Din looked at the prisoners surrounding him. Their deranged eyes shone in the faint light from the break room. Their fingers twitched. Murderous. Crazy. If they weren't crazy before, they were crazy now, after spending who know how long in this filthy, dark hole.
"Stand back," Din said. He took a step forward, brandishing his vambrace as if about to use the flamethrower and his blaster in the other. He didn't want to mow these (mostly) unarmed people down. Some cringed and stepped back, others did not.
"You dirty mando," growled the prisoner who had tried to attack Din with a club. His nose was bleeding. "You put me here."
"No, I didn't," Din said. I hope I didn't. There were so many over the years… He eyed the hatch on the floor where Grogu had gone chasing after Varro. Several prisoners stood right on top of it. This delay was wasting precious time. He'll be all right. He's strong. He can take care of himself. "Get BACK. I don't want to hurt anyone but I will if you get in my way."
"You're in on it. You're all on it!" another prisoner insisted shrilly. "It's a conspiracy!" The prisoners crowding behind them muttered in agreement. With a sinking heart Din saw that more and more of them had clubs and shivs made from pieces of the fence. Not as unarmed as he might like.
"You're right," said Din. "There's a conspiracy. But I'm not in on it. I'm trying to stop it. I want to help you get out of here. You shouldn't be here like this." Most of the prisoners looked too confused or addled to process Din's words. But then a new voice spoke.
"That's just what someone in the conspiracy would say." A tall, pale-skinned Twi'lek man stepped from behind the other prisoners, who moved away deferentially. He had a sly, crafty look on his face and the muscles stood out on his deceptively slim frame. "Do you remember me, bounty hunter?"
Yes, Din did remember. A good-paying job, maybe two years before meeting Grogu. A consortium of Outer Rim brothel owners had put out on a puck on a customer who had an ugly habit of murdering their workers. Local law enforcement ranged from ineffective to nonexistent. From the owners point of view, it was bad for business.
From Din's point of view…it was a different story.
He had seen several holos of the unfortunate victims. What was left of them, anyway. Din usually tried not to feel emotions one way or another towards his bounties. But he might have gladly pursued this particular psychopath on the house. And still he still felt that way, even though the chase had been long and the final battle difficult. How satisfying it had been to watch this one shriek in outrage as the carbonite froze him.
The images of the victims had stayed somewhere in the back of Din's mind, pushed back. Now they came flooding back, visions of blood mixing with growing panic about Grogu.
"Lojan," Din said.
"You remember my name! How nice! Surprised to see me? I was in carbonite a long, long time, thanks to you. I was traded around, until finally I was unfrozen and found myself in this pit. Yes, there's a conspiracy, and you're in on it all right."
"I'm not in on anything."
"I have been unfairly persecuted!" screamed Lojan, his mood suddenly shifting. "All for my harmless hobby!"
"You're a killer."
"Unlike you?" Lojan laughed, mood changing again.
It was so exasperating when they said things like this. We are not so different, you and I. Oh please. "We are nothing alike," spat Din, angry that he was allowing himself to be drawn into any kind of debate with this monster. His emotions were getting the better of him. "You murdered defenseless people for pleasure."
"Whores aren't people," said Lojan as if he were making a reasonable point. "They're toys. You Mandalorians are supposed to be so ferocious but your morality is so conventional. Friends!" he yelled to the surrounding prisoners. "He is the cause of all of your problems! Get him! Tear him limb from limb!"
The prisoners surged forward. Lojan's voice seemed to have some kind of hypnotic power over them, some authority. Maybe it was just because he was the craziest one there. Din lashed out with the flamethrower, and some screamed and fell back but more took their place. A prisoner stabbed at him and Din seized his arm, throwing him aside. More took his place. No choice left. Din fired at the tall prisoner with the club, felling him and several others. But more came and using the blaster at such close range against so many was awkward. He released the whistling birds. More prisoners fell. Yet still more crowded in to take their place. All of them furious, all of them with murder in their eyes. All of them in his way. Din stood his ground and fought them off with blaster and flamethrower and fist, channeling his anger and frustration.
"We can do this all day," shouted Lojan, hiding behind other prisoners, using them as shields. So could Din, but this had to stop so he could get to Grogu. Time to get to the source of the problem.
Din activated his jet pack and hurled himself directly at Lojan, bowling the other prisoners out of the way and knocking him to his back. Din fell on him. The Twi'lek snarled and lashed out with a crude, handmade knife, slicing Din's arm at the vulnerable elbow. Din hissed in pain. His grip loosened on the blaster and it fell. Lojan reached for it. He was strong, all right, and taller than Din. And he was fast. But Din was even more motivated. They grappled desperately for the fallen blaster. The other prisoners stood back, watching uncertainly. Finally Din knocked the knife out of Lojan's hand. Lojan sprang to his feet and jumped back. He smiled and spread his arms wide.
"Too bad that Mando sense of honor prevents you from killing an unarmed man. Fight me now, Mandalorian. To the death!"
"All right," said Din. He shot Lojan full center mass. The Twi'lek toppled down, surprise on his face, dead before he hit the floor. Panting, Din looked around at the other prisoners. Lojan's death had temporarily confused them. Din feinted forward and the prisoners fell back, slightly. In his free hand Din showed them a grav charge resting on his palm. "You know what this is? I'm going to blow this hatch up. You have to get away." Din pushed forward until finally he was at the hatch. He crouched and set the charge on the panel. "Fifteen seconds."
The more clear-headed prisoners squealed and turned tail when they heard the ominous beeping. Their panic was infectious and a stampede away from the grav charge began. Din backed into the break room and ducked. The explosion was deafening in the tight space. He rose to his feet and raced to the hatch, its panel now mangled. Prisoners were yelling and screaming somewhere in the dark. He leapt down into the dark passage below.
Din found himself in a dusty maintenance corridor that seemed to follow the curve of the station's hull. There were only faint heat signatures, but it was enough. Din followed the fading trail.
He'll be all right. He's strong. He can take care of himself.
He ran, hoping the prisoners would be too frightened to follow, hoping Mayfeld was leading everyone to Karga's ship. Occasional tunnels branched off, but the heat signature was still there, guiding Din's way…
…until it wasn't. Too much delay.
Dank ferrik. He had reached a point where four tunnels joined.
"Karga," he whispered into the comms channel. No reply but static. Maybe he was near the power center, that might interfere with the signal.
He'll be all right. He's strong. He can take care of himself.
He took a steadying deep breath. Maybe unconsciously trying to imitate his son.
That way. That way just felt right.
He kept running. This tunnel twisted and turned, and suddenly the walls around him vanished. Din looked around to see he was on a wide platform next to what must have been the station's power core. The platform ended abruptly at a deep exhaust shaft.
Two figures stood in silhouette against the reddish light cast by the core.
"Grogu!" he called, relieved beyond all measure.
But Grogu ignored his father. He was too focused on Varro, who faced him from only a few meters away.
"You absurd little creature," Varro hissed. "What could you possibly…" But she didn't finish her sentence. Grogu, eyes narrowed, raised his hand. Varro rose up off the floor by a meter.
Grogu's fingers curled into a tiny fist, one at a time. Slowly.
Varro's dark eyes popped and her hands went to her throat. And Din remembered what Grogu had done to poor Cara, after a friendly bout of arm wrestling…
"Bad," Grogu said.
No. This wasn't right.
It would be one thing in the heat of battle, if Grogu was defending himself, or his father or friends. And hadn't Din just done the same to Lojan? He had richly deserved his summary execution. Varro richly deserved it.
But not at Grogu's hand. Not this way. Din was a killer. He knew that. But Grogu was different, more, better. It had nothing to do with what Varro did or didn't deserve. Din cared not at all what happened to her. All he cared about was Grogu's soul.
He took a few slow steps towards the boy.
"Grogu. No. Not like this."
In return Din felt a blast of pure RAGE like a physical force, like a hot wind. It felt like the fire that had almost consumed them in Gideon's base on Mandalore. He staggered from the sheer strength of it.
Bad bad bad! She hurt you! She hurt me! THEY hurt me! And Winta! They hurt so many people!
Now images raced through Din's head, Grogu's wrath burning like hot shards of razor-sharp wire, all of the people that Varro had hurt and the Enemy before her. Winta and Omera and Mayfeld and Fazzakkaar and his brother and Taliss and all of the children and all of the prisoners here and the prisoners on Riello and Kino Loy and Isidore and Nine. And before that Paz Visla and the people of the Covert and Kuill and IG and before that Master Skywalker and his aunt and his uncle and his teacher and his sister and their friends and SO MANY PEOPLE and before that the Jedi in the temple on Coruscant and EVERYONE EVERYONE EVERYONE EVERYONE SO MANY SO MANY
Din sank to his knees, overwhelmed by the power of Grogu's emotions. Varro struggled and kicked uselessly, gasping for air. It was a toss-up whether Grogu would choke her or snap her spine.
Din was beginning to understand Ahsoka's warnings about attachments a little more now.
Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering.
Where did that profoundly un-Mandalorian thought come from?
No matter. Din settled down on the floor, cross-legged, like the first time Grogu had spoken to him with his mind back home. A great shadow seemed to fall over all three of them. The air felt thick, hot, like a storm about to break. Din ignored that too. Despite everything he felt now strangely calm.
"No, Grogu," he said. "This isn't the way."
SHE HURT ME SHE HURT YOU SO MANY SO MANY
"Yes. She hurt us and our friends. The Empire too. Many people. But what you're doing now won't help them. It won't help anyone."
BAD BAD BAD SHE DESERVES IT SHE DESERVES IT SHE DESERVES IT
"Yes. But not from you. Not like this."
Grogu hesitated.
"Think about what Master Skywalker would say. Or the Armorer, or Leia. This isn't the way, son. You know it. You know it. Come to me."
Grogu lowered his hand.
Varro crashed to the floor. She lay in a semiconscious heap, one hand on her throat. Grogu settled down into a cross-legged posture, mirroring his father, closing his eyes. Controlling himself. And Din felt as though the cloud had lifted and the air felt clear and he could breathe again.
For what seemed like a long time they sat like that, but it might have been just a few minutes. Varro lay in a swoon. Then abruptly Grogu's eyes opened. He raced to Din and hurled himself into his lap. Din held Grogu as tightly as he could.
"You're all right," Din said at last. "You did…you did good."
At that moment Mayfeld raced up from another corridor, followed by Taliss and the children. Grenshaw and Omera brought up the rear. "I told you we took a wrong turn," Grenshaw said.
"What the hell happened?" demanded Mayfeld. "Did she hurt him?"
"Well, no."
"Is he all right?" asked Omera.
"He's okay. Just overtired." That was true and it would be too complicated to explain anything more. Din got to his feet, keeping a firm grip on Grogu. The boy was actually dozing off. Din was going to put him in his sling and tie up Varro when Karga's voice broke though over the static. "Dammit, Mando, come in!...squad of stormtroopers we haven't accounted for...careful…" His voice faded away.
At that moment, two more groups of people raced into the platform from opposite directions: a group of about six prisoners and a squad of five stormtroopers.
A confused three-way battle broke out, with the screaming prisoners attacking Imps with makeshift weapons and the confused Imps blasting everything in sight. Still clutching Grogu, Din used his jetpack to leap over to the children. He joined Mayfeld, Taliss, and Grenshaw in front of Omera and the kids. Protecting them was all that mattered.
The biggest prisoner actually tackled a stormtrooper by the legs and brought him down, slamming his helmet on the floor and taking his blaster. Mayfeld took him down immediately, along with another stormtrooper who had decided to fire at Din.
"Get that mando, he's behind it all!" yelled a prisoner, running toward Din. He repulsed him with flame. Another one leapt at Grenshaw who clubbed him out of the way with the barrel of his rifle. From the corner of his eye Din saw that Varro was no longer lying on the floor. Where was she? No time to wonder—with the unfortunate prisoners taken down, the remaining three Imps had turned their attention to Mayfeld, Din, and the rest. They had to end this firefight before stray blaster fire hit a child.
"Get the kids back!" yelled Din. He engaged the whistling birds again. They fell, one, two three. Mayfeld's shoulders sagged in relief, but it was only temporary.
"Very nice," said Varro.
"Winta!" screamed Omera.
In the chaotic melee Varro had crawled beneath their line of sight, taken a blaster from a fallen stormtrooper, and slunk toward the children. Now she stood with one arm around Winta's neck, dragging her backwards, holding a blaster on the girl's head. Winta's eyes were round with terror.
"LET HER GO!" yelled Mayfeld, uselessly.
"If you want this child to live, get me a shuttle and I will go," Varro said.
"You know that won't happen," said Din, trying to keep his voice calm. Varro was not tall and was effectively using the frightened child as a shield. "End this now. You're done."
"You've ruined everything," said Varro through clenched teeth. Her cap was gone, her tight bun askew, and her dirty face feral with rage. "Everything! My father's work RUINED. Moff Gideon's work RUINED. Because of YOU and your CHILD. I should just—" But she never finished her sentence.
A precise blaster shot hit Varro in the head.
Omera lowered her weapon, exhaling loudly. A perfect shot, taken at the perfect angle. A million to one.
The blaster fell from Varro's hand and clattered to the floor as she toppled over. Winta ran to her mother's arms. Din and Mayfeld could only stare at Omera, who looked at them, with a faint, tired smile. Grogu had come to and he also stared at her with huge eyes.
"What?" she said. "I've been practicing, you know."
###
With the station firmly under control, they contacted the New Republic for reinforcements, warning them to be ready in case the Empire had their own. Leia sent two destroyers quickly and three squadrons of x-wings. She wasn't taking any more chances
The next order of business was to get the children home.
On the transport to the surface on Karga's ship, Grogu was subdued and thoughtful on Din's lap. The kids were sitting tiredly in a group with Omera on the floor of the main room.
Grogu reached out to Din with his thoughts in a quiet moment. I was very angry.
"Yes. You had good reason to be."
I do not like how it felt.
"No, I bet not."
I wanted to do a bad thing.
Din said nothing.
Is it bad to be angry?
"I don't think so. But it can lead to bad decisions, and you are very powerful. So you have to be careful and keep it under control. We both do." That didn't exactly seem like profound philosophy but Grogu nodded gravely as if Din had imparted great wisdom. "I don't know what Jedi say."
Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering.
"Oh."
The tiny boy walked up to them and poked Din in the knee. "Want Grogu," he said.
Grogu permitted himself to be grabbed and hugged and carried back to the other children as if he were a beloved doll. He caught Din's eye from over the tiny boy's shoulder. Grogu's eyes sparkled with resigned amusement and he almost shrugged. His look seemed to say, well, what can you do?