They crept down the tunnel toward the light, wading through chilly water, with Burg in the lead. (They had argued about this back on the boat—Burg still nursed some professional jealousy about Din destroying so many droids back on that prison ship. With a sigh, Din had agreed to let him lead.)
Ahead machinery clanked, gears turned, engines roared, water rushed. No sign of any more guards, though. At some point they would have to check in, and then they'd be missed. They had to move quickly to take advantage of this brief window of opportunity.
They emerged into an industrial area blocked off by machinery and ductwork. Now Din gestured towards a small corridor. Trying not to bunch up, the group moved down the flooded passage. The floor here must not be deadly because of the water. Kino Loy had said waters shorted out the floors, but that was decades ago. Perhaps the clever Imps had solved the problem?
After several more twists and turns, they saw a vast open space—the absolute bottom of the Panopticon. Far, far above, they could glimpse the upper levels where Mayfeld and Din had been imprisoned, all gleaming metal and glass and transparasteel. Down here it was a different story.
The central tower was still sheathed with one-way transparasteel windows, but they looked out on a miserable scene of rusted metal, mud, stone, and steam. Ankle-deep water flooded the floor. Hardly any light reached this wet hellscape. Guards patrolled on raised gangways. Below, prisoners labored. But these wretches were not working on clean workshop floors in white coveralls. They wore rags and grime. Some repaired machinery, others dug or operated mining equipment. No cells here, just rough sleeping bunks and shared tubes for food and water.
It was still a mining operation, Din realized. There were enough minerals in the soil and water worth extracting for the industrial purposes of the factories above, and the Empire.
"Fuck me," Mayfeld whispered, saying what they all felt. It was shameful, really. Burg and Fazzakkaar were right—why did it always seem to be humans behind the ugliest things in the galaxy?
But clearly the broken turbines had disrupted this place. The lights down here were even dimmer than they should be, running at half power. Perhaps the solar power from the top was an imperfect backup this far down? The guards on the gangways supervising the prisoners milled uneasily.
And Din realized that he was afraid.
He had returned, on purpose, with his little boy, to this hell?
The pain of the floor in Varro's office. The malice of the Warden. The degradation and shame of being a prisoner, with his face and indeed whole body exposed and vulnerable. The cruelty, the misery, the indifference, the sense of being nothing more than a replaceable part. The horror of the Game Room. The life-ruining, world-destroying shadow of the Empire over all…
It all came back to Din like a weight pressed on his chest and he struggled to draw a deep breath.
He had been in bad places and bad situations before. A little fear was normal and healthy. Mandalorians didn't believe in suppressing emotions, even fear. Only dangerous lunatics felt no fear. The trick was harnessing it. But this damned, paralyzing panic this place made him feel was both unfamiliar and hateful. Worse than Mandalore. He was a child again, gaping up at approaching death and frozen in terror.
We came back to destroy this place. To fight the Empire. To help these miserable people. Sternly he told this to himself as if giving a pep talk to his son. It didn't work. He still couldn't quite breathe. They had to move, but he was frozen.
Grogu stirred slightly from his perch on his father's back. His son could clearly feel his distress. And then something fell over Din like a cool breeze, something both calming and strengthening. It wasn't like the times when Grogu spoke to him with his mind, not quite, but his chest loosened and his mind cleared. Like the strong hand that had pulled him to safety from the cellar so long ago.
Sometimes Din wished he could be a father who never showed any fear or sorrow or vulnerability at all. But he and Grogu were long, long past that.
I've spent a lot of time helping you feel brave. Telling you to be brave because you're with me, Din thought, hoping that Grogu could feel his gratitude. But it goes both ways. I need you to be brave too, ad'ika.
"This place," whispered Burg. Fazzakkaar was mute with astonishment and dismay.
"Fuck me," whispered Mayfeld again, hoarsely. Din's ordeal had been short compared to his. What must Mayfeld be feeling now after his months here as a prisoner? Din reached out and put one steadying hand on the man's shoulder. Mayfeld exhaled shakily. "Okay. Okay. I'm fine. Let's fuck these assholes up."
"Now you're talking," said Burg.
"We need to check in," said Din. He looked at Mayfeld "You have the vambrace?"
"Got it," said Mayfeld, getting the pack from his back. He had taken one of the comms vambraces from the unfortunate guards brought down by the ferry, as well as a helmet. He fastened the vambrace to his left wrist. A staticky voice came through.
"Team Two, you are overdue for check-in." Mayfeld cleared his throat.
"Uh, this is Team Two. Looks like some salamander action going on here at the dam messing with the turbines."
"We'll send backup and the Engineer to check out the repairs, plus a crew."
That was the second time someone had mentioned the Engineer, Din noted. "Negative!" said Mayfeld, wincing. "Not safe yet. There's a lot of these monsters. Let us clear a few more out. You send out a crew, they'll just get eaten."
"As entertaining as that might be, we need those turbines back up." Down here the guards didn't bother to disguise their sadism. "I'll send Team Three. Out."
"Let them," said Burg. "Your crazy boat will fry them. Less guards for us to worry about."
Oh good, thought Din. Now the ferry is MY crazy boat. But Burg was right, the fewer guards, the better. Now all they had to do was seize control of this level. Simple. Din looked pointedly at Mayfeld. "You know what happens now."
"I just really do not want this goddamn bucket back on."
Din, Burg, and Fazzakkaar waited. Grogu gave an expectant blink.
"Okay. Fine." Mayfeld took a deep breath and put on the guard's helmet. "Oh shit. This is the worst-smelling one yet. I don't know if this is gonna work, Mando. This is the oldest trick in the book."
"How smart do you think these guards really are?" asked Din.
"All it takes is one to figure it out," said Mayfeld darkly. "Okay, let's go."
###
"Man, I wish the lights would turn up soon," said one of the guards stationed near the control tower. "It's too dark. I can't see the prisoners for shit."
"They gotta get rid of the salamanders before they can send the Engineer to fix the dam," said his partner sagely. "Just have to suck it up."
"I saw one of those things once. The give me the creeps," said the first guard with a shudder. "White and slimy. And the Engineer gives me the creeps too."
"Kind of white and slimy too," agreed the second guard. "Wait, who's that?"
A third guard approached on the gangway, weapon drawn as he took up the rear in an odd procession. In front of him marched a Devaronian and a Wookie, both holding up a slack figure between them. The slack figure of a…
"Holy shit, is that the Mando everyone's been looking for?" asked the first guard breathlessly.
"That's right," said the guard behind the prisoners. "Caught him and these two escapees from the Arena near the dam."
"No offense but you took a Mandalorian, a Devaronian, and a Wookie by yourself?" said the second guard skeptically.
"Hey, fuck you very much, yes. If you must know I got a little help but I'm the last man standing. Catch my drift?"
"So you get that nice beskar reward?"
"Damn straight." The newcomer guard prodded the Mandalorian's limp form. The helmeted head lolled to one side. "Not sure how much longer this Mando has. He got hit pretty bad."
"Well. Maybe we oughta help you out."
"Oh, no, you don't."
"Oh, yes, we do." The first guard brandished his blaster.
"You really gonna pull a weapon on a fellow guard in front of these prisoners?" The newcomer nodded at the prisoners laboring on the floor below.
"They don't give a shit. Come on, share and share alike."
"Fine," came the muttered response.
The first guard stayed in front of the captives, while the second one joined the newcomer in back. "Okay, march." They all crossed the gangplank to the central tower. The Devaronian and Wookie barely lifted their heads as they bore the armored burden between them. The door slid open, revealing a gleaming control room, startlingly clean and bright after the murky darkness outside on the bottom level. Several helmeted guards stood or sat at stations, with a bare-headed officer striding between them. "And now Team Three's not checking in," he was saying. He stopped and looked up when they entered, jaw dropping.
"Look here what we got," said one of the guards.
"Wait, what? Where were they?"
"Found 'em skulking around the turbines. Think they set a charge," said the newcomer guard. "Wasn't salamanders. I don't know what they think they're fucking doing, though. Only a crazy idiot would try to take on this place." To punctuate his point, he prodded the inert Mandalorian viciously in the side. The officer looked a little panicked.
"I'm gonna have to call this in. I'm down twelve men, now."
"Don't you think we need to get the turbines repaired as your first priority?" asked a strange, croaking voice from a shadowed cubicle.
"That's right," said the newcomer. "Are the floors even working right with the reduced power?"
"No," said the croaking voice.
"Well, if you bring in a Mandalorian without Miss Varro knowing, it's the floor for all of us," said the officer. "Or the Game Room. I'm gonna call this in."
The Wookie suddenly roared and released his hold on the slumped Mandalorian. He swung his mighty arm at an unsuspecting guard and sent him flying across the room.
"Oh no, help, Wookie on the loose," said the newcomer. He drew his weapon but instead of hitting the Wookie, he blasted the communications panel.
The surprised guards reacted sluggishly. The Devaronian easily snapped the neck of the closest guard and seized his weapon. The Mandalorian, instead of falling to the floor, seemed to stand just fine on his own. He quickly took out two other guards. Another guard lunged at him with a stun stick but for some reason he dropped it, as if an invisible hand had smacked it away. The Wookie finished him off.
The officer held out his hand and tried punching a button on his vambrace. They all braced for the floor…
…but nothing. The power really was out. The guard had just enough time to give his vambrace a horrified look before Mayfeld hit him, hard, with the butt of his blaster.
"Nice work," said Din to Grogu, as the little boy pushed the cloak away from his head.
"What about me?" asked Mayfeld, taking off the guard helmet and tossing it. "I took all the risks. I cannot believe that worked."
"No one ever went broke underestimating the intelligence of Imperial personnel," said the croaking voice. Din pointed his blaster toward the figure.
"Who are you?"
There was no answer at first but a whirring of gears and wheels. A dim figure rolled out from the corner cubicle. Din found himself staring into a pale and wizened face. An elderly woman's face. Her tiny, scrawny figure seemed to be embedded into a contraption of wheels and black metal, with tubes leading to a breathing apparatus inserted into her nose. Black goggles covered her gray eyes. Her skin was so pale it was almost translucent. "They call me the Engineer," she said at last. "And I am a prisoner here."
Din lowered his weapon. His stomach knotted up at the sight of this frail person melded with machine. He had always found mods disturbing. But he was ashamed of this irrational, knee-jerk reaction—not a good thing to model for his son—and he fought it down. This miserable woman, a prisoner? Just when you had thought you had seen the worst of the Empire, they outdid themselves.
"We'll get you out of here," Din said.
The Engineer waved a hand dismissively. "Oh no. No no no. I deserve to be harshly punished for my crimes."
"Lady, I seriously doubt anything you did is bad enough to land you here," said Mayfeld. He looked as unsettled as Din felt. Fazzakkaar and Burg followed the conversation warily.
"That's where you're wrong," she said. "I'm a war criminal, you see. This place is my design."
Silence.
"I won a contest," the Engineer went on in quavering voice. "The Empire sponsored a competition among the galaxy's finest engineering and architecture schools to design a prototype for a new kind of prison facility. A humane approach to incarceration and rehabilitation through the dignity of labor."
Din found himself wanting to raise his weapon again.
"Humane?" said Mayfeld. "HUMANE?"
"Why yes! It was intended to be a self-governing model of therapeutic living." She frowned. "Not this nightmare. As I'm sure you understand, the concept really only worked in theory. The Emperor himself invented the floor as a resource-effective way to ensure control through pain. They say he was very fond of anything that produced shocks."
Even though he couldn't see Grogu, Din could almost feel the intensity of his gaze on the Engineer.
"And so the New Republic convicted me for war crimes. Quite rightly too. There wasn't much left of me anyway after the Empire bombarded my school to prevent it from falling into Rebel hands. I was bound for a New Republic medical penal facility when I was diverted here by dear Mr. Merrix. I was forced to oversee the final construction of the Panopticon and manage its systems from this wretched pit. And I do believe it was a fitting punishment."
"She's crazy," muttered Burg. The Engineer cocked her head at him.
"Very likely."
"We're bringing this place down," said Din. "And we're running out of time. There's an abandoned town out there full of more inmates. Merrix and Varro will blow it up in hours. We have to stop them."
"But how wonderful! Are there…more of you?"
"Well, no. But help is arriving any minute."
"We hope," added Mayfeld.
"We've got a lot of grav charges," said Burg.
"That's a very good start," said the Engineer.
"Can you help?" asked Din.
"Of course, young man. Mandalorian beskar armor, isn't it? My word. And who might that young scamp be?" She focused on Grogu. His ears tipped upwards. "How charming! A family outing. You'll want to be wary of those floors. They're shorted out here but not on the higher levels."
"How do we shut them off?" Din brought up the prison plans. "It looks like each floor has its own power relay on each level. We'll have to go floor by floor." The prospect of fighting their way up dozens of levels was daunting to say the least.
"Ah. Well, there's something that's not in the plans. There's a main junction right in the heart of it, on the fourteenth level, where the system can switch between hydro power from below and solar power from the panels on the mountainside. It is the greatest vulnerability here. I should know, I created it. You'll find this to be true of much Imperial architecture. Those forced into the Empire's service will work in little secret soft spots."
"That's still a long way to go," said Mayfeld, saying what Din was thinking. "And someone's gonna start wondering what the hell is going on down here."
The officer groaned as he came around. Burg roughly pulled him to his feet. "When is the next shift change?" Din asked
"Uh, at 18.30," the officer answered, sniveling.
"That doesn't give us much time," said Mayfeld.
Well, if I may suggest it, you have a resource out there." The Engineer pointed out the window at the prisoners laboring in the mud. "Quite some hard cases out there who may be put to use. They'll be glad of the chance, I assure you."
Din nodded. That was the key to the successful prison escape described by Kino Loy—the sheer number of inmates versus the outnumbered guards, along with deactivated floors. But this place was not just a prison but an Imperial stronghold. And the prisoners out there looked numb and beaten down.
"You talk to 'em," Mayfeld said, nudging Din. "You're good at motivational talks. Lotsa leadership skills."
"You were a foreman here!" Din protested to Mayfeld.
"Yeah, but you're persuasive. Eloquent. More than the rest of us."
"Real convincing," Burg agreed.
Din sighed. He hated this. He had spoken before larger groups, it was true, to argue his case. He had convinced a group of truculent Mandalorians to all pull in the same direction and retake their planet, hadn't he? And he had found a way to convince everyone he could relinquish the hated Dark Saber to Bo-Katan without anyone losing either face or life. And of course he had convinced Mayfeld and the others to join him here.
They went out of the control room with the Engineer trailing them, leaving Fazzakkaar to watch the officer. Din gripped the handrail of the gangplank and looked out at the assembled prisoners. Above them the Panopticon loomed. Soon enough someone would figure out all wasn't well down here at the very bottom.
"Prisoners!" Din tried.
A few looked up dully. But Din's naturally low, somewhat husky voice just didn't carry. It never did, he thought, annoyed. It was easy when it was a group of Mandalorians—their helmets were designed for easy communication with each other—but in front of a non-Mandalorian group it was another matter.
"You need to project more," said Mayfeld helpfully. "To make up for that stupid helmet."
"Let me try," said Burg.
Din and Mayfeld both said "No!" at the same time. Burg's bellow or Fazzakkaar's roar would get the prisoners' attention, but also maybe more unwanted attention from above. Grogu squirmed and struggled out of his sling. He scrambled over Din's shoulders to sit in the crook of his arm.
"What?" Din asked. Grogu pointed at Din's mouth, then back at the prisoners.
So Din tried again.
"Prisoners."
And now, for some reason, his voice did carry.
It was not that it was louder, or even sounded any different. But somehow it was able to cut through any other distraction or sound, able to command attention. The prisoners to a man stopped what they were doing and glanced up. Even Mayfeld and Burg straightened up, looking startled.
Din understood that this was another gift from his son. Grogu might still be finding his own small voice, but he could amply his father's. He gave the boy a small squeeze, then continued.
"The floor is switched off down here. You have a chance at freedom. If we can make it to the fourteenth level, we can turn off the floors for the entire Panopticon. But we need your help to take on the guards and the Imp soldiers."
A prisoner close to them blinked. "Are you a Mandalorian?"
"Yes."
The prisoners exchanged glances but did not move. "Come on!" Mayfeld burst out. "What the hell do you got to lose? You wanna stay here and work for them until you die? Don't you want to see them get what's coming to them?"
The same prisoner who had spoken before nodded. "We will help if we have a chance of getting out of here." He looked around at the others. "Who's with me?" He was answered by nods and ragged cheers all around.
"So all humans look alike to me," said Burg. "But they really all look alike."
Din surveyed the convicts. The light was dim, but they all actually did look alike. And they looked familiar.
"Wait a minute," said Mayfeld. "Don't they all look like…?"
They all looked like the Warden. And Boba Fett.
"More of those clones," said Din, in wonderment. Mayfeld shook his head.
"I heard the rumors, but man. Look how many are left. Look where they ended up."
"Get them the guards' blasters," said Din. He looked at the prisoner closest to them, who seemed to carry some sway with the others. "What's your name?" The man shrugged.
"You can call me Nine," he said. "No one here has names anymore."
"Can you handle a blaster."
"Yes. Yes, we can."