With Grogu tucked in one arm, Cara came up to Din, arm extended. He took her hand warmly.

"Teva sent you?" he asked.

She nodded. "That's right. He got your message and relayed it to the closest team in the sector. Lucky for you we were in the neighborhood getting some damned pirates under control. I've got a platoon of thirty shock troopers with me."

"Only thirty?" asked Mayfeld. "I was hoping for something a bit, I don't know, more?"

Cara looked at him. "Thirty of us is worth about a hundred of you, pal. Aren't you supposed to be dead?"

"Long story."

"We've secured the hangar. Our ship's in there now. My team's got the last of the Imp holdouts barricaded in something that looks like a mess hall. Teva's on the way with help. Satisfied?"

"Not really."

In his urgent message to get help from Teva, Din had tried to give as much information about this place as possible, as quickly as possible. Now he brought Cara up to speed on the current situation. "Gallia Varro's escaped. We could be getting company. This place supplies the Imps with enough materiel to start a new Empire."

Cara looked out the window at the chaotic, smoke-filled Panopticon and gave a low whistle. "I believe it." Din took her arm and spoke close to her ear.

"Remember the client on Nevarro who put the bounty on the kid? This Varro is his daughter. And she wants to carry on his work."

"Oooooh. That's no good." She handed the little boy back to his father. Her team spread out, checking the office and the landing area. There was another human woman who towered over Cara, plus a Twi'lek male and a short, wiry human man. "And that's, uh, what's left of Merrix?"

"Yeah."

She shook her head at the corpse with the unpleasantly twisted head. "Guess he's not going in for questioning, then, huh."

"He made this happen," said Din, pointing at the bacta patch on Grogu's head a little helplessly.

"Ah. Enough said." She lowered her voice even more. "I don't know what we're supposed to do with all these prisoners. And I sure as hell don't know what we're supposed to do about this corruption. It took a lot of greased palms to help Merrix divert all these prisoners here. Not to mention straight-up traitors. Kind of above my pay grade. I'm just a simple grunt."

"I like simple grunts."

"Don't get all mushy on me."

"I don't want these prisoners—these people—just going back to the chop fields."

She shook her head. "I don't know, Mando. This prison setup is shitty but these convicts aren't exactly nice people."

"We're not nice people."

"True."

"We couldn't have brought this place down without the prisoners' help. That has to count for something."

Grogu gestured for Din to set him down so he could go check on the Gideon clone. The young man still sat gaping and blinking. Grogu gave him a comforting pat on the arm. Din didn't know how this whole cloning thing was supposed to work, but he didn't look quite all there, in body or in mind.

"Call me crazy," said Cara. "But isn't that…"

"It's one of his clones. But it's not quite…finished, I guess you'd say." After everything Gideon had done to his people and his son, part of Din just wanted to kill him all over again. But Grogu certainly did not seem to share this feeling. And watching together, Din felt hate mix with pity as he looked at the smooth face and sparse teenager mustache.

"An uncooked clone of Gideon. This just keeps getting more and more complicated. But, knowing you, that's not a big surprise." Her voice was puzzled. "I really just want to shoot him in the head. But I also…don't?"

"Grogu's a good judge of people."

More footsteps came from the tunnel. Sixty led a group of armed prisoners, along with One Thousand and Two Thousand. He paused to kneel in front of Nine's body. Gently he closed his eyes and touched his forehead, then came towards Din and Cara.

"Call me crazy," she said again. "But isn't that…?"

"Nice of the New Republic to drop by," Sixty said to her acidly.

"There was a little energy field in our way," she answered with a glare. "Maybe you and these other convicts should've gone a little faster."

Din stepped between them. "We need to be ready for the Imps to hit back," he said.

"Agreed," said Cara. But Sixty's attention was captured by the clone.

"What is this?" he asked.

"Varro was having a little fun. Do-it-yourself science experiments with her ex-boyfriend," said Mayfeld.

"This is a clone," said Sixty softly. He crouched down in front of the clone, who looked at him with trusting, vapid eyes. Sixty took his chin and studied the young man's face. "I've seen this many, many times. Many of my brothers were decanted before their time, or grown improperly. The cloning technology was too difficult for the Empire to manage. They experimented but all they manage to produce were damaged freaks. Or clones like this one here, unfinished. So much suffering and waste. He can be helped—I've helped others like him. But it will take time."

"The New Republic will have to sort all this out," said Cara.

"Oh, so you will take him back to your wonderful New Republic and put him in a cage to study him?" Sixty's voice was bitter as he rose to his feet. His hand was on his weapon.

"Okay, hold on," she said.

Burg fingered his weapon. "I don't know who you are," he said. "But I ain't going back to the chop fields." Fazzakkaar growled in agreement.

"We don't have time to argue over this," said Cara.

"Well, when will we have time?" asked Mayfeld. "Because I'm not going back either."

Cara's face twisted in a cold sneer. "I went out on a limb for you, Mayfeld, and here you are in prison all over again. What did you do this time? Murder another junior officer?"

"I didn't murder him," Mayfeld muttered. "And neither did Burg."

"You sure as shit didn't help him."

Grogu looked up, away from the clone to the quarreling adults. The arguing was clearly distressing him—his ears were laid flat. Don't try anything, buddy, thought Din. He put one hand on Cara's arm, leaning closer. "He's Omera's husband."

Her eyes went wide. Her mouth opened and closed a few times as she looked from Din and Mayfeld and back. "Omera."

"Yes," said Din.

"Omera," she said. "On Sorgan."

Mayfeld sighed. "The same."

"She. Married. You."

"Come on, it's not that unbelievable, is it?"

"Oh, it's pretty damn unbelievable."

Mayfeld rubbed his face. "I know you and Mando here were the ones saved her village that time. I know now. Look, if you gotta know, I was doing my best to lay low but I got in a fight with some Merrix assholes giving a hard time to a local."

"Humans," said Burg with an eyeroll. "So worried about who's married to who."

Cara just shook her head. "This galaxy is a pretty crazy place, Mando," she said at last.

"Mayfeld said the exact same thing."

Mayfeld threw up his hands. "Come on, Dune. Marshal. Whatever. You see this place. No one fucking deserves to be here."

"Look," Cara said. "Truce, okay? I just want to secure this place and shut down these fucking Imps. I'm not hauling anyone away in chains anytime soon, okay?"

"Fair enough," said Mayfeld.

"And I'm not a Marshal anymore." She pointed an accusing finger at Din. "You always get me tangled up in such complicated shit!"

Din was about to say something but a wave of dizziness hit him. Between Grogu being injured and seeing Cara leading their rescue, he had been riding on a wave of adrenaline that helped him ignore the pain in his head and shoulder, to say nothing of his broken finger. But now the wave was fading and Din leaned heavily against a wall. Instantly Grogu came to his side as he slid down the wall to sit.

"I'm fine," he said.

Cara eyed the remains of the Dark Trooper. "Buddy, if you tangled with that thing, you're not fine."

Grogu reached a hand out towards Din's shoulder but Din gently stopped him. He was clearly eager to help, but Din could see the tips of his ears drooping—his energy was nearly spent. "Not now, Grogu. Ad'ika. You've done enough already. I just need some bacta." The stubborn boy kept trying. "Cara, please. Could you…?"

"Hey pal," said Cara. She knelt down next to Din and Grogu and broke out a small tube. "It's not as good as a whole bacta tank but it's better than a patch or a spray. They tell me it's the latest and greatest. Will you let me help your dad? Maybe not, uh, choke me or anything?" Grogu frowned but did as she asked. She unfastened the top of the tube and placed it directly beneath the pauldron. Din felt a sharp pinch.

"Ow."

"Injectable," Cara said. "What'll they think of next, right? Didn't even have to take off your armor or anything." She looked at Grogu. "Okay?"

"Hooohkey," said Grogu.

"Hey, you're talking!" said Cara.

Din felt the bacta kick in. "He has a lot to say." Patiently he allowed Cara to bind his arm close to his body with strips of cloth while Grogu watched with a critical eye. Then she splinted his finger.

"You're gonna need to keep that immobile for a bit while the bacta works."

"No promises," said Din as she helped him to his feet. At one point in his life, Din would have rather died in private than be seen accepting help or showing weakness. Part of that was the stern, unforgiving Creed but a lot of that was simply Din's own innate nature. But now, here, with his friends and comrades and son, that time seemed a long time ago.

"Esssss, boo," scolded Grogu.

"All right, all right."

His head was clearing and his finger felt better already. But it would take a little longer for the ruptured tendons in his shoulder to heal. And it was the bad shoulder he had hurt back on Morak, fighting the hijackers with the cheap, breakable Imp armor. It was constantly stiff and sore. He was going to need to figure out a long-term solution to that problem…later.

Another explosion rocked the Panopticon. The tall woman on Cara's team jogged over and lifted her helmet. "Major Dune. We've got company. Imperial landers, two of them, full of troops. They're attempting to retake the hangar below. And a destroyer in orbit."

"Oh, fabulous," said Mayfeld. "Just fucking fabulous."

"Get ready," Cara ordered her team. "Menin, you and Chano flank this door. Ruill, with me."

"Grogu," said Din. The child leaped onto his back and settled into his carrier. Cara squinted at the arrangement.

"Is that safe?"

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?"

Then they heard a hateful whine sounded from the landing area. The whine of a TIE fighter.

"Incoming!" shouted Menin. "Another lander's coming behind that fighter."

"They don't want to destroy this place," said Din. "They need it too much."

"Yeah, but they'll be happy to see everyone here die. Life's cheap to Imps," said Mayfeld. He seemed mostly unharmed except for a large cut on his cheek. But his face was drawn from exhaustion. Even Burg and Fazzakkaar seemed tired. Grogu was nodding off in his carrier despite the noise. The bacta injection was helping Din, but it didn't give you back energy. The prisoners who had helped them fight were motivated but malnourished and mistreated. How much longer could they all go on?

They had had no choice but to keep fighting.

"Shut that door!" yelled Cara. Menin banged on the controls and the metal door leading to the small landing area closed. Just in time—cannon fire hit the other side.

Din activated the comms link to the Engineer. "Engineer, come in!"

"Yes, Mandalorian. My word! I was beginning to wonder."

Din laid out the situation. "What defenses can we put up?"

"I hate to say it, but we could reactivate the floor."

"One step forward, two steps fucking back," said Mayfeld.

"But we shut down that main junction on fourteen," Din said. "How?"

"If you give me time, I can reroute the power. We can make it so that you can control it from a frequency on your own helmet."

More blaster fire hit the door. More explosions from below. "I don't want to hurt anyone on our side," Din said.

"For heaven's sake, make sure everyone is in safety boots."

"No time. Can't I activate just a section of the floor?"

"Tricky but I'll try. Buy me time."

"Tricky but I'll try," answered Din. "Look, if this goes sideways, you need to escape. Get as many of the prisoners as you can and make for the river and the boat. Get to the Arena."

"Understood. Let us hope it does not come to that. Good luck."

"They're getting through that door any minute," said Cara. "We have to fall back."

Sixty was still crouching in front of the Gideon clone. The young man was clearly frightened and confused by the noise. "What is his name?" he asked.

"He doesn't have one," said Din.

"Even clones have names."

Din paused. "Isidore."

"Come, Isidore," said Sixty. His voice was patient and gentle despite the chaos. "We must go." Something about his tone got through. He helped the clone—Isidore—rise unsteadily to his feet. One Thousand and Two Thousand each took an arm and helped him along.

They all raced back down the tunnel that led to the control room. Din grimaced as they passed the bodies on the floor—the foreman from fourteen, Nine, and the other prisoners who had died fighting for their freedom. Fazzakkaar shut the door behind them.

"Cara," said Din. "Your people need to strip the boots off these guards and put them on. If we can get the floor to work again, you need protection."

"You heard him," said Cara. "The floor will fry us up like mudhorn eggs." She pulled boots off the closest dead guard, grunting a little with the effort. "I think this is what they call irony, right? Using Imp weapons against them."

"I think I skipped class that day," said Mayfeld. The sound of a blast came through the door—the Imps were close to breaking into Varro's office. "But we gotta hurry."

Din personally had no problem frying Imps.

"Corporal," said Menin. "Our people below had to fall back from the hangar. There's about seventy stormtroopers."

"Shit," said Mayfeld. "More of your New Republic buddies better be coming."

"Mandalorian," said the Engineer, her voice crackling over the comms channel. "Good news or bad news first?"

"Good news."

"I'm closer to reactivating the floor for you. Just a few minutes."

"Bad news?"

"We have uninvited guests. The Imperials have discovered our back door, as it were, at the river. The Empire brought an inflatable assault boat! Quite interesting design, really—"

"Tell the ferry droid to repel them. Tell it they're unauthorized."

"It's just sitting there," said the Engineer. "Its logic circuits are completely fried with all of the conflicting orders. If I only had time to reason with it—"

"How many do you have down there?"

"Just me and eight armed prisoners. The men used grav charges to block the river with rubble but I do not know how long we have."

"Isn't this place a weapons factory?" asked Cara in frustration. "Don't we have any heavy artillery?"

"Can you get help from the prisoners on the level above?" Din asked. "What about weapons in the warehouses?"

"Some the guards above us have decided to fight back because they hear Imperial help is on the way. We're cut off from the weaponry storage. We are unfortunately on our own."

"Keep working on the floor. I'll be right there." Din turned to Cara, Mayfeld, and Sixty and gave them a rundown of the situation. "I'm going back down to the bottom. Imps are trying to break through."

"You'll never get there in time," said Sixty.

"Yes, I will." Din shrugged his shoulders. He tore away the cloth strip binding his shoulder. It wasn't fully healed but it couldn't be helped. He needed freedom of movement.

"Be careful, big guy," said Mayfeld, understanding.

"Ready?" Din asked Grogu.

"ESSSSSSS!" The boy knew what was coming and squirmed in excitement, waking back up.

"You're taking him with you?" asked Cara. Mayfeld shrugged.

"Believe me, he won't listen to reason about that kid."

"What choice is there? It's just as dangerous here," answered Din. "Hold them off as long as you can."

"Good luck, then," said Cara with a nod. "Both of you."

The control room was surrounded by transparasteel and glass windows, except for a small viewing area with a balcony. Din went to the railing and looked down. The levels of the Panopticon stretched far below. Smoke rose from the fighting below. Sounds of fighting, blaster fire and shouts, echoed upwards.

"All right. Hang on tight, buddy. Elevator down. Keep your head down." In one swift movement Din vaulted over the railing feet first. After a dizzying few seconds of free fall, he activated the jetpack. Its reverse thrusters slowed their descent, but not by much. Grogu shrieked in delight. The kid had a serious need for speed. One of these days Din would have to make him a speeder bike that really fit…

Scenes of chaos and fighting on each level unfolded around them as they fell. Blaster fire hit Din's breast plate as they passed the tenth level. He deflected another blast with his left vambrace. Soon the muddy mining pit and prisoner bunks at the bottom level became visible.

"Could be a rough landing!" warned Din. "Brace yourself!"

The muddy floor seemed to race up to meet them. Deftly Din controlled the jetpack reverse thrusters, slowing gradually. It was hard to make a smooth landing at this angle of direct descent though, and he hit bottom with a jarring thud that his knees, back, and injured shoulder could barely absorb.

"OOOF!" said Grogu.

"Ooof is right," said Din. He raced to the control room and found the Engineer bent over a panel. She seemed to have melded with the machine, for her hands were completely cybernetic and were directly plugged into the panel. She cocked one eye at him as he approached, and with a shudder Din was reminded of the monstrous, scavenging cyborg that had nearly killed him on Mandalore. Well, at least she was on his side.

"Hello, young man," she said. "Good news or bad news?"

"Good news."

"I am ready to transfer control of the floor to you in several minutes."

"Bad news?"

"The floor won't work down here. Ironic, no? The water and filth have badly corroded the floor on the bottom level. You can use it back up at the top but won't help us out of our immediate predicament at the river."

"We'll have to fight them off the old-fashioned way."

"Leave us," she said. "Go back up and activate the floor against the stormtroopers at the hangar. We are lost, and I am not very mobile. The prisoners feel the same way I do, I am sure."

"I won't leave anyone to die."

"Stubborn fool."

"The Imps could take over the whole place from here. They have to be stopped."

"I suppose you're right. I'm no tactician." She sighed. "Well, best of luck, young man."

He raced through the mud and broken machinery to the tunnel that led to the river. At the dock near the dam, part of the tunnel had been blasted into rubble. A group of armed prisoners added metal and rocks to the barricade. The sound of explosions and grinding machinery came behind the wall of wreckage. They were all armed only lightly with blasters.

"Situation?" asked Din.

They turned to look at him, surprised but pleased. One of them, a wiry clone with a missing eye, spoke. "We blocked off the tunnel as best we could, but they brought heavy siege machinery."

"What about the boat?"

"Just sitting there. We can't hold them off for long."

"F5-62," said Din sternly. "Unauthorized personnel are trying to get to this dock. Your orders are to help us repel them."

No answer. One amber light blinked slowly.

"F5-62!"

"I must prepare for departure," it said sulkily. "But my way is blocked."

"We need your help."

"No authorized personnel remain, yet my primary function is to repel them. There are no longer any passengers, and the river is now blocked, yet I am compelled to make my schedule. Whose commands may I obey? What is my true function?"

Fine time to deal with a droid suffering from an existential crisis. "F5-62, these people with me want to be your passengers in the future. They're authorized personnel but they're in danger. You can help us. Then we can clear the river and you can make your schedule." He gestured at the prisoners around them "Right?"

"Oh, uh, yes. We really want to be your passengers," said the one-eyed prisoner, catching on.

No answer from the ferry. Well, he had tried. Grogu tensed on Din's back as the sounds of the approaching enemies grew louder. "Do we have any idea how many there are?" Din asked.

"Not entirely. The Engineer saw about thirty on the video feed near the river because it shut off. And they have a siege drill." The one-eyed prisoner paused, his face grim and determined. "But we'll fight them with everything we have."

"What is your name?"

"Forty-Seven. The blood of Mandalore is in our veins. We'll be honored to fight with you, Mandalorian. And die with you."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," said Din, standing with him shoulder to shoulder as they prepared for the next assault.