"Now we're going to play a game," Din said.
Grogu's eyes widened and he made a gurgling sound of pleasure.
"It's a training game. It's something like I did when I was young. Come here." Grogu came close as Din knelt and held up a length of clean cloth torn from spare bedding. "When I was a kid, my guardian turned the visor opaque on my helmet. But this will have to do for you, for now."
Gently Din wrapped the cloth around the great dark eyes and under the ears, tying the blindfold to be secure but not uncomfortable. No helmet for his son, at least not yet. But when Grogu was able to truly speak the Creed for himself, then what?
That was a question lurking somewhere in the back of Din's mind that he hadn't quite answered to his own satisfaction. He didn't like the idea of those eyes being covered for the rest of Grogu's impossibly long life. Din's helmet and armor were part of him now, and he would never be prepared to follow the way of Bo-Katan. But now even the Armorer admitted that there were many paths to the way…
Well, he had some time to think about this, and in the end it wouldn't be his decision, would it? Besides, Grogu speaking without a button was a long time off.
Din stood and scanned the land surrounding their new home. The lava desert gleamed in the Navarran morning light, empty and silent, broken by black rock and tufts of bristly brown grass. A streak of green revealed the little stream that trickled from the thermal spring that rose nearby, the spring that powered their cabin and enabled their self-sufficiency.
All quiet.
"All right. Now I have the training darts, the same ones that you used with Ragnar. Remember?"
Grogu nodded and stretched out his hand.
"Not yet. For the first round, I get the darts but you don't. Now I try to hit you. I get three chances. If you evade me for three rounds, then you get your own darts next time. And you get to hit me. That'll be real fun, right buddy?"
Grogu nodded again.
"When I was a kid, I had to rely on my hearing and my intuition. I bet you're going to be much better at this than I was. Now I'll count to three, and we start. One."
Grogu stood perfectly still.
"Two." No movement. No nodding. Did he get the rules? Hard to know sometimes what was going on in that little head. Well, Din wasn't going to take it easy on him. His own guardians hadn't, that was for sure.
"Three!" Din aimed and shot. The dart sunk into sand. Grogu was already standing two meters to the left. Din moved to the left as well, and Grogu tensed. He raised the dart gun and Grogu leapt again, this time left. Good boy. Din moved backwards without a sound—his boots were thick-soled and study, but with long practice Din could move silently even over Navarro's crunchy sand and gravel.
Time to test something.
He stepped back to the right and fixed his attention on a bush. He raised his arm as if to shoot, but he aimed at the bush. No movement from the boy. Din now aimed at a shrub. Again, Grogu was perfectly still.
They stood that way for a long time.
Then swiftly Din aimed right at Grogu and shot. Again the dart hit nothing but gravel, because now Grogu was behind him. Din spun, aimed, and was about to pull the trigger once more when he felt a gentle weight land on his head.
"You think you're smart?" A satisfied little mew. He lifted up one arm to grab the boy but felt nothing but empty air. Grogu clung now to his cowl—the worst angle and Grogu knew it. "You think I won't?" Din aimed again, awkwardly, at his own neck.
The third dart embedded itself uselessly in his cloak. And then Grogu stood before him, with the blindfold removed and what Din could swear was smug satisfaction on his face.
"Oh, so that's how it's gonna be? Let me put that back on, smart guy. Two more rounds to go."
Two rounds later, Din lay on his back on the gravel with the last dart squarely in his chest. Grogu patted him consolingly on the pauldron and Din sat up. "That was good, kid. But I was taking it easy on you."
Grogu blinked once, very slowly.
"Hey, I'm the one training you."
One more big blink.
"Okay, okay. You did good." Din's voice was calm, but his chest felt as if it was expanding with pride. Unearned pride, he admitted to himself. He remembered how nimbly Grogu had leapt away from their enemies on Mandalore, how he had pushed away their bodies and their weapons at exactly the right times. Grogu had learned it all from Skywalker, not Din. "Ready for more?"
His son chirped and pointed at the tiny pond near the spring. The tips of his ears turned down a bit, which Din by now understood was a sign that he needed some time to rest and meditate.
"Okay. Then we can eat and try again later."
He sat, watching Grogu settle in at the water's edge, close his eyes, and lift his little hands. Din was not exactly given to meditation himself, but Mandalorians prized the ability to be still, focused, and present in the moment. He respected his son's practice and used this time to simply sit and turn all his attention outward.
But shortly, Grogu opened his eyes and looked at Din. He gestured at him with one hand, as clear as any language. Come here. Din came to his feet and approached his son. Another gesture, hand lowering. Sit. A bit imperious for Din's taste, but he decided to humor him. So Din sat cross-legged, facing his son.
Now Grogu put up his both hands near his head and pushed them up. As if he was pushing up a helmet.
As if he was asking Din to take off his helmet.
"No, Grogu," said Din sternly, ignoring a little flutter of sadness. "You know I can't do that."
Grogu still lifted his hands.
"Grogu, don't you…" But it was too late. Din's face was bared to the Navarran sun, his helmet simply gone. Grogu studied him with great seriousness. After a moment of pure shock, Din prepared to get really angry with his son. This isn't a game! I can't just take off my helmet anytime I want and run back to Mandalore for a bath. It doesn't work like that!
But before he could say anything, he realized that this was some kind of illusion. His helmet hadn't gone anywhere. It was still on, yet Grogu was still looking at him as if it were off. The boy nodded in satisfaction.
Yes. I see you.
And Din gasped, because Grogu had spoken to him, but without words or voice. It was like an instant understanding in his mind, a new thought running near his own, warm and small and fast. A child's thought, simple, but not young.
Yes. I learn see you. I learn talk you. I get better. Father, I get better, help you.
For a moment Din looked in a mirror, but it was not a mirror. He understood that he was seeing himself through Grogu's eyes without his helmet. Worn face, shaggy hair, brown eyes. Like my own father, he realized. But the figure of Din Djardin shone, and not just because of the sun on his armor. In the little boy's eyes Din was impossibly huge, a tower of strength and safety.
Yes. I see you and I get better, Father! I learn talk you better.
Then Grogu lowered his hands and the moment passed. The whole thing had taken…hours? Seconds? Din, not moving, tried to understand what had just happened. His eyes stung and his felt face wet beneath the beskar. "I didn't know you could do that, buddy," he said at last. His voice was a little shaky.
Grogu sagged with weariness and his look seemed to say, I didn't think I could either.
"You need to eat and take a nap," said Din firmly.
He walked to the cabin cradling his son in his arms. His mind reeled. He can move things with his will. He can heal the injured and tame beasts. He can raise a shield against fire. Now he can talk to me without speaking—I thought he could only do that with others of his kind.
Oh, and he can see under my helmet.
What else can he do?
Soon Grogu was gulping down plok. It was Din's own, plain and nourishing, a warrior's meal and suitable for his son. When the bowl was nearly empty, the boy blinked a long, sleepy blink. Din wanted to ask dozens of pointless questions—How did you do that? How can I see from your eyes? Why did I think my helmet was gone? Did you learn that from Skywalker?—but the poor kid was dozing off mid-slurp. Before he fell face first into his soup, Din carried him to the tiny cot near the kitchen.
Din rubbed Grogu's back as he curled up to sleep, feeling the fine mail beneath the robe. I should have sent him back to Skywalker. What can I possibly teach him? He had a choice, but that's not right. Children shouldn't have to make such choices. They don't know what's best for them.
But I chose the Creed when I was a child, didn't I?
The poor kid—for a split second Din had thought the worst of his son, that he had snatched off his helmet just for fun, and he felt ashamed. Grogu understood a lot about Mandalorians by now, and he would never remove his helmet. He just wants to see, to talk.
And Grogu's noble vision of Din almost made him laugh. Din knew how flawed he was. So many bad decisions and mistakes. So many times he had used the Creed to justify terrible things he had done over the years. And in the end he had been faithless to the Creed anyway. What had Mayfeld said? Seems you break the rules when you get desperate enough.
But none of that mattered. He had to live up to Grogu's vision, as inadequate to the task as he felt.
He looked at the large cot in the corner and wondered if he needed a nap too after this morning's shock. Sleep and piss when you can, that was a favorite Mandalorian saying. A second room with a curtain and another cot allowed Din to take off his armor and helmet in privacy. Maybe…
But in the distance came a familiar whine – a land speeder. And he knew whose it was.
The jovial voice boomed. "Mando!"
Din shook Greef Karga's hand. He wore a particularly elegant robe today, dark red and green with gold embroidery, and beautifully tooled leather gloves. He looked prosperous, kindly, and downright avuncular. It was easy to forget that he was one of the most dangerous men Din Djardin had ever known.
"Where's my favorite little man?"
"Napping back in the cabin. He's had a busy morning."
"Now, you're not working that boy too hard, are you?"
"He does a pretty good job wearing himself out all on his own."
"Well, I'll leave him to his rest. This isn't quite a social call."
"I figured."
They settled on the porch chairs and looked out at the spring. "Thanks for loaning R5. Making the construction work run on time. These older droids really have their uses."
Din waited patiently for him to get to the point.
"So I hear you have a line to the New Republic," Karga said.
"I might."
Karga frowned. "They hung us out to dry. Not maybe my favorite people right now. But I still need 'em." Still frowning, he tugged at his new gloves. "Before we cleared out the Imps and cleaned up the city, there wasn't much of what you might call a functioning justice system."
"I noticed," said Din.
"The Guild worked with penal contractors to haul the bounties—the unfrozen ones—off to the New Republic, or whatever systems had a price on their heads. And even when the city cleaned up, there were still the local miscreants—speeder thieves, brawlers, the usual dummies. No place to house them here, so had to ship 'em off world. Some of the contractors were former guild members. Transporting prisoners can be lucrative work."
Din thought of the young transport ship officer with Xi'an's knife deep in his chest. "It's dangerous work."
"When Cara took over as Marshall, she started hearing complaints. People started wondering where prisoners had gone when they never came back from serving their time, never showed up for holo visits. Mothers missing sons, wives missing husbands. Mostly human males, some Twi'lek, a few others. New Republic always put up a wall when Cara tried to find out more. It's one of the reasons she got fed up, actually. And then she got a new job and the damned pirates came. Lots of distractions."
"What about IG?"
"Why don't you ask it yourself?" A tall, spindly shape emerged from the small rise beyond Karga's speeder. "It came with me to check in on some settlers over the next ridge."
"Who's minding the shop?"
"Got us a few locals now to work with IG as assistants. Lots of civic pride nowadays."
"Can they shoot the side of a barn with a blaster?"
"Enthusiasm makes up for a lot, let's say."
Din stood as the droid approached the porch. "Greetings, Mandalorian," it said.
"Marshal."
"Magistrate Karga has indicated to me that you may be of some service in this matter of missing convicts."
"Oh, he has, has he?" asked Din. Karga just shrugged cheerfully.
"I have compiled a data chip of convicts reported missing by next of kin," IG said. It handed the chip to Din. "This includes those in New Republic custody as well as those claimed by local jurisdictions. Several complainants are from Navarro. However, most are from off-world seeking a Guild representative. It is known that this planet served as a distribution point for frozen and non-frozen bounties."
"I'm not sure what you want me to do," said Din, although he was getting the drift.
"Magistrate Karga desires you to investigate this matter," said IG plainly.
This would be a new twist—hunting for bounties in reverse. How many of those people had Din himself brought in, warm or cold? It could be a good learning experience for the kid. There was only one thing.
"I'll have expenses—fuel, bribes, food and supplies for me and the kid."
"Should you take him this time?" asked Karga, brow furrowing.
"Where I go, he goes. You know he can handle himself." Din did not bother to disguise his pride.
"Well, I know that better than anyone. But you know the whole town would babysit him, spoil him rotten."
"That's what I'm afraid of." The kid was insufferable for days after his absurd "knighthood." "So…my payment?"
"Would be my unending good will!" said Karga. Din sighed quietly but Karga heard. "Look, Mando. Funds are tight with the reconstruction and IG needs to stay put planetside. I just don't like this. This reminds people of the bad old days, before we cleaned things up. And it reminds people of the Empire. You know how they snatched people up, never to be seen again. As…annoyed as I am at the New Republic, I can't have the populace get all cynical on me. Like there's no difference between the Empire and what we have now."
Din did not exactly have free work in mind, but this might interest Teva. Besides, even though Din and Karga were square with each other at this point, he still felt a sense of obligation to the man and what he was trying to build.
"All right. I can see where this leads. No promises, though."
"The chip contains prisoner data, plus holo records of three interviews with family members," IG said.
"And the contractors?"
"A complete cross-referenced data analysis all of contractors and bounties has been provided."
Droids loved their data analysis but you had to coax them to give you a conclusion. "Maybe you could sum it up for me."
"I have traced a majority of missing convicts to Merrix Fleet Services, contractor to the New Republic as well as independent systems such as Navarro."
"Wait," said Din. "Cole Merrix? From the Guild?"
"The same," said Karga. "Built up a nice little nest egg and bought himself some ships. He hasn't serviced Navarro for a long time. Won't return my calls, either."
"Aah!"
The three turned to see Grogu at the door.
"My little man!" Karga opened his arms and Grogu leapt into them in one swift bound. Din shook his head. Spoiled rotten. "Wow! That was fast. And you're getting big!"
"No he's not," said Din.
"Bigger in ways other than size, then."
"You're right about that," Din said.