It was a classic good news/bad news situation. The good news was that Nalab the Hutt didn't have Organa Solo. The bad news was that she was still somewhere in the Arena, and that Nalab had at least one of her guards or a pilot as a hostage—possibly being tortured.
The really bad news was that there was a Hutt at all.
Of course Merrix would have stocked his Arena with a Hutt, just to add a little spice to his obscene games. Besides being huge and practically indestructible, they were very strong-minded and weirdly charismatic, hence able to attract the weak-minded as followers. Nalab must have been an up-and-coming lieutenant in one of the cartels that practically ruled great slices of the galaxy.
One of Cara's people, Menin, a wiry Twi'lek man, looked at the team in confusion. "What would a Hutt be doing here?" he asked. "I know they set this up for the prisoners to fight each other like gladiators. But Hutts can't fight like that. They can't even move. Can they?" The other New Republic troopers looked equally mystified. But Fazzakkaar, Burg, and Din shrugged. All of them had run into Hutts after years on the edge of the underworld. They didn't acquire power by being physically helpless.
"Not when they're old," Din said. "But when they're young they can move just fine."
"They're not fast but they don't gotta be with all that bulk," Burg said. "They can take nearly anything. You ever try punching a Hutt? It's like punching a sandbag. You'll break your hand first."
"Burg," said Cara. "Where would he set up?"
"Search me, but must be somewhere big. You know Hutts. Once they find a place they like to stay put. I knew this place pretty well, or thought I did, but there were always surprises. New rooms where there wasn't nothing before. And I never knew about those tunnels."
"There's another control room we haven't found yet," said Din. "Not on any schematics. He has those tattletale droids under his control. Good chance he can monitor what we're doing."
"Not that safe room?"
"Merrix made that safe room for guests," said Din. "No controls there." Grogu had listened intently to the conversation. Now he tapped on his father's helmet, and Din glanced at the boy over his shoulder. "Do you think she's still okay?"
"Essss," said Grogu. "Hoookey." But his eyes were troubled.
"What's the matter?" asked Din. In answer Grogu pointed somewhere south, and down.
"Baaaaad."
Din raised his weapon and looked at the others. "Let's go. That way."
"Hang on. Are we taking orders from a baby?" asked one of the team.
"Yes," said Din, Burg, and Cara all at the same time.
The team wove in and out of the darkened alleys and crumbling buildings of the Arena, meeting no one. Karga's people were doing the same. Once in a while, with great caution, Din used his jet pack to rise up and scan the route ahead, but he only wanted to use it sparingly. Too much risk from hidden snipers. An eerie silence had fallen over the place. It seemed clear that after Burg had fallen from his place at the top of the prisoner food chain, Nalab had stepped into the power vacuum.
They kept moving, staying in the shadows cast by Riello's distant little moon. It was important not to bunch up—there could be ambushes around any corner, snipers on any roof. They also felt the heaviness of unseen watchers. The silence, the emptiness, and the tension began to wear on everyone's nerves. "Where are they?" whispered Cara, an edge of frustration in her tone. Din couldn't answer but felt Grogu's tension growing with every step. His dark eyes scanned everything, took in everything—Din was beginning to understand that the boy had keen night-vision, a gift of his mysterious species.
Soon they were approaching the great square at the heart of the former town, not far from the building where Din and Burg had fought. It seemed like an age ago. Grogu wriggled and at the same time a sudden scream echoed. Cara inhaled sharply. Din peered around the corner.
In the middle of the wide, sandy square, a lone figure knelt, dead in the center of a precise circle of light. It was a human man in a pilot suit. As Din drew a little closer, he could see that he was in a small circle of bare earth surrounded by a flat ring of metal, exactly like the deadly prison floor. The small patch of bare earth was barely big enough for the man, and he kept tottering over to touch the metal. Obviously it was activated because the man screamed in pain at the slightest touch of metal. His face was bloody and bruised.
"That's Kendel!" said Menin. He moved to rush out but Cara stopped him.
"That's a trap," said Cara.
It was a painfully obvious trap, though, which made Din uneasy. None of them were stupid enough to dart out into the open.
And that was the problem.
"It's a trap," said Din. "But not like we think." The augmented hearing of his helmet captured a small, nearly imperceptible mechanical sound. Grogu heard it at the same time.
"Boo! Baaaad!" he cried.
"Run!" shouted Din. "Towards him!"
"What?" asked Menin.
The rumbling grew louder and the ground itself seemed to tremble. The sand under the streets and alleys surrounding began to fall back, revealing panels of metal rising and unfolding. The square itself was still bare sandy ground.
"There's a floor just like at the prison," Din said. "We have to go into that square. If we stay here, we die. We don't have a choice."
Brief confusion flickered over Cara's face, but then she yelled, "You heard him! Move!"
They raced out of the cover of the crumbled buildings and into the empty square, towards the hapless man being used as bait. It went against all of Din's instincts but that was the point.
Most of Cara's team had made it to the square, but two were unlucky. The floor was set to its highest level—they died with hardly a scream. At the same time, Greef Karga and three mercenaries raced into the square from the other side.
"DAMMIT," screamed Cara in frustration. She raised her rifle, looking at the ruins surrounding them. The square was now surrounded on all sides by the floor, just like at the Panopticon, trapping them. Trapped, but at least not fried. Not yet. "Why the hell didn't the plans say anything about this? Why didn't we know about this?!"
Din tried the comms channel—nothing. Their allies had no idea what was happening. "Shielded. The ore in the planet's surface. The Engineer said something about that messing with sensors."
"No good worrying about that now," said Karga. "How do we get out of here?"
"Oh good," said a thick, deep, planet-shaking voice. "Just in time."
Blinding white light flooded the square—where was it coming from? More grinding mechanical sounds reached their ears. The tallest of the mud brick buildings surrounding the square seemed to crumble and unfold. The crumbling brick peeled back to reveal more metal and an open space like a terrace under a tent-like roof. It was crowded full of convicts, seated like spectators in stadium bleachers. Another building on the far side of the building unfolded in a similar way. And now the sound of hooting, jeering, and yelling filled the square.
No. Not a square. This was an arena—a secret arena inside Merrix's Arena, so cleverly built it had escaped detection. If his rich guests were too tired (or frightened) to hunt prisoners, they could relax in the stands and take in the combat at a safe distance. Those inside the ring of sand were hemmed in by the deadly floors, forced to fight for the amusement of the audience.
But now, of course, the tables had been turned and the stands were filled with gleeful convicts.
An enormous shape thrust its way to the front of the viewing area as the convicts backed off respectfully. Huge gold eyes, thick neck, bulky arms, mottled gray/green skin.
"Oh, HELL no," said Karga.
"I don't suppose you've brought my ship." Nalab the Hutt said in his rolling, ponderous voice. Most Hutts didn't bother learning Basic, considering it a barbaric language fit only for slaves, but Nalab was clearly not your average Hutt. If there was such a thing. "Now that I have more hostages for my entertainment, your friends may change their minds. My followers and I are getting bored. We will have fun while we wait for our ship."
Cara fired straight at the stands. Her shots pinged harmlessly off an invisible energy shield.
"Merrix is corrupt scum, but he did make a nice facility," said Nalab. "Thanks to all of the chaos you caused, Mandalorian, I was able to locate the hidden controls. Maybe someday I'll come back to this planet and buy it for myself."
"Merrix is dead! The Imperials that backed him are gone!" shouted Din. "The New Republic has this place under siege. This isn't the way out."
"Oh, but you're wrong, Mandalorian. I hold the sabacc cards now."
"NALAB!" roared Burg.
"Burg, good to see you. How the mighty have fallen. Beaten by a Mandalorian and an infant. And Fazzakkaar! I knew your brother well. A shame. You should be up here with me. I can always use a Wookie."
Fazzakkaar only snarled. "This ain't gonna work the way you think," said Burg darkly.
"I think it WILL work the way I think."
"You're just fuckin' it all up for everyone."
"Really? The New Republic will be happy to let us rot. Perhaps they will let a few precious humans leave, but not us undesirables. Wookies and Devaronians will be left behind. Don't tell me you don't know this. As it was with the Empire, so it is with the New Republic."
"You know that's not true," said Cara. "You're making it worse for yourself!"
"Worse? How could it be worse? We've been trapped and forgotten here, living like animals in the dirt. Little food, less water, no sanitation. Some for years. Surrounded by the worst of the worst. Left to fight among ourselves. Is it any wonder that if I offer strong leadership and a chance for improving our situation, my fellow convicts flock to me?" Cara took another useless shot out of frustration.
Din heard more sounds of grinding machinery, directly underfoot this time.
"Nalab," bellowed Karga. "I still have powerful allies in the Guild. And you'll have to deal with a bunch of pissed-off Mandalorians. Knock it off!"
"Enough talking. Let us begin the games!"
Din took a few deep, steadying breaths. He was seriously beginning to hate the word game. "We can take anything they throw at us," he said softly. "Right, buddy?"
"Esssss!"
From the dusty ground small metal plates began to pop up, one after the other. It looked, again, like the same metal that made the floor in the Panopticon prison, and that now surrounded them.
But these plates moved.
More and more small metal plates emerged, like the scales of a reptile, and they seemed to ripple and shimmer across the flat sandy floor of this terrible arena. To Din's horror, they writhed, came together, and fell apart—and began to chase everyone in the square. The moving plates left trails in the sand almost like the trail left by the krayt dragon on Tatooine. One of Karga's crew screamed and fell at the slightest touch of the metal.
Din fired up the jetpack and rose above the floor. Around him the others raced and darted from the deadly metallic plates snaking underfoot. He couldn't hover here forever, though, and he couldn't leave his friends behind.
Karga, though surprisingly fast on his feet, looked like he was in trouble as a deadly wave surrounded him. Din grabbed Karga under the arms and lifted him up.
"Don't think you'll get away that easily, Mandalorian," said Nalab. The air crackled with electricity. An energy field had been reactivated and sparkled with blue light above the area. So no escape that way, even if Din wanted to.
"Thanks," said Karga breathlessly. The jetpack strained under the weight of two full-grown men. "You can't keep this up. Put me over there."
The floor—the things, whatever you wanted to call it—seemed to be herding the others into small clusters, then surrounding them, cutting off escape, but not killing them. Din set Karga down next to Cara.
A small trapdoor appeared in the side of the stands and a small drone floated out, carrying a metal basket. It floated down, whirred over to Din, and held out the basket expectantly. Three more drones followed and glided to Cara and the others.
"Your blasters and rifles," said Nalab. "Can't have cheating." When Din hesitated, Nalab said. "Or I will kill half of the people down there at random. Shall I demonstrate?" Gritting his teeth, Din tossed in both blasters. Karga, Cara, and the rest followed suit. Once the drones had disappeared back into the trapdoor, Nalab reached out and showed a comically small metal controller resting his palm. Deftly he pressed a button. Kendel, the tortured pilot, screamed with pain as the metal floor surged under him. "Just to remind you that I am in charge here."
"Baaaad," hissed Grogu. From the corner of his vision, Din saw Grogu's tiny hand reach out.
And a deep, deep rumbling laugh came from Nalab.
"Oh ho ho ho. I feel your tiny mind battering against mine, Jedi child. Ho ho ho. I must be the first Hutt you've ever met, yes?"
Grogu pulled back his hand as if stung. Encountering this kind of resistance was obviously a new and unwelcome sensation for the boy. There must have been history between the Hutts and the Jedi. But oddly enough, despite the terrible situation, Din felt a little…pleased? Grogu was an apprentice, after all, and supposed to be learning. The most valuable lesson Din had ever learned was that sometimes your enemy was unexpectedly stronger. So you had to find another way. That was how you became stronger.
He just hoped they would both survive this wonderful learning experience.
"Perhaps you could try that on an idiot like Burg," Nalab went on. "Not me."
"Come down here and say that to my face, Nalab!" snarled Burg. Din came to land in the patch of sand next to him.
"Don't worry, Burg. I will."
The lights around the area turned off suddenly. The sudden darkness was disorienting. The night sky was still quite black, and the tiny moon had set. Dawn was still a way off. Then blinding light shone in their faces.
Nalab the Hutt was no longer in the stands. He was right in the Arena, emerging from a hidden door with a squad of four armed convicts. Din saw another Devaronian and two Rodians. The fourth, a little Ubese hunter in full robe and face-hiding helmet, brought up the rear. Nalab, upsettingly nimble and mobile, writhed and undulated forward.
Dank ferrik, he was big.
"I think I will begin with you two," said Nalab, gesturing at Burg and Din. "Then I believe I will try my luck against the Wookie and the charming young lady."
"I'll show you charming," said Cara.
Nalab cracked his knuckles. "No jetpack, Mandalorian, or my associates will kill at random. Jetpacks are cheating." Din glanced up at the stand—someone up there had the controls.
"That's rich. You're the one cheating," said Burg.
"No, I just set the rules. I've always wanted to test myself against a Mandalorian."
The Devaronian smiled. He was even uglier than Burg and almost as big. "Been waiting a long time for this, Burg." He put up his fists.
"You threw in with a Hutt," said Burg. "You deserve what you get."
The two Devaronians ran toward each other like two planets colliding, and soon they both were grappling on the sand. Nalab's other three followers hung back while the Hutt came toward Din. Fast. Din leapt back but Nalab followed, keeping pace with every step. He made a feint toward Din, who blasted him with the flamethrower.
"Stop that," said Nalab. "It stings." He swung his massive tail like a club. It hit Din like a giant hammer and sent him flying. It was almost as bad as the mudhorn. Grogu gave a shriek as the force of the blow dislodged him from his sling and sent him tumbling.
Of course. Hutts had a coating of mucus which made them resistant to fire. Din had met Hutts but never fought one. Oh good, a learning experience for him too. His head rung and Din shook it to try to clear it. He tried to get to his feet, staggering with fresh pain from injuries both new and old.
He saw Burg seize his rival and hurl him to the ground, but then he fell heavily as his feet were swept out from below him. Looked like he had his hands full. Where was Grogu?
Then Din saw a tiny figure leap to avoid Nalab's swinging tail. Grogu leapt again, and again, and again, but how long could he do this? As the mountain of muscle advanced on the boy, Din shot the whistling birds. A stray missile hit one of the Rodians and brought him down.
"Ow!" bellowed Nalab. He waved his hand as if at insects. The birds hit their target but the Hutt was just too big. Tiny pinpricks of viscous blood appeared in his hide. Naab turned his attention back to Din. "Now I'm really mad." Another swing of the mighty tail knocked Din halfway across the square. Beskar absorbed most of the blow, but something popped horribly in Din's right knee.
Grogu reached out his hand again at the distracted Hutt. The enormous form lifted off the sand—not much, just a few centimeters—but enough to take him by surprise.
"His neck!" shouted the masked Ubese hunter. "Weak in the neck!"
Grogu lowered his hand, panting, and the Hutt fell back to the ground with a thud that shook the Arena. The Ubese shot the other Rodian. Din shot his whipcord to loop around the Hutt's thick, thick neck, and pulled with all his might. It was easier than expected—was someone else pulling? Yes—Grogu was raising his hand again, putting the force of his will behind his father and joining their strengths. Nalab's eyes bulged.
"Tell them to shut it off!" shouted Din. "Turn off the floor, the shield, all of it!" He pulled harder. More of the Hutt's followers came into the Arena, weapons drawn. Some went after the treacherous Ubese, the rest came toward Nalab. The Ubese took off the mask, and it was Organa Solo. She looked tired, sweaty, and dirty but in one piece. The traditional Ubese tunic and cape disguised her pregnancy well. She aimed a blaster at the Hutt with a practiced, steady hand.
"HUTTSLAYER," rumbled Nalab.
Huttslayer? wondered Din.
"You heard him. Tell everyone to stand down," Organa Solo said.
Nalab waved his arms, repellent tongue poking out of his mouth. "Off!" he bellowed.
The crackling sound of the shield above stopped. The deadly metal plates on the floor of the Arena vanished. Burg and the other Devaronian were still fighting, circling each other wearily. The prisoners lowered their weapons uncertainly. Din relaxed the whipcord, but did not release it.
"Fools! Kill them now that their guard is down! Start with the little one!"
One of the prisoners, a snarling Trandoshan, lifted his weapon and aimed at Grogu. But before he could fire, a rifle bolt hit him full on and he collapsed into the sand. The others looked around, terrified.
"Anyone else wanna anything?" yelled a well-known voice from the rooftop. Mayfeld was laying on a rooftop on his stomach in a classic sniper position. Now that the energy field was off he could hit anyone, even in the stands.
Din pulled himself closer to Nalab, pulling even harder, and the Hutt's stench was overpowering even through his helmet. Drops of blood formed around the whipcord as it cut deeply into the thick hide. "Tell them to stop or you die right here, right now," panted Din. "This will saw you clean in half."
"Aaargh! Stop, stop!"
Grogu collapsed in exhaustion. Now they heard the roar of x-wings above them. And another familiar, welcome noise. Five Mandalorians appeared over the rooftops in the dawn sky, jetpacks glowing. Axe Woves came to stand next to Din and put his own whipcord around Nalab.
"A Hutt!" he said. "Disgusting! I should have known."
Burg took advantage of the distraction to hurl his fellow Devaronian into a wall, ending the fight. He turned, panting, to glare at Nalab. "If the little one's hurt, I'll beat you to death, Hutt or not."
Din looked up at Mayfeld, still keeping a tight hold on the whipcord. "What are YOU doing here?" he called.
"You're welcome, asshole!" Mayfeld shouted back. "I talked some sense into your stupid boat and hitched a ride with your Mando friends here."
"Listen to me!" Organa Solo addressed the crowd in a commanding voice, keeping her blaster aimed at Nalab's head. "I'm Councilor Organa Solo. Some of you might know who I am." The convicts stirred and muttered. "I know that you've been mistreated terribly. I am personally leading the hunt for the people responsible. I am working on a path forward for all of you—ALL of you. But the violence has to stop. Lay down your arms."
Slowly, reluctantly, and with much muttering, the convicts laid down their weapons and relinquished control of the arena. A New Republic transport hovered above the square, getting ready to land. Two other Mandalorians came to help Din and Woves keep the seething Hutt under control.
"Go to your son," urged Woves. "We have him."
The Councilor put down her blaster with a sigh and Din released the whipcord at last. Ignoring the pain from his injured knee, he raced to Grogu. Organa Solo followed close behind. Din picked up the little boy, not liking his color.
"He tried taking on a Hutt. Not easy," Organa Solo said. She held out her arms. "I should know. May I?"
Not knowing what else to do, Din handed her the still little form. She held Grogu close, simply standing still with her eyes shut. Soon the boy's eyelids fluttered and his face looked less gray and pinched. Now it looked like his normal, post-exertion sleep. Din exhaled in relief.
"What did you do, Councilor?"
She smiled faintly. "Really, you can call me Leia." Another New Republic shuttle with medical markings landed in the Arena. "He gave his strength to you. I did the same thing, giving him some of mine so he could recover more easily. I'm getting better at this kind of thing." She did look much more tired. "Let's get out of here. That Hutt smell is making me queasy."
Leia kept her arms wrapped tightly around Grogu. Din took her arm and they supported each other as they made their way toward the shuttle.
"You killed a Hutt?" Din asked as they hobbled along pathetically, keeping his mind off the tremendous pain in his knee.
Leia shrugged. "He was old and I had help. I was also very motivated."