidy and now it was going to get messy again.

Also, Din had always been a little uncomfortable at the idea of one of the handful of people who had seen his face at loose ends in the galaxy. Mayfeld liked to talk, a lot. Hey hon, did I tell you about the time I saw this tough Mandalorian actually take off his helmet? Boy, you shoulda seen this mopey guy underneath! Had a damn moustache too, can you believe it? And Omera has been so curious about Din's face—he remembered facing her, taking her hands gently away…

But Mayfeld had seemed to understand the gravity of Din removing his helmet.

Enough of this. He had to concentrate on a way to get on that Executive Suite post. If he was going to keep his promise to Omera, the answers were inside.

###

Back at their room, Din found Grogu sitting on his bunk. He looked tired again, but perked up proudly when his father sat opposite him. He pointed up at the vent cover near the ceiling. The edges were lifted from the wall, the fasteners now gently loosened. But you had to look closely to see what had happened.

This slow, patient work must have taken all day, Grogu working on one tiny screw at a time when Din was sure he could have ripped it straight off. "Good job, buddy," said Din admiringly. Grogu chirped and held out his hands for dinner. Working on something small and intricate seemed as tiring as moving a great object. "Do you feel like you could go in the vent and try exploring tomorrow?" Din asked as Grogu devoured his bowl of soup with relish. "I can point you the right way to go. And I'll be close. Just be very, very careful."

In answer, Grogu nodded and wiped his face on his sleeve.

"Grogu, not on the sleeve. Let's clean you up and then try to sleep." But he had that obstinate I'm not tired look in his eyes that meant he was definitely overtired. "Okay, you want a story first?" One more chirp. Some nights, Din told stories to pass the time and get Grogu to settle down, mostly old Mandalorian legends and stories from his own life as a bounty hunter (heavily edited, of course).

Sometimes, there were even a few fragments of children's tales from Aq Vetina, gentle fables about talking animals and fairies. Long-forgotten memories of Din's mother and her soft voice had been coming back to the surface more and more lately.

Din did not think he was a good storyteller, but Grogu listened intently to everything, and seemed to understand. And it was good to keep his mind off Gallia Varro.

"Okay, how about I tell you about the Mythosaur again. I know you like that one."

###

A stroke of luck in the end helped Din get posted near the suite. But when he thought about it much later, Din couldn't decide whether it was good or bad.

Janneck was scheduled to watch the post the next shift. A big man bulging out of his uniform, he was one of those types who loved being in a position of power over the powerless. Even off-duty, he seemed to find excuses to rattle cages. Din, patrolling near the more dangerous non-humans, found him at the Wookie's cell. Janneck banged on the door with his stun lance and the Wookie howled in response.

"Hey! Hey furball! You trying to talk?" He saw Din coming and looked around—they were the only two guards in this corridor—and grinned slightly. "I know what the rules say. Don't engage the inmates. But I hear this one's been a pain in the ass today. Refusing food, making a mess. And he broke my buddy's arm back at the station."

Did he really think he would get away with something so blatant? There was a New Republic observer on board and vid feeds everywhere.

"I've been waiting for this chance, truth be told," Janneck continued. "We need a little fun, right? Especially with these freaks. They belong in cages. It's like Merrix says, there's a natural order."

If Din had ears like Grogu's, they would have twitched at this. But he said nothing.

The Wookie looked haggard, kept against the wall with shackles around his ankles as well as manacles. He growled. I would rather die hungry than go where you send me.

Obviously Janneck had no idea what the Wookie was saying. "I think someone needs to be taught a lesson," he said. With his code, he opened the door to the cell, ignoring the Wookie's protests.

"Janneck," said Din. "This won't end well for you."

"I thought you Mandalorians liked this kind of thing. My buddy up in Ops shut off the vid feed anyway," said Janneck. "I have this dialed from stun to shock. I wonder how much that fur protects him." He thrust the lance at the Wookie, and was rewarded with bellows of pain. Din caught the smell of burning fur—and flesh. Shrieks and roars came from the surrounding cells as the other inmates heard the commotion. But no one else came.

Din sighed. If the vid feed was off, not much point to being subtle.

He came into the cell, then grabbed Janneck's right arm and twisted, causing him to drop the lance. Janneck looked at him with surprise and aimed a decent left at Din, but broke many bones in his hand when Din parried it with a vambrace—typical for someone not used to fighting someone with armor. Or someone who could fight back at all.

Din dropped him to the floor and Janneck turned over to see the Mandalorian looming over him with the lance.

"Hell are you doing," he cried. "Turning on your own kind? You're gonna pay for this! Wait'll I tell my buddies—"

"That would be a bad idea," said Din, turning the lance back to stun. "It'll be better for you if you keep this to yourself. Don't you think?" He stunned the guard into unconsciousness with a bit more relish than necessary. "My own kind," he muttered. Then he turned to the panting Wookie.

"What's your name?"

The Wookie looked at Din with fear and suspicion—after all, the last time they had met, Din had thrown a blade into his foot. Fazzakkaar.

"Fazzakkaar. I'm here to figure out what's going on and why convicts are missing. Like your brother and your friend. I'm trying to help. But you need to stay calm and play along. Got it?"

A hesitation. Understood.

Din hit the alert button and right away heard scurrying feet and wailing alarms. When guards and medics reached the cell, they found Din with the lance in his hand backing away from Fazzakkaar. "This idiot tried to torture the prisoner. Got his own lance turned on him," said Din with cold contempt, nudging Janneck with his boot. He looked at the gaping faces surrounding him. "Thought this was supposed to be a professional operation."

###

So Din wound up assigned to Janneck's shifts in the corridor in front of the suite while Janneck recovered in the ship's brig, along with his "buddy" who had disabled the vid.

The gleaming door never opened—so much for Merrix's claim he was there to inspect his ship. The fact that Janneck thought he could get away with something so blatant said something about the rot at the heart of this place.

From time to time, Din could hear a soft scrabbling above him, or sometimes in the walls. Grogu was exploring after all. Be careful, buddy, Din thought, hoping Grogu could sense him.

Today though, something new: the door opened. Merrix smiled at Din. "Ah, Mando. Just the man I wanted to see. Won't you step inside?" When Din hesitated he added, "Don't worry, I'm calling up for your replacement."

More luck. Din followed Merrix into a luxurious room, full of plump sofas and draperies, soft lighting and softer carpets. A well-stocked bar gleamed, and a wide window looked out onto space. Doors led to private rooms—Varro must have been in one. "Drink, Mando? Oh, that's right. Not even with a straw?"

"No, thank you," said Din.

"Suit yourself. This brandy goes back to the old Republic." He snapped his fingers and an old human man stepped out of the shadows. He wore a pressed uniform and his white hair and beard were neatly trimmed, but his pale face was lined with weariness and his dark eyes sunken and hollow, startlingly pain-filled. He looked sick, really, and Din again wondered why no droids. The steward poured a glass of rich brown liquor for Merrix, then stepped back, his gaze kept down the whole time.

"I'm sorry about this business with Janneck," said Merrix. "The man needs to understand we need to keep up professional appearances. I'm more angry that he managed to get his lance taken from him, though. Unforgivable."

A small shudder went through the ship, almost undetectable, but Din had been on ships all his life, and he could sense when something was coming uncoupled. From the window, he saw a small, shuttle-sized ship emerge, then vanish.

"Ah, right on time. There goes our esteemed New Republic observer."

"I thought they were supposed to stay on board the entire journey," said Din.

"Well, yes. But this is a special ship, with a special destination. The right bribe—or threat—will always do the trick. Sometimes we need them just to look away. So, now that I have you here, I thought we could have a nice conversation before we reach Riello 6."

"Not Theyra," said Din.

"No." Merrix took a deep drink. "So, human to human, I'd like to discuss an opportunity with you. Won't you sit, even if you won't drink? You're off duty."

Din sat opposite Merrix, upright and alert, hands on knees.

"I'm building something here and I think you could be part of it. It was a stroke of luck that Gallia found you. I'm launching a kind of…entertainment complex. High-end end accommodations and the finest combat and sports betting venue in the galaxy. And, as a refreshing change of pace, for humans only."

Din said nothing.

"I'm not gonna beat around the bush with you, my friend. I sense a kindred spirit in you. Let me share my philosophy. All these Twi'leks and Rodians and Mon Calamaris and I don't know what, we have to work with them. We have to trade with them and live with them. I mean, we have to grin and bear it, right? I did for years in the Guild. But I had an epiphany after years of tracking this scum." He cleared his throat, as if this was a little speech he had practiced for some time. "We humans have the right to order this galaxy as we see fit. There's a natural order in this galaxy, and humans should really be at the top of the heap. If these others have something we need …well, I just think we have the right to take it." He studied his glass. "All this mixing…it's not natural. And I'm no expert on Mandalorians, but you're a very upright people, all about keeping your culture pure, hell with everyone else. I respect that. Most importantly, you're human."

Din said nothing.

"Now I'm not saying all of these other species don't have value. They make nice…pets." He smiled apologetically at Mando. "As I'm sure you know. They can be good servants. But best of all, they make for some great entertainment. Especially when you get them to fighting. And here's where you come in." He leaned forward, eyes shining. "On Riello 6 there's some old settlement ruins, old Republic era. Ghost town, everyone left after the mines shut down. I've constructed a wall around ten square kilometers. It's gonna be a perfect venue for games. For hunting. Now, I don't have my resort built yet, so it's just gonna be luxury cruisers in orbit. But the richest people in the galaxy can come and try their hand at sport hunting, or if they don't wanna do that, they can watch the show and place their bets. The most vicious damn weirdos in the galaxy…versus Mandalorian."

"And that would be the convicts on this ship," Din said quietly. "Versus me."

"Right! You can fight, or you can maybe lead some big game hunting expeditions for patrons who want a taste of the action. What we have on board here are some of the most dangerous non-human criminals around right now. And this isn't the first batch—I already have some dropped off at Riello 6, they're getting food drops but not much else. The New Republic is in a bind—they don't want to look soft on crime, but these things can't work on a chop field, and it's a lot of money to house them. So I've offered a few select New Republic officials a chance to, well, take them off their hands. It's what we call a win-win. And you, my friend, would be paid handsomely."

"Working for you."

"You got it."

"How many people you think want to pay money for this…entertainment?"

"Oh, a lot. A lot." Din, unfortunately, believed it.

"And why exactly will these convicts go along with this?"

"They don't play, they starve. The food drops stop. It's pretty simple. Maybe we offer them a chance at freedom, but most of 'em are gonna die anyway."

"But I see a lot of human convicts on this ship too." The old steward, who had been leaning against the wall the whole time, stirred a little at this. "What about them?"

"Ah, well, you see, that's Gallia's project. I'm not privy to it." Merrix looked crafty. "Great businesswoman, that one. She's my employee, technically, but she's brought in some very powerful backers who are funding this project. They have some, ah, requirements in return."

A tiny, tiny rustle somewhere in the ceiling.

"I need to think," said Din.

"Of course! But you don't have long—just until Riello 6."

###

On his way back to his quarters, Din fumed. He had encountered many, many wrong ideas about Mandalorians over the years, some of them extremely distasteful. But the idea that Mandalorians enjoyed inflicting pain and suffering for entertainment was a new low. Where were they getting this? It was like the endless lewd comments about helmets, he thought. It said more about the person making the comment than about Mandalorians.

Grogu was not there when he opened the door.

Din fought back a stab of panic. It was all right, he told himself. He was still exploring. He sat, hands on knees, and waited.

Sure enough, a rustle soon came from the vent. Din saw a pair of bright eyes peeking out behind the grill.

"There you are. Hang on."

Din stood on the bunk to pull off the vent cover, but Grogu was too fast for him. He pushed the cover out of his way on his own, and Din caught it before it could clatter to the floor. Then the little boy leapt to the bunk.

"Are you okay?"

Grogu nodded. His eyes were wide with alarm. "Aaah!"

"What did you see?"

In answer Grogu sat and held out his hands. This time, unlike before, there was no slow summoning of power, no meditation. Instead, Din felt the force of Grogu's thoughts like a blast. A series of images came into Din's mind like a thunderbolt, making him stagger and fall back to the bunk.

Another luxurious room, a holoprojector in the middle, all seen through the bars of a vent. Gallia Varro emerging from a door to what looked like a dressing room, clothes piled on shelves and floors. She wore a hooded robe and approached the holoprojector. She lifted off the hood, letting the garment pool to the floor.

She wore no fashionable gown underneath, but a dark tunic, a trim cap, and jodhpurs tucked into tall black boots.

The uniform of an Imperial officer. Grogu had seen plenty of those imprisoned on Moff Gideon's ship.

She approached the holoprojector, then seemed to hear something and looked up. Din felt Grogu's surge of fear, his need to escape…

…and then the vision disappeared. Grogu sat heavily, tired by the effort.

Din took a deep breath. "Good you got out of there. I'm glad you're safe." It would have been ideal to hear exactly what she was about to say on that holoprojector, but not if it meant putting Grogu at risk. Besides, Din knew enough.

They needed to get off this ship, fast, and contact Teva. But how? Like most prison ships, this one was surrounded by a dampening field that prevented unauthorized communications. Right now, though, Din was worried about his son.

"We're going to stop her, whatever she's doing, and Merrix too. You and me together. It's okay to be scared—you can be scared and brave at the same time."

Seeing Varro in uniform had scared Grogu, but it mostly confirmed what he had already sensed. The boy nodded seriously, a determined look in his narrowed eyes—a look Din remembered from Mandalore. Din felt a rush of fatherly pride.

"This is the way," he said.

"Aahwah."

Din was about to bring out the rations when he heard a slight tap on the door. Grogu's ears twitched. Din gestured at him to stay down, then rose so he could see out the security window. His hand rested on his blaster.

The steward from Merrix's room stood in the corridor, eyes downcast.

"What do you want?" Din asked.

The steward looked both ways. "It's not safe to talk out here," he said in a deep, hoarse voice. "We don't have much time. Please let me in."

"You didn't answer me. What do you want?"

"You asked about the human prisoners. I have answers. Please, I can't talk out here."

Din opened the door and pointed the blaster at the man's chest. He seemed frail, but Din had seen too many dangerous people who looked harmless. He nodded at him to come in. The old man complied, hands up. Grogu stared at him with ferocious intensity.

"Who are you?" Din asked. "What do you know about the prisoners?"

The man looked up finally to meet his gaze, and his eyes held such deep, naked pain that Din almost averted his gaze. "My name is Kino Loy," he said. "And once I was one of them."

###

Notes: Thanks all for your kind feedback! I wrote X-Files fanfic years ago and it's been so fun to get back into the habit. Sorry for the long chapter. I wasn't planning on a special crossover guest star but here we are!