Din carried Kino Loy back down the stairs to the tunnel, the body tightly wrapped in some spare bedding. He was exhausted and in pain—didn't he bounce back easier at one point in his life? But this could not wait. It was simply unacceptable to leave a corpse in the same room where Grogu slept.
At last Din laid the body in a small niche beyond the stairs. He crouched for a moment, placing one hand on the man's head.
I promise you, Kino Loy, I will stop this. I will stop Merrix and Gallo and whatever is happening here. I will help those enslaved here get away, including Fazzakkaar and his brother.
He corrected himself.
This is our promise. From Grogu and me.
And Omera, I will bring Mayfeld back to you. This is our promise.
When he finally came back to the safe room, Grogu had curled up on an enormous sofa and fallen fast asleep. Din searched the room and found a weapons locker and communications console, but no way to disable the energy field. It seemed to be controlled from the main prison, thirty kilometers away. All communications were routed through there as well. Din thought about sending a coded message on Teva's secure channel—Riello 6, possible Imperial activity, prisoners abused, enslaved. But it was too risky. Any response could take weeks. The energy field created a lot of interference. And Merrix and Gallo would very easily intercept the message and trace it back to the safe room.
Din and Grogu were trapped and alone, and would be for a long time.
With a soft groan Din sat on the floor behind the bar and carefully removed vambraces, gloves, and breastplate. The helmet came off last of all. He gulped down some water and high-protein krill bars from the food stores before opening the medical kit. His ribs and left wrist felt much better after a dose of bacta spray. Din looked longingly at the sonic shower, but sleep was more important right now. Besides, removing everything in the middle of enemy territory, even in this "safe" room, was a poor idea.
Time to get some sleep. But before putting his helmet back on so he could join Grogu, Din hesitated.
It would be so easy to leave it off.
It was a bad thought after everything he had endured on Mandalore. A bad thought at a bad time in a bad place. Why was he having it now?
Perhaps it had to do with seeing Omera again.
Perhaps it was seeing Grogu's abilities grow so much, so quickly. Din hated to think of the poor kid neglected and alone for so many years. He was capable of so much, including his new trick of "seeing" Din without his helmet.
Din's own foster father had of course never removed his helmet. He had been stern but kind in his own way. Din had worshipped him, but never cared about seeing his face. The helmets—his own and others—had always meant privacy, safety, relief, even a kind of freedom.
But he and Grogu were a true family now, their own clan on their own path. Was Grogu really "another living thing"—or part of him?
And then there was his plan for breaking into the prison. If everything went well, Din might never put the helmet back on again. For good this time.
Finally he ended up putting the helmet back on. Din needed to rest before thinking about the future. He was comfortable sleeping with it, used to eating and drinking quickly when Grogu was asleep. Even without the structure of the Creed guiding his life, Din was probably too old to change.
The little boy grumbled in his sleep as Din settled next to him, then burrowed his face in his worn cloak. Din drifted off remembering his own apprenticeship. He remembered sitting in a circle around a fire, listening to the adults speaking, trying to stay awake as their helmets nodded and flashed in the firelight…
He started awake when daylight crept through the viewscreen. He had dreamed, but as usual he couldn't remember anything about it. He was sure it had something to do with Grogu, though. In his sleep, Din had turned on his side and curled around him protectively like a shield. His son was still snoring after their bad day yesterday. And today wasn't going to be any better.
By the time Grogu sat up and blinked sleepily, Din had already eaten and broken open the weapons locker. Several nice new blasters and rifles waited inside.
"They have krill bars," he said, crouching next to Grogu. "Your favorite. Or one of them, anyway." Grogu liked them so much that he could have eaten an entire box, several days of rations. "Leave some for later, pal."
Soon, Din placed a clean, well-fed, well-rested Grogu on the rug, then sat cross-legged facing him. Grogu adopted the pose of meditation and stared at Din expectantly.
"Din Grogu of Clan Mudhorn, son and apprentice to Din Djarin." Din spoke in the formal, elevated language that Mandalorians used to discuss serious matters among each other. It helped keep disagreements from degenerating into knife fights or flamethrower battles.
Well, sometimes.
"We have a great task before us. As Mandalorians, war parties and clans prepare for battle by sitting together and seeking counsel from each other as we make our plans."
Grogu seemed to understand the importance of what was happening. He regarded Din with grave attention.
"I have a plan for bringing this place down and getting Mayfeld out of prison," said Din. "We will wait for the supply drop ship, because the energy field must be disabled. Then we will make our escape from this arena and make our way by night to the factory north of here." He paused and took a deep breath. "I must enter the prison in the guise of a guard. My face will not be revealed, but I will be wearing their armor—not my own—and so I must violate the Creed. I have done such a thing before, when Moff Gideon had you."
Another deep breath.
"Then, I must escape the prison with Mayfeld. The only way this part of the plan will work is if I remove my guard's armor and adopt the guise of an inmate. My face will be revealed to all. This too violates the Creed, and I do not know whether a second redemption is possible. This plan is risky. I am not afraid of the danger, but I do not know…I do not know whether I can play the role of prisoner. It…shames me, but I have more in common with the guards than the prisoners. I am ashamed that because of me, many people have been sent to prison. To this prison."
"I do not see any other path. But I am uneasy." He met Grogu's wide, sparkling gaze. "Grogu, I seek your counsel."
In answer Grogu closed his eyes. For a long while, Din sat quietly, watching the boy as he concentrated. Then came the small, fast thoughts, the sensation of his face revealed.
I am little. I am not wise or strong.
"Every day you grow."
I am not wise like Master, or strong like Father.
"One day you will be wiser than Skywalker and stronger than me," said Din stubbornly. Then he cocked his head, unable to resist a little levity. "Wait. Are you saying I'm not wise?"
Grogu could detect his father's joking tone. Din felt a ripple of amusement in his mind like sunlight on water. His son was laughing. And the sweetness and joy in that laughter, even after everything Grogu had seen and endured, made Din's heart crack.
Then another image came then into Din's mind: Grogu as tall as a rancor, plated ear to toe in beskar. In one hand he held a tiny Din, in the other a miniature Skywalker, squeezing them as if they were dolls, or Anzellans. Grogu laughed some more.
GROGU THE GREAT!
"Okay, buddy," Din said, smiling through the ache in his chest. "That's enough."
Grogu calmed down, eventually, and regained his seriousness.
Master says that if you have a hard choice, you must search.
"Search? Search where?"
Grogu seemed to struggle. Your feelings. You must search your feelings.
He was right.
Din had been trying to escape his fate, but, searching his feelings, he knew there was no other way than the plan he had outlined to Grogu. The Creed that demanded he never remove his helmet also demanded loyalty to his clan, his son, and his friends. It also demanded that he keep his promises.
The people are not here because of Father. Father is very brave and will help them. Our People will understand.
Our people, Din thought proudly.
The Creature will understand.
"Wait," said Din, confused. "What creature?"
Grogu cocked his head. The Creature in the water. In his mind, Din saw the treacherous waters under the glass surface of Mandalore. Then a great eye, blinking slowly, a massive presence coming slowly awake…
"In the water? On Mandalore? You saw this?"
I felt it. The Great Lady saw it.
By "Great Lady," Grogu meant Bo-Katan. Well, of course. Din tried not to roll his eyes. He owed his life and allegiance to Bo-Katan. He respected her and would follow her into death.
But if she knew Grogu called her the "Great Lady" he'd never hear the end of it.
Had she really seen…?
The Creature is very old and wise. It knows many things about Our People. Decisively Grogu clasped the amulet of the Mythosaur. It will understand. Our People will understand. This is the way.
"This is the way."
A vision came again to Din, but not from Grogu. It came instead from his own heart and imagination. He saw Grogu in the distant future, old and wizened. Under ragged robes beskar gleamed almost as brightly as his eyes. He was still quite small, but cloaked in power and wisdom, both sage and warrior.
And Din was humbled by the awesome responsibility he taken on to raise this being. How could I have ever thought I was fit to be a parent to him—to anyone? I am broken, brutal, stubborn, unwise. I am inadequate to this task. I should have sent him back to Skywalker. I should have left him with Omera.
But this path was set the moment he had decided to go back for the little boy on Navarro. Or maybe it was the moment the child had saved his undeserving life from the angry mudhorn.
No—it was the moment Din had opened the pram and met his dark eyes for the first time.
Din felt Grogu getting tired from the long conversation. He yawned even though he had just woken up. But he seemed to have more on his mind. Master asked me to choose. I chose Father!
He must have caught Din's thoughts. "You did. And I you." Din stirred. He crouched in front of Grogu and lifted him up. "We have a lot to do, buddy. We'll talk about the…the Creature later."
###
Din stalked through the streets, keeping a lookout for a likely spot for the food and supply drop. After a second post-breakfast snooze, Grogu was bright-eyed and alert in his sling.
They had seen no one so far as they wove carefully in and out of the shadows. Din was taking a risk. From what Kino Loy had said in his dying words, ships left the main prison to drop food, water, and weapons on an irregular basis, at random sites. Anything to make the prisoners more fun. Din had assumed at first the supply ship would be automated, but Merrix and Varro seemed to love giving people jobs that could be performed by droids.
Today was Din's lucky day for a refreshing change of pace, although it depended on the definition of luck.
After searching for several hours, Din heard the now familiar crackle of the energy field. He looked up. This was no simple supply drop. This was a small troop transport, much like the ship that had rescued Merrix. And it was landing in a square not very far away.
Din made his way rapidly to a building overlooking the square just as the ship's engines created a dust storm as it landed. Weapon in hand, he peered from a third-story window and watched six armored guards emerge.
Then an amplified, distorted voice emerged from the ship, loud enough to shake the ground. Grogu winced.
"ATTENTION. THE FOOD AND SUPPLY DROP WILL BE POSTPONED UNTIL THE MANDALORIAN BOUNTY HUNTER IS LOCATED AND TURNED OVER TO FACILITY GUARDS. PROOF OF DEATH WILL ALSO BE ACCEPTABLE. THE WINNER WILL RECEIVE A REWARD."
Oh great. Merrix and Gallo had realized that it was too risky to let him run around in the arena, and that someone might be willing to pay a high price for Din, his armor, and his son. Din watched as the guards moved out. He turned to go, but stopped when heard a growl from the opposite staircase. Din drew his blaster. A pale, furry head emerged.
"Fazzakkaar."
The Wookie nodded. His brother came behind him. Mandalorian, soon all here will hunt you.
"I know."
You are hidden, but not for long. My brother and I could smell you and this little one from the street.
Have you a plan?
"I do."
Then I and my brother Chahras will help you.
"Good. I can use your help." He looked down at Grogu. "Same plan, but with a slight twist."
###
"Why did the lieutenant have to make that announcement?" whined a black-helmeted guard. "We could have caught him on our own. They said we'd get a share of the beskar. Now we have to compete with these scum."
"Bestin, if you think the higher-ups were ever gonna let us keep any beskar, you are dead wrong," said the other guard patrolling next to him. "Look on the bright side. We get some good sport out here hunting freaks and we get that Mando a little faster. Gold stars for us."
"But the beskar, man."
"You don't ever think, do you? We bring in proof of death and we tell the higher ups that the degenerates here already killed him and stripped him for parts. Meanwhile, we take all the Mando's stuff. We hide it back at the prison, I have a safe place. We divide the spoils. Even split up it'll still be a fortune."
"No offense Jonas, but I don't trust you as far as I can throw you."
"No offense taken. I don't trust you either. That's the beauty of it all. We all have an incentive to keep the beskar hidden from Merrix and Miss Varro. If one of us decides to get cute and take the whole package, the other one will squeal. Do you really want to be on Miss Varro's bad side?"
They walked in silence a few minutes. "They say Mandalorians are so tough," said Bestin. "Not so tough without their armor I bet. I'll have some fun with him."
"Don't worry, Bestin," said Jonas. "You'll get your chance to pull out his fingernails soon enough. Sicko. I saw what you did to that Twi'lek last month."
"Tail head had it coming."
The two turned a corner and raised their weapons. Two huge, pale Wookies flanked the Mandalorian, wrapped in his own whipcord. Neither one carried a weapon. The taller one growled. We have brought you your Mandalorian.
The other chimed in. We will give him to you. But first, you must give us our reward.
"You understand this furbag gibberish?" asked Bestin.
"No, but I'm getting the gist," said Jonas. "Hand him over. Then we'll talk."
The tall Wookie brought the Mandalorian forward and pushed him to his knees in front of the two guards.
"Look at all that beskar," said Bestin in wonder.
The Mandalorian studied Bestin's boots. "What size are those?" he asked.
"What?"
"We're about the same size but I'm not sure about your boots. Your partner's boots look like a better fit."
"Shut up," said Jonas.
Our reward. Now.
"Oh, you'll get your reward," said Jonas. He raised his blaster. "Start running, Wookies."
"This'll be good fun," said Bestin. He raised his blaster and took a step forward. But sudden, searing agony came from his knee—the Mandalorian had somehow shaken off his bonds and jabbed a blade in the back of his knee. Bestin fell shrieking, dropping his weapon.
Jonas looked down, then up just in time to see Fazzakkaar's mighty arm hurling towards him. The Wookie threw him against the nearby wall and he crumpled into a heap, head at an unpleasant angle.
Din stood up and retracted the whipcord loosely looped around his torso. He studied the writhing Bestin. "Typical Imp," he said. "You can dish it out but you can't take it. Get up and take off your armor. Now."
"What are you going to do with me?" asked Bestin, struggling to comply. Grogu stepped out from behind a pile of bricks and watched disdainfully as he got to his feet.
Din shrugged. "Take your armor and leave you here."
"But without armor? Weapons? I'll die!"
"Weren't you planning on pulling out my fingernails?"
Bestin had taken off his helmet and his smile was a little sickly. "Oh, you heard that? That was just a joke."
"It didn't sound like a joke."
"What am I supposed to do?"
"I don't know. But I'm sure it'll be good fun."