The Armorer looked down at the Panopticon, its vast walls like a canyon of metal and glass stretching away below them. Din was standing next to her near in what used to be Varro's office.
"A place of great evil," she murmured.
"Yes," agreed Din.
"It remains to be seen if this place can become what the Councilor imagines. She is a formidable individual."
"Will you consider her request to have our people provide temporary security?"
"It is an interesting idea. It will be necessary to confer with Lady Kryze."
They were waiting for the ferry to carry the Armorer and her small entourage down the river back to her ship, a commandeered Imperial frigate, back on the desert plain between the prison and the old town. The Engineer and the ferry were now fast friends, arguing about the river and the best way to add more ships. The whole colony would depend on reliable transportation. The ferry droid's memory was faulty but still possessed a wealth of knowledge about the planet and its underground river system. It was quite sulky at the idea of more boats but was reassured that it would be the only ferry droid.
Now the Armorer nodded at a young Mandalorian man, one of her brand-new apprentices. He produced a small package. "Where is the Foundling, Isidore?"
Izzy appeared from around the corner, a wide grin on his face as he carried Grogu on his shoulders. The Armorer beckoned them with a gesture of her hand. Grogu leapt easily from his perch to the floor and nodded encouragingly for Izzy to approach the Armorer. Sixty entered the room just as Izzy came to stand in front of her.
"Isidore of Clan Mudhorn," said the Armorer. "I wish to leave something with you, as a token that you are under the protection of our people." She produced a small, coin-shaped beskar pendant on a black cord. On one side was the skull of a mythosaur. On the other, a mudhorn sigil. "My apprentices have been learning the secrets of the forge by making these small tokens for our clans. I thought it best to bring one along. One never knows what to expect with Clan Mudhorn," she added dryly.
She placed it around Izzy's neck. Izzy held it and studied it, mouth agape. Grogu beamed with pride. Sixty stood behind his young charge. "What do we say, Izz?"
"Thank…thanks," whispered Izzy.
"I thank you too," said Sixty.
The Armorer studied him closely. "Sixty, you and your brothers have a great responsibility. You will remain here, in the new colony?"
"Yes. We can provide for ourselves and the boy."
"Very well. Remember that the blood of Mandalore runs through you and your brothers. Our planet is underpopulated. One day, you may consider whether you wish to claim this heritage as your own."
Sixty's face was unreadable but his eyes shone. "We'll think about it." He cleared his throat. "Let's get back to our brothers, Izzy. There is work to do before we move into our new homes." He caught Din's eye. "I'm grateful to you and your child. My brothers and I have a purpose again."
"If you ever need us, we'll come," answered Din. He looked down at Grogu. "Why don't you go say goodbye to Izzy."
Grogu took the hint. He looked between his father and the Armorer, then trotted off with Sixty and Isidore.
"It is good," murmured the Armorer, as if to herself.
"Yes," said Din. Now that he had this private audience, he didn't know what to say.
"You are troubled," she prompted.
"My son and I endured many terrible things here," he said after a long pause to gather his thoughts. How could he explain being stripped of his helmet and made prisoner? His decision in the first place to disguise himself as a guard? His decision to remove his helmet around his son? It was not as if he wanted to keep anything a secret from her, particularly. Thanks to Cara's discreet help deleting the prison's holo records, no one else had yet put two and two together to tie together the prisoner's face with the Mandalorian, and hopefully they never would.
But he couldn't quite put his thoughts into words.
"I had a vision," he said at last. "I was fighting for my life. I was…made vulnerable. I believe my spleen was badly ruptured and I was bleeding to death internally. I could feel what had happened. I felt myself closer to death than ever, and I've been injured badly before. I only survived because my son risked his life to use his healing powers."
An apostate? You have removed your helmet and armor. This I do not deny. But ever you have done so to protect your son and fulfill your purpose as his father. Ever you have done so to defeat your enemies, defend your comrades, and ultimately bring glory to my people. These things are more important than your honor or the things you wear. The Creed is more than its words, despite what some may say.
I behold you now, Din Djarin, bathed in the blood of your Enemy. This to me is more worthy and more pleasing than when you bathed in my waters.
Fear not, son of Mandalore. You are redeemed.
"It was a great creature, a beast that seemed to be a mythosaur, as Bo-Katan claimed to see. My son also sensed its presence. It told me that no matter what I had done, I was redeemed, because everything I had done was to defeat my enemy. Everything I had done was in service to my son and my people. That the Creed was more than its words."
The Armorer stood silently for some time. "We are granted visions in the great crises of our lives," she said. "I do not know whether the mythosaur remains or whether it could ever speak. It seems perhaps your vision spoke to what your heart needed to hear." Their gazes were locked on each other. "My role is not to judge but to guide, Din Djarin, whatever you may think. Especially now. Our people are finding the way through a period of great change. I must find the way to change with them. And we must all find our own path to follow the Creed. I will say no more."
Woves chose that time to pop his head in. "Almost ready?"
"Not yet. I have brought two gifts for Clan Mudhorn." From the bundle she pulled out a thing like a harness of sturdy leather, studded with beskar. "Despite my many cares, I have turned my thoughts to the challenges posed by your apprentice's…stature. As you face danger together, Din Grogu will often need to be carried on your back. But this is difficult due to the Rising Phoenix. This sling is designed to fit with armor, cloak, and jetpack, and will protect your son from flame and attack."
Din accepted it gratefully. It was a thousand times better than the makeshift sling he had tied together. It fit well over his chest and shoulders, with plenty of fire-proof material and padding. Before he could adjust the buckles, Grogu had clambered up him like he was climbing a ladder and settled in with a satisfied coo.
"It may also be adjusted as he grows," noted the Armorer. "And now the last gift, Din Grogu. While the time has not yet come for a full helmet, your safety is paramount. Let us make this the last battle scar you receive." With a light finger she touched the faint scar on the boy's head, then brushed his fuzzy ear. "Your unique features present a challenge. I have retained your personal measurements to ensure a perfect fit." She lifted up a piece of brown fabric that looked a lot like Grogu's little robes in one hand and a shimmering piece of beskar mail in the other. "The solution for now is a hood, lined with beskar mail."
Grogu's eyes glowed with excitement as the Armorer placed the mail inside a pocket in the hood, then went behind Din to fasten it to Grogu's robe. Her skills working with fabric were as strong as her skills with beskar. Din turned his head to try to see. It fit perfectly over the boy's ears and head, allowing his huge eyes to peep out. Woves nodded approvingly.
"I can't thank you enough for this," said Din. It felt as if a long-standing knot in the pit of stomach had disappeared.
She gazed at them for a long moment. "I am no longer a young woman. Yet I have learned from your clan that I still retain the ability to change and grow in service to our people." She turned. "We may now depart." She gathered her apprentices and they trailed after her as she left. Woves shook his head as he studied the harness.
"She's a damned fanatic still, you know," he said. "But she knows what you need before you know it yourself. Her work is simply perfect."
"Will you stay?" asked Din.
"Not at the moment. I'd like to help hunt Imps. But I think I may return. We need the credits. If the New Republic can carry off this insane plan." He looked closely at Grogu admiring his reflection in Din's helmet. "Grogu, friends?"
Grogu nodded seriously.
"All right, then. Look after each other, Clan Mudhorn." And he followed the Armorer from the office.
Grogu tapped on Din's helmet.
"Yes, it's time for us to go too. But there are a few things we need to do."
###
"This was Kino Loy," said Din quietly. Grogu nestled into the crook of his father's arm, hiding his face from the shrouded body.
"The suffering he endured," said Leia. "Such a terrible story. Beyond belief."
"I believe it," said Cara grimly.
They were in the Arena, in the tunnel beneath the safe room where Din had concealed the man's body. Leia's people were preparing to give the man a decent burial. "It's because of him we could take this place down," said Din.
"Then his remains will be treated with dignity and honor," said Leia.
Grogu's breathing hitched, and he made a tiny, sobbing, hiccuping sound. The child did not weep like a human. "You did everything you could," whispered Din. He didn't want Grogu to dwell on this, but it was a necessary—if sad—lesson. "Some people are just too sick, too hurt. Even for you."
As they journeyed back to the surface through the tunnels, Leia walked ahead, talking with a small group of New Republic officials. Din and Cara walked behind.
"That's new," Cara noted, looking at the carrier that Grogu rode in now.
"A gift from the Armorer," Din answered.
"She is something else."
Din nodded. He still didn't know what to make of the Armorer's words, but his heart definitely felt lighter. "Is this arrangement between you and Leia temporary or permanent?" Leia's personal guards had been injured in the crash, and Cara had stepped in.
"I've asked if it could be permanent. A female bodyguard around makes a lot of things easier for her." She paused. "I guess I've been looking for some kind of meaning, ever since Alderaan was destroyed. A purpose, I guess. Tried to find it in different places, but could never quite settle in, you know? But I think this could be it. I just have a good feeling about it." A tentative, almost shy smile—very unlike Cara—passed over her face. "If it weren't for you and the little guy, this couldn't have happened." Then she was more like her old self and punched Din ungently beneath his left pauldron. "If I'd have known, I wouldn't have kicked your ass when we met on Sorgan."
"I was letting you win."
"Whatever you say, Mando."
A flurry of activity greeted them on the surface. The Arena was crawling with construction teams, laborers, and New Republic uniforms. Many prisoners had joined the workers turning the ruins into livable spaces. Burg and Fazzakkaar were working to convince the holdouts to cooperate with Leia's plan for a colony. Although under heavy guard, even Nalab was persuading the prisoners and holding remote negotiations with other Hutts.
Maybe this would work.
More people walked up to Leia, all clamoring for her attention. "See, everyone wants a piece of her," said Cara. "She needs someone in her life who doesn't want anything from her." She came up to Leia and shooed people away. "Wait your turn on her schedule like everyone else!"
Din noticed Teva leaving a small group of other pilots. Din broke away from the crowd to go talk to him. "Any sign of Varro?" he asked.
"No. And I don't like it."
"Neither do I," said Din. He cleared his throat. "My fee?"
"Oh. Uh. About that." He gave a figure. "This is what I can give you now."
"You can't be serious. That is NOT what we discussed." Grogu frowned at Teva.
"Things are tight," said Teva apologetically.
"Do you have any idea what we went through?"
"And we owe you! Big time. This is just a partial payment."
"Unbelievable," said Din.
From the corner of his vision he saw Mayfeld speaking quietly with Leia and Cara. His expression was tense. When she saw Din watching them, Cara nodded them over, then ushered the little group into a room set up as a makeshift command post. Leia looked at everyone for a long moment.
"I've been briefed in great detail about your history, Mr. Mayfeld," she said. "It's a bit…checkered."
"You can say that again," said Teva. "His actions led to the death of a New Republic officer." Cara, who also enjoyed a checkered past, wisely stayed silent.
"I can't deny it," said Mayfeld, looking at the floor.
"I was there," said Din. "I was also there when he helped me find my son when the Empire kidnapped him. And we never would have made it here if it weren't for him."
"And then there's the matter of the death back on Sorgan," Leia continued. "It seems like there were extenuating circumstances there too. There's hardly any person or family in the New Republic without a checkered history." A slight shadow crossed her face, then vanished. "I'm prepared to offer you a pardon, Mr. Mayfeld, but under limited conditions."
Mayfeld's eyes were wide and apprehensive in his pale, homely face.
"Option one. You can remain here on Riello as a member of this colony."
"Nope," said Mayfeld. "I gotta get back to my wife and stepdaughter."
"They can join you here."
"Not for all the credits in the sector."
"Very well. Then option two. You are free to return to Sorgan. But now that Merrix's operations there are broken up, you will serve the New Republic as provisional Marshal."
Mayfeld blinked. "As…what?"
"You heard me. Provisional Marshal. While Sorgan is an independent settlement, the New Republic has an interest in keeping away the Imperial remnants and clearing up the last of Merrix's people. And keeping your adopted community safe. I've seen that you're brave and cool under pressure."
Teva and Cara shook their heads. While also skeptical, Din enjoyed the rich irony of the situation. Here was another crazy idea that just might work.
"And you have a moral code," said Din. "Despite yourself."
Mayfeld glared. "Thank you, Mando. No option three, I guess?" asked Mayfeld.
"I'm afraid not," said Leia kindly.
"Chop fields," suggested Teva.
"Well, I guess I don't have much of a choice, do I?"
Leia smiled. "No," she said, handing him a data pad. "Congratulations, Marshal Mayfeld."
"Thanks. I guess."
Greef Karga knocked at the door. "Ship's about ready to leave for Sorgan," he told Din. Then he eyed Mayfeld. "Room for one more?"
"Yeah," said Mayfeld with a resigned sigh. He looked at Cara and suddenly grinned. "Guess we're colleagues now, sweetheart."
"Don't get cocky," she said. "But good luck. Give my best to Omera. Although her judgment may be sketchier than I thought." Cara turned to Din and Grogu. "Take care of each other, boys."
"We always do," said Din.
"And keep out of trouble," added Teva. So typical. Din felt Grogu crawl out of his harness to jump into Cara's arms. She gave him a squeeze, and then he reached for Leia.
"I'll miss you too," she said. An understanding seemed to pass between her and Grogu, and she too gave the boy a squeeze. It was irresistible. Then she handed him back to his father. "I'll be thinking of you both, with gratitude. May the Force be with you."
The old phrase seemed to have new meaning from her lips. "And you," Din said.
"Mr. Karga," said Leia. "Thank you as well. Safe travels. And remember what we spoke about."
That was certainly mysterious, but Karga only nodded respectfully. Din, Grogu, and Mayfeld followed him, leaving Teva, Leia, and Cara in the room to meet with more officials, more prisoners, more supplicants. Grogu waved as he left.
The plan was for Karga to transport Din and Mayfeld back to Sorgan, and Din could retrieve his ship finally and join the hunt for Varro. "It's a yacht," said Karga. "You'll like it. Private quarters, decent food, all the comforts of home. But it has some weaponry and updated deflector shields."
"How'd you get a ship like that?"
"Few favors people in the Guild still owe me. Not everyone can pay in credits."
A low growl came from behind. Fazzakkaar and Burg emerged from an alley.
"Mando," said Burg. "Leaving so soon?"
"Yes."
"Guess I'm stuck here. But maybe it won't be so bad."
"You're lucky," said Mayfeld. "You don't watch out, they'll make you a Marshal."
"That'll be the day."
"What about you?" Din asked Fazzakkaar.
One of my cousins serves the Councilor's family as part of his life debt, and he says she is to be trusted. So I think there is hope. I have asked some of my clan to join me. There could be a good profit to make here.
"Good luck, then" said Din. "To both of you."
"You better take care of him," Burg said, but it wasn't sure whether he was telling Grogu to take care of Din or the other way around. Burg was the third person today who had implied that Din needed as much protection as Grogu. Well, fair enough.
###
Seeing the prison planet recede in the viewport was a welcome sight.
Karga had been telling the truth, for the most part—it was a decent ship, but maybe needed some redecorating. Mayfeld immediately went to his quarters to sleep. Din had the same plan, but Grogu had other ideas. The apprentice and warrior-in-training was now a cranky, overtired, overstimulated child with a lot to process: new friends, old friends, the danger and excitement of battle, the terror of seeing his father injured, presents…and always the exhausting process of growing and learning. It wasn't the first time Grogu had melted down and it wouldn't be the last.
At least he didn't try to throw around objects (or people).
No use scolding—nothing to do but let him wear himself out. After a long time of fussing and bouncing around the room, the little boy settled down and let Din soothe him to sleep by rubbing his tiny back. In the privacy of their room Din had removed his helmet. Once his son was finally asleep Din dropped off without bothering to remove the rest of his armor.
When Din woke, he sensed the vibrations of the yacht's hyperdrive engines. Still a long journey to go. Grogu grumbled and turned but didn't wake. Din put back on his helmet and left Grogu sleeping while he went in search of food.
The galley had premade meals, krill bars, and a large bottle of spotchka. No more of that, Din thought. He was alone, so he lifted his helmet to eat quickly. He was choosing a meal that Grogu might like when Karga joined him. He poured himself a mug of caff.
"Kid asleep?" he asked.
"Finally."
"He's grown up a lot just since you left Nevarro," marveled Karga. "Talking more. Seems more in control of his power."
"He's making up for lost time."
"Because he has you now. That's good. Join me?"
They went to the lounge area and sat across from each other on a set of somewhat tattered couches. The rest of the small crew were piloting the ship or resting in their own quarters. Karga looked down at his mug, frowning.
"I learned some news just after you left." Karga sighed. "Well, I'll just come out and say it. I'm dying, Mando."
Din said nothing. It felt exactly like a sucker-punch to the gut.
"It's Malazik syndrome. A degenerative nerve disorder. No cure. I always suspected it but I had some tests done finally. Guess my parents spent too much time around Malazik radiation before I was even born."
Din had only a vague idea of the illness, but he knew it led, eventually, to paralysis, organ failure, and death. "You don't seem sick," he said, lamely.
"I don't feel bad, but a few worrying little things have been cropping up. So I stopped trying to pretend nothing was wrong and I ordered some tests. It's not a surprise. And the thing is that it's unpredictable. I might have a few months or two years. Look, Mando. I'm not a young man. I've had a good run."
Din said nothing.
"So…that's why I've made a decision. Councilor Organa-Solo offered me a role in the new colony." He grinned. "I have a little bit of experience dealing with the criminal element. And turning a lawless settlement into a functioning community. So I'm going to take her up on it."
"But Nevarro still needs you."
"I think Nevarro will do fine without me. There's IG, and you, and a lot of good people with a stake in it. I've tried to develop a solid foundation." Karga gestured with his hands. "I just feel like…I have a lot I can still offer. I have a lot to make up for, too. I probably played a big part in some of those convicts getting sent to that damned prison planet. And I'll never forgive myself for putting the kid in danger." When Din moved to protest, Karga raised his hand. "No, it's true. Lots of things I'm not proud of." He stood abruptly and looked out of the viewport. "It all started to go wrong after my wife left me," he said, almost to himself. "Maybe that's where it all began, hm?"
He trailed off, lost in thought. Then he looked at Din and gave a sad, apologetic smile.
"And…it's probably me being a stubborn old fool, but I don't want the people of Nevarro to see me like that. While I'm at the colony and I break down, then I can go to a New Republic hospice facility. But I don't want Nevarro to see me…degenerate. Sounds silly, but it's true." I want to go out on top."
It made perfect sense for a proud man like Karga. "But who'll replace you?"
"The Councilor offered me some resources, even though we're not quite sure on whether Nevarro is joining the New Republic. This is another reason—they can help me ensure Nevarro's future. She recommended someone she trusts to be a temporary Magistrate, an old friend. Lando Calrissian, I think the name was? He's supposed to be a war hero. She says he's done wonders with a gas mining colony but made a few bad gambles and needs a job."
"Sounds like he'll fit right in."
"Exactly. So don't worry about Nevarro. Or me. Just…please don't tell Cara. I'll tell her myself, when I'm ready. I don't want her to worry about an old man, she's got enough on her plate. And please don't tell the kid. I don't want him to try anything. I don't think it'll work, and it's just gonna keep coming back, no matter how much magic he has. He'll just wear himself out and get sad."
Din nodded, respecting the man's wishes. Some people are too sick, or too hurt. "When will you leave?"
"As soon as I can get the new man set up and get my affairs in order. But you'll keep an eye on him, won't you?"
"Of course."
The rest of the journey back to Sorgan took several hyperdrive hops. They did not discuss the prison, or Karga's illness. Din spent quiet time with Grogu in their quarters, working a little bit on reading Basic and practicing some conversational Mando'a. Grogu must have learned some reading in his former life, so he picked up things quickly.
Mayfeld spent time studying, too. The datapad Leia had given him contained the New Republic's handbook for new law officers. He muttered "I can't believe I agreed to this" and "I hope there's a not a test" a lot. He also hit it off with Karga, and they played many hands of sabacc as well as cubikahd and dejarik, with Din often joining in as well as the other crew. Gaming was the one vice Mandalorians indulged in and helmets offered a distinct advantage. It also distracted Mayfeld from worrying about Omera.
"I look like hell," Mayfeld said fretfully when he caught his reflection in a decorative mirror. "What is she gonna think of me?"
"I don't think appearances are important to her," Din noted.
"Thanks a lot. Ah, hell. What if she won't take me back?"
"She seemed to want you back," Din said with a shrug. "She'll probably feel too sorry for you not to take you back."
Mayfeld didn't seem to find this helpful.
The only worrisome thing was the lack of comms from Sorgan. The New Republic had taken over the orbital station for transferring prisoners and the rough settlement, but subspace interference on this route thanks to solar flares prevented clear communications.
So probably they shouldn't have been surprised when the first thing they saw after leaving hyperspace at Sorgan was the wreckage of a ship. It had been blasted so thoroughly that it was reduced to a ring of debris circling the planet. They all stood in the small bridge, watching the viewscreen with dismay.
'What the hell happened here?" asked Mayfeld.
"See that?" asked Din, pointing at one of the monitors. "The radiation signature. That was a New Republic ship."
"Oh NO," said Mayfeld. His face was white.
"Something had a lot of firepower to do this," said Karga grimly. "Something Imperial." Grogu tensed in Din's arms, his ears flattening.
"Where are they are now?" asked one of Karga's crew, Talliss. She was a tough, heavily scarred Togruta mercenary and a skillful pilot but her voice was heavy with fear.
But the answer was obvious—the Imps must be at Merrix's former transfer station for prisoners in orbit around the planet. And Din had a good idea who might be leading them.
"We have to get down to the surface," he said. "Now. Before they spot us."
"Land here," said Mayfeld. He elbowed aside Talliss to enter coordinates on the navigation panel—coordinates that Din knew well.
"Hopefully they'll think we're just here for a spotchka run," muttered Karga.
The ship was silent as they wove through the wreckage towards the surface. The familiar lush green of Sorgan, spotted with silvery lakes, rose to meet them. They came to land in a small meadow a short distance from Omera's settlement, surrounded by stumps of trees flattened years ago by the raiders and their walker.
The gangplank opened, revealing a beautiful sunny day and grass studded with wildflowers. Din went first, Grogu on his back. Mayfeld came behind, followed by Karga and his people. Talliss brought up the rear. Spreading out, they carefully began the trek to the settlement. Mayfeld had tamped down his understandable rage and fear behind a harsh mask of determination.
Din lifted up above the tree canopy with his jet pack to scout out the situation. No Imps, and no traffic on the road that led to the main town where Din had received a job offer from Varro—it seemed so long ago.
On the bright side Grogu's new carrier was perfect.
Ominous silence greeted him as he flew above the krill ponds and fermentation shacks on the outskirts of the village. There were no signs of destruction, but no signs of people either, villager or Imp. But as he drew closer, Din's helmet could detect warm figures huddled below roofs. So they were hiding, but from what?
And the heat signatures didn't seem to match up with the number of people Din knew lived here.
"No sign of Imps," he said in the comms channel. "But everyone seems to be hiding. I'm going down." He didn't mention the other part, not yet…
He landed behind Omera's house, weapon drawn. He edged around the kitchen garden toward the barn. Just as he was about to open a barn door, a lone figure jumped out from behind a fermentation barrel.
"It's just us," said Din, raising his hands.
Omera lowered her blaster and sagged from relief. Din holstered his own weapon. "Oh, thank the stars," she said. Then she rushed to embrace him. Grogu cooed. And Din couldn't help but feel a stab of guilty pleasure at the feel of her warm, strong body pressed against him. His hand rested on her back.
He was proud of her too—it wasn't a bad ambush.
"What happened here?" he asked. She drew back, releasing her embrace but still gripping his hands.
"The New Republic was here. They took over all of the Merrix property and they were trying to figure out what to do with the Merrix employees and the prisoners. Then Imperial soldiers arrived three days ago. They came so quickly. Stormtroopers killed all of the New Republic troops, or drove them into hiding. We tried to hide the escaping New Republic officers but the stormtroopers came and just…just murdered them. Right in front of us." Omera held back a sob. Obviously she had been holding it together for a while but her control was wearing down.
Mayfeld jogged up just at that moment to find Din and Omera standing in her garden holding hands.
"Baby," he said. It was difficult to tell what emotions were crossing his pale face. "What's going on?"
Omera looked at Mayfeld with astonishment. "The stormtroopers took all of the children as hostages to force us to behave. To punish us." She broke down completely then and began to weep. "Oh Mica. They took Winta. Up to the Merrix station. Up to that…that prison."