Din opened his eyes. There was always that millisecond of getting his bearings immediately after waking, but long years had trained him to come to full alertness quickly.
He lay on a hard bunk under a low gunmetal gray ceiling, holding Grogu against his right shoulder. The little boy snored quietly. Din's helmet and armor were off and resting on shelves next to the bunk, so Grogu could sleep next to him more comfortably in the tight space. His son's nearly weightless body was never a burden.
Full memory came flooding back. They had taken over some officer's tiny cubicle on the Justice. Neither of their sleeping options had been great—a prison or an Imperial cruiser. But this seemed like the least bad choice for the moment. At least the door could be locked securely, so he could remove his helmet around Grogu.
It was over for the Imps soon after the New Republic force had arrived. They had easily destroyed or captured the remaining Imperial forces. Now New Republic troops, medical staff, and aid workers had taken over the Justice and were down at what was left of the Panopticon, seeing to the prisoners and the captured Imperials. But there was a sense of unease—no one seemed quite sure about what was coming yet or what the fate of the Panopticon prisoners might be. No troops had landed in the Arena itself, although food and water had been dropped in. Some of the most dangerous prisoners in the galaxy were still there. And, ominously, Varro was still missing.
As soon as things seemed calm, Din had slipped away to find a safe place for them both to rest. Grogu had dropped off again and this time he needed more than a nap. Mayfeld had done the same, practically sleeping on his feet as he shuffled off to find his own quiet corner.
This was always the part after the battle that Din hated, the part he didn't want to stay for. Picking up the pieces in the wake of violence just wasn't his strong suit. People like Bo-Katan and Greef Karga were builders. Not Din. All he wanted to do was find a ship and get back to Sorgan with Mayfeld in tow, but no one seemed to be heading that way right now. The New Republic was breaking up Merrix's corrupt operations around the galaxy—maybe there was more work in that for him, and he'd gladly help in the hunt for Varro.
But later.
Right now he was weary to his core. A long, long sleep had helped, along with fresh bacta patches, but he dreaded the aches and pains he would feel when he got up. At least the small wound on Grogu's head had nearly healed, leaving only a faint scar. Din brushed his bare cheek gently against the little boy's fuzzy head. Already he was used to this contact, even after a life lived under a helmet.
Ad'ika. Warrior. Beloved son. Grogu's eyelids fluttered.
"Boo," he muttered and snuggled in closer.
"Hey," whispered Din.
He really meant to get up but Grogu radiated soothing heat like a tiny furnace and the ship was chilly and Din was so comfortable that he dropped off again. So much for rapid full alertness. When his eyes opened again Grogu was sitting on his chest and staring straight at him.
"Hungry?" asked Din. In answer Grogu poked him firmly on the nose. "Dumb question. I am too. Let's get cleaned up and see what they have here." He rose with a groan. Yes, a lot of aches and pains.
The sonic washstand was small and inadequate but would have to do. Din helped his son clean his grubby hands and face. Then, stripped to his waist, he examined his healing injuries in the small mirror. This planet had broken his ribs, nose, and finger, ruptured his spleen, and torn his shoulder. Not to mention the blows to the head. Grogu sat on the washstand and frowned at all the bruises and scrapes and old scars. Suddenly he raised his hands and narrowed his eyes—but before he could do anything more, Din clasped both of his tiny hands between his.
"No, Grogu," he said. "I'm okay."
The boy looked skeptical. "Boo hoookey?"
"Yes. Well, I'm getting better. I'm healing on my own. All right? Nothing you see is very serious any more. Not like at the game room."
"Boo hoookey," said Grogu resignedly.
Din looked more closely at Grogu's new little scar. "This looks better. You feel okay?"
The boy grabbed Din's thumbs. His little hands could not quite encircle them. "Grogu hoookey."
"Good." He paused. "Was that…him, in the x-wing?"
In answer Grogu bounded to the bunk and gestured at Din to do the same. After a time of quiet concentration for them both—Din was getting better at this too—their thoughts touched.
Master was here. Grogu's gladness was infectious. He was very far away fighting our Enemy but he knew I was scared. So he came. It is why his friends came to help us too.
Mysterious as always with these Jedi, but that explained why the New Republic arrived so quickly. He could understand how Cara, Teva, and even Axe Woves and Greef Karga got to Riello as soon as they did, but you couldn't just rustle up a fleet overnight. It hadn't been that long since he got his message out. Skywalker must pull a lot of weight. "He could tell?"
Oh, yes. Always he can feel my thoughts. And sometimes he sees things that have not happened yet.
"But he's not here now?"
No. I think he now tries to find the Bad Lady and the other Enemies. But the Good Lady is here.
"Who?"
Grogu shrugged. It is hard to explain.
"I'm happy he came. We needed all the help we could get." He looked closely at Grogu's face. "You miss him."
In answer came a burst of memory from Grogu's time with Skywalker. A calm, caring presence, always patient and encouraging. And Din realized with a start that Skywalker was really still quite a young man—younger than Din, anyway. Grogu riding on his back through a forest. An occasional playful side flashing through, dozens of frogs rising out of a pond…
I am hungry!
"Okay, I'll put on my armor and we'll go eat," said Din with a grin. His own feelings about Skywalker were somewhat mixed. But the Jedi had saved them both and had helped Grogu realize his full potential while treating him kindly. And it seemed they owed him again.
The officers' mess was now full of New Republic uniforms. Din carried Grogu over to the meal line. There was more of that sour stew that he had eaten in the disguise of a guard, but it was supplemented with delicacies from the Imperial officers' private stashes—Corellian smoked meats, cantok berries, even little crab legs from Naboo. Grogu's eyes grew wide at the crab. Potential for trouble there.
At a far table Mayfeld hunched over a plate. He waved them over. "Not bad grub," he said, waving some cured sausage. His bruised face was looking a little better. "How you boys doing?"
"All right," said Din. Grogu sat on the table and dug into his plate with relish.
"Never thought I'd be so happy to see the inside of a cruiser again. Sleep cures all."
"Grogu, keep Mr. Mayfeld company while I go eat," said Din.
"You—oh. You can't just hold that thing up?"
"Not around all these people."
Mayfeld nodded, clearly not quite understanding but willing to play along. He turned to Grogu. "Okay. Hey buddy? Let me know when you want seconds."
Back at the cubicle, Din ate quickly. He had meant to take the food back here for them both, but Grogu seemed happy to be out and about, and Din needed a little quiet time to think. There was a knot of worry growing in the back of his mind. First, what was going to happen to Mayfeld? Would be able to get him back to Omera and Sorgan? Their little secret was out of the bag at this point.
Also, what was going to happen to that Gideon clone, Isidore? Grogu was concerned about him, as were the prisoner clones. (He still wasn't used to seeing Boba Fett's face everywhere.) But would the New Republic take him? Would they study him, put him in prison? And what if more Imps tried to steal him back? After all, Gideon had escaped. Grogu would take it hard.
With a sinking heart, Din wondered if he should just take Isidore. But then what? The young man obviously needed a lot of help—maybe more than Din could give. His needs were certainly different than Grogu's. There was Mandalore, but a clone of the man who had destroyed the planet might not exactly be welcomed with open arms.
Should he just steal a ship? But no, that might damage his future job prospects…
No closer to making any decisions, Din rejoined Mayfeld and Grogu.
"Your son kind of ate all the crab," said Mayfeld. Grogu blinked innocently, a tiny claw poking out of his mouth.
"Not surprising," said Din.
Grogu hopped off to the food line to cause more damage. At another time and place Din might have restrained him, but not here and now, not after everything they had gone through. Kid needed a serious refueling.
"So, not that it's any of my business, but do you people take off your helmets around your own kids?" asked Mayfeld.
"You people?"
"Don't get all touchy."
Din remembered the words of the Armorer. "It's sort of a matter of doctrinal dispute."
"That's your way of saying none of your business. And it looks like some of you folks take your helmets off all the time."
Din was quiet.
"Oh, don't give me the Mando stare."
"Mayfeld, there are a lot of different kinds of Mandalorians." More than I knew. "A lot of factions and subcultures. Like on all planets." He tried to keep his tone matter-of-fact.
"And a lot of arguing, sounds like, if your guy Woves is typical. That why you're not on Mandalore with the other Mandalorians?"
Din was quiet.
"Sensitive subject. Fine. Just idle curiosity. I'll talk about something else." Mayfeld rubbed his face. "Look, Djarin. No one's said anything to me, but I'm worried. I gotta get home. I don't know what's gonna happen to me. Can we just get out of here?"
"I'm working on it."
"Really? Because I don't think any of these New Republic types know shit. They have no idea what to do with any of us. So they beat the Empire. Yay for them. Yay for us. But at the end of the day, am I still a prisoner? What if they find out about our little arrangement?" He lowered his voice to a whisper. "I was a goddamn Imp too."
"I promised Omera I would bring you back. I intend to keep my word. But we can't just steal a ship and run, Mayfeld. That'll make it worse. You know that."
"I know, I know…I just think I'm going crazy." Mayfeld leaned back and exhaled loudly. "Looks like the kid is making a big dent in the sausage too."
Din shrugged. A figure in an orange flight suit came to stand next to them. It was Teva, and he looked a lot more worried than normal.
"So, uh, Mando, I'm gonna need you to come back to the planet with me."
"Why?"
More discomfort. "A very important person has requested a meeting with you."
"Who?"
"I'd rather not say. Not here. Too sensitive." He glanced around at the other New Republic personnel, who were looking at the wreckage left by Grogu with surprise and annoyance. "Just…very important."
"What's the matter? You guys control this ship, don't you?" asked Mayfeld.
Teva ignored him and focused on Din. "So, can you come with me now?"
"Why the hurry?"
"The weather is acting up near the Panopticon. The climatologists say the makings of a severe dust storm is on the way."
"My kid comes with me." Grogu hopped up on the table again, sliced sausage in each hand.
"Fine."
Din nodded at Mayfeld. "Him too." Teva did not look happy. "Or else I won't come."
"All right. But you—" He pointed a stern finger at Mayfeld. "YOU are going to be on your VERY BEST behavior. Very, very polite."
"I'm never not polite!" said Mayfeld, wounded.
Obviously they all couldn't fit in an x-wing, so Teva escorted them to an impounded Imperial shuttle for the journey back to the surface. Cara Dune waited for them at the ramp. Din reached out and clasped her hand.
"How's my guy here?" she asked, bending over to smile at Grogu.
"Just needed a good night's sleep."
"You did too," she said.
"Are you all right?" Din gestured to a bacta patch wrapped around her upper arm.
"Yeah, just a scratch really."
"I'm fine," said Mayfeld. "Thanks for asking." Cara gave Mayfeld a look.
"I didn't know you were on board," said Din.
"Making sure the team here has what they need. Escorting the data specialists. They need to extract as much as they can out of the computers both here and down there at the prison. So much surveillance, so many holos."
"Time to go," said Teva.
Teva went into the shuttle, followed by Mayfeld. Grogu bounded in after him and Cara took Din's arm, gesturing for him to bend down so she could talk discreetly. "There's one set of holos that got deleted. I made sure of it." Din cocked his head, confused. "Of you, dummy. And your kid."
"Oh. That." Yes, he remembered the humiliating holos Gallia Varro had taken of him as a prisoner—in his cell, showering, nearly dying in the game room—and her threat to send them around the galaxy. Cara now knew what he looked like under the helmet, after all, so she had probably searched by facial recognition, then removed them all. "Thank you. I owe you."
"Yeah, you do." She gave her lop-sided smile. "If I don't get to see that face again, no one gets to see that face."
On the way down, Grogu snoozed in Din's lap as he digested his massive breakfast. Mayfeld seemed to nod off as well. Din shut his eyes and leaned back in his seat, not sleeping, but it felt good to rest. He listened as Cara and Teva spoke quietly, apparently rehashing the battle from yesterday.
"I've never seen flying like that," said Teva. "I mean, I heard all the stories about him, but to actually see it for myself…"
"Me too. And…I sort of met him. Back when we got Moff Gideon."
"Are you kidding?" whispered Teva. "You met him? What was he like?"
"Very calm," said Cara. "Not what I was expecting. But… I think he's the most dangerous person I've ever met. So. You're taking Mando to meet her?"
"Yeah."
"I wish she hadn't come. It's too risky."
"Well, you know how she is. But I'm trying to keep it a little quiet. If everyone knows she's down there, she'll have to cope with a long line of people. Everyone always wants to talk to her, ask her for something, and she can never say no."
Din opened his eyes just as they entered the Panopticon hangar. He had no desire to be back here. But at least it was under New Republic control. Their people scurried around, unloading food and medical supplies, crating up the Imp-made weapons and tools. Greef Karga and some of his people were helping out, keeping order as the New Republic aid workers distributed food and care to the prisoners. Woves and his Mandalorian allies were combing the planet for Imperial holdouts and searching for Varro.
When Din and Grogu emerged from the shuttle, Karga walked over to greet them with a big smile and outstretched arms.
"Here's a sight for sore eyes!" Instantly Grogu was in Karga's arms, eyes open for possible candy. "And how's your old man?"
They shook hands. "A lot better," said Din. "This is Mayfeld. An old friend."
"Wow, I got a promotion," said Mayfeld.
"Any friend of Mando is a friend of mine," said Karga. "Within reason."
Teva frowned at the little reunion impatiently and gestured them along. Grogu hopped down, deciding to walk. As they left, Karga was giving Cara a fatherly hug.
Din, Grogu, and Mayfeld followed Teva into a warehouse that had been rearranged as a temporary headquarters. More New Republic types raced around purposefully with data pads. In the corner a separate makeshift office had been set up with crates and panels making temporary walls. Two guards stood outside. Teva pulled a curtain aside and they entered a space with a window looking onto the Panopticon. A short, slim woman stood with her back to them looking out the window
"Pardon me, Councilor," Teva said. He cleared his throat. "They're here."
She turned to meet them and Din's first thought was that she reminded him of Omera, a similar feeling of being centered and sure of herself. She also had the regality of Bo-Katan, without the arrogance.
But most of all she reminded him, oddly, of Skywalker.
Her rich brown hair was pulled back in braids and she wore plain fatigues. She was also noticeably pregnant. As she studied them, Din felt the full weight of the intelligence and personality behind her sparking brown eyes. The New Republic government was confusing but he knew she must be high up—and judging by the speed and efficiency of this operation, she had earned her position.
"Councilor Organa Solo, this is the Mandalorian I spoke of and his son," said Teva.
Din felt moved to make a formal introduction. "I am Din Djarin of Clad Mudhorn. This is my son and apprentice Din Grogu." Grogu drew himself up with dignity. "And this is Migs Mayfeld. He has fought well and been my ally and friend."
Mayfeld shuffled and looked at his feet, blushing furiously. "Ma'am."
"I'm glad to finally meet you," she said in a low, pleasant voice. "We owe you a great debt for uncovering this nightmare." Organa Solo gestured at the window and her mouth hardened. "It's staggering. I saw the ruins of the prison on Narkina 5. And now here it is again, just under our noses." Grogu boldly toddled up, chin held high. She grinned and knelt to speak to him. "And I'm so glad to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you." For a long moment, something unspoken seemed to pass between them. And now Din thought about Ahsoka Tano and the astonishing day he finally learned Grogu's name. She gave the little boy a radiant smile, then stood up again.
"Is there any word about Gallia Varro?" asked Din.
The councilor shook her head. "Not yet. Your fellow Mandalorians are helping to search the planet, and our forces are searching the surrounding sector. We've located other Imperial bases and supply hubs, but no sign of her. I don't like it." She held both men in her direct gaze. "We need to root out the corruption that enabled this place. To do that, I need all the information I can get. I need your perspective. I want you to tell me everything you know about Merrix and Gallo. Tell me everything that happened."
So they all took seats on simple stools and Din went over the whole story, from the time he learned about missing prisoners from Greef Karga. He told her everything he had learned from poor Kino Loy as well, and the connection between Gallo and Moff Gideon. He edited out a few things about Grogu, but the councilor seemed to know a lot about the boy already. Mayfeld filled in some gaps. She asked perceptive questions and repeated details back to make sure she had understood everything. She looked at Grogu from time to time, as if seeking his confirmation. Teva stayed for this interview, but kept silent.
Then she questioned Mayfeld closely about everything that had happened from the time he was arrested on Sorgan. He was understandably reluctant to go into much detail. At one point Organa Solo actually put a hand on his arm.
"Mr. Mayfeld," she said. "I want to help you get back to your family. But I need to know as much as I can. Please, don't be afraid of giving me the truth. We can't keep burying the past. Secrets and lies are tearing this galaxy apart."
"Look, ma'am," Mayfeld said. "I'm gonna be up front with you. I know about the rehabilitation centers. Galaxy knows I'm not exactly an angel but I have a wife and a kid. I can't get out of one prison to go to another."
"Mr. Mayfeld," she said. "I spent years in the Rebellion working with scoundrels and con artists and smugglers and any number of dubious characters. We defeated the Empire thanks to them. And now I'm…very close to some of them. I have to believe people are more than their worst actions. I will help you get back to your wife and daughter as soon as we can spare a ship. Please believe me." So eventually he told his entire story as well.
Finally, the interview seemed over. They were all silent, including the Councilor. Her face was troubled and tired.
"This is bad," said Teva at last. What an understatement, thought Din.
"Thank you," Organa Solo said. "None of this would have come to light without everything you've done." She sighed. "I have to get back to the flagship. I'm due for a check- up at the medical bay and they say a storm is coming. They nag me as if I'm a child," she added with a flash of aristocratic annoyance. She rose from her seat and instinctively all three men stood to offer her an arm. She waved them off impatiently. "I'm pregnant, not broken."
Mayfeld turned to go. "Grogu," said Din. "Would you keep an eye on Mayfeld? I'd like a word with the Councilor. In private." He looked significantly at Teva, who scowled but nodded and left.
"And now I'm being babysat by an actual baby," said Mayfeld. "The indignity." Grogu looked puzzled, but listened to Din and went off with Mayfeld.
When they were alone, Organa Solo looked at Din expectantly. "You know about Grogu," he said. It wasn't a question, but she nodded.
"You should know that Luke Skywalker is my brother. I know about the time he spent with Grogu. Your son is very special to him. And so to me."
Din was surprised, but not as much as he thought. It made sense. "Are you a Jedi too?"
"No. I have some natural abilities, and the Force is strong in our family, but I'm not like him. Not yet, anyway." She looked up at him with luminous eyes. "Luke could sense that you and your son were in grave danger long before we received your message. I trust his judgment and so do many powerful people." She waved her hand. "So we were able to get support and mobilize quickly."
"I'm grateful. To you and Teva. And to your brother. But I suppose…I was under the impression that Jedi weren't supposed to have 'attachments.'"
"It's complicated."
He wanted to say, isn't that always the case? With Jedi, with Mandalorians, with everyone? But he kept that to himself. "I'll let you get back to your ship."
"Wait," she said. "I should also tell you that very few people know Luke is my brother. We only found out ourselves a few years ago."
And Din understood the unspoken appeal on her face, in her voice, in her expressive eyes. "Grogu did say it was hard to explain," said Din. He paused. "But weren't you telling Mayfeld something about secrets?"
"Yes." she said sadly. "Yes, I was." There seemed little else to say, so Din nodded and followed his son.
"Now what?" asked Mayfeld when Din joined him. Grogu had taken Din literally and had been following Mayfeld around like a persistent green shadow. The sky outside did seem to be turning an ominous color. Din hated the idea of hanging around this damned prison.
"We help find Gallia Varro."
"Great. Where?"
Din was about to answer when shouts echoes from the hangar door. Grogu looked up at Din, distressed. Then came the unmistakable sound of blaster fire. Din and Mayfeld immediately drew their weapons, more blasters borrowed from the Empire. Grogu leapt towards the commotion.
"Grogu!" called Din, but the boy kept going.
"Kriff. Never a dull moment," muttered Mayfeld. They raced after him towards the disturbance. They came to the old control room, but found the door shut and Teva, along with several New Republic officers, standing outside. A helmeted Axe Woves was also there. Maraj, the Nite Owl woman, was next to him.
"I'm telling you that thing is an abomination," said Woves, getting aggressively in Teva's face. "And I will see justice served for crimes against my people." But Teva's placid demeanor gave no sign of being intimidated.
"He's a clone of Gideon, not a copy. We need to take him into protective custody, get him the help he needs."
In answer blaster fire came from the other side of the door.
"Oh, I'm sure," a voice growled from the other side of the door. It was the clone Sixty. "What 'help' will you give him? His name is Isidore and he doesn't want to go with either of you. No one is taking him anywhere, Mandalorians or New Republic."
"Will you knock that off!" said Teva. He turned to Din. "Sixty and some of the other clones have barricaded themselves in there with the Gideon clone. And now the Mandalorians want him. Can you talk some sense into any of these people?"
"Probably not."
"Don't sell yourself short." Mayfeld nodded at Din. "He's quite the orator."
Din rolled his eyes to himself. Thank you, Mayfeld. Grogu stepped between them and pointed at the door, then at his own chest. "What's he saying?" Woves asked.
Din sighed.
"He's saying that Isidore is a Foundling like he was."
Woves took off his helmet and stabbed a finger in his direction, which Din really didn't care for. "No. I refuse to call that monster a Foundling. Don't tell me you agree with this soft-hearted foolishness."
Grogu glared at Woves, ears laid flat. And Din felt fear—not for himself or Grogu, but for Woves. The kid hated conflict between friends but he obviously felt protective toward the clone. What might he do if Woves kept pushing? Din also struggled against his own instinctive, knee-jerk rage at Woves for disrespecting his son and his clan. At the same time, he felt impatient with his own reaction. Have we learned nothing? Are Mandalorians ever going to change or will we always be stuck in this endless cycle of pointless conflict? And what's the matter with me for thinking like this? This never bothered me before. What path do I want for Grogu?
And then his own path was clear.
"The clone Isidore is under the protection of Clan Mudhorn," said Din. Everyone looked at him with astonishment. "This is in accordance with my people's ancient customs regarding Foundlings. My son and I found this young man, and my son sees no evil in him. Neither the New Republic nor any other Mandalorian may take him if he does not wish to go. He will stay under the protection of this man, Sixty, until I deem otherwise."
"Thank you," said Sixty.
Woves grimaced at this formal declaration, but seemed to deflate. Din had asserted his clan's prerogative—it didn't matter whether it was a clan of two or two hundred. Woves legally couldn't argue against this iron-clad pronouncement unless he actually challenged Din to a duel, and no one wanted that. Grogu beamed with pride. Mayfeld shook his head. Teva didn't look so happy.
"This wasn't what I had in mind."
"Mandalore isn't part of the New Republic," said Din.
"Mando!"
They all turned to see Cara striding towards them. Din had never seen her look so distressed. "It's the princess," she said. "Please. Mando. Djarin. You've got to help." She took shallow, gasping breaths. She was near hysteria. What had happened? Din felt Grogu clutch his leg.
"What? What princess?" asked Mayfeld.
"Cara," said Din. He put a steadying hand on her shoulder. "What happened?"
She wiped her eyes angrily. "The storm created too much ionic interference. It…brought her shuttle down. The princess…I mean, Councilor Organa Solo. Her shuttle crashed into the Arena. All comms are down. Please. Help me find her."