Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Really, in the whole scope of things, magical swords were no basis for the government of a warrior people.

Din’s real problems begin the moment that the Darksaber touches his gloved hand.

He doesn’t realize it then, because the feel of his child finally being in his arms and the concussion overpower anything else. Then it’s the adrenalin, crushing grief, and desolation after Grogu leaves. Also the concussion.

The concussion can be blamed for a lot of things, good and bad. Good: Cara takes over all his decision making and gets him away from Bo Katan, spiriting him away to Fett’s ship. Good: the ringing covers the screeching of a harpy that is Bo Katan. Good: he has no say in getting medical attention this time, because Cara is in charge and won’t let his brain leak out his ears. Bad: It is painful and hard to concentrate or stay standing. Bad: the concussion does not make him forget Grogu, it only makes it painful to cry. Bad: the Darksaber is whispering to him and he doesn’t notice because the symptoms of his concussion are distracting him, making him foolishly keep the weapon with him when he should have chucked it out of the nearest airlock.

The trip to Nevarro is all a blur and Din is just glad that he doesn’t remember most of it.

**

Fett becomes Boba and Shand becomes Fennec. During planning sessions to take over a planet and nights of drinking, he tells them his name, his full story and they see his face. They help him come to terms with his…unrest with a lot of spotchka. There were a lot of Understanding Silences. And crying. He can’t blame that on a concussion.

But hearing whispers and seeing shadows in his peripherals is something he does not share. With anyone. Even Cara who coms every week to tell him that he has money now and to buy a decent ship and some freaking better flight suits. She mothers him from half a galaxy away. He finds it endearing and he buys the flight suits.

He blames his new problems on stress, grief, and the after-effects of too many traumatic brain injuries so close together. He’d had headaches for months after Nevaro and little whisps on the edge of his vision were really no matter in the yawning lonely future he saw for himself. The whispers even became kind of a comfort when he realized he’d never hear a coo, a tapping of tiny nails on beskar, or hear his kid scrounging through their rations ever again. If he wanted to lay on the floor and pretend the whispers were his ad’ika, he's allowed.

There are good days and bad days. For weeks, he helps his newest friends (he has those now, he’s letting himself) as much as he can while fighting the urge to roll up in his cape and waste away in the corner. They work on gaining control of Tattoine. Or as much of the planet as they can while it’s just them, starting at Jabba’s old palace and working their way outward. Din gets Peli to try to sniff out a ship for him while he flies commercial. It’s a terrible way to complete his work, but until he gets a ship he’s out of luck.  Din is running bounties for Greef, searching for whispers of his covert, and running errands to replace his lost possessions and his rifle. So he misses a lot of the Tattoine excitement. Hutts. Wookies. Speeder chases. Teenage rebels. Drug cartels. High noon shoot outs. Kriffing dramatic and holonovel worthy. He’s there for the end of it though. Watching a Wookie snap Cad Bane in half was oddly satisfying. He wasn’t concussed and they had cleared the Pykes out. The day was won and Din was tired.

He is really pleased with the rancor once he gets to meet it. He’s always liked beasts…even blurgs who tossed him and had shitty attitudes. He’s not so sure Boba should ride it, but in the end, not his palace, not his circus.

**

When he finds his covert, he knows they are lying to him. He had counted the helmets in the sewers. He knew there were more that still lived. These two were set here by the Alor to gauge whether he was worthy to come back into their fold after the fight with the bounty hunters and the detection of their covert by the Imps. He had to disappoint them, and it was crushing to know that the only family he knew would forsake him for loving his foundling enough to make the biggest sacrifice he could as a follower of the Way. Bo Katan’s remark from Trask hit harder now. Children of the Watch, indeed.

The Darksaber had not made a difference to their acceptance and the blasted thing made it difficult to fight Paz. He considered, just for a brief second, losing to get rid of the cursed thing and letting Paz beat him into unconsciousness and strip the armor from him. His promise to his son echoed through his mind though, making him straighten his spine and fight to keep the Darksaber.  He wasn’t going down easy, he had things to do. He kept his promises. The whispers got louder after that.

**

He meets other Mandalorians on quite a few of his hunts and wonders where the kriff they were during his search with Grogu. He could have used the support. It seems they just started popping out of the shipwork and crawling all over the outer rim. They all acknowledged him as a Mandalorian and never questioned his loyalty to the Creed. It started the wheels turning in his mind.  He was acknowledged and accepted as he was by other Mandalorians, he wore the armor, he spoke the language, he defended himself and his family (when he had one), he contributed to his clan’s welfare (clan of two was easy to provide for), and he was technically Mand’alor. He had lost everything else, but he was going to cling to this realization with everything he had. He was still Mandalorian.

He found a large covert on Shantipole and met with two verde at the local cantina. One confided in him that a Mandalorian had defeated Gideon and rumors were that the Darksaber was reclaimed. It’s why Mandalorian activity had increased. He had promised to pass on any information he found to the covert and quickly made his way to the next transport. This Mand’alor business was stressing him out.

**

Half a year since deafeating Gideon and he thought his life was getting along well. More good days than bad. Pelli had found him a ship. Actually, she found him two ships. One for fun and one for work and both incredibly fast. He had credits saved (more than he thought when Cara reminded him again that he had hefty amount from Gideon and Pershing’s bounty) and he had found Grogu’s location (just knowing made him relax). He thought it was weird that a Jedi would build his school just a few systems over from the home planet of the Jedi’s ancient enemy, but it made it easier for him to keep tabs on Skywalker. He wasn’t going to interrupt Grogu’s training but he could know where he was. He had also found it interesting that technically he ruled over Nevaro. Greef could never be told. Ever.

The whispers had become less pronounced, and the shadows seemed fewer. It looked like his head injuries were finally healing fully at last.

After his latest bounty is put in carbonite Din decided that he deserved to treat himself to a good meal and a real bed. That bounty was faster and a lot more stabby then he liked. He was sweaty and tired, but he felt like in this moment life was looking up.

It's later, when he’s having a quiet night in the room he rented, that the Darksaber makes its move. While he’s in the bath. Naked.

Din is not as surprised as he should be.

**

We should talk.

“Uh, no. I don’t talk to hallucinations.” Din kept scrubbing at a spot that turned out to be a bruise and ignored the floating hilt. “If I did talk to hallucinations, which I don’t, I would tell the hallucination that it needs to go haunt someone else, because I want nothing to do with it.”

You cannot ignore destiny. We are your destiny.

“Yes, I can.” Din continued to scrub everything he could fiercely. By the time this bath was finished, his exfoliation level would be high. “Kriffing head injuries.”

You are Mand’alor!

After that, if he just so happened to hit a floating hilt with his very wet wash rag, it was pure coincidence. Because it was a hallucination and he did not deal with those.

**

It got worse from there.

The Darksaber liked to float around whenever they were alone. He’d turn around from getting a water pouch and bump into it. It liked to sit in the co-pilots seat when they were in hyperspace. It wanted to follow him into the fresher, but considering it loved to ambush him while he was taking a sonic or a bath, the fresher wasn’t that much of a stretch. The fresher was where you were vulnerable. The possessed thing reminded him of an irritating and clingy lothcat. It was also obsessively buir-ish. His lifestyle, eating choices, clothing. All scrutinized. He expected it to tell him to make good choices when he was getting his bounties from Greef.

It didn’t like being left on the ship. It screeched horribly and since he was the only one who could hear it, it was intolerable. He would leave it on the weapons rack and go to sleep and wake up to find it sharing his pillow. Apparently, Gideon had had it displayed on a pillow on top of a pedestal in his office and it missed its pillowy bed. Din was sorely tempted to remind the thing that Gideon had been a scourge of Mandalorians, but he was giving it the silent treatment. Because it was a hallucination. Kriff, he needed to see a doctor.

The Darksaber had opinions on everything and it was not afraid to voice them, even during high stakes negotiations. Making Din laugh because it thought a fellow bounty hunter’s hat was at too jaunty of an angle and saying they were trying too hard, was the last straw. It wasn’t wrong per se, but Din found agreeing with an inanimate object was going too far. It was also life threatening, as he could only pass the chuckles off so many times as coughing fits before people got wise and took offense. Beskar was not the cop out most people thought it was, he was still soft and fleshy between the plates, where it didn’t cover.

The fourth time he had to shoot his way out of a cantina he decided to give in and perhaps talk it out, convince the thing it had the wrong person. He waited until he was holed up in an underground room at Boba’s palace, as far away from other living beings as possible. There was no chance someone would just be passing by and hear him negotiating with a laser sword. By the layer of filth and decay, no one had been in this room in decades. Perfect.

Waiting out the Darksaber was a lot easier once you had out waited a fifty year old toddler. Or after you had perched on a canyon wall for two days waiting for a mark to pass you. Din also figured that since it had a live audience now it would be loathe to give up its voice. It also had a particular distaste for dirt of any kind. The Darksaber lasted fifteen minutes. Weak.

This room is filthy.

“We need to talk.”

Oh, so you’re talking to us now?

“You can’t keep talking to me while I’m working. What do you want?” Din crossed his arms.

We already told you. You are Mand’alor.

“And? What does that mean? What does that entail?”

It’s your destiny to lead our people. We have decided.

“Bo Katan is perfectly capable in leading the Mandalorian people. I am an adult. You can’t decide my life for me.”

The chill the room took on at the mention of Bo Katan was easily felt through his many layers.

That…that woman is not MAND’ALOR! She is not worthy. She is a betrayer and…and…and

The rage was just as easily felt as the chill. The saber continued to rant about Bo Katan, about past Mand’alors, the failings of their people, the unnecessary destruction and misuse of its legacy. Just as Din saw frost crystals start creeping across his breastplate in a wide swathe, the Darksaber fell silent.

“Are you done?” By Din’s estimation, he had let the Darksaber rage for about half an hour.

We are done.

“Good. Let’s start with the obvious rancor in the room. I DO NOT WANT TO BE MAND’ALOR.”

We have chosen you.

“I am beroya. I am not a leader. I have no qualifications.” Din’s hands knifed through the air, but he could feel the skepticism as he continued to list why this was a bad decision on the Darksaber’s part. “You don’t know me. I kill people. I have done bad things. I have never been to Mandalore. I hate politics. I hate large gatherings. I lived in a sewer for half my life. I don’t know anything about Mandalorian history because I was a Child of the Watch. I don’t know how to wield you.”

We will teach you! You are honorable and trustworthy. You bring in your bounties mostly alive. You follow the Way.

“How do you know that?l”

We’ve chosen you. We share a bond. We were able to sense your character from the moment you took us in hand.

“Have you been rifling around in my mind? With your sorcerer magic?”  The affront from the glinting hilt was palpable. Din was not going to let it go. “How do you know I’m so great?”

Ad’ika, listen. We believe in you.

“What did you just call me?” Din asked dangerously.

We might have been a bit premature…in assuming. But we are not going to change our minds.

“What if someone beats me? Defeats me in ritual combat and gains you and I’m dead?”

Din was honestly afraid of the murderous rage he felt, coalescing around him.

No one will gain our favor by killing you. You are ours.

“Now, wait a minute! I am not yours. I am a person and you can’t just go around claiming whoever you want.” Din had his hands on his hips.

You are Mando’ad. All Mando’ade are ours.

“If you chose me, why did you weigh so much and hinder me in my fight with Paz?” Din scoffed. “You were going to let Paz win you.”

You upset us. You wavered and we felt your resignation in the face of his rage. You would have let him kill you.

“I grew up with that nerfherder and I know with certainty that Paz wouldn’t have killed me. He would have taken my armor though because he’s a petty shabuir but I would still be alive. You interfered and he took you off me because of it! You were going to let him win.” Din pointed an accusing finger at the unlit hilt.

Paz Vizsla resonates with us, just like you do. We cannot control the forming of a bond, but we can choose who gets our favor. In the end, it was you who won and our choice was justified.

Din threw up his hands in defeat. “I don’t want to be Mand’alor.”

Some day, you will. We will stay with you until you are ready.

“You’re not going to change your mind, are you?”

No.

Din sighed in irritation. “If you are going to stay, we are going to talk about personal boundaries.”

**

After that talk there was less ambushing in the bath and less distraction during bounties. It still clung to Din and trash talked his enemies, acted like a buir and tried to cheer him up on bad days, but he got some instruction in Mandalorian history and learned to wield a light saber. It wasn’t exactly a win-win, but Din would take what he could get. They got along for months and then, Din was inappropriately propositioned during a treaty negotiation and the Darksaber took exception to the offensive suggestion that they could touch their ad’ika in such a manner. All hell broke loose after that.

Days later, Boba and Fennec found out that he was haunted and it was a bit humiliating to admit that he was becoming friends with what was supposed to be an inanimate object. But that was now his life.

Chapter Text

Din hadn’t even got through his day’s first cup of caf in the private dining room before Fennec showed up looking like she was about to burst.  Everyone had heard about the Proposition and whether they believed it or not, they knew Boba Fett had called off the agreement with a huge black market dealer because of the offense and quite a few of the palace staff had given him reassuring pats and the cook even baked him cookies. They were leaving Din alone, so that he could recover from the shock to his sensibilities or some such nonsense. Why everyone felt the need to protect his virtue he didn’t know, but the peace and quiet was rather nice. Even the Darksaber had been rather restrained in its need to talk incessantly after almost deafening him with its shriek of fury and the cacophony of its yelling two days ago.

“So...” Fennec drawled, coming closer and examining him. That one word had a lot of layers to parse through and Din had a feeling he was not going to like this conversation.

“So?” Din gulped down longs drags of caf. He didn’t care if it was hot.

“Some of our little sand mice have brought back some news.”

Din sighed and sat back, crossing his arms petulantly. “How bad is the fallout from the failed negotiations?”

“Well, the leader of that black market gang from Mos Entha was suitably upset that his ambassador made such a grievous error and has come himself to grovel.”

“That’s...good?” Din said warily.

“He was going to offer to punish the offender for Boba, but someone got to him first.” The look she gave him was obviously asking if it was him. He held up his hands a shook his head no, but she looked like she didn’t believe him.

“I’ve been here. Working on my new rifle.” Din insisted, taking up his cup of caf again and he was thankful it had cooled down some.

“Uh huh...” Fennec waited a minute, assessing his mannerisms before going on. “It's just, I guess someone took such great offense, they cut his dicks off, before stabbing him with a plasma blade.”

Din set down his cup harshly. “A plasma...I have to go...take care of my rifle.”

He rushed out of the room leaving a bemused Fennec behind.

**

“Something’s up with Din.” Fennec muttered out of the side of her mouth while lounging on the back of the throne.

“I didn’t think he would be so scandalized by that idiot’s Mandalorian fetish. Maybe he’s upset the price that was offered wasn’t higher? I know I would be. I’ll be sure to tell him that his price should have been much higher, since he’s so valuable...and covered in beskar.” Boba answered quietly back, sounding amused. Fennec slapped his pauldron lightly, as she scanned the room. It was full of many merchants and bounty hunters, looking for work and business. Thankfully the slimy leader from Mos Entha was gone.

“I don’t think that’s it.” She crossed her arms and hummed in thought. “I’m going to find out though.”

**

Before he could get to his rooms, he was waylaid by the captain of the guard who was setting up the rotation for training and would like his input. He really wanted to stomp away, but this was important.  Hours later, after being waylaid by the cook about Mandalorian recipes, the steward and quartermaster about setting up a meeting with local Tusken tribe for trading, and Boba, seeing if he was feeling better from his ‘upset’, and having to sit through a tense dinner, he got to his room. It was evening and he had been marinating in speculation for hours.

The Darksaber had been suspiciously silent the whole time. Din took it off his belt and set it on a low table, stepping away and setting his helmet on his chair. He came back to the table and crossed his arms. He stared hard at the Darksaber for a while. It remained silent and didn’t start hovering as it was wont to do. He became even more certain he was looking at the culprit of the current situation.

“So...” He drawled, seeing a little quiver of the hilt. “I think that you know why we’re here.”

It’s bedtime. We're feeling a little fatigued, so we’ll just...

“I would be too, if I was a floating hilt and took a little jaunt into the hospitality sector to secretly kill someone who offended me.” Din left his voice flat. The Darksaber spluttered in denial as it rose off the table and Din held up a hand, pointing accusingly. “I know you did it, plasma blade!”

PLASMA BLADE! How dare you! We are a LIGHTSABER! We are the perfect weapon! Nothing like those osik’la blasters you wield or that useless spear!

“You mean the useless spear that won you from Moff Gideon? This useless spear?” Din pulled the spear from his back and pointed it at the floating hilt. “You can’t go around killing people because they proposition me, you jealous harpy!”

He was a nasty, nasty man and we bet he was a demolgolka too! He had a weird carnal fetish for you!

“I hate to break it to you, you prissy little dolt, but half the galaxy has a Mandalorian fetish and consenting adults have carnal relations ALL THE TIME!”

PRISSY LITTLE...ahhhhhh!

The Darksaber launched itself across the room with a scream of rage. Din gripped the spear with both hands and used it bat the thing across the room. It got embedded in the wall but pulled itself free with a shower of plaster. It came at Din again, but he ducked and turned. The thing moved faster than he anticipated, rocketing backwards and hitting him full in the chest. He landed on the low table and it collapsed under his surprise weight. Din rolled away when he heard the hum of the blade igniting and threw out his whipcord, jerking his arm to the left and watching as the Darksaber cut the bed in half. His favorite pillow was obliterated as the Darksaber righted itself and floated menacingly above the sad remains of the bed. It pointed its glowing blade at him.

SAY. THAT. AGAIN.

Din wasn’t intimidated by its challenging tone and raised his chin in defiance. “Prissy. Little. Osik.”

After that it was on.

**

Fennec was so concerned about Din that she decided to corner him in his room later that evening. She knew he was stewing and stressed about something. She had watched him all day, his shoulders becoming tenser and tenser as the hours dragged on. Dinner was strained and he gave mostly one-word answers. 

As she came to his door, she heard a crash. She was about put in the override and go in blasters blazing when she heard Din roar.

“I’m going to pound you into the floor!”

Fennec stepped back from the door in shock. What on Tatooine was going on?

Another crash and a loud gasp.

Fennec’s eyes widened. Oh. Ohhhhhhhhhh!

Well, maybe she’d come back another time.

**

Fennec found Boba at the bar in the throne room a little later. She reached over the bar and grabbed a bottle of spotchka. Ignoring the glass Boba set on the bar, she took a large gulp of the bright blue liquid and gave a relieved exhale, relishing in the burn.

“You’ve found out what’s wrong with him?”

“Eh. Didn’t get a chance to talk to him. He was relieving some stress when I was at the door. So, I guess he had to let off some steam.”

Boba barked out a deep laugh. “Good for him! He’s no blushing bride like everyone’s been treating him. He’s a Mandalorian!”

“From what it sounded like, you Mandalorians are intense.”

“I’m not...”

“Yeah, yeah.”

**

Din lay on the stone floor in a carpet of splintered wood from the furniture. He was bleeding from a cut above his eyebrow and breathing heavily. The Darksaber lay next to him, still humming but the blade was extinguished.

“I hate you.”

We think you dented us.

“Good. You deserve it.”

We might have been in the wrong. Perhaps.

“No more late-night excursions. I mean it!” Din lifted his head and stared at the Darksaber sternly. It let out a deep sigh.

Fine.

He put his head back down and closed his eyes. They had no bed. Why was this his life?

**

Din crept out of his room after the fight, hoping to find an empty room he could sleep in for the night. He’d bandaged his cut with what he had, but unfortunately, he still looked like he had been in a bar brawl. He didn’t want to put his helmet back on because he didn’t want to irritate the healing wound and he had splinters in his hair. So he kept to the shadows, eventually finding a room near the kitchens. He flopped on the bed and heard the Darksaber squawk from his belt as it was pressed into the mattress. He was so tired of this.

You’re crushing us.

“You’re made of beskar. Quit complaining and let me sleep.”

We can’t breathe.

“If you can’t breathe, you can’t talk, so that’s a lie.”

You’re a lie.

The petulant, childish reply made Din frown at the dark ceiling as thoughts start piling into his head. His eyes started to tear up and he sniffed. “I know I am.”

Ad’ika, we didn’t mean…

“Leave me alone.” He turned over and closed his eyes. The Darksaber fell silent, and he fell asleep.

**

Boba Fett was not easily surprised but walking into his bedroom to find lightsaber holes burned though the walls certainly caught him off guard. He shared that wall with Din’s quarters. He commed Fennec, grabbing his blaster from the table.

“Boba! Are you seeing this? What the kriff is this…?” Fennec’s quarters were on the other side of Din’s room.

They met at Din’s door and Fennec keyed in the override code. The door swished open on absolute carnage. Furniture was reduced to splinters, the bed was kriffing sliced in half, there were questionable holes punched in into the walls along with the burned holes, and Din’s spear was stuck in the tile floor, the tip sunk far into the surface.

Boba lowered his blaster and stepped inside, going over to the fresher and opening the door. Empty. He turned to survey the room and saw more lightsaber burns, dents in the plaster from armor impact. Some of the tiles were scored and cracked. A whipcord lay severed in the remains of the bed.

“Dank ferrick. You think that he was challenged for the saber?” Fennec held up a chunk of wood with some blood on it.

“I don’t know what this is but we have to find him.”

**

They found him in an unused room curled up in a fetal position and still fully armored. His helmet lay on the bed next to him and the Darksaber still hung from his belt. His sleep was so deep he didn’t stir when they checked on him. Boba frowned deeply when he saw the bandaged cut and tear tracks.

“Let’s just leave him here. We’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

Fennec unfolded a blanket and put it over his sleeping form. Whoever upset him was going to answer to them.

**

A few hours later, Din woke up and went back to his room to find his cleaning kit. He surveyed the room with a sigh and pulled open the door to the storage closed. There was little damaged in here, just a box of crappy rations that had a hole burned through it.

Grabbing the kit, he went to the work room and stripped every piece of armor from himself, laying it out neatly. He buffed and polished for hours, fixed loose wires in his vambrace, loaded his last whistling birds, and replaced his whipcord.

Ad’ika.

“Don’t talk to me. I’m angry.”

His fingers brushed against the kar’ta of his breastplate and he knew what he had to do. You’re a lie.

**

He left a message for Boba and Fennec, that he would be back in a few days, and he would tell them what was going on when he got back.

A day of hyperspace travel dropped him close to Glavis. They wouldn’t be here on this artificial word, but he could find their hidden messages and find the next place. After combing the refuge with the different filters on his HUD, he had coordinates. He knew where they would be.

Flying took another half a day and the planet was small, nondescript and out of the way. It was settled enough that one or two Mandalorians coming and going would be of no consequence. He landed in a small hanger on the outskirts. Serviceable. He would have to sniff them out, but he was beroya, they couldn’t hide from him once he had their trail.

He could feel the Darksaber’s concern and dread. It didn’t speak, but he knew it was unhappy.

He found the kyr’bes symbols pointing the way quickly and observed the hidden doorway that led to an underground culvert for four hours. This section of the city seemed to be abandoned, no one came or went. This must be one of the back doors. It was an ideal place to do what needed to be done.

Din took in a shuddering breath and let it out. He could do this. He had to do this. He stripped his armor off, putting it piece by piece into the nondescript bag at his feet. He left out three pieces, his right thigh guard, his right pauldron, and the last piece, his kar’ta beskar. He secured his belt and holster over his flight suit and then the bandolier. Tucking the two larger pieces in a small cross body bag, he tucked the kar’ta into an inner pocket next to his living heart. Adjusting his cape in a way that made a hood, he moved forward.

When he was in front of the door, he set the weighty bag down and tucked it into the doorway. He picked up the vambrace on top, set it to send his message in thirty minutes and put it back in the bag, zipping it closed. He laid his hand on top of the bag for just a moment. Ni ceta. I’m sorry.

He could feeling growing horror from the Darksaber but he just plucked it off his belt and tucked into his bag. No need to attract attention.

“Don’t make this harder for me than it already is.”

**

When the Armorer received the dadita message from the apostate, she was apprehensive. They kept the fact that he had contacted them, from the tribe, many thinking him dead already. Better he be thought dead than known as dar’manda before he could complete the ritual. Alor Vizsla had interrogated Paz first and then her, when they returned. As a Goran, she did not have to answer to him like Paz. The large Mandolorian had looked beaten down for weeks, his hulking mass a fixture in her forge, listlessly spending hours with her. She took comfort from his presence, but she was glad he was not there this day. The message said very little, only coordinates and a short for the foundlings. She didn’t know if she could accept it, but she would speak to him.

The coordinates led to one of their evacuation doors. When she unsealed it, a black bag sat in the shadow of the doorway. He had brought them supplies. Unzipping the bag revealed a blinking vambrace and familiar T-visor helmet. No.

She stumbled into the alleyway, her HUD tracking boot prints away from the door. She barreled around a corner and the boot prints vanished. He was beroya, he would never let himself be tracked. Not for this.

“Din!” Her shout echoed in this abandoned space. Who knows how long the armor had been sitting there before the vambrace sent his message. She was desperate and her composure was lost. “Din!”

There was no answer.

The Armorer found her way back to the door, carrying the bag inside, to the unlit forge. She lost time as she stood there, gloved hand on the bag. Paz startled her with a cough.

“Why haven’t you lit the forge?”

“I…I was distracted.” She took a deep breath and felt all her masks sliding back into place. She tucked the bag behind her workstation and set to get the day’s work started. Paz took up his usual corner and they spent another night trying to work through their problems to the sound of her hammer. She told no one.

**

When he was safely ensconced in his star fighter and entering hyperspace, he felt a deep sadness. His own and a resonance from the Darksaber.

Why did you do that?

“I couldn’t continue to wear their armor and defile it. The Armorer made it for a beroya who followed the Way. I am not that person any longer.” Din gripped his flight suit above his heart, feeling the kar’ta dig into his palm. “I am Mandalorian. I’ll find a new way.”

We’re sorry.

Din relaxed his grip and his hand fell into his lap.

“I accept your apology and I forgive you.”

There was silence and Din relaxed back in the pilot’s seat.

“It’s not really all your fault. What you said…hit me wrong. I get sad sometimes and I miss my son and I had been putting that off because I couldn’t accept that I would lose the last connection to the people who raised me.”

We’re your family now. Your wee one and Fett, Shand, and Dune. Oh! Peli too.

Din gave a wet sounding laugh. “Is that why you call me ad’ika?”

If you were as old as we are, everyone is an ad’ika.

The wry tone made him laugh again and he closed his eyes.

Shall we tell you a story or sing you to sleep?

“I liked you better when you were a hallucination.”

**

When Din touched down in the hangar at the palace, Fennec was waiting for him. Probably so he couldn’t escape. She took one look at his unarmored person and pursed her lips.

“Come on. The boss is waiting for us.”

“Shouldn’t he be asleep?” It was very deep into the night cycle.

“We’ll have a pajama party in the private lounge.”

“I’m not wearing pajamas.”

Fennec’s lips quirked as she marched him down the hallway to the private lounge.

“We’re not either.”

**

When the three of them were settled into a seating arrangement that was meant to make Din look them in the eyes, he stalled on how to even start. He stared uncomfortably at them. He opened his mouth, the words got caught in his throat, he closed his mouth. The longer this went on, the farther Boba’s eyebrow went up and Fennec’s eyes started to squint in concern. He couldn’t take it.

“The Darksaber is haunted.” It came out in a barely comprehensible rush. Din felt all the stress leave his body at the admission. He flopped back on the couch.

“Excuse me? Say that again.” Boba sounded incredulous.

“The Darksaber. Is Haunted. And it talks to me.” Din flopped an arm over his face.

“So…you’ve been hearing voices?”

“Fennec!” It was sharp, but there was no heat to it.

“Oh relax. I’m taking this seriously. Now talk. Tell us what’s going on. We’re going to need more than ‘it’s haunted’ Din.”

“It wants…me to be Mand’alor. It actually wants a lot of things, but that’s the main one.”

“You don’t want to be king. You’ve tried to give it up or lose it almost a dozen times since you got it. Does it know that?” Boba queried.

“Uh…yes. Yes it does. It is very displeased that I don’t agree that I’d be a great Mand’alor.” He turned his head to peek at their expressions.

Boba cleared his throat. “It’s displeased? Din…I’ve never heard of it talking to anyone! There are so many legends about it, but haunted is not one of them.”

“I thought it was a hallucination at first. Because of all those kriffing head injuries, but no, I’m not that lucky.  It’s clingy, possessive, nice, talkative, an utter jerk. We’re friends? I don’t know what to do.”

“Possessive?”

“It gets jealous. It doesn’t want me around aruetti. It doesn’t mind you, Fennec, Cara, or Peli, but it dislikes anyone else who isn’t Mando’ade on principle. It’s also jealous of my blasters, my whistling birds, the whipcord and especially the spear. It’s exhausting trying to shut it out.” He was getting a little hysterical and loud near the end.

We said we were sorry.

“Give me your hand.” Boba reached forward demandingly.

Din reached out automatically, “What? Why…ouch you kriffer!”

“So, I can give you one reason it might like you best.” He was studying a readout on his vambrace.

“What is it?” Dread pooled in Din’s stomach.

“You’re not going to like it.”

“Oh maker, is he pregnant? ” Gasped Fennec dramatically. Din felt his face flame.

“Congratulations, Din Djarin, it’s the Force.”

Din spluttered. “Jetti magic?”

Boba shook his head negatively. “You are mildly force sensitive. If it were back in the day, the Jedi wouldn’t have taken you.”

Tarre would have. He liked raising babies.

“Who’s Tarre?” Din asked dazedly, forgetting for a moment what the Armorer had said and also that he was not alone.

“Is it talking to you right now?” Boba looked murderous. He held his hand out imperiously. “Give me the saber.”

Din handed it over and Boba stomped to the door, harshly whispered to the Darksaber, and threw it down the hallway. He rejoined them, taking deep breaths to calm himself. Gathering himself up he met Din’s eyes.

“That blade belonged to a Mandalorian Jetti. If some past Mand’alore were force sensitive, even a tiny bit, they probably could hear it too. Which would explain why some of them, especially Tor Viszla, went a little crazy. If my mystical magical sword preferred another over me, I might catch some jealousy too and create a terrorist organization to prove I was better than some poodoo head named Jaster Mereel.”

“It doesn’t like Bo Katan.”

“What a shame.” Fennec drawled.

“What do I do? Its bonded with me and calls me…” he stuttered to a stop but knew immediately that that had been a mistake.

Fennec’s head quirked to the side with a smirk and raised eyebrow. “What does it call you?”

Din grit his teeth but knew she’d squeeze the answer out of him in sparring with her thighs if he didn’t tell her now. “Ad’ika. It calls me Ad’ika.”

Boba smirked and Fennec raised an eyebrow in question. Boba leaned over and whispered something and the smile growing on Fennec’s face was intolerable. He wrapped his arms around himself and turned over on the couch, hiding his burning face in the cushions.

“Is that why you destroyed your room.”

“We had a fight.” Din turned to lay on his back. “It did something and I objected.”

“Frankly I don’t know much about this force osik to even explain…whatever is happening and Skywalker…pfffft. He’s as green as grass in Jetti ways.” Boba’s hands flapped as he talked. Din could tell he was worried.

“I did meet another Jetti…or not Jetti, former Jetti…maybe she’d know?”

“For right now, if you get overwhelmed by that thing, you come to us. We’ll do…something.”

“We’ll do everything we can Din. Remember what Boba said.”

**

After Din fell asleep on the couch, comforted by their talk, and reassured they were not going to toss him out for being haunted, Boba walked down the hallway and found the Darksaber. He put a boot down on the hilt and applied a little pressure.

“I know you can talk to me.” He waited a few breaths and then felt a hum in the air. “You talk to me or I will board my ship with you and toss you out of the airlock into deep space.”

What do you want?

“Give him time to himself, let him be. If you are truly bonded to him, you’d understand that he needs time.”

You lied to him. You let him lie to you.

“I did. You going to tell him?”

No.

“Then we are in agreement. Don’t think I’ll let you continue your behavior now that I know you’re active again.”

Find him armor.

“Don’t tell me what to do. He’ll find his armor on his own.”

Chapter Text

If Din thought that having other people know about his problems would lessen them, he thought wrong. They're just more watchful. Fennec even used the watching you gesture at one point during a negotiation, warning the Darksaber about messing things up. It was completely taken out of context by one of the attendees because at the time, the Darksaber hung from the front of his belt, next to his crotch. He was wearing a bounty hunter get-up that they were able to scrounge from a storage room. Everyone thought that Mando was on a job, and he was filling in...and a side piece after that little interaction.  Kriffing fantastic.

When his room was patched up, he moved back in and promised to take all disagreements to the training room. Boba must have been having a go at the Darksaber, because a beautiful weapons rack appeared one day, made in such a way as to showcase the spear and his blasters. The Darksaber had a sad little hook near the floor. Words were said and Din had to deflect a lightsaber blade with his spear to keep the rack intact. He had to promise to get the annoying thing its own pillow and pedestal, just to keep the peace. Boba had raised an eyebrow when that requisition form crossed his desk. Din had sent it specifically to him since it was his fault, and he should pay for it.

**

Life went on. Weeks of negotiations and hunting. Obsessively keeping tabs on that space wizard and missing his son fiercely. More hugs and a lot more propositions than he was comfortable with.  He didn’t see himself as the huggable sort, but apparently a lot of people did. Even Black Krrsantan. He should have seen that embrace coming because the Wookie was massive, but he was totally surprised. Greef had even tried to hug him the first time he showed up to Nevaro to pick up more pucks. Cara was still on the fence about hugging him into submission. Per Fennec, his sad brown eyes really tugged at heartstrings. He missed his hard shell.

Locating anything resembling usable armor was a trial. Bounties were more difficult without it and he was getting a lot more injuries than he was used to. The Darksaber was surly and moody when he took a hit and would not let him use the cauterizer, we have medkits and credits now di’kut. It was a good companion otherwise. They talked about Mandalorian history often. Although, the Darksaber admitted to having some holes since it was not present for some of the more tense and ugly chapters, having been stored away from sentient contact.

They continued the search and kept up on Mandalorian movement. There were several Armorers that he had spoken with when he had armor, but without it or any beskar to make a replacement, Din didn’t feel comfortable approaching any of them with his problems. He also felt that he had to earn it this time through means that didn’t have anything to do with foundlings or Imps. His first set was all the Tribe could provide, hiding as they were and the Imperial beskar that made its replacement felt corrupted. Giving it back had been hard, but it felt right. He might have gone back for Grogu in the end, but it plagued him constantly that at that one point in his life, the value of beskar and what it could pay for, overwrote the value of an orphaned child. He had still accepted payment for a child. His buir, manda bless him, would have been so disappointed. Like he had told the Darksaber before, the Armorer of his tribe made it for their Beroya, who provided for the Tribe and the Foundlings. With that one deal, he was no longer that person and to continue to wear the armor, after Grogu, after Morak, after Gideon, was an insult to all of those who had come before him. His penance was to go without the armor through his trials and earn it back, no matter how painful or how long it took. He didn’t tell the others because he didn’t want them to interfere.

Several bounties later, at a busy space port he’d had to duck some Nite Owls, but then he remembered: no armor. Not one of Bo Katan’s group knew what he looked like, or even his name. Children of the Watch philosophy was good for something, mainly dodging challengers for the Darksaber and possible Mand’alor duties with the blessing of anonymity. It also helped with his search. If you were looking for Mandalorian artifacts and beskar, it was better to not look like a Mandalorian about ready to rip the head off a contact. He had grown up with the expressionless helmets, but to others the intimidation factor was high.

Din was successful sometimes, but it was mostly knick knacks and small pieces of beskar. At this rate, it would take him years to amass enough for armor, even to make it a mix of durasteel and beskar. But he would do it this way, no matter the Darksaber’s urgency. His buir didn’t raise an honorless fool and the Tribe didn’t raise him to the position of Beroya without faith that he would provide for them. He’d earn that armor and he would do the Creed proud. It was like a mid-life crisis verd’goten. He hoped this one would be a little less thrilling than his first one, but he doubted it.

The three pieces of armor that he had kept, always stayed with him. He got a chain for his kar’ta and kept the pauldron and thigh guard in his satchel. He stopped wearing the flight suits and the pieced together get-up from the palace and bought some sturdy tunics and pants. The leather armor he purchased was fine for the moment, but the Darksaber believed it wasn’t acceptable. At all. Well cared for and proper Mandalorian armor was the only option it would accept for him. Snob.

Their last puck for the month was a good one and easy. The bounty was young and rich, but he was wanted by the New Republic for some suspicious murders and connections to the Empire through his mother, so that made him a perfect mark for Din. He was also dumb. So, so dumb.

They surveyed him for hours, gambling away credit after credit in this planet’s local cantina. He was a horrible sabacc player initially and as he got more intoxicated, he was even worse. He assured the table that he could back up his antes with riches beyond compare but many at the table folded as he lost more and more hands, not assured of his claims. At last, when he was stumbling back to his residence, Din was free to follow him to the outskirts of the city where the bigger houses sat far apart and secluded from each other. The Darksaber had been insulting the fellow for the last hour.

The man was terribly inept, he had little to no security, no staff, and no guards. It was amazing to Din that no one had collected his bounty yet, but Greef was constantly keeping the good ones for him. Entering the house was easy because the idiot forgot to set the security code and lock the door. He was easy to track and subdue seeing as he had passed out in the hallway. After securing him, Din walked the house looking for useful items. The house was ostentatious and over decorated with gold accents everywhere, but a hidden door in the kitchen led to a secret cellar and there they found the ‘riches beyond compare’.

Ingots of over fifty different metals, stamped with the Imperial seal. In the corner was a large pile of Beskar.

By the power of the Manda. Where did this all come from?

“Rumor was that his mother was an accountant for the Imps. By the look of this, I’m going to say that it was no rumor.” Din’s fingers brushed over the metal of his people.

We should take it all.

“What? No. We’re going to turn this over to the New Republic. Everything except the beskar. That belongs to the Mandalorians.”

You are too noble for your own good. You would be such a great Mand’alor.

“Stop trying to charm me into being Mand’alor with compliments.” Din laughed, pushing the floating hilt away from him.

He investigated further into the cellar, finding weird artifacts, data devices, weird little glowing cubes, weapons, and art. The saber followed along, studying certain things closely. It hovered over something in another one of the corners and let out a strangled wail. Din rushed over, finding stacks upon stacks of flimsiplast books. Actual books.

“What’s wrong with you?”

These books...these books are written in Mando’a.

**

It took a while, Din having to be careful of the delicate nature of the books, but he loaded them and the beskar, onto a hover sled. The saber just floated listlessly through the air, following him through the cellar as he transferred everything.

As he was moving the last of the ingots, he bumped into a wall panel, and it clicked open. It looked like there was another room down here, possibly a secret entrance that was used to move all this treasure without detection. Din pried it open and stepped into the darkened room beyond. Lights started turning on, a sensor in the door sensing his presence. As the light banks turned on one by one it uncovered a room of horrors. Horrors to a Mandalorian at least.

Rows upon rows of Mandalorian armor. Complete sets. A huge case had random pieces and some of the kyr’bes necklaces that Din was intimately familiar with. His son had the one that he had worn most of his life. Din closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He could feel revulsion and horror from the floating hilt next to him.

Why do they have them? Why would they...?

“I told you. That idiot who propositioned me was not the only one that had weird interests in Mandalorians. Have you seen stormtrooper armor? Gideon was known for having an obsession, which is why you were the ultimate prize. Imps all over collected things they looted from the planets they conquered and beskar is valuable. They hunted us, because of our metal skin and our warrior reputation. I have been hunted.” Din’s voice was rough. The Darksaber hissed in anger.

Chakaar.

Din nodded as he laid a hand on the nearest case. The armor was a deep green, and he could see the symbol of a baar’ur over the left breast through the carbon scoring. The visor was shattered.

“Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum.”

Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la.

He walked down the rows, hoping he wouldn’t see anyone he recognized, but he found a section that was neatly labeled as ‘Mandalorian Purge’. There were two or three sets that he knew. Tiya, Heleo, Jubi.  Then there was a set of blue armor that shook him to the core. He fell to his knees and pressed his face to the glass with a sob. His hands came up, clenching into fists.

“Buir.”

**

Boba really, really disliked padwork. As Daimyo, he had not expected to have so much, but he was taking over a planet. Until he had a full staff up and running, this was his life. It was time for bed but he had three more reports to read. His eyes were starting to strain badly, and he thanked the maker when his com chirped.

“Din, to what do I own this pleasure?” Boba pushed the datapad away with relish. There was no answer and Boba became concerned. “Din?”

“Boba.” His name on another person’s tongue had never sounded so retched. The voice was hoarse and thin. There was a keen over the line. “Boba, I need you to come...I need you to...come get me.”

Boba stood so fast, the chair toppled over. He listened to the heavy breathing and the stifled sobs.

“Fennec!”

Fennec had the office next to his and she rushed through the door as Boba was urging Din to send him coordinates. When the com pinged, Boba pulled up the star charts to find him. Siskeen. Not far. Hours.

“Din, listen to me. Are you listening?”

“Yes.” His voice was filled with anguish. Fennec looked horrified. “There’s so much...there’s so much to salvage...I can’t...I can’t.”

“Are you injured? Are you safe?”

“Not injured. I’m safe. I’m safe. I’m safe. I’m safe.” Din repeated it, as if to comfort and reaffirm to himself that he was.

“I’ll be there in two hours. Do not shut off the com.” Boba shared a look with Fennec, shielding the mic. “Get me the largest ship you can find and round up some of the more discreet staff...and Krrsantan. He’s fond of Din.”

They were loaded in half an hour and on their way. The com was still open and Din’s breathing had calmed. Boba asked every ten minutes if Din was with him and the only answer was a small, brittle, I’m safe every time. He heard the hum of the Darksaber in the background. He didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad one.

Boba had never wished more for the ability to transport instantaneously.

**

They touched down on an estate in the countryside. It was the middle of the night and the neighbors were far enough away that the ship wasn’t seen. The house was open and they found the bounty Din must have been chasing passed out drunk in the foyer, secured with cuffs.

“This place is gross, boss. It gives me a skeezy feeling.”

“You four, scout the house. Krrsantan, Minx. Follow me.” The Wookie and a Twi’lek guard followed Boba as he moved deeper into the house. “Din. Where are you?”

“Cellar.” The response was tired and wispy.

The trio found the hidden door propped open in the kitchen. The room they came to made Boba pause before moving on. Kriffing Imps. Amassed wealth and extraordinarily little to show for it. Seeing no sign of Din he continued to the open panel door, ready to step inside, but a voice stopped him.

Boba.

The voice was faint and horrified. It was not Din.

Boba had seen horrors. So many horrors, it was beyond comprehension. Stepping into this room was going to be haunting him for a long time. Each set of armor was carefully preserved in a glass case, like you would find in a museum, and they were numerous. There were labels with dates and locations. It might just seem morbid to some, but to Mandalorians, this was utter sacrilege.

Krrsantan let out a low bellow, mournful. The Twi’lek Minx looked ill but still asked, “Is this a museum?”

Bob shook his sadly as he moved forward. “It’s a desecration.”

He found Din eventually huddled at the foot of a broken case. He was cradling a helmet, slumped over, and leaning against the case. There was blood on the glass. Boba could guess what he had done. He did not answer when his name was called. Boba checked him for a pulse and sighed in relief. He tried to take the helmet, but Din held on, making a small protesting noise, and cradled it closer. He let it be.

“Krrsantan. Will you carry him to the ship and place him in a bunk?” The Wookie retrieved Din from the floor and moved out of the room, sheltering the man. Din was a not small man but held like that by a Wookie and looking so grief stricken, he looked small and frail.

“Minx,” he called to the Twi’lek. “Go find the others and start getting everything in the other room on sleds. If you can get Istois to make copies of all the data from any work stations and hubs in the main house, I’d appreciate it.”

The Twi’lek nodded and moved away, leaving the mausoleum behind.

Boba stood in front of the broken case and studied the blue armor inside. It had the Shreik-hawk symbol, synonymous with Clan Vizsla and Death Watch. A small white hand print was on one of the hip plates. He felt the Darksaber’s hum in the air next to him. It was hovering at his shoulder.

“What happened?”

This is Din’s buir.

Memories of Genosis flashed through his mind. Kriff.

**

Hours upon hours they worked. Boba wouldn’t let anyone touch the armor, he packed it away himself in crates that were specially designed to hold the entire collection. It was sickening to think the Imp who owned this house painstakingly having the armor packed away and reassembled on a whim. The armor of Din’s buir was packed into a padded case and taken to the bunk room on the ship.

The treasure room yielded more hidden panels but none as extensive and large as the armor room. More books from different planets. Fine Nabooian tapestries. Paintings from Alderaan. Silks and jewelry. Lightsabers. It was hoard of atrocities. Their ship was just big enough to fit the hoard and what they pulled from the main house. He left nothing untouched, not even the linen closets. Everything was search for secret panels and safes. But only one safe was found and inside was a trove of data sticks.

Boba checked on Din periodically, but he had not moved or woken up. Worrying but understandable. Calling the nearest New Republic representative, they told them where they could find an Imp hideout, leaving a copy of the information for them and the bounty. Din was in no condition to collect, and the massive treasure trove would more than cover the payout. It wouldn’t cover the mental agony, but it was a start. Boba sent Minx for Din’s ship and then set a course for home. He trusted that the others could pilot them easily, so he sat next to Din the whole way. Maker he was tired. Getting too tired to deal with the mess the Empire left behind.

**

The palace was quiet for the night as Boba and Fennec sat at the bar in the private lounge. It had been three days and Din still had not come out from his room. Both of them and the doctor, checked in periodically to make sure that he was still alive, but he refused to leave. Refused to talk to anyone. The head cook had reported that the food was sent back, barely eaten. It was hard to watch him face another heartbreak on top of everything else.

“Call Cara. I think she’d be able to help.” Fennec spun her empty glass in her hands.

“Didn’t think you were on a first name basis with her.” Boba grunted. He was tired after another day of administration duties and worry. His push to take over Mos Entha was progressing nicely but getting everyone on the same page was exhausting work.

Fennec smirked. “I can have other friends besides you and Din.”

They fell into a pensive silence again and the night stretched on. It was quite a while before Boba spoke up, putting his thoughts together.

“You’re right. We’ll call Dune and have her take a vacation. Between the three of us, I’m hoping we can get him to at least speak and start taking care of himself.”

Four of us.

Fennec’s arm whipped out and her fist hit the floating hilt so hard it careened into the wall on the other side of the room.

“What the fark?!” Fennec pulled her blaster and aimed it toward where the Darksaber had landed. “That thing can move on its own??”

Boba just put his head in his hands and sighed in exasperation. “Couldn’t you have just stayed with Din?”

He threw us out and you said sometimes he needed to be alone.

It floated back over and set itself down on the bar. Fennec’s blaster followed its movements, but Fennec kept shooting livid glares at Boba, which he ignored.

“We’re calling Cara.” Fennec’s voice was shaking with anger. “And you both are going to tell me what the kriff is going on!”

**

Cara had to admit that she had a soft spot for Din. She felt like a big sister most of the time, even if she estimated their age to be about the same. She knew Greef felt the same, acting almost like a grandfather would with a favorite grandchild. She ribbed him every day for it, but she was no better. So when Greef was informed that contract that Din was hunting, was turned in anonymously to the New Republic, he was a little worried. Din hadn’t stopped by to get another puck or check in. Cara getting a call from Tatooine by a solemn faced Fennec was not what they had wanted to hear. He was alive. That’s all they’d say. So Greef had bustled her onto his fastest ship and told her to keep him informed.

Cara arrived in a hail of sand and ship exhaust when the second sun was setting.

She was led to a plush private lounge by a guard and waited for Fett and Fennec to arrive. When they did, it didn’t seem like the situation had gotten better while she had been in transit. Fett took off his helmet and sank into a plush chair across from Cara and Fennec followed suit after securing the door. Cara got right to the point, not wanting to draw this out.

“What happened?” She questioned.

“He found the bounty, and the bounty’s trove of looted treasure.” Fett rubbed a hand over his bald head. “Din’s told you about Mandalorians?”

“Yes. Well, as much as he felt comfortable tell me as an…ah-roo-ay-tee?”

Aruetii.

Cara’s arm was up and out, hitting the floating object and launching it across the room. “By the Force!”

“Stop sneaking up on people!” Fennec yelled crossly.

Cara watched as the dark hilt floated back up, but it didn’t come close to either her or Fennec. It cautiously floated around Fett and took up a spot across from them.

We apologize.

“That noodle-head.” Cara blew out a frustrated breath. “When he said that he was being haunted, he didn’t say it was by the actual saber! I thought it might have just been, like an old ghost sage contained within it, trying to get him to be Mand’alor. But this is…is…”

“Crazy? Yeah…it’s been a couple of trying days.” Fennec glared at the hilt, and it seemed to shrink back. “You believed him?”

Cara shrugged. “Of course. Din is a lot of things, but a liar and deranged he is not. I also believe in ghosts and the Force, so it sounded reasonable.”

“It sounded reasonable?” Fett looked incredulous. The man shook his head and pressed the tips of his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “Okay. Okay.”

He cracked his knuckles and then his hands came together in his lap, only joined at the fingertips.

“The situation is…not dire, but not good. We’re going to show you something. If you need clarification, ask. But see this first and I think you’ll understand.”

Even if she was bewildered, she still followed them down to a storage room deep in the palace. The Darksaber stayed behind in the lounge saying it did not need to see what was down there again. Hover crates and sleds dominated the space. The sleds were pile with small slabs of metal and there were duracrates full of art and other riches. But Fett stepped passed by all of that and over to the nearest hovercrate and waited for her attention. She came over and watched him open it, revealing the horrifying contents.

“How many suits fit into a crate?” she asked roughly.

“Three.” The grim reply was followed by Fett closing the lid and laying a hand on the top reverently.

There must have been over a hundred crates in that room. There was a padded bag sitting on the next crate and she gestured to it, questioningly.

“That is the cause of the problem.”

“If that’s armor, whose armor is it?”

“His buir.”

“Buir means…parent?” Cara watched him nod and she felt grief well up in her and indescribable anger. “They kept their armor as trophies! Even after they purged them. Like they purged Alderaan!”

“Cara.” Fennec’s voice was cautious, but she didn’t approach.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out, she straightened her shoulders and looked Fett in the eye. “I need a shooting range and a few hours before I can be of any use here.”

“We have one. I think after this, we all need to go.”

**

Din drifted, laying on his bed and shutting out everything. He knew it had been days since he had spoken to anyone properly. Or taken care of himself. He found he just didn’t have the energy to face anything except the helmet he hugged to his chest. It had been years. The purge had happened years ago and he still couldn’t face it. Most of the Tribe couldn’t either, but they ignored the pain and moved on. They had lost so many because a call for help had gone out and the Tribe had answered. His buir had answered and Din had been half a galaxy away, taking his turn hunting for credits. He had raced back, catching the tail of the fighting, and doing all he could to cover their retreat, but it had already been too late. His buir was dead, one of many lost, and all they had been able to bring back to Din was a thigh plate.

He'd had no time to grieve fully, because he was the only beroya left and there were so many that needed medical treatment. The worst off did not die gently because of the limited supplies. He had hit a small Imperial medical facility by himself, in a rage and desperate to get the supplies they needed. It had paid off, but the Alor had been furious and almost refused to use anything touched by the Imps. The Armorer and the Elders had made him see sense, but the Alor always watched him after that.

He barely had time to rest in the first two years after the Purge. He saw the Tribe rarely, always on the go, barely stopping in his allotted quarters or the baar’ur for more than a day before he was off again. He couldn’t stand being there at first, knowing that his buir wouldn’t be there waiting, but as time went on the real reason he didn’t want to be there, was that he no longer fit in with them. No one called him by his name anymore, they only called him Beroya. Even the people he had grown up with.

He didn’t have a clan, so there was no one to share private meals with sans helmets and gripe over bad hunts or call him Din’ika and patch him up tenderly. He was almost always alone and out in the black, never having time to attend the gatherings that would have helped connect him to the rest. The others moved on and rarely spoke of anyone that had marched on, except in the nightly remembrance. He was the only one who spoke his buir’s name regularly, even if it was just in his head. They had been a clan of two and now, it was just him. He was the last person who knew that his buir preferred behot tea over caf, the crazy kriffer.

The Armorer had been the one to help him manage during that time. As much as she could with the restrictions of not showing favoritism set down upon the Armorers of the Way. She was not soft or coddling. She was strong like beskar. She pushed him forward through the cloud of grief and pushed him to keep going. Spoke with him on long nights in forge. She was the only one who spoke his name, even if she rarely said it.

He had expected better of her when they met again, even though he knew she would only follow the Way as she always had. He was the one who would turn away from the Way in the face of great upheaval. He had changed his life to take on a foundling, as his buir had before him. Had given up everything he had, the very nature of his being, to make sure that his son lived and was safe. Safe with his own kind, where he would learn and become strong.  

He didn’t know where to go from here. His understanding of being a Mandalorian changed every day. He kept changing. He had been the same for years, pushing awareness of his soul and its pains away for the single-mindedness of the hunt and providing for the Tribe. Now he had a sentient lightsaber that made him the sole ruler of Mandalore and a son. He had no armor and here was armor that was his by rights to wear if he could stand the pain of wearing it. He had no Tribe, but he had this diverse group of people he could call friends. He didn’t want to be Mand’alor, but the sight of all that armor made him ache to take up the call and lead a reckoning. It made no sense and he yearned for understanding. He brought his buir’s helmet up to his face and touched his forehead to the visor.

“What do I do?”

**

Hours later, the chime for the door sounded but Din refused to get up. They’d use the bypass code anyway. He kept his eyes closed and feigned sleep. He felt the bed shift and a body flopped down next to him.

“Hey.” Cara’s voice startled him, and he opened his eyes to find her staring at the ceiling, her hands gathered over her abdomen.

“Hey.” His voice was rough from disuse. She turned her head, looking him in the eyes.

“I saw what you found. I’m sorry it had to be you to find it.”

“My buir was there.”

“I know.”

Minutes passed before Din could work up the energy to ask her why she was there.

“Fennec called me. Said her and Boba were worried. Kriff, Greef and I were worried too, when we heard about the bounty being turned over anonymously.” She turned her head back to stare at the ceiling.

“You’re on a first name basis with Boba?” Din asked, amused.

“Share three thousand rounds on the shooting range and stories of your exploits with the guy, and suddenly we’re on a first name basis. It surprises me that I’m okay with being friends with the Boba Fett.”

Din cleared his scratchy throat.

“The others can come in too. I know you’re the scout.”

He heard shuffling and the creak of furniture being moved around. The bed jostled as Cara snatched the Darksaber out of the air and held it close to her chest.

Unhand us. We’re not sure if we like bosoms.

“You prefer being crushed under Din’s generous backside when you’re on his belt?” Fennec inquired. He could hear the smirk.

“Don’t bring my backside into this.” Din croaked, clearing his throat again. He felt a nudge at his shoulder and sat up on an elbow to look behind him.

Boba held out a glass full of water with a long-suffering look. He was dressed down in his Tusken robes today. Fennec was in looser clothes too. Taking the water, he drank deeply, finishing it quickly. He handed it back and then flopped back down, turning over onto his back, and placing his buir’s helmet on his stomach. The silence was comfortable, but he felt the need to talk. He didn’t know what he wanted to talk about and told them so.

Cara hummed in thought. “Tell us about your buir.”

And he did.

**

Over the next few days, it got easier to be present. He took his meals in the kitchens, apologizing profusely to Cook for his waste of her food, but the female Besalisk just pushed a plate of sweets at him and sent him on his way.

During the day, everyone had places to be, whether it was intimidating new recruits, making administration plans, or doing the rounds for security. Cara either walked with him, went to the blaster range, or found an arm-wrestling hustle in the guard’s lounge. When the suns set, Din usually settled in the private lounge near the offices. The last few days, they had been gathering here, whoever was free (the Darksaber was always free, the mooch), and Din was glad for their company. Today, Boba was already there frowning down at some reports. Din sat down at the table across from him and crossed his arms, leaning forward and tucking his chin in the open space.

“Can I ask you something?”

Boba put his datapad down and directed all his focus on Din. “Go ahead.”

“How did you put your buir’s armor on without feeling like you were dishonoring his memory?” It was slightly muffled by his arm, but he was sure that the other man understood. The faraway look in his eyes was telling.

“I didn’t have a choice. When I was younger, I needed the armor to survive and make a name for myself. I didn’t care for it like I should have, carelessly using my grandfather’s helmet for a revenge that didn’t work. I used it not to honor my father and grandfather but to profit from the legacy it gave me. Mandalorians were seen as tough, invaluable warriors. I needed that reputation to overpower the fact that I was a clone and that I had no aliit who would help me. It served me well. I made it through the fall of the Republic and the rise of the Empire and then the fall of the Empire. It wasn’t until after the sarlaac that I wanted to honor that legacy. I didn’t want to be Mandalorian, I wanted to be my father’s son and keep his memory alive. The armor was one of the only things I had left. I wear it because my father would have wanted me to.”

Din swallowed harshly. “I need the armor too, but I don’t know if I can. I don’t know that I’m worthy of it anymore.”

“You don’t have to.” Boba leaned forward on his elbows and looked at him seriously. “You have a hovercart full of beskar ingots that could be put to good use. I know you’ve run into a few armorers on your hunts. Go to one you can trust to make you new armor. Honor your buir by wearing the one piece that you’ve always worn. You’ve earned the rest. You’ve been worthy of it this entire time. Your buir would be proud you recovered his armor.”

“But I don’t…”

“You still a Mandalorian?” Boba overrode his protest.

“Yes.” Din said firmly.

“Then get some damn armor. I’m sure I don’t have to recite the Resol’nare to you.” The terse reply was followed by a shooing motion.

**

After a sleepless night and a distracted day, Din had finally come to a decision about his armor and was searching for everyone to tell them his plans. He found Cara and Fennec watching a holoshow in the lounge, wearing fluffy bath gowns, and eating cookies. He leaned against the door for a moment taking it in. Two horribly efficient and dangerous women looking like they were at the spa.

You can’t tell us that he doesn’t know that’s not his kid. Come on!

“What are you doing?” Din’s question was for the Darksaber, but Fennec and Cara turned to look at him in surprise.

Watching our favorite daytime drama.

Din stepped into the lounge, coming closer to see the Darksaber nestled on the open cushion between the two women. It was wrapped in a washcloth.

You make a better door than you do a window.

Din sighed in annoyance and plucked the Darksaber from the sofa. Better to wait for Boba and tell them all at once.

“Move over, I need room for my generous backside.”

**

If Boba had to listen to one more petition he was going to start shooting things. Thank the maker the day was over, and he could hide in the lounge. What he found in the lounge was beyond comprehension. There was Fennec, Din and Cara all wrapped in fluffy bath gowns from the Imp’s mansion. The mud masks were almost completely dry and their whole attention was on the holoscreen.

“What are you doing?” Three heads snapped in his direction.

Watching our favorite holo-drama.

The Darksaber tipped forward as if to look at him and it too was covered by fluffy material.

Close the door, we don’t live in a bantha barn.

“Din, move over. You’re in my spot.”

**

During an advertisement, Din spoke up.

“I’ve decided what to do about my armor.”

Well?

“I’m leaving tomorrow to find an armorer.”

By the manda ad’ika, are we glad for that. You’re not blaster proof no matter what you youngsters think.

“Sadly, my vacation ends tomorrow.” Cara added, reaching for another snack. “I’ll head back and assure Greef you’re not dead.”

Fennec sighed. “I have to train some new guards.”

Boba grunted. “Kriffing padwork.”

All of them sighed and settled deeper into the sofa.

**

“I was thinking.” Fennec spoke suddenly, during another advertisement. “You need an undercover name, Darksaber.”

A name? We’ve never had need of one before. Isn’t Darksaber good enough?

“No. I’ve thought of a few, but at the top of my list was Big D.” Fennec offered, smirking as she watched the advertisement.

You think that’s funny, but we’re very well versed in your euphemisms. You can’t just name us after genitals.

“You keep saying the word can’t but I’m not sad to tell you that we definitely can.” Cara stated. She knocked Din’s shoulder and watched a small half smile appear on his face. Much better.

The Darksaber blustered and whined through the whole episode.

**

“You sure you’re going to be okay?” Cara watched Din pack his bag. They were both going to be leaving soon.

“I’ll be fine. I’ve got Big D to keep me company.” Din said flatly, but his eyes squinted with humor.

The screech of outrage was sidesplitting.

Chapter Text

Finding an goran Din trusted took a lot more time than he thought it would, even knowing where some were. He also spent a lot more time dodging Nite Owls. Them recognizing him was not the problem now. No, the problem was them trying to recruit him for Bo Katan’s mission after he got back into his armor. They were becoming watchful of current hubs of activity, and he felt uncomfortable being scrutinized by them. He had had to abandon three plans of action already due to their presence.

Many Verde had been whispering about Kryze and asking if she held the saber, which was never truly answered by anyone, even the Nite Owls. He doubted she had even told any of her followers that she had lost it and to a no name Child of the Watch at that. So, there was resistance to the recruitment effort, many Verde refusing to follow her until knowing she held the saber. Which she did not, because it was hanging on his belt hidden by the ugliest poncho he had ever seen (but liked immensely) and commenting on said poncho scathingly.

This was the fourth planet they’d stopped on and Din was worn out. Lugging a sack full of beskar, flight suit and flakvest is not the easiest when you’re not wearing it. Also, having constant censorious company was very wearing. Din had been keeping his full plans from the Darksaber and it was responding to his secretiveness by becoming cantankerous and reproachful. Based on what his contacts had said before he gave back his armor, there were supposed to be two goran here, since there was a large population of Mandalorians in the underground.

He walked through the streets in the early afternoon sun, looking for any of sigils that would lead him to a covert. He hoped that he could convince them to see their goran and that he had brought enough to barter with.

Nite Owl, dead ahead.

“Osik!” Din ducked into the space under a stairwell and watched the armored warrior pass.

Gev! Why are you so distracted today?

“Firfiek. ” Din sighed, tapping the Darksaber in apology. “I’m tired. My buir would kick my shebs for being so inattentive to my surroundings.”

“Would they?” A voice joined them in the stairwell, before a hand came over Din’s mouth and an arm of steel wrapped around his chest. It pulled him and the Darksaber kicking and screeching through a hidden doorway.

**

“Got a ping on that intel you asked for.” Fennec leaned against the open doorway to the private lounge and watched Boba brood.

He had been in here for hours, looking over information, after a scout had reported a disturbance in Mos Eisley. An Imp spy was seeking information on a Mandalorian in silver beskar. Not very subtle but they came with credits to buy the information and silence. Not that they got anything useful. Stories about krayt dragons and the fight in Mos Espa were predominant. Peli had been very distressed in her mouthy way and had called Fennec immediately, after tagging the idiot’s ship.

“That wakamancha kung landed on, get this, a Class 546 Lightspeed Cruiser. With this on the side.” Fennec flipped her pad around to show Boba the symbol that had been painted on the cruiser in red. It matched the mythosaur symbol on Boba’s left pauldron.

“That looks familiar.” Boba said darkly. “I can’t believe Kryze would force one of her people to wear the skin of an Imperial. She must be desperate.”

Fennec hummed in response and settled a hip on the table. “She’s something. Why do you think she’s on the prowl now? Thought she’d be barging in on him in the bath like Big D does.”

“Din said that the Nite Owls were frequenting the hubs of Mandalorian activity in his latest com and that the Mandalorians there are resisting her call and claims. Because she doesn’t have the Darksaber.”

Fennec smirked. “You mean Big D.”

Boba let out a tired, exasperated whoosh of air. “Yes Fennec, Big D.”

“Ha! I finally got you to say it!” Fennec crowed and cleared her pad, getting ready to leave the room, but stopping to look back at Boba. “Cara owes me ten credits. Now get back to work and stop mother-henning Din. Our empire needs its administration head at full cognitive ability and not working as a secretary.”

She ignored the rude gesture he made as she flounced out.

**

Cara picked up the chiming com. “Dune.”

“You owe me ten credits. Watch out though. Ol’ Red is out and about, looking for the Big D.”

“I bet she is. You can collect in three months. Fifteen credits on Red showing up to the palace.”

“That’s a suckers bet. Tell Gramps that his kid checked in yesterday.”

The com went dead and Cara went to harass Greef.

**

“Found something Raig?” A wiry Mandalorian in yellow inspected the young human laid out on the bench in their friend’s forge. The solitary Goran looked impressed, and he wasn’t impressed by many these days.

“Young one from another covert out on the stoop dodging Nite Owls. Fought like a wild lothcat. Haven’t had a slippery one like that since my time with the Corps.” The Goran’s voice rumbled amiably.

“You gassed them? Isn’t that cheating?” The yellow Mandalorian tutted, lifting limp manacled arms up to inspect the young man’s hands.

“Had to Klon. Verd’ika wasn’t wearing a buy’ce and disabled my vambrace. He also had vibroblades in both hands and was ready to stab me in the neck even in a chokehold. Got me in the leg though.” The Goran showed off his bleeding thigh in fondness. “He’s a fast little osik and knows how to slip past heavy armor.”

Klon sighed, dropping the man’s arms gently, and moving toward the door. “Don’t go adopting him. How long does that gas last?”

“Two hours, maybe. You are dropping off the order?” Raig started up the furnace and the power engine. He put on some welding goggles and got out his tools waiting for Klon to decide if he wanted to stop hesitating and talk. He knew what was coming.

“Yes. Come back to the covert. The council is unhappy that you’re alone.” Klon pulled a hovercrate from the doorway.

“I’m not unhappy. I’m old and I need my space. I get my work done here without interference. They want their armor fixed, they come to me or Jar’ar, and I don’t have a wait list a mile long.”

Klon huffed. “You’re not old. I’ll be back in two days.”

Raig waited until his friend left before going over to the young man he had subdued. Human. But enhanced maybe, with reflexes like that. Calluses on his hands, sturdy boots, hideous poncho, and lots of hidden weapons. Weapons he should not have. It would explain the hiding though. Ferocious fighter. Little brat had taken out his vambrace without thought and got around his heavy plates. So, he had trained with other Mando’ade enough that he could do it quick and easy. Trained as a beroya. What was in the bag was a surprise. That was something he had not seen in a long time. A conundrum but he’d figure it out. Gorans always did.

He went back to the forge and pulled out the first piece needing to be fixed.

**

Din. Ad’ika. Din’ika. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.

Din slept on and the Darksaber let out a frustrated noise.

Looks like we must save us.

Using the sound of the hammer to cover its movement, the Darksaber started moving around in the container it had been placed in, getting out from under all the other weapons that had been piled on top of it. The room felt empty, only two living beings in there besides the Darksaber. Plans were needed.

Okay...what are we going to do? If we attack that shabuir, we lose the element of anonymity. But if our ad’ika wakes up and attacks, he can distract the brute and we can stab...okay, no. Din’ika would want him alive and unconscious. But the gas was strong, and we must get out of here. What if WE create the distraction? How would we...oh, that’ll work. Sorry ad’ika.

The Darksaber used the force to pull on Din’s belt, sliding him across the bench sideways. It had been a while since they had done anything like it, but it was needed. Getting Din’s body over the edge enough to tip him forward was a trial, but the Darksaber managed, causing his body to topple over, landing awkwardly on his side with a snap that the Darksaber chose to ignore. Din lay on the ground limply, his face creased in pain but still asleep. The hammer stopped and the Darksaber paused its efforts.

The hulking Goran came over and inspected Din for a moment before reaching forward. The Darksaber floated up from the box and hurled itself forward at the man’s unprotected head, taking the chance offered. It was a surprise to be caught in a gloved hand and gripped firmly.

“So, Tor was correct about you. Ah, ah, ah. Watch yourself, Dha’kad. I don’t want to have to hurt the young one here, to keep you in line.” The tip of a beskad was at Din’s throat and the Darksaber stopped humming so forcefully. “Go to the other side of the room.”

The Darksaber floated back warily watching the Goran take the beskad away from Din’s vulnerable point, but he did not turn his back, only maneuvered himself so that he could lever Din up in front of him and use him as a shield. The man tsked and shook his head.

“You’ve broken his arm.” He held Din up with a burly arm around the chest using his other arm to straighten the unconscious man’s arms by the shackles.

Din made a keening sound of pain in his sleep. The Darksaber lit its blade in anger.

“Dha’kad. I am a Goran and I have no quarrel with you. If he wields you and you protect him so fiercely, then he is the Mand’alor. I will not harm him. I would speak with him though, to find out what happened.”

YOU WILL PUT HIM DOWN AND SPEAK TO US.

“Ah. You have a voice as well. I will treat his arm and then we can talk.” A humming hiss was the response, as the blade retracted.

**

Raig watched the saber float between him and the young man. The minute he had finished treating the broken arm, the thing got between them and hovered threateningly, hissing and humming at his every movement. He took a seat on the stool he brought over and considered what to ask.

“How did he aquire you?”

He defeated Moff Gideon in combat. He was there to protect his ik’aad.

Raig sat back in surprise. “So he was on the ship with her. Bo Katan Kryze did not object to him taking the fight from her?”

A dark chuckle filled the room raising the hair on the back of Raig’s neck.

Her duplicity led to her losing her chance to face Gideon. She will never gain us again. She is weak. She is a deceiver and covetous. She burns with a desire to redeem only herself and bring battle to those who have gone against her and our people. She has spent years planning a war, leaving Mando’ade to hide in sewers and die, separated from Yaim. Protecting ALL Mando’ade and assuring their survival is not her goal, as it should be. A true leader would bring safety and fortune first, and then destroy the enemy.

“Why has he not taken up the call of the Mand’alor, then?” Raig asked, accusingly. Bo Katan’s little triumph had been more than a year ago. He glanced at the sleeping man, but the saber hummed warningly.

He does not want to be Mand’alor. But he IS. We must get him to see his worth. He does not see how his actions have already affected our people. They are returning to the light with just a whisper of his presence. He has already recovered a small portion of our history. His potential is boundless.

“Recovered our history?” The room was getting colder and he could see the flames in the furnace struggling.

He found an Empire cache. So many relics. So much befouling of the Manda it makes us BURN with hatred!

Raig watched as blue lightning danced on the hilt of the handle. 

“Why is he not wearing beskar’gam?” His next question caused the room to return to normal temperature and the Darksaber crooned mournfully.

He gave his beskar’gam back to his Tribe...he did not feel he deserved to wear it. That beskar’gam is his by right! He is Mando’ad in his heart and soul. THEY do not get to decide.

“Do you know what was in that bag he brought?” Raig retrieved the bag with a grunt and sat back on the stool, trying to not make any movements that would be deemed threatening. In its doleful state, he did not think the Darksaber would go after him, but best to not take any chances. When the saber answered it sound fretful.

We do not know. He would not tell us his full plan. He just needed a worthy goran.

“He has one now.” Raig rumbled, opening the bag, showing off the contents inside.

Oh, our ad’ika.                                                                                                                             

**

Din was warm. The warmth felt like a balm on his spirit. It reminded him of his home, sitting with his mother and father sharing muja fruit. Of his buir, holding him when the chill of the covert was too much. Of the forge, with the Armorer, the soothing and continuous beat of her hammer the only steady thing he had.

When he finally opened his eyes, he found a strange blurry, ceiling overhead. The sound of a goran’s hammer continued, beskar against beskar. The cadence full of harmony and peace. He wanted to go back to sleep listening to that sound because he thought he’d never hear it again. The Darksaber hummed against his ribs, tucked between his side and his arm.

Ad’ika?

“Hmm?” Din felt his eyes close drowsily.

Ad’ika, we found you a goran.

Din’s eyes shot open and he tried to sit up quickly, scrambling for the blade in his boot. His right arm wouldn’t work properly, splinted in what felt like a recovery cast and the rest of him felt lethargic and slow. His vision was still blurry. Large hands gripped his shoulders, and he bared his teeth, snarling as he tried to get away. Gentle rumbling laughter washed over him, and the large hands just held him firmly, not restricting him but holding him upright.

“There now, lothcat. The gas was a little strong, but you almost got me in the neck with that vibroblade.” The owner of the voice sounded proud.

“Dee? What is going on? What is…?” Din scrunched his eyes closed as a wave of dizziness washed over him.

“Lay back down. Your…Dha’kad…and I will explain, yes? There we go.” He kept his eyes shut as he let them lower him back down. “Now, I’ll introduce myself. I’m Goran Raig Oojar. I understand that you have a request of me.”

“You’re a…goran?” Din’s mind drifted, trying to think things through. It was hard to focus. “I need beskar’gam. I need my beskar’gam. I brought…”

Din stopped talking as his mind drifted and the pull of sleep became too strong.

We though you said the gas was very temporary.

“It is, but occasionally, if the recipient is very worn or exhausted, it will be harder to awaken so fast.” Raig checked the young one’s pulse and found it slow and steady. Good.

Ah. It has been a trying few weeks.

“Then he needs the sleep. I will look through what he has brought. We will wait until he wakes up fully to continue. Talk with me.”

**

Din smelled shig.

If he was smelling shig, he was with Mandalorians. Which was good, but considering Bo Katan, could also be very bad. He did not smell blood or hear screaming, so that meant the Darksaber had not created some type of chaos by being its rage-filled spooky self. He was laid out on a padded surface and the room was warm, like the forge was always warm. His arm ached and he still felt like he could sleep for weeks. But he knew it was time to get up. Being a hunter had always meant being ready to wake, no matter the time or amount of exhaustion. The last few months of wandering and self-discovery had changed his routine somewhat, but he still did not like to sleep in when there were things to do. A whole list that never went down it seemed, now that he had the Darksaber.

The sound of pottery against stone had him turning his head, watching as a massive Mandalorian drank from a large mug. They were taller than Paz but wore heavy infantry armor in dark green and scarlet like he did. Their features were strong and noble, their skin a striking rich ochre with silver markings. Their hair was dark as deep space with a peppering of silver. Din could see a tipped ear and when they turned, lamp-like golden eyes fell upon him. The smile they sent him showed off their bigger canines but was non-threatening.

“You are finally awake, young one. It is now morning. Come! Have a drink with me and we’ll talk.”

Din stumbled over to the small table, still trying to find his legs after such a long sleep. The recovery cast on his arm was a clunky, an older model that he’d never seen before. His arm ached, but he could tell it was fully healed. The older Mando’ad set a smaller mug in his hands, and Din sat for a few moments, inhaling the rich aroma of a memory. While his buir had loved behot tea, he had loved shig, but their differences did not stop them from sharing a cup whenever the Tribe was able to get their hands on the herbs to make either. His buir had been in his thoughts a lot more lately and the lessons and moments he spent with him had helped him get through the past few weeks. It had also helped him think of what his next steps would be. Starting here, he’d work toward his new goals.

After pushing a morning roll over to Din, the Mando’ad leaned back in their chair across from him , waiting without complaint as he ate and drank some of the shiig. They had a sense of stillness and a sense of profound patience that was hard to explain. He had started to tense up, going into an unknown situation, but this warrior across from him was easy and open. None in his Tribe had ever been so, due to the Alor and elders tight reign on everything. It reminded Din of Boba’s palace though. The people there were like this.

“My name is Din Djarin, he/him. I would be happy to make your acquaintance, but I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

“You were trying to kill me when we first met, and then half asleep the second. I don’t expect you to remember me fondly.” The yellow eyes squinted in humor, as they smiled once again. The reverberation of their voice was like a low roll of thunder. “I am Goran Raig Oojar, he/him. Well met, verd’ika.”

Din reached out with his hale arm to clasp the forearm that was offered.

“I am sorry about before. The young verd’ike of the covert like to play geroya with me, testing their ability to sneak through the underground without my knowing. Imagine my surprise when I get an armful of fully trained warrior ready to hand me my shebs, instead.” Raig let out a rueful laugh. “It was my folly to surprise you that way and you weren’t even wearing beskar’gam. Cheated a little by gassing you.”

Din chuckled. “I broke my arm though.”

Raig’s head tilted, and his gaze landed on the hilt that rested on the table. Din had been so preoccupied and the Darksaber so silent that he hadn’t noticed it laying there. Raig let out a small cough.

We maybe broke your arm trying to escape. You landed awkwardly and our plan was admittedly not...very good. We tried though?

Din could feel the regret and embarrassment that they emitted and sighed. He patted the hilt with affection and then took hold of his mug once more. If the Darksaber felt comfortable enough to talk with the Goran and the Goran hadn’t killed him in his sleep for it or raised the alarm after being accosted by them both, maybe he had stumbled on the right person to help him.

“We’ll work on it.” He looked Raig in the eyes. “Since we all seem to be acquainted now, I guess you know why I was looking for a goran.”

“The beskar’gam you brought. It is very old. Passed down from many. Some of the pieces are not beskar and I assume that you would like them to be, with the ingots you brought. You would like them in the same style, yes?” Raig gestured to a long table where all the armor was laid out alongside the ingots. He was straight to the point, just like the Armorer when presented a new project.

“Yes…the beskar’gam belonged to my buir. I would honor him.”

“I will have to alter some of the plates in the cuirass. You are much broader in the shoulders and your waist is smaller. The greaves and vambraces need to be altered as well.  Your forearms have more muscle. You will need a new jet pack. He was beroya?”

“Yes.”

Din’ika is beroya too!

Din rolled his eyes at the saber’s proud proclamation but smiled faintly.

“Yes. I surmised as much.” Raig mirrored his small smile and brought out a pad and stylus. Even with such large hands, his stokes were delicate. As expected of a Goran who did such work. “Your buy’ce?”

“Altered inside to fit me but no other alterations. It will probably need a new HUD, filters, and seals. I’ll need to upgrade the weapon systems, as well.” Din tapped his fingers nervously, trying to broach the subject of payment. Raig was already taking on the work without question, but this was a lot of work for a Goran of a large covert, when he must have had work from them as well.

Raig hummed as he outlined something. He spoke without looking up. “Payment will be the leftover beskar and…fixing the circuits and wiring of the beskar’gam pieces in that box there. I am sure you have much experience from fixing your own in the field. We have several adiik passing their verd’goten and these pieces are being passed down.”

Din was taken aback at the trust that the Goran was putting in him. He was not an apprentice, and this was not his covert. The stylus poked his cheek, startling him.

“Best get to work, verd’ika. There are many to get through. Tools and workbench are over there.”

**

Hours later found Din sweating from the heat of the forge at his back and bowed over the work bench. The stool he was sitting on was starting to make his backside go numb and the piece he was working on was being finnicky. He had shocked himself twice trying to get the wires to connect properly. He had taken off the recovery cast and poncho, setting them aside, since it was too cumbersome to do this work with them on. The Darksaber had propped itself up on a corner of the bench, leaning against a toolbox. It had been humming contentedly and barely talked, just small comments and questions directed to the both of them as they worked.  Idle, comforting chatter.

He had just finished the last solder when a plate of food appeared at his elbow. A glass of some type of red juice was set down as well. Din almost startled, but years of training made him hold back his reaction.

“Take a break and eat. I know that stool is not comfortable.” Raig said amiably. He walked off without another word, going back to the forge and starting up his harmonic cadence once again.

“He’s not at all bothered by this situation.” Din said lowly, staring at the small sandwiches and finger foods that had been left in bewilderment. “You would think that you being sentient would be off-putting and alarming.”

Like your hallucination defense? Did you wash your hands?

“I had legitimate reasons to think you were a hallucination.” Din defended hotly, grabbing a cleaning wipe. “Why do you think that he’s not bothered?”

He knew Tor Vizsla. A confidant, I think, so Tor might have told him about us. We admit we were a little…scary at the time. Came on a little too strong, trying to learn about the current state of things. We had been in the Vizsla vault for a while and were desperate for contact.

Din glanced over his shoulder and looked at Raig speculatively. “Tor Vizsla, huh?

Turning back around, he started eating, finding the food to be delicious. He had a thought as he ate a small sandwich.

“Think he might know the Armorer?”

He might. Don’t talk with your mouth full.

Din grinned after he finished chewing, reaching over to poke at the Darksaber.

“Why are you being all prim and proper over there? You’ve been very…formal and deferential with him.”

He’s an elder. We should respect our elders.

Din gaped at the Darksaber dumbly before he cracked up laughing.

Ku’ur! You are being very disrespectful of his space.

Din put his head in his arms, trying to muffle his laughter. The Darksaber was being such a buir.

“What is so amusing?” Raig called, pausing in his work.

“Ah…just talking about a friend’s antics.” Din said shaking his head and trying to stifle his laughter. “And their utter foolishness.”

“Ah.” Raig went back to work and Din ate the rest of his food and drank his juice under the judgmental supervision of the Darksaber.

He was getting started on a new vambrace when he smirked and gave a sly glance over to huffy hilt. He whispered lowly.

“You know, if he’s as old as I think, you are still at least ten times his senior. So, you are his ancient elder.”

Wait, what?

**

Din worked more long hours, completing his last piece just as Raig called him for late meal. He was not startled this time. Stretching out the kinks in his back, he ambled over to the small table and sat in the more comfortable chair. The Darksaber followed along behind him and settled down on the table. It was still quiet from earlier. Raig brought a pitcher of water over to the table and poured out two tall glasses. There was very generous portion of tiingilar, and Din could feel the spice level with just his eyes, it was so strong. Perfect. There was also a plate of flatbreads and spicy pickled vegetables, along with an herbed cream.

“You are finished. I did not expect you to be done, so soon.” Raig said, sitting down across from Din and tucking into his meal. Din did the same and they ate in a comfortable silence for some time before Raig paused. “Sleep tonight and we will upgrade everything tomorrow.”

“You’re done?” Din asked in surprise. He paused in eating as well, sucking some of the spicy sauce off his thumb.

“Young one, you have been so focused on fixing all that mess that you did not even notice that I was taking your measurements. It has also woken up your hunger, it seems.” Raig looked amused. “Do they not feed you at the palace Dha’kad spoke of?”

Din felt a flush start on his face, noticing now that he had practically inhaled more than half of what was offered. “They feed me. Practically stuff me. It’s just…it has been a long time since I had such good food from home.”

Raig let out a pleased hum, gathering up some leftover sauce with his flatbread. “If you are soothed so much by fixing things like that and the food offered, stay and apprentice with me. The covert here would not mind.”

Ahem. Your offer is very kind. But Din’ika already has a career plan, and we have prior obligations.

Din grinned at the Darksaber’s polite, but firm rejection. He shared a look with Raig, who just tipped his head and shrugged as if it was no matter, but his golden eyes danced with amusement. The elder brought out two small glasses and a bottle of clear fluid that Din could only guess was tihaar. He tipped the bottle in Din’s direction, questioningly. Din nodded, finishing up the last bit of his meal. He took the small glass when offered and toasted his host, knocking it back it one go.

“Oya!”

Oh, it burned so good. Tears started to form as he coughed, swallowing several times to see if he had enough saliva left to soothe the burn in his throat. It had been a long time since he had felt this. The scandalized gasp from the Darksaber made him laugh then cough.

Din’ika!

“Ku’ur, Dha’kad. Let him be young. It’s only one glass before bed.” Raig rumbled with a chiding tone. Din could feel the Darksaber bristle, but when Din patted it reassuringly, it relented.

As long as it’s just the one.

**

The next day saw Din setting up a new HUD in his buir’s helmet and updating the weapons in the vambraces. Raig had set down ten cartridges of whistling birds and refused to hear Din protest about it being too much, moving on with an unconcerned wave. Cans of specialized paints appeared before he could ask, the Darksaber complimenting his choices. By late afternoon, Din was donning armor for the first time in months. Putting it on felt like coming home, like he was complete and whole.

Oh, just look at you!

The Darksaber had been floating around him as they gushed. He was wearing his black flight suit and the dark gray flakvest. His armor plates were mostly unpainted, as he preferred, but he had a stripe of red around his visor and full yellow on his greaves. Black and green lines adorned his vambraces and he had placed the kyr’bes symbol in black on his left pauldron. The mudhorn was unpainted on his right. Blue triangles again on the back of his hand guards and the same gloves. Raig had painted jaig eyes in black above his visor and when Din asked, he muttered about krayt dragons and moffs. He knew the Darksaber had been gossiping. He left the hip plates black with the small white handprint. When he saw Grogu again, a three fingered handprint would join it.

We are very proud Din’ika.

“This is not my first set of beskar’gam.” Din said stiffly, trying to keep it together. His buir had said the same thing when he got his first set.

Still. We are very proud.

As he was buckling on his bandolier, Raig came in from the back rooms with the bag he brought the armor in. It was full, making Din frown in worry that the Goran had not taken payment. Raig just laughed at his expression and waved him off as he set the bag on the workbench.

“I have tucked some provisions into the bag for you and the armor pieces that we did not use. Do not fret so, verd’ika. Now, let me have a look at you.”

Raig inspected the mag fittings and the fit of his vambraces. When he deemed them acceptable, he moved away and leaned up against the unlit forge, crossing his arms in amusement.

“What are you waiting for, verd’ika?”

Din suddenly felt the urge to stay. “I…I don’t…”

“I will see you on Tatooine in two months, so that we can go through your hoard. Now, off with you.”

“Okay.” Din replied faintly. He grabbed the bag which was heavier than it should be. As he crossed the threshold to the forge, Raig called to him, and he looked back.

“Verd’ika. Tell your previous Armorer when you see her, that I would speak to her.” The threat was implied.

**

Boba saw the com light go off on his vambrace and motioned for a break before the next supplicant. He took the break in the lounge in the private wing and called back.

“I’m on my way back.”

“Finally. You get done what needed to be done?”

“Yes.” Din pause and Boba cocked his head, listening intently. “The goran who helped me with my beskar’gam is willing to help with the sets from the hoard.”

“Well now, you worried for nothing.” Boba winced as he heard Fennec yell from her office.

“IS THAT DIN AND BIG D?”

“NO!” Boba shouted back grumpily.

“LIES!”

“I’ll be back by tomorrow. Don’t let her get too carried away.” Din’s drawl was dry as he signed off.

Boba let out a puff of air as he heard Fennec enter the room. He had hoped his break would be longer.

“Awww. I missed them.”

“He was scared off by your yelling. He could sense your mischievous intent.”

Boba got up and headed toward the throne room.

“Should we plan a coming-of-age feast?”

He paused and thought about her idea, getting a wicked smile on his face.

“Oh yes.”

**

When Din landed it was evening on Tatooine again, the air starting to cool from the brutal suns. No one met him in the hanger, which was odd, but he shrugged it off.

It’s good to finally be home. We miss our holo-drama. And our pillow.

Din rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry I forgot to pack your pillow, okay.”

We forgave you.

“Then stop mentioning it and guilt tripping me.” Din griped as he walked through suspiciously empty hallways, his helmet at his side.

He left his heavy bag in the empty private lounge as he sought someone, anyone, out. He walked into the well-lit throne room and saw Fennec and Boba speaking by the bar. They turned to watch him walk in and grinned wolfishly. There were some new banners in Aurabesh proclaiming ‘It’s a Mandalorian!’ and while he didn’t feel threatened, the hairs on the back of Din’s neck raised.

Then the confetti pods went off.

**

Din was still picking confetti out of his armor when the party was over. The whole palace had turned out to celebrate his triumphant return as a Mandalorian. He was congratulated and smothered in affection. All. Night. Long. Trying to pin down Boba or Fennec was almost impossible, as he was plied with drinks and asked about his travels over and over. But every one of them was sincere. Cook had even made his favorite roast.

It's so nice that they threw you a celebration.

“I know.” He leaned back against the stairs leading to the throne with a groan.

“It’s going to take forever to get the confetti cleaned up.” Fennec appeared, standing over him. He tipped his head back to look at her upside down. Boba was right next to her with a smug expression.

“I’ll get you two back later. I’m too tired now.”

“Well, it’s good to have you back Din. Fennec was having lothkittens, imaging all sorts of debauchery going on without her.” Boba nudged Fennec, who rolled her eyes but smiled down at him.

“Lothkittens?”

“Literally. There are eight of them.” She held up eight fingers.

Din tilted his head in Boba’s direction tiredly. “I thought I told you not to let her get carried away.”

We're not sure we like the idea of lothkittens.

Chapter Text

The party had been fun, but Din was still exhausted and was not in the mood to be woken up by Fennec at dawn the next day for sparring. He joined her anyway but after the fifth round of being knocked on his shebs because he was distracted, he tapped out. Rolling to the side of the room, instead of getting up and walking to a bench, he splayed on the mat as he tried to organize his thoughts. He needed to get control of himself, he was getting out of control and that was dangerous for a Mandalorian in this galaxy. The Darksaber planted itself right next to his head and hummed. Fennec came to join them, laying down, crossing her ankles, and putting her hands on her stomach. Her cybernetics hummed slightly as well.

“What are we doing?” She inquired after a few minutes of silence.

We think Din’ika is having an identity crisis...or a crisis caused by multiple identities? He’s also missing the little one. We’re here to be as open and supportive as we can. MD-42 was very informative about adolescent hormones, mood swings, and psychological changes.

“Listening to the med-droids again, Big D?” Fennec chuckled at the Darksaber’s humor and Din’s wounded noise.

Learning new things and seeking help is a great accomplishment.  Boba also said that listening is important.

“I am grown.” Din growled at the same time Fennec asked, “Boba?”

Yes. After the trip to Goran Oojar, we had something of an existential crisis...which MD-42 says is very common by the way Din’ika...and we came to an understanding. Our purpose beyond dictating who is Mand’alor is to guide, embrace, and adopt the aliit of the Mand’alor and those that the Mand’alor chooses to surround themselves with.

“Have I just been adopted?” Fennec sounded stunned.

“You can’t just adopt anyone you want.” Din said grouchily.

Din’ika. As one who also burns with the Manda in your soul, you know very well that Mando’ade adopt anyone or anything they want, anywhere they want, at any time in life. It is the Way.

“Have you told Boba?” Fennec asked, still sounding shocked.

We did. Just before coming here to watch you kick Din’ika’s shebs. Boba threw us out of the window. He’ll come around.

“I am not Mand’alor.” 

You’ll come around too.

The Darksaber’s malevolent, certain tone left Din dumbstruck for a moment. He didn’t get a chance to argue with it as the hilt floated up into the air and twirled around.

Our show is on. Fen, your assistance would be the best with his problem. We listened to him complain about it all last night before bed.

It zipped out of the room and took its forceful presence with it.

Fennec sat up quickly, scooting closer to his head. “Are we being strongarm adopted by a lightsaber? Is that’s what's going on? And when did Big D start sounding so...endlessly constipated and prissy?”

Din sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’ve not been formally adopted.”

“Have you been?” He could just see Fennec’s raised eyebrow from his supine position.

Din put his hands on his face and let out a little hysterical laugh. “My situation is different. I’m bonded to it. Through the Force or whatever space wizard sorcery Jetti use. From what I gathered, all Mandalorians are its children, and it doesn’t have to formally adopt any of us. Not like I adopted Grogu.”

“Is that why it has taken on such a superior air after what it deemed an existential crisis?”

“It's been prim and proper like that since it encountered Goran Raig. He knew Tor Vizsla, who claimed Mand’alor status, oh maybe seventy years ago. It sees Raig as an elder and then after I said something, suddenly realized that it is more than a thousand years old and is an elder too!  It's also pissy about Raig offering me an apprenticeship and a chance to stay on planet with him.” Din grimaced, thunking his head against the mat a few times, in frustration.

Din turned his head so he could see Fennec’s face fully, to gauge her response. Her face remained impassive, but her eyes gleamed as she analyzed her thoughts.  Her fingers had found his hair and he almost jumped out of his skin when she started massaging his scalp but resisted the automatic response. Getting used to small familial touches by people who he liked was taking time. Last night’s party had been a test in patience and not drawing his blaster in the wake of congratulatory backslaps and Wookiee hugs.

“So, you’re missing your son, you’ve got a nonexistent custody battle and an identity crisis? Let’s start with the identity crisis first.”

“Some things that were said last night during the party were eye opening and…disturbing. They were not meant to be cruel, just an aside to let me know how things stand.”  Din murmured. He went from laying splayed out to mimicking Fennec’s earlier position. Fennec was still massaging his head and it was kind of nice. “I’m not mad and it’s quite funny, but it’s going to create some problems very soon if it’s not corrected. Especially in the betting pools. However, my conclusion is that some of the staff are...nunaheads.”

Fennec snorted.

Din’s eyes had half closed in contentment as the massage continued. He held up three fingers, putting them down as he went. “There are three main rumors going around. One. I am trying to replace Mando as Boba’s bestest bounty hunter and horn in on his territory by becoming a Mandalorian. We will fight it out in a death match when he gets back. Two. I am a past lover of Mando’s who’s come here to reunite with True Love because I just couldn’t be without him and decided to become a Mandalorian, because only Mandalorians can marry other Mandalorians. And now me and Mando can be together in the Mandalorian love tradition when he gets back, isn’t that just the most romantic Mandalorian thing? Three. I am here solely to be replacement lover for you and Boba, while Mando is away, but I am so in love with you both that I’m not going to give up my position and I went and became a Mandalorian so that I could fight for the honor of being your consort. That one also ends in a death match.”

“They really are nunaheads.” Fennec shook with laughter. “I guess I can see where they are coming from. You didn’t take your helmet off much around here before you gave back your armor. Who’s everyone betting on in the death matches by the way?”

“Mando!” Din exclaimed crossly. “As great as I am and how much everyone likes me, they think that Mando will wipe the floor with me. Also, apparently, I’m not good enough for myself because Mando has a lordly and magnificent warrior spirit. Even though I am now a Mandalorian, I’m just not an impressive enough Mandalorian to capture and hold the eye of their beloved Mando. To make matters worse, a smaller rumor implies that I am cheating on my commitment to Mando with you, who is also in a serious relationship with Mando. We’re cheating on me together.”

“That’s rough, buddy.” Fennec was smirking when Din frowned at her, squinting suspiciously. She sighed dramatically. “I guess I’ll have to have a staff meeting and set everyone straight.”

“Thank you.” Din bit out slowly. “Don’t make the explanation as traumatic and tragic as your holo-dramas.”

Fennec pulled on some of his hair playfully. “You also like those holo-dramas. Don’t lie to me. Now tell me what’s going on with your frog spawn.”

Din shook her loose and sat up, half turning to speak and tell her he did know actual frog people with frog spawn,                      and they did not look like Grogu, but was interrupted. If it had been anyone else other than Boba who walked in, the position they were in would have been taken as them staring soulfully into each other’s eyes and about to get down and dirty. However, it was Boba and while he was a criminal overlord, he was also a devious, infuriating, troll.

His theatrical gasp of seeing something scandalous and offensive to his delicate sensibilities was so loud it could be heard down the hallway. He stepped in and to the right of the door, making sure his bulk was not hiding them any longer, exposing them to all the turned heads and concerned eyes of a very full hallway.

Boba grabbed his armored chest as if mortally wounded, looking Din and Fennec dead in the eye while he proclaimed loudly so everyone in half a parsec could hear, “Din! Fennec! You’re both cheating on Mando?”

That man was dead to them.

**

Cara looked up from her padwork as her com went off.

“Dune.”

“Din needs a time out. Actually, Boba’s the one who needs a time out, but he’s king here, so putting him in a time out will make him happier because he won’t have to do padwork and listen to the newest supplicant who is talking about brooms and nets. He needs to suffer.” Fennec rambled quickly.

“What happened?” Cara asked, chuckling quietly.

“You know that betting ring, the one that started when we were speculating on when Rhinon’s baby would be born?”

“Yeah.” Cara said slowly, trying to see where this was going.

“Well, the guard staff must be bored because they expanded the speculation pool to some outrageous stupid things, knowing they could not be true. But someone overheard them and started rumors, and then Boba, that wily, cheeskar goo, got wind of the rumors and put in for a bet about one of the speculations, and set us up! AND NOW HE’S ROLLING IN CREDITS, THAT WERMO!”

Cara scrunched her face in bewilderment. “So why does Din need the time out?”

Fennec took loud calming breaths before she responded. “Because the rumors were about him…about him and Mando.”

“They’re the same person?” Cara was even more confused.

“Apparently a lot of the support staff didn’t know that. They think he became a Mandalorian to either be in a torrid Mando love affair with himself or take over Mando’s position to be our consorts. There are fights to the death involved and ninety percent of the bet was for Mando winning.”

“So, Din feels insecure about his ability to beat himself?” Cara snickered, imaging that standoff.

“No! After I had to explain it to the staff, everyone had a big laugh and Din’s being easygoing about it.”

“Again, if Din is having a titter, why does he need the time out?”

“Boba won’t split the pot to pay for our pain and anguish, the kriffer! Now Din is fervently planning an extensive payback and it’s getting out of hand. There are speeder chases and exploding fruit involved. He needs a vacation for a few days.”

Cara sighed, keeping her smile to herself. “You’re going to owe me, for putting up with Big D and Din in revenge mode.”

“Put it on my tab.” Fennec sounded extremely relieved.

**

Din sighed in satisfaction as he ate the last of the meal Greef had sent over for them.  It had been a relaxing couple of days full of rambles about Nevarro, good conversation, and sabacc. Even V’rol, the Mythrol, was an adequate companion after they got over the awkwardness of the past. Cara had more time to herself now since a deputy had been appointed by the New Republic. Not that Cara wanted a deputy, but she took it in stride and made the most of it, by delegating duties and taking some time off. Finally. Din sat back on the couch where they had set up to eat and watch a few episodes of a new holodrama from the Core, patting his unarmored stomach in satisfaction.

“Thanks for putting up with me for a few days. I know I was getting a little intense with my payback plans.”

“You’re a Mandalorian. You all are very intense most of the time with those helmets. But the fact that Greef teared up when he saw your new armor was the best. For a man that’s head of the Bounty Hunters Guild and mayor of the town, he sure is a big ol’ softie. I will remember the moment forever.” Cara had a smile on her face remembering the touching scene when Din had arrived. “And he will never hear the end of it.”

He is a surprisingly understanding and accepting.

“You’re just glad he didn’t punch you across the room.” Din laughed, watching the Darksaber float around. “I guess him being an elder makes it easier to accept the Jetti sorcery explanation.”

We are very grateful that we took Fennec’s advice for not creeping up on people. And Greef is an exceptional source of information and conversation. He is very fond of you Din’ika.

Din scoffed. “He tried to kill me once, you know.”

A lot of your acquaintances have tried to kill you...and yet, you have a very diverse friend group. It is a joy. We are glad that your people are now our people. Now, young ones, Greef has promised to show us some sites.

The Darksaber floated to the front door and used Jetti magic to operate the controls to open it. Once it was gone, Cara turned to him with raised eyebrows.

“When you said it was adopting everyone, I thought you were joking. And the stuffiness.”

Din threw his arm over his eyes and whined pathetically. “Whenever it meets someone new who is over sixty, it takes on more and more traits of being elderly! After meeting Goran Oojar, it was like it was in a competition over who could grandparent me more.”

“Goran Oojar...they’re the armorer you found?”

“Yes.”

“I’m glad that you were able to get armor. I was worried there for a bit. You’re an amazing fighter, but you also lived your life taking hits most people would not walk away from. I’m glad you kept the horns.”

“Me too. Have I ever told you how much of a mistake it is to headbutt your Zabrakian buir?”

Cara laughed. “Kriff Din. Even young, you lived the wild and dangerous life. No wonder you get so many head injuries being so careless with your noggin.”

She knuckled him in the side of the head playfully. Din swatted her away and rolled off the couch with a groan. Crossing over to his bag, he grabbed a bottle of tihaar and two glasses from the counter in the galley. Sitting back down, he poured them two small glasses and handed one over.

“Since the stuffy grandparent is now out on the town leaving its two young, impressionable, grandchildren alone with temptation, I am going to welcome you into the clan Mandalorian style. Oya!” Din slugged back his tihaar, relishing the burn and holding back his cough.

Cara threw hers back and Din watched her face turn red, as she too held in her cough. After a few moments of nose breathing and tearing eyes, she reached for the bottle.

“By the Force! That is good stuff. Oya!”

**

This is where the Mandalorians were hiding? In the sewers?

Greef sighed and ran his hand over his head. “Yes. We never knew there was a whole community down here. I only saw one or two of them and I figured with our proximity to Mandalore, it was not that strange. Din was the only one I saw regularly.”

The sewers had lights in them now, no longer dark and shadowy like the first time Greef had ventured down here, fleeing from a supposedly dead Empire. He watched the floating lightsaber inspect the blaster scored walls. He had never in his life thought that it would come to this, being acquaintances with a force ghost trapped in a lightsaber. A very old Mandalorian ghost. After Grogu and his magic healing, anything was seeming to be possible. The things that Din got tangled up in boggled Greef’s mind.

We were here, you know? With Gideon. He carried us around like a trophy. We could not operate then as we do now, otherwise we would have escaped. All we could do was watch and hope that our connection to the Manda would be restored. It had been a long time since we had seen one of our people and that hut’tuun injured him greatly.

“He made us go on without him. To save the baby.” Greef said, continuing to walk through the sewer toward the lava river. The Darksaber floated along beside him. “I’m glad IG-11 convinced him to be treated.”

They stopped at the lava river, watching it flow and bubble.

We cannot understand how the Mando’ade came to this. Living in sewers and not knowing their history. Being conditioned to only accept one Way? A Way that restricts interactions with your own brothers and sisters, your own family. That is not our Mandalore. Foundlings are the future. Din’ika is a perfect example of how the Way has failed, how this Tribe have failed, how the Mando’ade have failed. They call themselves Mando’ade and look what they have done. One sect turns him away and another spits on his Creed. Many others would be the same. It is no wonder that he would run from his destiny.

“This used to be a Mandalorian holding. He thinks that he’s being slick. He doesn’t know that I know about him being Mand’alor.” Greef said in amusement, trying to lighten the atmosphere. He turned around starting to walk back to the surface.

If someone hadn’t seen him fight and bring in multiple bounties at once and punch a tie-fighter, they would think he was a bumbling newborn bantha. It’s those porg eyes. He cut his own leg with us you know.

Greef’s laugh echoed in the hallway. When they finally made their way to Cara’s they found her and Din laughing uproariously at an improbable holo action flick. Both saluted the newcomers with small empty glasses and rowdy drunk ‘Oyas!’. The bottle on the table was empty.

That Goran is dead to us.

**

Din was very relieved when they touched down on Tatooine. Sitting in a small cockpit with a frigidly silent Darksaber was not a fun trip. The suns were high when he disembarked in the palace hanger and made his way to what everyone deemed ‘the war room’ which was where they planned out all their operations. He found several employed bounty hunters and the rest of the crew looking over plans of a nearby town.

“Hey stranger.” Din turned at the familiar voice and found Cobb Vanth leaning against the wall near him.

“Cobb.” Din dipped his head in greeting.

Cobb came over and stood next to Din, bumping him with his elbow in a friendly manner. “I’m liking this look a lot better.”

“Yeah? Me too.” Din chuckled as he watched the others manipulate a map. “What’s happening?”

“Spice runners, trying to hide their operations and not paying their due. Using routes through the Dune Sea again. Causing a ruckus.”

“Well, we can’t have that.” Din said drily. A grin blossomed on Cobb’s face and Din had to fight his own.

Fennec stepped away from the console and approached them with a placid smile. “You banthaboys in?”

**

“Woo-eee! Thank the maker that we had that exploding fruit in the speeder. Made for a good distraction!” Cobb crowed from the seat beside Boba. Their operation had been very successful.

Boba turned to look at Din and Fennec on their speeder bikes. “Yes. It was very advantageous.”

The snickers over the internal coms were telling.

“Something the matter, boss?” Fennec called out sweetly.

“Don’t dilly-dally. I want to get home before sundown.” Boba was in a grumpy mood.

“When have I ever dilly-dallied? I’ve been known to sashay on occasion, but never dilly-dallying.” Fennec said flatly.

“Everyone should sashay on occasion.” Din chimed in, just as dry and flat.

Boba growled as he turned the speeder in the direction of the palace. “I hope you two plow into sand dunes.”

Rude.

**

Over the next couple of weeks between fighting off spice runners and collecting bounties, Din helped care for Fennec’s lothkittens. They grew in leaps and bounds, becoming a joy around the palace. Even the Rancor was smitten. However, there were two beings who did not fall under the furry, cuddly, purring, sway of lothkittens: Cook and the Darksaber. Cook banned them from the kitchens and would threaten anyone with a broom and no desert if they thought bringing one to the dining room was appropriate. Lothkittens were never brought to the table after that ultimatum. 

They loved Boba, much to his consternation. One could always find at least two perched on the throne or roaming around it if he was sitting there. Din had slipped some loth-nip into one of Boba’s belt pouches to help them get along better. He hoped he was on a bounty the day that was found, although he knew that Boba secretly liked the furry menaces.

One of the striped, gray ones had taken a liking to Din, mostly because he fed it nuna bird scraps and caried it around in the crook of his arm like he would Grogu. It helped alleviate a tiny portion of his yearnings for his son, but he mostly did it to annoy the Darksaber who commented on the unsanitary conditions of fur everywhere and potential butt contact with most surfaces.

**

We don’t like them.

Din looked up from the pad he was reading. Greef had some interesting jobs coming up in the next few days and he wanted to be prepared and do some research before going out. He was running through everything before he went to sleep.

“How do you know you don’t like them? You won’t interact with them.” Din watched as the Darksaber did its version of pacing, which consisted of floating from one end of the room to the other in a straight line on repeat.

They are plotting something.

Din laughed. “They are lothcats. Not criminal masterminds.”

They could be!

**

A few days after the Darksaber had listed in fine detail how lothcats could be criminal masterminds and they shouldn’t trust them, Din came back from a run into town for ship parts to find it nestled in a pile of lothcats on the private lounge’s sofa. Its humming blending with their loud purring. He smirked and watched it for a few minutes before clearing his throat. He was glad he was wearing his helmet.

“Are you organizing a takeover of Boba’s operations?”

We have changed our minds. We like lothcats immensely.

“See. I told you so. Now get up, I need to get some supplies from Bandomeer and we’ve got a good paying bounty from Greef.” Din plucked it from the pile and headed to their rooms to pack. He crept out of one of the windows onto a balcony and started taking the long way around to the hanger, dodging anyone who would stop him or ask where he was off to.

It’s the middle of the night. Are we on a secret mission?

It sounded amused and more than a little excited.

“Nope.” Din chucked his bag into the sleeping compartment of the gunship and closed the ramp. He settled into the pilot seat and strapped in, quickly going through the system checks and getting the ship running.

When they were on their way in hyperspace, all the tension drained away from his shoulder. The Darksaber was humming in the background and Din could feel their suspicion through the bond.

Why did we abscond during the middle of the night?

Din sighed, not looking forward to this conversation. “There were Mando’ade in Mos Espa.”

ME’VEN.

By that one dark, hostile word, Din could tell that this was not going to go well.

**

Boba watched as a host of Mandalorians stood in the back of the throne room. They were being unobtrusive, but their mere presence was making many of his supplicants nervous, especially since three of them were two meters or more and loomed impressively. What he assumed was the leader had talked to 8D8 earlier in the morning, arranging for the last meeting slot later in the day. They did not leave. They stayed through all the supplicants in the morning and afternoon and through the evening. Through the meal breaks and scuffles. They sat or stood, just watching. Paying particular attention to anyone who walked in.

“Boss?” Fennec asked when it was finally their turn to speak. The tension in the room had ratcheted to higher levels than they were used to, and he knew it was making her trigger finger itchy. Boba switched to internal coms telling her the plan. They’d draw it out, to see how determined they were to waste their time.

The Mandalorian with the golden horned helmet came forward, the others fanning out behind them.

“Daimyo Fett. I requested this audience to gain information on the whereabouts of our beroya.” Their voice was even and deep, betraying no emotion.

“We will not give out information on our allies. You will have to find your information elsewhere. Your audience is over.” Boba said firmly standing from the throne, startling a sleeping lothcat on the stairs. "You’ll excuse me.”

He left the room stiffly, switching back to internal mics as he left the room.

“I have a bad feeling about this.”

**

Fennec took the empty seat and waited for them to leave, but they didn’t. The moment was long enough that one of the lothcats had come to stretch out on her lap and she stoked it while looking at the group impassively. One of the big ones she’d be calling Big Blue from now on, was clenching their fists in anger. Fennec almost smirked but refrained from giving away her amusement.

The lead Mandalorian’s helmet tilted slightly.

“We will come back tomorrow.”

They all left by the way of the stairs, beskar clinking quietly.

**

The third day of the standoff between Boba and who they had come to know was the infamous Armorer was moving along with the same tense and uncomfortable atmosphere as the past days. But Fennec knew it was about to change when an internal com from the front door guards signaled an offensive invasion of the Mandalorian kind. She took the call and told the guards to send them the formal way, so they’d have to come down all those stairs. They heard them before they saw them, beskar clanging loudly in the stairwell. They needed some tips from Din, because that kriffer never made a sound. Even on the stairs.

“Fett! Where is he?” 

Bo Katan Kryze stomped into the throne room in a flying rage, interrupting the man giving Boba a report on the moisture vaporators.  

The Daimyo of Tattoine calmly signaled for everyone to leave. Most of them were obviously relieved that they could escape. The ones who stayed were the Mandalorians from Din’s former tribe who had refused  to leave without him. They stayed to one side fanned out behind the golden helmed warrior that had led them here. The dozen warriors following Kryze settled around her and Fennec noticed the other female from Gideon’s ship was absent. Hmmmm. 

“Kryze, you lost his trail? Tsk, tsk Princess.” Boba shook his head in chastising manner, but Fennec knew under his bucket he was smirking.

“He owes me a challenge! He can’t hide here like a wastrel, forever.” 

“First of all, he doesn’t owe you a damned thing since you changed your side of the deal without telling him. Second, he’s an adult and if he wants to become a wastrel, then that is his business. Third, and this is the one that you’re going to want to pay close attention to. He is not here.” His fingers ticked off the list as he spoke and waved a dismissing hand at the end. Kryze did not move.

“Then where is he?” 

“The moons of Vega? Chandrilla? Ryloth? Who knows? Like I said, he’s an adult and now he has a ship. He’s free to move about the galaxy without telling anyone where he’s going. He doesn’t even have to sneak out of the windows of the palace in the middle of the night to do it.” 

That’s exactly what Din had done and Boba was still sour about it, days later. Fennec knew because the man complained about it bitterly, like a big brother missing out on fun times with a little brother. He wanted to escape king duties too and Din couldn’t even give him the curtesy of an invite he’d have to turn down.  

“I know you know where he is!” Her tone was starting to get shrieky.

“Did you go and harass Dune first?” There was a warning in Boba’s voice that Kryze was choosing to ignore.  

“The New Republic has been swarming Nevarro like insects after Gideon. I didn’t need the optics.” 

“Old Angry Mandalorian accosts New Republic Marshall for whereabouts of Marshall’s Hot Young Mando Friend…yeah, probably not your best headline.” Fennec drawled. A vein started to tick above Kryze’s eye. “Dune would know though. They have a such great bond. She’s like a sister.” 

The reminder of a source she couldn’t get to made the tic worse. She knew by a slight shift and a finger tap that Boba wanted to play a game with her now. To see who could make Kryze lose it first. It was on. 

“I too would like to know where he is.” The firm and solemn voice rang out and everyone turned to the golden helmed warrior. “I have been very patient with you, Daimyo Fett.” 

“So you have.” 

“Who is this?” Kryze finger was pointing accusingly. “Have you already been allying yourself with Mandalorians to win favor?” 

“Bo Katan Kryze. Your manners have not improved in the many years you’ve been alive. It is hard to imagine my Beroya allying himself with you and why you feel the need to challenge him.” 

“You are his Alor.” Kryze stated flatly. She sneered and almost spat on the floor. “More Children of the Watch.” 

All the Mandos behind the Armorer bristled at her tone, some pulling blasters. Some of Kryze’s crew did the same. The Armorer held up her hand, signaling her group to stand down. They did, but there was a lot of muttering. Kryze didn’t tell her group to stand down, but it did not daunt the golden helmed warrior.  

“I am his Goran. His Alor is taking care of the rest of our tribe. And better a Child of the Watch than a true Kyr’tsad, don’t you agree, Daimyo Fett?” The slow and serious cadence of her voice never rose above speaking level. Fennec was filled with very slight admiration for her. Even she felt like belting Kryze in the head every time she opened her mouth. 

“I wouldn’t know. But…we’re getting off topic.” 

Fennec watched as Kryze’s warriors holstered their weapons, but she kept an eye on the Goran. It was curious that she still considered Din a member of the tribe, possessively even, when he had given up the armor she had made him, and left the Tribe on her say so. He had admitted to taking of his helmet in front of others. Telling them about the Darksaber didn’t even make them forgive him. He just let them condemn him as dar’manda and walked away. Dramatic little martyr and sneaky little shit rolled up in a mustachioed package. He should be messed with just for making them put up with Kryze and making them get her out of his beautiful curly hair. The other Mandos had been cordial at least but Fennec was becoming resentful of so many groups trying to lay claim on someone that they wouldn’t recognize as one of them. 

“Yes. You were about to tell me where my Beroya was.”  The Goran stood patiently but Kryze was frothing at the mouth. 

“He has my Darksaber and I demand to know where he is!” 

All Mandalorian heads besides the Armorer’s and Big Blue’s whipped in Kryze’s direction. They hadn’t even told their own factions! This was priceless. Boba gave out a delighted hum at the news of their secrecy. The Goran’s hands curled and uncurled furiously, a tell that she was cycling through some emotions that were tough to parse out with the helmet. With Boba and Din, she had picked up on a lot, but the Goran had a sort of control that was hard to match. 

“My Beroya has the Darksaber.” She stated it matter of factly. “That is why you challenge him?” 

“Yes.” Kryze hissed it like an angry lothcat. 

“You will lose. He is a far superior warrior.” The Goran turned from Kryze, dismissing her gapping countenance and focusing on Boba. He sat up from his slouch under her unfathomable stare. “Where is my Beroya?” 

“Unfortunately, we do not know. Like I said. Repeatedly.”  

“Find out. I need to speak with him.” The demand had Boba shaking his head.

“I’m not sure I should find out for you. He is no longer of your Tribe. Why you would seek him out, after declaring him dar’manda is suspicious. He no longer wears your armor.” Boba was taking on his serious tone, which equaled grave respect of the person being spoken to but a formidable wall of saying no to them as well. By the tenseness and shocked postures that overtook the Tribe members, most were not told about Din no longer being Tribe and not about him forking over his armor, either. This was better than their Corellian daytime holodrama. Secrets, lies, and shady family values. What would happen next? 

The Goran lost her steadfast stature, shoulders falling forward just a bit, and Fennec felt a little satisfaction on Din’s behalf. He had suffered through the choice to give back the armor and it had hurt him terribly. He had known going in, what they would do, and he still went through with it. But he was better off now, in Fennec’s opinion. He’d gotten new armor. He had a new lease on life. It took him months to open up and become the sarcastic, dry humored, troll he was today, but he still prowled around on dark days. Became moody and taciturn, disappearing for days into the desert, leaving the Darksaber behind to wallow in the lounge. Maybe now they’d get him some of the peace he’d been chasing out there alone in the black and on the sand. Well, mostly alone. 

“I need to speak with him. He is still Tribe. He deserves a lot more consideration than he received from me and I am trying to make it right.” 

“I still don’t believe I should, with nothing to gain from it.” Boba drawled scornfully, like a bounty hunter turning down a low paying job. Even with that tone, his protective streak was visible to Fennec and surprisingly the Goran by the slight tip of her helmet.

“I will fix your armor.” Her vehement statement was again met by shock, not only by all the Mandos in attendance but by Boba as well. “I cannot lose this chance.” 

Boba sat back with a sigh and a hand wave. The offer must be worth quite a lot and have layers of meanings for Mandalorians, if she was to go by the easy capitulation. Huh. She’d have to ask Mando. By the tip of Boba’s helmet and the idle tapping of their secret code on the arm of the throne, Din was the one who had last say. They’d see if he would give some keywords out and go from there. 

“Shand. Find his com.” 

She fired up the com she fished from her belt and set the volume as high as it would go. There was a wait while it connected but when it did, sounds of blaster fire echoed in the room. 

“What is it Shand?” The breathless greeting was belted out between return fire. The Goran’s hands had started clenching and unclenching again, at the obvious sounds of danger. Fennec knew that she thought he wasn’t wearing armor and was worried. 

“Mando, you busy?” 

“Just a little. Get down!” There was a whimper and another exchange of blaster fire. “Dank ferrick, how many contracts are out on you?” 

The person stammering in the background must have been the bounty but he was drowned out by another exchange of fire. Din must be hitting the marks because there fewer return shots. In a lull, Fennec took her chance. 

“We have a situation.” Fennec side-eyed the other Mandorians in the throne room. They were all focused on the communicator in her hand. 

“I am already in several situations. I don’t need another.” The reply was exasperated and angry. Din’s voice was loud in the quiet throne room. There was only one blaster firing now. And then there was none. But Din was still yelling at someone. “Tonta tonka! I’m not going to tell you again!”

Fennec pressed on. “There are other Mandos looking for you.” 

“Don’t stab him! He barely touched my belt. I don’t care! He’s the bounty and we’re taking him in. Alive!” She was aware that Din was not entirely paying attention to her, but the others who weren’t wearing helmets looked affronted.  

“Bo Katan Kryze has come to challenge you.” 

“Do you need a time out?? Because it sounds like you do!” Fennec smirked as the buir voice came out. She heard Boba huff in amusement. Bo Katan looked even more outraged as Din’s focus wasn’t on her challenge. One of the helmeted ones in the far back of the Tribe group looked like his shoulders were shaking in quiet laughter. 

“Shand, I’m not even on planet. She’s going to have to schedule an appointment with my secretary.” The steady dry reply was interrupted by a gasp of disbelief and affront. “That is it! Your privileges are revoked! You’re going into time out to think about what you’ve done!” 

There was loud shuffling and curses. Many in Mando’a which Din had been teaching her and the freed around the palace. Fennec just lounged on the back of the throne as she watched Boba try to stifle laughter. It was easier for him with the helmet. They knew what was going on but Din obviously didn’t know how kinky or dubious he sounded in authoritarian mode. 

“Getting belt time is a privilege and you don’t get those when you provoke me…and beat people unconscious unprompted when you’re upset that someone you don’t like is mentioned! Do you know how much bacta costs?” 

“Are you two fighting again?” Her inquiry was followed by a smirk in the Mandos’ direction. Kryze looked like she was ready to boil over, not only because she was being ignored but because she was also out of the loop. It sounded like Din had a bounty partner. A Mandalorian partner by him still using Mando’a publicly. If these Mandos only knew. The Goran was stock still, listening intently. 

Din’s attention was back on them for a few moments as he moved around. “Shand, that would imply there would be a winner and if I am stuck with them, I am obviously the one who loses the most in this relationship. MY FIFTY-ONE-YEAR-OLD TODDLER HAS BETTER MANNERS THAN YOU!”  

More curses and a clang of beskar on beskar. The horned mando’s helmet tilted slightly. 

“If you stab me, I am going to toss you out of the airlock. No regrets. Not one.” 

There was more shuffling, what sounded like a medpack being rifled through, and a lot of pained grunting. It sounded like quick triage on the bounty. 

“You think you’re menacing but I can leave you in the sewers again, so stop muttering about the quality of my upbringing. I’ll have you know that my buir was very good at keeping me in line and teaching me the finer points of living. I went through the Fighting Corps! If my buir met you…well, all I can say they’d certainly think you were raised indecently, so think about that. You done being an ill-mannered di’kut? Should I call you ad’ika instead?” 

Fennec had been able to hold it this whole time, but that was the last straw.  Her laugh echoed loudly. She wasn’t the only one as Boba and the one Mando in the back let loose loud guffaws.  

“Stop being so dramatic. If you didn’t want to be the butt of jokes, you should keep your histrionics to yourself and have some decorum. Isn’t that what you said to me just last week?” Din smirk was obvious over the com and Fennec roared with even more laughter. “Weak. They’ve gone off to sulk and be moody. What were you saying?” 

Fennec reigned in her laughter. But the good humor was still shining through as she spoke. “You’ve got company. A lot of varied Mando company. And possibly a fair few fights.” 

“Well, I’ve started my new life as a milk maid. I will never be back. It was fun while it lasted Fennec, Boba. I shall miss the palace life. But I’ve decided to spend the rest of my existence making cheese.” Even in Din’s deadpan voice it sounded dramatic.

“That’s not going to cut it Mando.” Boba’s deep voice was filled with barely disguised laughter. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to come back and clean up the riff-raff or tell me where you are so I can send them your way. You owe me a favor for putting up with Big D.” 

“You’re calling that in that now?” The fake whine almost set off Fennec again. “When I’ve just started on the path of my new life? What if I send you a wheel of my finest cheese?” 

“How long is that going to take?” Boba was playing along, much to Kryze’s consternation. Everyone else just looked confused. Well the unhelmed ones at least. The Tribe still looked a little shocky.  

“Months…perhaps a year. Cheese is a finicky and laborious process, but one made out of love.” Din made it sound so honest and forthright, Fennec almost believed he would really be making cheese for Boba. Din could lie like a rug. Once he let himself speak up and stopped being so taciturn with them, he could be very convincing.  

“Are you going to set up a shop somewhere?” Fennec inquired, watching the horned Mando’s head tilt slightly again. She was a sharp one, they’d have to watch themselves.  

“I was thinking of setting up a dairy near the Factory…and possibly getting my own herd of banthas. The Tuskens have been very informative on the subject.” 

“Is that what you were doing a few weeks back? Getting bantha tips? How long have you been thinking about cheese?” Boba sounded incredulous, but Fennec knew he was just dragging out the conversation longer just to watch that vein on Kryze’s brow pulse harder.  Boba might win their game, dank ferrick. 

There was a little indignant sniff on the other end of the com. And the grunt of someone carrying a heavy load. Din was always multi-tasking.  

“Cheese is an art that I’ve always been fascinated with since I was a child. I’ve been living my life as a beroya but my real passion is cheese. Cheese is the Whey, Fett. I have to unburden myself, “ the sound of a body hitting his ship’s floor plating echoed through the com, “and tell you that this bounty is going to be my last and I am going to buy a quaint farm and live forever among the curds.” 

“Now listen here, I want you to live your dream. You know I do. But you need to take care of this first. I don’t need Mandalorians skulking around here. Especially without cheese to sooth my nerves.” Boba sounded sympathetic, but the tilt of that helmet was a taunt to Kryze.

A gusty sigh was his response. 

“Mando?” 

“What if I send you three wheels of my finest?” He said it in a way that made it sound like a grand concession. Kriffer. He was helping Boba win!

“Make it four and some of those spicy pickles and we’ll shoo them away.” Fennec spoke up, interrupting Kryze who had been winding up to yell. So satisfying. 

“You drive a hard bargain, Shand. But I’ll take that deal. Expect delivery soon. Mando out.” 

The com fizzed out and it was her and Boba in a staring contest with about thirty Mandos. She really liked those odds. She was pretty sure Kryze was about to have an aneurysm and off herself out of sheer anger, so the odds would be even better. Before Fennec could provoke her, Boba got to it first.  

“Well, you’re going to have to hunt him down. He’s not coming back here for months.” Boba drawled. “He’s picked up some long contracts from an acquaintance and it’s going to be a while.” 

“What?!” Kryze drew her blaster. She had no menacing qualities so it wasn’t as effective as big blue bringing down that sweet heavy blaster cannon and aiming it at her. The woman had guts, ignoring the cannon and still facing off with them.  

“Kryze. It’s been almost two years. Did you think he’d just wait around for you to take the saber? Why do you expect him to be at your beck and call when there has been no communication from you?” Boba inquired, leaning forward in his seat. 

“He knows I want it through fair combat.” She said through clenched teeth.

“And yet you were ready to challenge him immediately on the bridge, when the threat was over and we were catching our breaths. Wanted to challenge him as he mourned his child and was severely injured.” Fennec grimaced as Kryze gave an uncaring shrug to her response. Still the Mando who only wanted what was best for herself, damn anyone else. The people around her looked uncomfortable at her admission.

“He was good enough for a challenge. He’s been running from responsibility.” 

“What responsibility is that? His responsibility to take up the duties of Mand’alor when you lose the challenge? His responsibility to reunite the Mandalorian diaspora while you use him as a puppet and get him killed for your redemption? Or his responsibility to take on any challengers for the Darksaber?” Boba peppered her with questions, not letting up as her shoulders started to minutely hunch. 

“He…” Boba ignored her oncoming response and turned his head fulling toward the Tribe group. 

“What do you think Vizsla? Should he be Mand’alor after your challenge? You lost. After that, will you follow him?” 

“No.” The seething response was spoken from Big Blue. So, this was Vizsla. Fennec was parsing out more of this by the second. They needed Din for some unknown reason and Vizsla wasn’t happy about it but was going along with the Goran anyway. That was going to end badly, since it was obvious he was jealous, angry, and humiliated. Was the Goran’s pleading false and entirely self-serving like Kryze? It seemed like no one here but them was in agreement on whether Din was Mandalorian or not, they just wanted him for their own means. Boba had stiffened at Vizsla’s response and sat back, adopting a lazy but sharp slouch. 

“Well, to both groups, happy hunting. He’s not here. You can leave now.”  Boba’s fingers flicked toward the stairs.

Kryze stiffened and her shoulders went back, as if getting ready to bellow but she stopped at the whirring and clicking noises of machinery that was very audible in the almost empty throne room. The other armored warriors looked around warily and then bunched together when the muzzles of giant rifles peeked out of holes that had opened in the walls. The weapons obviously had no problem targeting the cautious Mandalorians as they followed even their minute movements. Even the Goran, seemed a bit intimidated. 

“He said you could leave.” Fennec repeated flatly.

“I’m wearing beskar, clone.” Kryze spat, her hackles raised like a lothcat and she hissed like one too. 

“I’m aiming automatic slug throwers at you…filled with high velocity beskar slugs. Think that old armor’ll hold up? Go haunt somewhere else, none of you are welcome here any longer.” The menace of the words was followed by the sound of priming weapons. Fennec caressed her rifle, threateningly.

Finding it too perilous to stay when it was obvious no answers were forthcoming, they left. Except the Goran. She stayed at the bottom of the stairs and regarded them with the piercing black gaze of her visor. 

“I will keep my word. I will still fix your armor.” 

“I do not need it. The value of your payment is pittance compared to what it would be paying for and what you expect from it. I do not care for your lingering presence around my vod’ika.” Boba had leaned forward.

The Goran had stiffened at the last word. 

“Yes, my vod’ika. He has a reliable family now. Something he sorely needed. Too bad you came all this way.” 

She deflated, showing a full emotion for the first time. “He is healthy? Happy?” 

“He’s as healthy as he can be while he’s out there collecting bounties without your armor. Cook feeds him up every time he’s back, always saying he’s too thin. And happy? He’s better than he was. The only thing that would make him truly happy is seeing his son.” Boba was being freer with his words, when it was just the Goran, but Fennec knew Vizsla was hiding around the corner listening in as well. Boba’s words seemed to impact her greatly, especially the dig about the armor, which was a half-truth. “He was devastated and broken. I don’t know what your true end game is, but he is no longer yours.” 

“My intentions are true and honorable. Even if he no longer follows the Way, he is still aliit.” 

“Will the others of your Tribe see it that way?” Fennec asked, tightening her hold on her rifle. “Vizsla didn’t seem to and he was the only one in your group who knows most of the story. If the rest of them are as inflexible as him, I see very little chance of your plan to bring him back into the fold, working.”  

“The others of the tribe will see it differently when they hear his reasons. There are allowances, allowances that I did not give him at the time. He deserves them and now that they know he holds the saber, there will be no question.” Her words were somehow stoic and beseeching at the same time.

“The saber is the only thing that you care about?” Boba growled warningly. 

“No. I came for Din alone. That is my purpose. Haat, Ijaa, Haa'it.” 

“Well, you can stick around Mos Espa, but I can’t guarantee that he’ll come back knowing Kryze is hunting him. He’ll talk to you if he wants. But you’re not welcome here, for now.” 

“That’s all can ask for.” She gave them a polite nod and headed stiffly up the stairs. 

**

When the Armorer found him on the stairs, Paz Vizsla wilted at the negative shake of her head. He heard his internal coms click.

“Fett is reluctant, as he should be after that display, to share any information about Din.” The Armorer’s blunt tone held nothing back.

“I...”

“Your buire and aliit no longer have any say in your behavior. They cannot punish you any longer for perceived slights against your House name. The moment you joined me here, we left the Tribe. Stop playing the part of House Vizsla enforcer and start being a vod.” Her tone broke no argument. “We will wait and watch.”

Paz followed the Armorer’s straight-backed pace up the rest of the stairs to join their waiting comrades.

**

Kraen was really wishing he had not taken this job, but it was a lot of credits. All he had to do was wear this sketchy robe and deliver this grav-cart to the sketchy palace near Mos Espa. Tatooine was on his bucket list, but after this, he was really going to have to assess his requirements for interesting places to visit.

As he guided the sled along, he went through the four things the person who paid for the shipment had told him to do. Watch out for Mandos. When the Mandos discover you are not a Mando, drop to the ground since they will be mad and possibly discharge their blasters, (he would get extra if they mandohandled him too roughly). Deliver the cargo after the Mandos have left, no matter how damaged it may be and relay the message like they had practiced.  If the Mandos asked who and where the shipment was from, he was free to give them the information.

He followed the directions to the letter when Mandos popped out of the sand and crevasses, surrounding him. Two of them mandohandled him and tore off his hooded robe, exposing the bulky bounty hunter armor he was given. They released him in surprise, and he dropped to the ground when the scary one with eyes painted on their helmet pulled their blaster. They screamed in rage and shot at the cart a few times after the other Mandos had released the tarp and revealed the contents.

After the scary one walked off cursing, the others were surprisingly more personable and helped him to his feet. When they talked to him, it did not feel like an interrogation at all. He was still incredibly overwrought though. Those visors were scary. Mandos as a whole were scary.

“Who sent this and where did you come from?”

Kraen winced. “Err...ah...Ko-Katan Bryze. He ordered it on Naboo.”

There was a cut off laugh behind him and a clearing of a throat. One of the Mandos took off after the scary one. The one asking questions shook his head, but he could hear the stifled laughter in their next question.

“What did he look like?”

“He wore an ugly hooded poncho. I didn’t see his face.”

A roar of pure rage went off down the way and he heard mechanical sighs all around.

“You’re not the man we’re looking for. You’re free to go.”

**

Fennec and Boba surveyed the grav-sled. Krrsantan and the Mods had shown up and so had a lot of the staff. In the sled was a crate of pickles (undamaged) and four huge wheels of cheese with blaster holes put through them.

“They’ve savaged the cheeses!” Cook wrung her hands. One of the kitchen staff took off his cap and held it over where his heart would be.

“Ahem.” The young man in a sketchy robe bowed low and when he returned to standing, he pulled a pad from the sled and read off the screen with much gravitas. “To the most Honorable, Viscious, Despicable, Lothcat Lord, Foba Bett, I offer you my best tribute in payment for services rendered. Yours Halfway Respectably, Ko-Katan Bryze.”

“That’s savage.” Fennec exclaimed admirably.

**

Raig Oojar stepped off the commercial transport and looked for the weapons claim. The flight had not been that bad and he had not even had to share his seat. He had played hide and seek with the ad in front of him for some time before they fell asleep. He felt the hot air buffet him and sighed. Just like the home forge. He could bask in the two suns all day. It was tempting but he had promised the young one and Dha’kad that he would be here to help them.

After reloading and holstering all his weapons, he set off for what the Dha’kad called the Palace. He asked directions from a kindly stall owner and asked where he could rent a speeder for the journey. As he ventured toward the place he was directed to, he picked up quite a following of Mando’ade. Like trailing clucklings. It charmed him, even with the affiliation sigils that he very much disliked. Dha’kad had said nothing about a gathering of Mando’ade here. Only two and they roomed at the palace.

He was almost to the shop he needed when six Mando’ade turned a corner, the leader in a fury and cursing like an unseemly verd. The leader stopped in their tracks when they caught sight of him and took off their buy’ce quickly. She saluted him with a fist over her heart, bowing shallowly. He tilted his head slightly in acknowledgement. She was smaller than he remembered.

“My Lord Oojar. May I ask what you are doing here? Has the council sent you?” She let a flash anger through before she hid it behind an impenetrable mask.

“You may not, Lady Kryze.” He saw her wince at his rumbled rebuke. She knew her ill-mannered questions would not be answered. So impertinent still. “Perhaps I will have time to speak with you if my errand does not prove fruitful.”

A golden glint made him turn his head slowly. The Mando’ade were clearly divided into two groups, those with Lady Kryze and those with another affiliation. They did not mix with each other and seemed ill at ease to be seen together. Hmmm. Ah, there it was. The glint came from the doorway of the shop he was looking for.

“Armorer. I would speak with you.” He rumbled harshly, making some of the nearby Mando’ade flinch away. Poor constitutions. Even Lady Kryze. The Armorer herself hunched her shoulders guiltily.

“Of...of course, ba’buir.”

Chapter Text

The Darksaber took their absconding better once it had found out that the Mando’ade on Tatooine were Nite Owls and not respectable, upstanding Mando’ade. Bandomeer proved to be fruitful, giving Din ship parts and some tools that he promised Peli he’d look for. Ducking into the Market sector, he looked for more ugly ponchos for a revenge plot and some fabric for Cook. She had been thinking of making tablecloths for the dining area. Spruce it up a bit and make the dreary worm-hole a little livelier. She told him to find the brightest and most eye-catching patterns he could find and oh did he find it.

That has...a lot of personality. It’s very offensive to the eye. We don’t even have eyes and we don’t want to look at it too long.

“It’s perfect.” Din smiled at the shop keeper, a forked over credits. “My friend is going to love this.”

Ambling along in the market, he took in the sights. Life was a lot different now, and he could walk along freely and actually look at stalls closely and go through sale bins for items he needed. Being on the run with Grogu or always, always on the move and hunting for credits to support the covert by himself had really taken a toll on his enjoyment of travelling the galaxy and seeing new sights. It had become a dreary way to eke out an existence and there were no extraneous side trips or purchases. All of it had a purpose.

It been that way since the Purge. His buir had been his hunting partner for a long time, training him. Before the Purge he was set to have another partner, but after, he was sent out alone because they couldn’t spare anyone. Or at least that is what the elder council had said. But he had overheard a whispered conversation that the council was only sending out those who had no family or clan as to keep the bigger families intact. It made a horrible type of sense, and he knew that the Alor had a grudge against him for his past behavior.

What are you thinking about?

Din knew he could murmur to the Darksaber and not be overheard in the noise of the market. His lip’s movement hidden by his buy’ce.

“The past, I guess. Every time I get to explore, it always brings up memories and realizations that I was not living a good life. After the Purge.”

We can feel your sadness. You miss your buir.

“Immensely. And Grogu.” His eyes had been drawn to a light green blanket at one of the stalls. “I know I’ll see him again, but it’s hard to wait.”

The Darksaber gave a pulse of reassurance, or that’s what it felt like. He was not sure of the bond most days, but at moments like this he felt connected to something more than himself. He felt comforted.

Find a food stall. Eat something. You’ll feel better.

“You and Cook need to lay off. Food doesn’t always make things better.”

They have shrike kabobs over there.

“Where?”

**

One of the Mods had told him about the orphanage in Mos Espa, and he’d promised to bring something back for them. He could not understand orphanages, but he knew most ways of life in the galaxy were not like Mandalorian ways. Children were also considered adults at a far later stage in growth out here too. Which made them susceptible to being left behind. It was distressing.

Din should have known that he could not dodge the Nite Owls forever. It made him question why Bo Katan had not already liberated Mandalore if she had this many people to send out to recruit. They caught up to him after he had raided the small toymakers stand on his last sweep of the market. All the other supplies had been packed away on the ship. Thank goodness he was wearing his buy’ce this time and had left the spear in the ship.

“Vod! If you have a moment.”

Din’s shoulders curled forward defensively at the shout. He was tempted to pretend he hadn’t heard the request, but the other Mando’ad had come up beside him. With a deep sigh, he turned and met the Nite Owl, visor to visor.

“Su’cuy, vod.” This one had a high youthful voice even through the vocoder.

“Su’cuy.” Din rasped out, trying to change his voice. He caught site of another Mando’ad in blue further down the street and perusing the stalls, but still coming in their direction.

“I’m Felnor Reeves.”

Din wheezed out a breath. “Ah...”

“And your name, vod?”

“Uh...I have a name...it’s a normal name, name.”

“What?” Felnor’s buy’ce tilted and his hand started to drift to his blaster.

“Uh, my name is...uh, Shennec. Shennec Fand.” Din stuttered. He did not have to fake his anxiety.

That’s all you could come up with?

Felnor’s hand stopped drifting toward his blaster, and he held out his arm for a clasp excitedly. “I didn’t know the Fand family had a Zabrackian foundling! Well met!”

Din cleared his throat and clasped Felnor’s arm. “Yeah, they don’t talk about me much”

“Koska!” Felnor shouted behind him in exuberance. Din froze in horror. Of all the people to run into. “Koska, I’ve met one of our distant ba’vod’ad!”

Koska Reeves’ buy’ce turned toward them slowly. By the line of her shoulders, she was irritated, but she started over anyway. Din’s arm was still clasped tightly by Felnor, who had forgotten to release him. He gave it a tug and was freed, Felnor looking as abashed as he could wearing a buy’ce. Koska came close to them and looked Din up and down closely.

“Who’s this?”

“You will never believe this vod! This is one of our ba’vod’ad! Verd Fand!” Felnor was so thrilled.

He’s so excited. His whole body is practically vibrating off the ground. Won’t even need a jetpack.

“Have we met before?” Her head tilted in thought.

“Never. I have never met you in my life. Ever.” Din made his voice as raspy as he could. It sounded awful through the vocoder.

“You look familiar...”

He coughed, swallowing some of his spit. Felnor hardily slapped him on the back, repeatedly. It did not do any good, but Din appreciated the effort.

Does he even know what beskar’gam does?

“Vor entye. Got a bit of a virus.” The rasp was worse.

Koska stepped back swiftly.

“Well, it was...nice to meet you, ba’vod’ad.” The way her body was recoiling from his very presence made that sentence a lie. “Felnor, meet me at the ship when you’re done dawdling.”

As she walked away, Din found himself crushed in a half hug. “She seems haughty and frigid, but she’ll thaw once she gets to know you better.”

Gets to know you better? Like he knows you now, Shennec Fand?

“Ba’vod’ad. We should exchange coms. Our buire would love to connect with that side of the aliit again.” Felnor shook him in a friendly manner, releasing him with another slap on the back.

“Sure...sure. That’ll be fine.” Din said weakly, holding up his vambrace.

“Annnnnnnnd done! I’ll check in with you to make sure you’re feeling better! Don’t be a stranger!”

We wish we could stay strangers. Shennec Fand. Honestly. Only you could accidentally produce an alias that belongs to a Mando’ade clan.

“What just happened?” Din said faintly as he watched Felnor run off.

You got yourself accidentally adopted. That’s what you did. Well met Shennec-Din Djarin-Fand.

“Firfiek.”

Language.

**

Din lay on the deck of the ship, like an ungainly echinoderm, flopping his limbs in annoyance. He was maybe having another identity crisis.

Let us pick our name next time.

Din let out a strangled laugh. “We are not one entity.”

We could be, if you would just...

“I know you can’t do that. Stop being creepy.” Din pushed the floating hilt away from where it drifted toward him.

You are right. We need to stop watching holo-horrors.

“Well, we need to get on with the bounty. Greef said he’d be in gambling den.” Din sat up with a sigh and levered himself up.

A lair of inequity and avarice. Our favorite.

**

Din sat in the pilot’s seat, angrily going over equations and hyperlane routes. His shoulders tensed as he felt the Darksaber creeping into the room.

Din’ika…

Din grit his teeth. “You’re on time out. Get back in the cargo hold.”

We don’t like being in time out!

“Don’t do things that get you sent there. Time. Out.”

We were only going to stab him a little. Nothing major. He was going for your posterior.

Throwing down his pad, he turned the seat around quickly, throwing his hands up in frustration. “No, he wasn’t. Not everyone wants to sully my honor! Some people want to pull blast charges from my belt and blow me up like normal bounties trying to get away. Go back to the hold. I’m trying to do nav calculations to someplace that sells giant wheels of cheese.”

Din turned back around, picking up his pad and stylus. He thought the argument was over, but he still felt the saber, barely hovering over the threshold. It was silent a few moments, before the Darksaber was talking firmly.

We want to call in one of our favor chits.

“You can’t call in a chit when you’re in time out.” He replied in annoyance.

We’re telling Boba that you put loth-nip in his mattress.

The pilot’s chair slowly turned around, Din’s fingers in a pyramid. His face was grave. “What do you want?”

The Darksaber seemed to be hesitant in replying.

Manda’yaim is near here. We want to go.

“No. It’s too dangerous.” Din shook his head turning back around.

How about the moon then? The Armorer said something about Concordia.

“I…” His shoulders tensed at the mention of the Armorer. “There…there might be Imps.”

We will strike out two more chits if you land and we can look around.

Din did the quick calculations of chit balances in his head. The Darksaber giving up two on top of the one they were calling in…made the balance very low for the Darksaber. He himself had been a miser about calling in any chits. What could it hurt?

**

Mandalore and its moon Concordia turned out to be only a few hours away from Bandomeer. He didn’t have to waste almost any fuel. Suspiciously lucky for them. He had let the Darksaber sit in the copilot's seat once they were on approach. He had still made it go back into time out until they were close. A scan of the system showed no hostile activity, but Din knew that didn’t mean anything when it came to the supposedly defunct Empire. There were no border beacons, so even sublight could cover them.

Coming up on Mandalore was uneventful and when the planet was in the view screen it was a horrendous sight. It looked dead. There were blackened patches across the surface and no green or blue to see, unlike its neighboring moon, which still hosted some.  It was sickening to think of the many bombardments that the planet had gone through in the last thirty years. The last, the Purge, seemed to have killed any hope at all in most Mando’ade. The Tribe had been right in that sense.

Yaim.

Din could feel a deep grief from the Darksaber. He knew the feeling, seeing his first home overrun by Separtists, his second by the Republic and Empire, and his last by Imps again.

“I’m sorry.”

We knew it would be like this. Seeing it so defeated and barren of life hurts a great deal.

Din turned the ship and piloted toward the smaller body in the system. “I’ll land on the moon.”

**

The portion of Concordia that they landed on was still forested. It was still full of life. The trees were large, and birds still sang. It was the exact opposite of the hulking planet that you could see in the sky.

“Let’s hike a bit. There was a town indicated on some old maps, but I doubt it’s still there.”

They hiked to the tree line on a ridge. An open space spilled out before them, full of dilapidated buildings and unkempt public spaces. On the left side of town was a ship field, that still had ships in it. Newer ships and one was landing now, spilling out a small crew. Not the normal Empire fair, but Din knew those ships belonged to their Resource Division, having seen enough of them on eviscerated planets being stripped of resources. And there was the mine. It was a smaller facility than Nevaro or Morak, but sometimes you never knew how deep the rats of the Empire could dig.

He wrapped his cape in such a way as to prevent the light from glancing off his upper armor and started toward the buildings. He was glad to have brought his new Amban and the spear. Staying in the shadows that lengthened in the oncoming night, he crept close to the newest arrival. He was close enough to hear the conversation of two troopers on watch, obviously bored and uncaring of their posts. That they felt safe enough to stand around and chat stirred his anger.

“I’m going to be glad to get off this rock. This is the last load and then woosh, bye-bye miners.”

They both chortled in glee.

“Who knew Mandalorians could be so useful as miners, you know? We heard all those tales about fearsome warriors and these ones are just pathetic.”

That was the last words that one ever spoke as the Darksaber’s blade emerged from his chest. Din grabbed the other and pulled him into the shadows, knocking his rifle from his hands and wrenching the offensive Imp helmet from his head. The man blubbered in fear at the sight of the T-visor before him.

“How many miners?” Din growled.

“I don’t...I don’t know.” When the Darksaber embedded itself in the wall next to his head he whined pitifully. “Three hundred or so. Please. Please don’t kill me.”

“When are they going to blow the facility?”

“In two days. They’re stripping the useful equipment and...and setting the charges tomorrow.”

“And how many of you are there? You better tell me the truth, or it will get very painful for you.” The vibroblade near his throat was terrifying.

“Maybe seventy. They’ve been cutting staff since Moff Gideon was captured.” Din released him, and he looked relieved, slumping against the wall.

Your help has been sufficient.

The trooper’s eyes widened at the second cold wrathful voice. He didn’t have long to process it as the Darksaber pulled itself to the left cutting through the wall and the trooper in front of it.

We kill them all.

“Lek.”

**

Several miners looked up when they felt the vibrations. It was long past the work shift, and they were settling into their cells for the night to start the drudgery again tomorrow. Another vibration, stronger this time, making the night lights flicker. Many rolled out of their bunks, to come to the cell bars. Suddenly, all the lights came on.

“Me’bana?” was exclaimed several times down the corridor. Everyone was at their cell doors now.

Several Stormtroopers led by a frightened officer ran down their corridor, not even looking at their prisoners as they fled. They didn’t get far as the troopers went down in a hail of red blaster fire from the dark entryway. The officer kept running, barely making it halfway before a whine of a charging rifle sounded and an electric blue discharge hit him full in the back, vaporizing him.

They heard them before they saw them. A low hum that turned into a string of a Mando’a war chant.

“Kandosii sa kyr'am ast, Troan teroch be’Mando’yaim a'den, Duraan vi at ara'nov. Vode an, kar’ta tor. Kote.” (As ruthless as Death itself, the pitiless face of Mandalore's wrath, let us look down on all who are before us. Brothers all, one heart of justice. Glory.)

A fully armored Mando’ad seemingly from legend stepped passed the threshold, a spear that shone like beskar and an Amban rifle on their back. They walked steadily down the corridor to the fallen officer’s clothing. They had just pulled a datastick off the officer’s belt when a blaster bolt pinged off a pauldron, knocking their shoulder back slightly. Their buy’ce turned slowly, menacing in its blankness. Then a vambrace came up and whistling birds were released, taking down at least a dozen more Stormtroopers.

“They never learn.” With a sigh, they stood and walked over to a terminal housing the cell controls. Using the datastick, they engaged the sequence to unlock the whole block. Everyone stepped out cautiously. Some kicking the dead troopers viciously.

“Vod! Me’bana?” The de-facto leader called, from the front of the freed prisoner group. The Mando’ad turned to look at them all. (Brother! What is happening?)

“Val cuyir an kyrauc. Gar cuyir mav.” The warrior before them answered gently. (They are all dead. You are free.)

Shouts of joy rang out and the leader stepped closer. “Vaii an gar traat’aliit?” (Where is your team?)

“Ni cuy solus.” The warrior shrugged uncaringly and turned away. (I am alone.)

“Me’ven?!” (What?!)

The warrior went through the doorway calling back to all of them. “Olaror. Vi enteyo ba’slanar.” (Come. We must leave.)

“Ke’pare! Tion gar gai?” (Wait! What is your name?)

They sighed almost petualently, answering with some hesitation. “Ner gai...ner gai cuyir Sark Daber.” (My name...my name is Sark Daber.)

**

Din instructed all the freed Mando’ade to take the smaller mining ships to Tatooine. They were to hail the palace and tell them that the Mudhorn had sent them and they needed assistance.

He chose the smaller ships because they did not bear any Imperial signatures and...they were already loaded with the last load of beskar that had been mined. The bigger ship that had landed was here to pull the machinery out of the mine. There was no way that Din was leaving that in one piece. They pulled all the rations and med supplies they could from the mine and the bigger ship. It was enough for the journey and then some. 

All of them looked upon him in awe. It was disconcerting.  Din waited until he was alone in his ship to have his screaming into void moment. He’d had to put his foot down (gently, they were traumatized) for the more enterprising vode who thought he needed companions and sent them to the ships. It also turned out that apparently the Daber Clan had many members that had been trapped in the mine and they were very welcoming of their new, amazing, unknown vod.

That was unfortunate. Daber...did not seem like it would be a clan name.

“Only I could come up with an alias that was an actual Mando’ade clan???” Din stomped around the deck in a fit. “This is very bad. Okay. Okay. We need to blow that ship and the mine...and...get the cheese! The cheese needs to get there before they do! It’ll be like a bribe.”

We don’t know why you are so worked up. This is an excellent start to your reign as Mand’alor.

“YOU’RE ON TIME OUT!” Din roared, stomping to the cockpit.

We don’t like being in time out!

Din stopped on the threshold when a thought occurred to him. “Wait. We need to pull all the data off the large ship to see where they’ve been taking the beskar.”

Does that mean we don’t have to be in time out?

“Get back in your corner.” Din hissed, pointing his finger imperiously.

**

Grogu was in a bit of a predicament.

On one claw, he liked Master Luke and the Force. And learning to use the Force to do things, like jump high and lift boulders and calm his thoughts and feel everything. He liked the tall grasses and frogs and the sunshine and even the rain. The old Masters were funny when they visited, and Master Luke’s sister was fun.

On the other claw, he loved Buir. He loved being held close to his heart under his armor and being given helmet kisses. The metal made everything peaceful like how meditation made it peaceful. Buir took him on adventures and let him eat as many frogs as he wanted. Not eggs, though. Buir had explained about the eggs, and he felt bad. Buir would tell him which eggs he could eat. If he was with Buir, he could be with his friends and they could play together. He could sleep in his hammock and learn to be Mandalorian. And see Peli. And Cara. Buir would know how he liked his baths and would tell him stories about the Mythosaur and hold him after nightmares.

He didn’t know what to do.

He knew Master Luke was frustrated when he was focusing on Buir instead of his studies. Getting into mischief that would make Buir laugh but made Master Luke’s droid say bad words also was maybe not good for his training. He missed Buir more and more. He was out there, alone. Without Grogu to watch out for him and make him take care of himself. Buir was also teaching him to be Mandalorian and about the Way. He couldn’t be a proper Mandalorian if he was here not learning Mandalorian things.

Could he be a Mandalorian and a Jedi? He’d have to ask Master Luke. He wanted Buir. Buir would know. The Force said he’d be seeing him soon and he was excited to show him all he had learned.

**

Raig Oojar had lived a very long life. He’d had seventeen ade and their ade had had ade. One of which was walking next to him, hunching in on herself in what he could only describe as shame. He’d left all the Mando’ade in the city behind without a word, directing the armorer to the nearest cantina which was quaintly called the Sanctuary. Ducking low to get through the doorway, he came to a stop as he was greeted by two Twi’leks.

“Would you like your helmets cleaned?” The green-skinned male asked pleasantly.

The Armorer’s shoulders went rigid. “I do not take off my helmet.”

“You may clean mine. It has been many years since I’ve had such charming service.” Raig rumbled. He released the seals and handed over his helmet with a grateful smile. The Twi’lek in front of him blushed a dark green and had to be pulled away by his yellow skinned companion.

“Tsk.” The Armorer made a disagreeable sound as a beautifully dressed Twi’lek greeted them.

“Welcome Mandalorians. I am Madame Fwip. Would you like to partake in one of our many services this day?” She eyed Raig’s tall, sizeable frame speculatively.

“Madame Fwip. It is an honor to have use of your establishment. Might you have a private booth, so that I and my companion can have a long, long overdue conversation.” Raig said in his deep resonant way. The Armorer’s shoulders hunched again.

“Of course. This way. I will have refreshments brought with your helmet.”

“It is much appreciated.”

They were shown to a small room with generous padded benches and a small table. When Madame Fwip had left Raig focused his gaze on his stiffly sitting bu’ad.

“Ba’buir.”

“Ferah. Have you been stuck in that helmet so long that you have lost all manners?” Raig chided. “We must respect the rest of the galaxy, as they do not follow our Way, but that does not mean that their ways are less, just different. Being polite costs nothing. Offense can cost you everything.”

Her helmet fell at the chastisement.

“You will tell me why you are here.”

She seemed to gather herself before explaining. “I am here to find a Tribe member and reconcile with him.”

“Din Djarin.” Raig rumbled, watching her reel back in surprise. “I have met the young one and imagine my surprise when he told me about your Tribe and their Way. How he was repudiated for being what all Mando’ade strive to be. I am very Disappointed.”

“Ba’buir...I have come to correct...”

Raig put up a hand to silence her as refreshments arrived by droid and he was handed his newly cleaned helmet by the respectful Twi’lek.

“Thank you young one. You do your establishment a great service with your exemplary work.” The Twi’lek blushed again, bowing low and leaving quickly. Raig rumbled out a chuckle.

“Ba’buir.”

Raig shook his head with a disappointed frown. “You call me ba’buir and yet, you will not take off your helm? We are clan. The Way allows this.”

“I am the Armorer and I could not have clan ties if I was to stay impartial.”

Raig narrowed his eyes in anger. “Is this the Way that you follow now? You would forsake your sacred duties as a Goran and your ties to your clan to kneel at the feet of a warped tradition that espouses the Resol’nare, yet does not truly follow its tenets?”

“I am part of the Tribe no longer. Their Way is my Way no longer. I have left, to come here and mend my mistake.” She said it quickly and harshly, banging a gloved fist on the table.

Raig sat back. His bu’ade did not often surprise him, but he was pleased to find they still could. It took a lot of strength to leave what you had been most of your life and here was the best example.

“I will help you then. You have much to correct, but we will get it done. I can only hope that your, ahem Tribe member, will accept your offerings.”

She had begun to wring her hands in distress. “I have also taken most of the tribe, the foundlings, and some of Alor’s ade. They all chose to come, but one of them, Paz, is not in a good place after suffering so long under his buire and their...clan way. We have very little, but we need to start over.”

Raig set a gentle hand on hers, to stop the distressed motion. “Vizslas do not daunt me and starting over seems to be a Mando’ade tradition now.”

“Not much does daunt you, does it?” She laughed wetly.

“Come! We will find the verd’ika and start building.” Raig grabbed his helmet and made for the door. He stopped when Ferah called out to him

“Ba’buir...he is not here. He is in danger! He is not wearing beskar’gam and is still taking bounties.”

“Is he not wearing beskar’gam? How do you know?” Raig smiled back at her gently, ushering her forward. “He’ll be fine.”

**

Din was in fact not fine.

His stop on Naboo had been interrupted again by the Nite Owls and their predatory recruitment practices. Which led to him running through narrow alleyways and hiding under bridges like a mud troll for hours. They were very persistent. He had placed the cheese order in the early morning and was on the way back to the ship when he was accosted by four Nite Owls who insisted he join their cause. When he told them his name it all went to osik. Apparently, his alias's clan, owed a substantial amount of money to the clan of one of the verd chasing him. He was to be used as a hostage to get payment. Or he would have been used if he hadn’t bolted when they were distracted.

Vobb Canth isn’t even a real name! How can he owe them money? Left!

Din took the sudden left, bouncing off the wall with ring of beskar. The alleyway opened to a wide boulevard with tastefully ostentatious doorways and signs letting everyone know what type of district they had stumbled upon. Din ran to a doorway mid street and ducked in, finding himself in a very provocative vestibule. Several heads turned his way in interest and a very shapely Togruta in rich, voluminous robes came forward to greet him.

“Welcome to my business, Madame Zuffra’s House of Massage. How may we service you, Mandalorian?”

“I would like to rent out a…closet if you please…Madame. Immediately.” Din spoke quickly and as politely as he could, while being out of breath.

“A...closet?”

“It doesn’t even have to be empty. I just need a small place to lay low for a while. If you would be so kind.” Din tilted his helmet as the Togruta scanned him up and down.

The Togruta clapped and called for one of her staff. He was led to a small closet just off the vestibule, full of cleaning supplies. He ducked into the closet just as a Mandalorian helmet came into view. However, the male Zeltron who had been leading him also ducked in and it was a very tight fit.

**

Madame Zuffra watched as two more Mandalorians came into her business. Prowling around and staring menacingly at her staff. Unlike the one before them, they acted in such a way that they were unwelcome.

“Has a Mandalorian come in here?” A big rude one asked harshly.

“We’ve never had the pleasure. Would you like to be the first?” She stated blandly. “We only take paying customers.”

The rude one recoiled in disgust. The other however was undaunted and asked for the chance to look around.

“By all means. Please do not open any doors. My customers do pay for privacy.”

A few minutes later, the less rude one came back shaking their head.

“What?” The rude one asked.

“Someone was roleplaying a Jedi in a small closet. Ugh.”

“Gross. Let’s keep looking elsewhere.”

They left and Madame Zuffra went to find her actual Mandalorian guest.

**

The Zeltron male pressed himself up against Din and made an inquiring noise. It could not be comfortable to be squished against his armor.

“Is that your lightsaber or are you just happy to see me?”

Is that your…oh gross. He’s touching us.

“Actually, that is my lightsaber.”

A quick breath of excitement. “Are you a Jedi? The Jedi?”

Din thought quickly. Was there a famous Jedi? “Why yes, I am the Jedi. Shhhh. Don’t tell anyone.”

“Wow. Can I see your light saber?” The sultry question threw Din for a loop.

“Right now? Uh, it’s very big and this closet is very small. Probably best not to release it in here. Ha ha.” Din laughed nervously. Was it hot in here? Were his cooling regulators not working? He felt a hand at his waist.

“Would you like to show me anything else while we’re in here?”

“Ah…please don’t touch that. It’s explosive.” He moved the Zeltron’s hand away from the thermal detonators on his belt. They resettled their hand on his breast plate and gazed deeply into his T-visor. The close contact was making him tense up from being so uncomfortable. He heard an exclamation of disgust outside the door and the familiar sound of armor stomping away from the door.

“What’s you’re name, Jedi?”

“My name is Tarre Vizsla.”

“Oh…my.”

You can’t use that name…he was a real person! Din’ika!

“Are you all right?” The question was asked without any innuendo and was candid in concern.

Din’s shoulders sagged, and in a moment of weakness found himself being honest to this stranger. “Not really. I miss my son and I want to go home. I’m tired. But there’s so much going on that I can’t and I’m a bit overwhelmed to be honest.”

“Oh honey. It’ll be all right.” The Zeltron hugged him close, patting him on the back consolingly.

Din’ika. Why didn’t you say?

There was a knock on the door and the Madame’s voice telling him it was all clear.

They stepped out of the closet and the Zeltron pulled him into a back room that looked like a staff breakroom. He was pushed down into a chair and watched as the other made tea. Madame Zuffra watched from the doorway.

When the Zeltron placed a cup of tea before him, he sighed and took off his helmet.

“Wow. I was fully expecting a blond. You’re decent looking, for a human.” The Zeltron smiled pleasantly but got a sly look in their eyes. “You’re not really a Jedi, are you?”

Din laughed. “No. I’m a Mandalorian.”

“Why were those other Mandos chasing you?”

“They wanted to use me in a revenge plot against my clan.” Din went with his alias’s story, as he politely sipped his tea. That story was also kind of true for him as well if Bo Katan ever got a hold of him. She would go against the Children of the Watch with a fury.

These veriduure are very pleasant. We would like to stay a while. We need a break. We’re not sure why the Manda was leading us to all these things, but we’re going to meditate and see if we can gain some clarity. You have fun with your new friends.

“Well, we certainly can’t have that happen.” Madame Zuffra said from the doorway. She gave the Zeltron a wink. “I am glad we were able to assist you. You may stay in the lounge here for as long as you need. On the house. For being so polite.”

The Togruta left after that, saying she had work to complete. The Zeltron smiled at him again and scooted their chair closer to the small table.

“Tell me about your son.”

**

Luke Skywalker was having a day. Another day in a long line of days. Helping to shelter and guide a young mind in the ways of the Jedi was not turning out to be the pleasant dream he had hoped it would be. It probably had to do with the little one being a member of Master Yoda’s species and holding the same contrary disposition as the old troll. It also didn’t help that the little one was essentially a toddler and emphatically refused to behave in a calm collective Jedi manner when several things were brought up. Things such as baths, frogs, Mandalorians, stripped pajamas, any other clothing besides the one he came in, time outs, meatless meals, vegetables, nap time, the color orange, not throwing boulders…the list seemed to get longer every day that Grogu was here. Luke’s eyebags had eyebags.

Despite the toddler antics, training was going well. Grogu blossomed in the Force, using and unlocking more of his hidden powers by the day. He was learning to protect himself and be more mobile and independent. This brought out another problem. Grogu liked learning these things, but not to be a Jedi. It was becoming readily apparent that Grogu thought that this was temporary. Like, Luke’s training was a camp he was attending and then he could leave and go adventure around the universe with his totally awesome Boo-ear for the rest of his life after he learned what he needed.

Just today he’d had to explain that being a Jedi and living their ways was exclusive and took up a whole lifetime. Grogu insisted he was a Mandalorian, because Boo-ear was a Mandalorian, and Grogu was his son and he didn’t want to be a Jedi if he couldn’t also be a Mandalorian. That had led to a tantrum and an exhausted toddler who wanted his Boo-ear and home. Luke had just gotten him to sleep. Luke flopped down on his sleeping couch, hoping to sleep too but the chime of his holo-com interrupted that fantasy.

“Skywalker.”

“Luke is there something you need to tell me?” Leia’s voice was full of menacing sweetness as her image appeared.

“Ah no…is there something you need to know?” Luke was honestly afraid at this point. Her eyes were flinty.

Leia sighed. “Were you roleplaying a Jedi undercover as Mandalorian in a Nabooian den of ill repute? And showing someone your ‘lightsaber’?”

“What?” Luke sat up quickly. “No! I have my hands full trying not to have a meltdown because my tyrannical green toddler student only wants to live in one piece of clothing and eat frogs all the time! I don’t even have time to wave about my actual lightsaber.”

“Fark!” Leia cursed, which was very unusual for her and meant the situation was bad.

“What? What is happening?”

“The newly formed Mandalorian council is screaming for your head. They say that you are pretending to be an ancient Mandalorian Jedi.”

Luke gaped at her. “There was a Mandalorian Jedi?”

“Would. You. Focus.” Her hands were knifing through the air. “They are insisting that some dumb Jedi, you, stole a set of their sacred armor and is bandying about the outer rim sullying his sacred memory with your perversions.”

“Uh…but I’m not. I’ve been on Yavin this whole time!” Luke put his head in his hands, gripping his hair. He had a sudden thought and looked up, hair sticking up everywhere. “How do they even know?”

“The expose was in the Galactic Mail.” She looked down at her pad and started to read with a dissatisfied twist of her mouth. “My Roommate’s Torrid Affair with the Famous Jedi. She’s having ‘Tarre Vizsla’s’ baby! Rumor has is that this Jedi Master is also a master of disguise, wearing a set of Mandalorian armor and swaggering to the beat of his own drum under an eye-catching alias. Watch out galaxy, this hunk of beskar is sure to bring his saber. Eyewitness accounts in the links below.”

Leia set down the pad and looked at Luke’s horrified and dumbfounded expression. She crossed her arms and continued staring until he said something.

“Oh Force.”

Leia tapped her chin with her fingers in thought. “Maybe you can contact Grogu’s parent? See if they can contact someone to smooth things over…diplomatically.”

“Uh…see…that’s going to be a problem…because…I…uh…didn’tleavehimmycominformation.”

“What…and you have his baby?! You’ve had Grogu for almost two years…and you don’t know where his parent is?” She was angry.

“That is correct. I’ve been looking but I can’t exactly approach them and ask…”

“You laserbrain. If what’s left of the Mandalorian clans find out that you have one of their kids, they really will kill you.” She took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eye. “Give me all the details that you remember and that Grogu has told you. I must de-escalate this and assure them that Jedi Master Skywalker does not have some Mandalorian fetish. Never mind the fact that you actually have a Mandalorian baby under your care. Put there in good faith but…let me take care of this.”

**

The arrival of Raig Oojar heralded a start of new problems for the denizens of the palace. 

While he was nice to look at and his countenance was pleasant, he started an influx of Mandalorians that no amount of saying no could stop. Raig just brought out his Disappointed look making the staff, the Tribe, Boba, and even Fennec constantly try to sooth it away. Plying him with cheese only worked so long. His grandfatherly powers of persuasion were at max level. It was strangely appealing.

After taking him to Din’s Vault and letting him look through the Hoard, strong beverages were needed to bolster all their Mandalorian guests. Apparently, none had seen that amount of armor in one place in a long time. The fact that there was so much coupled with the books, art, other assorted treasures, and piles of beskar sent many of them into the vapors.  Boba understood that. He experienced it firsthand when retrieving Din.

Cook was baking heavily, the Besalisk sensing their downed spirits and was not going to have it in her palace, no sir. Boba was wondering who the actual leader of their crime syndicate was, him or Cook. They were quickly running out of cheese too.

Then, the hail came. Coms sounded garbled, but the Mudhorn sending them came through loud and clear. Boba cleared them for landing with a sigh. The things he did for his vod’ika.

Din Djarin had a lot of explaining to do.

**

Fennec watched as five ships touched down in their hanger. It was getting a little crowded in here, with Boba’s ship, Din’s N-1, and Krrsantan’s new spicy little number already taking up space. Din was going to have to park outside, which he rightly deserved.

As the people spilled out, it was obvious they were in great distress. All of them were thin and covered in filthy coveralls. Everyone looked like they were in shock and just stared around in bewilderment but huddled close to their ships.

By the set of Boba and Raig’s shoulders, this was not a good sign. The Mandalorian Tribe had also gathered behind them to provide back up and were on high alert. Fennec could tell that Big Blue Vizsla was on a hair trigger. Krrsantan always showed up when Din was involved. How Din got his loyalty, Fennec would never guess. Perhaps they knitted together?

The new group were wary when they found themselves confronted by the landing party. They had no weapons beyond the pitiful number of Imperial blasters that weren’t even brought up in defense. They just stared at them apprehensively.

A lone figure stepped forward, approaching them with caution but he obviously believed he wouldn’t die. He stood close to Boba and Raig who were foremost of their group.

“Ah…su’cuy!” His voice was rough. He was ringing his hands. “The Mudhorn sent us…he…”

“Burc’ya. If Mudhorn sent you, then you will not be treated harshly. We apologize if our greeting party is a little tense. We never know what he will send us next. Refugees are new.” Boba greeted evenly. It at least sounded friendly through his vocoder. Raig rumbled in agreement and all the Mandalorians relaxed into unthreatening postures.

“Where do you hail from Vod?” Raig asked stepping forward and clasping his arm gently.

The man looked shocked, looking around and wilting when he didn’t find who he was looking for. “He didn’t tell you? He’s not here?”

“He is not.” Raig’s calm, soothing voice seemed to perk the man up.

“We’re from the mines on Concordia. He freed us from the Imps and sent us here.”

Fennec scowled. Din had gone in alone. This had to be Big D’s fault. The Tribe started whispering, some of them in horror at the state of the Mandalorians in front of them and some of them in horror that Din had done it again. Again? If this was a common occurrence, then it wasn’t the influence of that damned, idiot Darksaber. It was Din’s own brand of stupidity that was catching. Considering she and Boba had been part of a six-person team to take over a kriffing Imperial Cruiser with a shit plan to save Din’s wizard baby before they got entangled with the Darksaber, they had their own brand of stupidity to add to the bunch too.

“You are welcome to join our Tribe.” The Armorer stepped forward to greet the refugees.

“Now wait a minute!” Boba exclaimed. Fennec was right there with him. “Din sent them here, you can’t just co-opt them into your…Way.”

The Armorer stopped and turned. She gripped her helmet, releasing the seals and baring her striking face. “I am no longer of the Way of which you speak. I will follow Din Djarin’s Way.”

Fennec shared a look with Boba as the Tribe members started baring their faces. Big Blue hesitated, but even he took off his helmet. Those heterochromatic eyes were a little memorizing. Whoosh.

“Excuse me, but who is Din Djarin?” The leader of the miners looked perplexed.

Fennec letting out a disbelieving laugh. “Who sent you here?”

“Sark Daber, of the Daber clan. He’s my cousin!”

Boba wheezed out a laugh as Fennec barked out hers. Raig looked greatly amused and everyone else looked perplexed.

“He is so horrible at picking out names!”  

**

Madame Zuffra watched her lieutenant check on their sleeping guest. The riffon tea only worked on relaxed individuals. It had properties that made someone loose lipped and lethargic, usually ending in slumber. As the Mando’ad was finishing up a tale about some friends named Cara and Greef and riding a tie fighter like a bucking blurg, he had succumbed to its final properties, falling into a deep sleep. Which was good for them. Now they could search him.

They had been surprised at his arrival. Loton, her Zeltron lieutenant had taken him into the back room so that they could conduct their business with their actual buyers who showed up after the rude Nite Owls had left. That had taken hours to settle. Their underground liquor operation was getting along quite nicely. Many of the verde had congregated in the back as he told more stories. The krayt dragon had been a surprise. She had a feeling that he was keeping a lot of things hidden even with the tea breaking down his inhibitions. It took until early morning for him to drop. Such a strong verd would be an asset to her crew.

She looked down at her pad, reviewing their latest sale and turning off the signal blockers on the building. She looked up at the sounds of surprised shock from everyone in the room. Loton was holding up the one object that changed everything for them. The Darksaber caught the light off its beskar shell and Zuffra breathed in deeply. A com pinged on the verd’s vambrace with a message.

Loton turned on the message, after a nod from her.

A man started whispering harshly over the com. “You kriffer! I now have almost four hundred Mando’ade hanging around my palace! My palace. For my criminal empire of which I am king. I am not the ruler of Mandalore! You are! Stop dodging your king duties and relocate them! You liberated ‘em, you rule ‘em! I can only hide in the fresher for so long before I lose my mind. Also, I know you put the lothnip in my belt you little osik! You better get back here vod’ika, or I will hunt you down and let the rancor play with you. Fennec says hi, by the way. And Cook would like to know where you ordered the cheese from. Don’t make me come find you. Fett out!”

She knew that voice from somewhere.

Another message chimed in and opened automatically.

“I cannot believe you didn’t tell me how dignified and good-looking your pseudo grandparent was! Even at almost a hundred he is charming the pants off the staff with his grandfatherly ways. By the way some of them are looking at him, they’d like more than their pants charmed off. You and Big D better get back here and protect us from his polite seductive ways. Also…we’ve had more lothkittens…it’s becoming a problem. And I ate the uj cake from your hidden stash…for my nerves. I didn’t share it with Boba and now he’s pouting. Fennec out.”

Another message chimed in and opened automatically.

“It’s Cara. Greef and I took another vacation. We’re on our way to Tatooine. Boba and Fennec said they need help corralling the Mandos and they are outnumbered. Even Krrsantan is overwhelmed…they said he’s losing hair from all the foundlings petting him! Do you want to find out what a bald Wookiee looks like? Because I don’t. You also owe me my own wheel of cheese. The audacity of you, not including me in cheese fest! Dune out.”

Another message chimed in and opened automatically.

“Is this the Mandalorian who defeated Moff Gideon and took him into custody? My name is Leia Organa-Solo, senator of Hosnian Prime and I was hoping to speak to you about several issues. Greef Karga said that you could possibly help me with a delicate issue regarding a Jedi-Mandalorian scandal. He also said that you were missing your son…who I happen to know misses you very much. Please com me back as soon as possible as many of these matters are time sensitive.”

Another message chimed in and opened automatically.

“Young one. You are not here? I am very disappointed by this. I was hoping that we could go over that cache of stolen armor you liberated from the Imperials. Just looking at it, almost forty clans are represented here. The books you found brings tears to this old man’s eyes. I have never read such a moving version of the Dha Werda Verda before. And the Concordian miners you liberated? They won’t stop asking about you. You are a treasure, young one. An absolute treasure. Dha’kad was right about you.”

She knew that voice too!

Another message chimed in and opened automatically.

“Din! It’s Fennec again. So before you get here, I need you to know that your old Tribe is here…and they are…ah…just, they’re different. I don’t think that they follow the Way anymore. But I don’t want them to think they can take advantage of you! They hurt you and if they hurt you again, I’m going to chop their arms off. And Krrsantan is going to rip off the rest of their limbs. Just so you’re aware. Fennec, out.”

Another message.

“Treasured one, this is Cook. Your friends are very sad and I do not have enough ingredients to make spicy food the way I know you like. Please bring more of those spices and more cheese if you would. And make sure you buy something for yourself for the trip home. You always come back so famished, and I know you’re not taking care of yourself. See you soon.”

Another message.

“I can’t believe that you had three bottles of tihaar and uj cake in your hidden stash and made me drink spotchka on sabacc night! Fennec won’t even share the uj cake she liberated! And Din…why is there a plan to invade Yavin and a year’s worth of obsessive recordings of space wizard movements in your closet? I told you, you didn’t have to keep that secret! If you were sad, I would have spied on him with you, so you didn’t have to do it alone. Vod’ika. Come home. Don’t worry about Kryze. Fett, out.”

Another message.

“Din, it’s Greef. There’s a New Republic senator looking for you. You better…snort…you better read the Galactic Mail before you talk to her. What are you doing out there in the galaxy? Anyway, I took a vacation from Nevaro and am going with Cara to help the crew rangle Mandalorians. Not that I think we have much chance with all that beskar, but Boba assures me that it can be done. Something about cheese?”

Another message.

“Mando! You will never guess who showed up here! I didn’t even know he could pilot a ship let alone reach the controls. You really taught him good! I’ll keep him safe until I hear from you. Peli and Little Green, out.”

Another message.

“If this is the Mando’ade that holds the Darksaber, I officially challenge you to combat. I am waiting for you on Tatooine. If you don’t appear in a week, I will make your friends pay and then I will hunt you to the ends of the galaxy if you refuse my challenge. Kryze, out!”

That was the end of the messages that had built up while the blockers were on. It was completely silent in the room as all eyes were on the sleeping verd in their staff room.

Loton looked horrified. “Did I accidentally proposition the Mand’alor?”

Zuffra huffed in amusement. “You better hope none of his vode find out. Because I’m pretty certain that the one that called him vod’ika was Boba Fett.”

“Oh Manda. I am dead. I am so dead.” Loton shook his head in despair as he placed the Darksaber back in the pouch where he found it, very polite like and no more handling than necessary. “I didn’t even know that mudscuffer was still alive.”

Zuffra surveyed the room, taking in their excitement. Tapping her pad against her chin, she made up her mind.

“All right, crew. Pack up. Get the covert packed up as well and find the Mand’alor’s ship. We’re going to Tatooine and we’re going to kick some Nite Owl shebs! Oh! Get me as many wheels of cheese as you get from that shop down the street. If they can’t be bribed with the Mand’alor, we’re gonna pay them in cheese so we can get first dibs on Kryze. She’s going to regret ever invoking the wrath of Beviin be Manda’yaim and harassing the Mand’alor.”

“Oya!”

**

The Darksaber came out of a good meditation session and poked at Din’ka through their bond. He was in a deep sleep, which was good. However, when it expanded its senses around the ship, it discovered that they weren’t in their ship at all, which was horribly, horribly bad. It was a strange ship, a huge ship full of people and Din’ika was ensconced in a bunk covered in a blanket, his face placid in sleep and supported by a fluffy pillow.

Din’ika! Wake up! You know we’re not good at escape plans!

Two beings stepped in, covered in beskar’gam, and came over to Din’ika. One wore a baar’ur symbol on their chest plate.

“He’s been sleeping very deeply. I am concerned.” The Darksaber recognized the Togruta from the massage parlor. Now she was wearing beskar’gam too!

“Alor, he’s showing the signs of extreme exhaustion I’ve seen in the adiik…the ka’ra touched ones. The tea is probably doing him a favor and getting him to sleep. His ship logs show him bouncing around the galaxy the last few months. He has probably been using his gift to bolster himself and not realizing it.” The baar’ur ran a scan with their vambrace. “His levels are good. Once we get to Tatooine, I am going to have a very strong word with their medics. We should not wake him otherwise.”

“We will be there soon. Loton informed me that we’ll be coming out of hyperspace shortly.”

Both left, but the Darksaber felt someone take up a guard post outside the door.

If we could belt ourselves in the head, we would. Beskar blocks the Force! You haven’t been wearing beskar’gam or your buy’ce as religiously as you had all your life. No wonder you’re exhausted. No wonder we’ve been falling into these coincidences either. You’ve been following the Force unconsciously this whole time. Mildly Force sensitive our beskar backside. Boba Fett, you utreekov! We’re going to have words when we see you next.

**

The guard outside was slightly disturbed to hear dark whispering and feel a malevolence start emanating from the room he was guarding. He commed his superior.

“Ruus’alor…there’s…ah…there’s something wrong in the Mand’alor’s room.”

“Like what?”

“I think he’s haunted.”

**

Everyone was crammed into the biggest dining room they had for a meeting. Most of the adults at least. The children had been left under the supervision of the Mods and the verd’ika just over their verd’goten and the skeleton crew to keep the place running who would be told everything afterwards. Everyone was unimpressed about being squished into their neighbor, but they needed to set up some ground rules and a security rote, at least until Din came back and sorted this all out. They had just gotten through sonic and meal schedules when a coms tech burst in with a portable holo unit.

“We have a big problem!”

He set up the unit and up popped a holo of a gigantic ship.

“Fark!” A Tribe member exclaimed. “Is that a Mando’ade warship?”

Raig Oojar stood and studied the image closely. “The Beviin be Manda’yaim? That was lost during the Clone Wars. How did it end up here?”

“Um…there’s more.” The tech said nervously. Everyone watched intently as a holo message started playing.

A Mando’ad in red and black looked into the recorder and stated imperiously. “We have the Mand’alor. Prepare to meet to negotiate terms of…by the Manda, what do you mean he’s haunted.”

The feed cut out.

Boba looked at the holo unit in horror. “We have to get up there. Big D’s going to kill everyone.”

Chapter Text

Paz Vizsla was a di’kut and he would freely admit it. Well, he would admit it to himself more often than he would admit it publicly. With everything that had been happening in the last months, that little nugget of knowledge came to the forefront of their situation a lot more often than he was comfortable with. Since the lot of them had left the main part of the Tribe, everything had been so precarious. He’d had to work so hard to keep his temper, his undesirable family traits, and his learned reactions from overwhelming his better sense…which was not always possible when plans that seemed like horrible ideas were brought up.

Like now.

The Armorer’s unimpressed stare brought it out a lot, especially now that they had stopped wearing their buy’ce when in each other’s company. She had been staring him down for the last fifteen minutes after he protested bunking at the palace while they waited for Din. Her ba’buir had said he planned to petition the Daimyo for protection, mostly to give them peace and space and to also be on hand once Din returned.

A lot of the others had made noise, but the Armorer had silenced them with sense. She had been keeping them a lot safer than the council and Alor ever had, which had calmed most of their fears. Except for Din’s beskar’gam. That had been a point of contention. As for him, he wouldn’t mind having so much space because there were a lot of them between their four ships but that also meant being in the vicinity of Fett, Shand, and most of their staff, whose soft spot for Din was glaringly obvious. The Wookiee had been eyeing them…as if they were opponents that needed their arms ripped off immediately.

Even wearing heavy beskar’gam would not protect him from high powered beskar rounds that he was sure Shand would happily shoot into him should he step out of line or prevent having his arms ripped off by the Wookiee. Fett was like dealing with the Armorer and his words and gestures were like small vibroblades into any weaknesses he perceived. Paz did not know if he could stay there with so much unresolved between him and Din, since it was obvious that his protectors knew there was an unpleasant history between them.

“Once Ba’buir secures room for us in the palace, I am putting you in charge of the young ones. That will keep you out of the way of everyone else. It will also give you time to think and reflect on what you are going to say to Din.” The Armorer was very firm with this direction. As if he hadn’t spent months thinking about what he would say.

“What about you?” Paz inquired. She had been very disheartened since meeting with that huge Mando’ad she called ba’buir and the earlier meeting with Fett.

“I have been reflecting on everything since Din gave back his beskar’gam. I will be helping ba’buir with a project that Din asked his help on. We will all see what the project is before assigning anymore duties.”

Paz hummed lowly, running his pointer finger on the galley table in front of him in thought. “Do you think it’s that bad?”

The Armorer let out a dismayed sigh. “From what ba’buir said, it is going to be. He was never one to hold back.”

Paz was not liking that answer. The elder had seemed to be keeping plenty back, even with his gracious and open air. He watched her walk away, down the ramp to the other ships, intending on telling the others. He was glad to be alone again.

The past year and a half had been full of a lot of self-reflection, self-loathing, sadness, and a lot of anger. Painful realizations made him come to a decision to not be what he was anymore, what his family had made him be, to satisfy their traditions.

When he came home to the Tribe, to his clan, without the Darksaber it had brought to the forefront all the things that he had buried deep to keep up appearances. His clan had been so angry at his incompetency at regaining the saber, which was the Vizsla ancestral right, but they knew Din. He was one of their best warriors. Why was it such a surprise that Paz lost?

Most of his aliit had pulled away from him then, not wanting to be seen associating with the failure of the clan. Not that it meant much. They had never been close, and it was not a penalty but a boon. He would not be punished or silenced or watched closely for any abnormalities as he had when he was younger. He disowned the lot of them publicly soon after and he felt no guilt at all. He was on his own, with fellow members of the tribe who were in the same ship. It was freeing to not be under their thumb. Between his assigned duties, he had spent months lurking in the forge, the Armorer surprisingly not tossing him out.

Being left alone meant he could think through everything, without a cloud of Vizsla expectations crushing him. From youth to now. He and Din had been best friends. For some reason his family had disapproved, but he realized maybe it was less a disapproval of Din and more of himself in the beginning. He had been treated harshly and different his whole life…and then in training one day they had been overdoing it, showing off, and Din was injured. Din’s buir had reprimanded them both for being di’kutla after Din was better, but Paz’s aliit responded differently.

They poisoned his mind with Clan Vizsla philosophy, half-truths, and outright lies, making their friendship sour. His own jealousies when Din made beroya without him and getting to leave the covert, had made him angry enough to hassle Din when there was no need. Din’s buir had spoken to him and got his head out of his shebs but then the Purge happened, and Din stopped coming home enough to make things right. Nevarro had been a regretful moment, both because he had held a knife to his own brother and because the covert had been discovered and overrun. He would make it right. He had vowed that he would do anything to make it right.

When they had severed their ties with the main Tribe, many followed them on their quest to recover Din and create a new home, away from the Tribe, which had warped them into a Mando’ade Way they felt was not acceptable anymore. Paz had not realized how many were dissatisfied among the Tribe until the reckoning from the Armorer. His buir and the elder council had been furious, but as a Goran, she’d had a right to challenge them and leave with whoever would follow her. So, he had left as well, done with their manipulations and abuses. It was one step on the way to fix things, with Din and within himself.

They had tracked the pings of the Razor Crest until they found its wreckage, which had been heart wrenching to see surrounded by Imperial plastoid armor and other wreckage. Had Din been injured there? Then they followed rumors, planet after planet, and finally settled on this dessert world, learning about the place before approaching the Daimyo. The Daimyo who turned out to be a disgraced Mando’ad himself and a menagerie of folks that were ready to blast them all to soot should they step out of line.

Paz needed Din to be here.

**

Raig had brought four members of Ferah’s Tribe with him when he sought an audience with the Daimyo of Tatooine close to mid-day. Looking at the armored man up on the dais, he was reminded a great deal of Jango Fett and even of Jaster Mereel. Din Djarin was well on his way to fixing quite a bit of the mistakes that the Mando’ade had made in the last five decades, starting with his relationship with this man. Raig had to admit that the verd’ika impressed him more every time he encountered him or situations that involved him. This trip was turning out to be the most exhilarating he had had in decades, and it was barely started.

The battered droid serving as the Daimyo’s herald announced him and his entourage.

“Lord Oojar and his Mandalorian compatriots request an audience.”

“Lord Oojar?” The Daimyo asked skeptically. He flicked his fingers, indicating a will to speak with them. The woman standing on the side of the throne looked unimpressed to have them there. Raig was going to guess this was Fennec Shand, from Dha’kad’s description.

Raig took his buy’ce off, smiling indulgently at the woman’s startled look.

“Daimyo Fett, I am here to fulfill a request from Din Djarin and Big D to survey the Hoard Vault.”

Shand snorted in laughter, but Fett’s helmet tipped, and the tone of his vocoder was flat and unamused. “Big D. So, you’ve met.”

Raig huffed out a laugh. “A most loquacious and blood thirsty individual. A particularly useful partner to our mutual acquaintance.”

“I would not say useful. They are quite an annoyance.” Fett propped his helmet upon his hand lazily, leaning to the side to survey the Mando’ade behind him. “I was sure that I made my stance clear on your welcome in this palace, Armorer.”

Ferah stepped forward, close to Raig. He settled a gentle hand on her tense shoulder.

“Daimyo Fett, I have brought my bu’ad with me to make a parley for your help. While relations between you have been soured in the past, I am hoping that we can come to an understanding that is beneficial to all parties involved, even if one of them is sadly not here now.” He rumbled, trying to convey his intentions to help mend any rifts that he could.

“Your...bu’ad.” Fett sounded perplexed and shared a look with Shand.

“What are the lengths of help you expect?” Shand asked, flat and still unmoved. Ah, they had a lot of inroads to make here. They were displeased with Ferah and the Tribe.

“The Tribe requests sanctuary and time to determine the next move in their journey. That is all. My bu’ad and the few here will be helping me with the Hoard’s assessment, but they have quite a few individuals and adiik that require lodging and safety, as well.”

“How many Mandalorians are we talking?” Shand had brought out a pad out at the mention of adiik. Din Djarin had been teaching someone Mando’a.

“Seventy-nine plus myself.” Raig gave them time to whisper amongst themselves and decide if they would lend their assistance. He hoped they would, if only because of Din Djarin.

He fell back to the others who all had rigid sets to their stances. They must be thinking of the audience before when they were made unwelcome. Ferah had been very descriptive. Fett’s defenses were ingenious when dealing with Mando’ade. No doubt influenced by Shand whose sharpshooting capabilities were well known. Din Djarin spoke highly of them both.

The Vizsla ad that Ferah brought was coiled with anger and misery. Raig had seen the ad twitch and heard the Tribe’s dissatisfied noises when Dha’kad’s secret identity was mentioned. It appeared the young one did not approve of his vod’s supposed bounty partner. It made one wonder why the verd’ika had not had one the entire time he was out making bounties for the Tribe, since it was a normal condition for most coverts.

He would have to speak to Vizsla. There was a lot more going on in this situation than Ferah had alluded to and as an elder, it was his job to bring instruction and peace of mind to the young ones. Even if the lessons were some that did not want to be faced.

Sharp whispers broke out and Raig’s attention turned back to the throne. It looked like they had come to a decision. They both did not look happy about it, Fett all tension and Shand all pinched brows and pursed lips.

Fett leaned forward slightly. “We have decided to acquiesce to your request with some additional requests of our own. We would like a supplemental security force for as long as you stay. If there are any of your...verde that have specialties, they are welcome to use them if it helps bolster the staff and ease the burden of their addition to the palace. We do not have childcare facilities here, as most of the staff with families live off site, so you will have to oversee keeping them entertained and in line yourselves. The private residential wing is off limits and as we have yet to make improvements to the lowest levels, they are off limit as well. We’ll have to set up meal and fresher rotations tomorrow, but one of the mid wings should suit you all well. It is the most cleared out at least.”

“We are in your debt, Daimyo Fett.” Ferah intoned graciously.

Shand smiled with all teeth. “You owe Din Djarin the debt. We just happen to hold it in his absence.”

Raig stepped forward to keep the peace, seeing Ferah grip one of her hammers. “I would have a private conversation with you Daimyo if you would not mind. Perhaps, after mid meal and the surveying of the Hoard?”

“If you must.” Fett’s tone was long suffering and a bit sullen. It made Raig smile. They would get along splendidly.

**

Mid meal was Mando’ade spicy, and the members of the Tribe that were here were taken aback at the conscientious hospitality they received. They had eaten apart from the main dining room, keeping up the effort of appearing to be of the Way until they could see Din. The Armorer watched the others consume the meal enthusiastically while she struggled to eat anything. She did not feel that she could be settled enough to eat or sleep until she talked to Din. She wanted to speak to him quite badly, but Fett and Shand were very closed mouthed about anything regarding his whereabouts. It was infuriating and comforting in equal measure, to know that someone else had his back when they did not.

But he was out there without armor and despite the assurances from her ba’buir, her worries and fears would not be satisfied until he was before her. She needed to mend so many mistakes and the more she thought of them, the more the meal felt like ash in her mouth. Paz looked as miserable as she felt inside, down at the other end of their table. He was still fighting through things that he had not discussed with her and had barely interacted with anyone since they had found the destroyed Razor Crest. She worried that he would never move on from the horrors of the Way that they had followed.

Many of the others had been subdued in the first week or two that they had been gone. They were making such a significant change and uprooting their lives to be better. Then they had come here, following Din’s trail and encountering so many new things. She had not expected the hospitality of a crime lord and she resented the speculative looks that followed her. The Tribe was soaking in his hospitality like starved plants in a good rain, however. When the rest of the Tribe arrived in the evening, it would be hard to watch them soak in these strangers’ goodwill. Goodwill that was being given to them because they were Din’s people. He still provided for them, even when he thought himself apart, as he had always done. It was a thought that soured her mood further.

It attracted the attention of the kitchens when her bowl was returned half full. The Besalisk in charge of the kitchen, who was ironically named Cook, had assured them that her treasured one had brought the spices she used, and she would like their input if they would be staying long term. The Armorer assured her that it was beyond sufficient and was to their tastes, leading to many pastries and deserts being rained upon them for the end of the meal.

Her Ba’buir had taken his meal with the rest of the staff and looked like he had made many fast friends, as he had always done ever since she was young. When a wrinkle appeared on his brow they soothed it away, with cheese of all things.

When everyone was together again, the staff re-enacted how they obtained the cheese, which led to a member of their Tribe describing the conversation that might have led to the gift to the Daimyo. It entertained the staff and her ba’buir immensely. She could tell even Paz was amused by the tilt of his helmet. That Kryze was doubly upset satisfied her immensely. The Daimyo and Shand had taken midmeal elsewhere, so were not here to witness their foolishness.

While she and her ba’buir spoke of how they would handle whatever they would find, she could tell the Tribe was running rife with imagined speculation over what the Hoard could be. He was very tightlipped on what it was. From the sound of what ba’buir said, it was a huge undertaking.

He warned them they would not like some of what they would find.

**

“Where did you get that cake?” Boba looked at Fennec as she ate the cake in small bites, seeming to savor it immensely. They had taken a working meal in the private lounge and were going over the provisions and needs that they would have to have shipped in for their guests.

“Din’s stash.”

Boba dropped his pad and stood. “He has a stash? That had better not be the last of the uj cake Shand! Where is it?”

She smirked as she popped the last bit in her mouth, chewing slowly. “In his closet.”

Boba sped down the hall with Fennec close behind. The audacity of her finding Din’s stash first.

“How did you even find it?”

“Uh...well...one of the lothcats had babies. In his closet. On his spare cape.”

Boba pitched the bridge of his nose with one hand while inputting the override with his other. “The velvety blue one that the shady cloth merchant said went well with his beskar?”

“That’s the one.”

“Good. That woman had horrendous taste. He needs a dark blood red one to shake his enemies to the core.”

Boba looked through the closet as Fennec rained love down onto the new kittens. He found three bottles of tihaar. THREE! In his annoyance at finding no uj cake he accidentally knocked over a small box full of a multitude of datasticks. He pulled several out to review later to be nosy and grumpily left the room, taking a bottle of tihaar with him.

“I’m not sharing this with you.” He hissed at Fennec before leaving.

When she joined him in the lounge a bit later, she found him sitting with a shocked look and drinking straight from the bottle.

“I didn’t think that any holo-pornos would rate that type of expression.” She sniffed the bottle before settling in for some more padwork.

“It’s not holo-porn.”

Turning it around he showed her an unbelievably detailed plan to invade Yavin 4. And then another data stick documenting the movements of one blonde baby kidnapping space wizard.

“That creepy little stalker. I knew he was up to something besides bounty hunting.” Fennec shared a concerned frown with him. “He needs an intervention. We need to get the green bean. He’s miserable.”

Boba sighed, disengaging the datastick and stashing it in his pocket. “You know why we can’t.”

“I know why, I just don’t have to like it.” Fennec’s lips puckered in irritation as she picked up her pad again. “What are you thinking?”

“You’re right. He needs an intervention. Going into an Imp base by himself? Loca stoopa. Call Cara. We need reinforcements.”

**

They should have listened to ba’buir’s warning.

The vault had seemed innocuous at first, just hundreds of crates and hoversleds. The duracrates filled with art, books and other assorted treasures was what she expected. The hover sleds with piles and piles of different metals were also expected. The amount of beskar was staggering. She could make armor for hundreds of warriors. It was rage inducing to think the Empire had kept this in a basement of all things. All of the verde standing in the vault were almost brought to their knees in horror and grief once her ba’buir opened the first crate. One even had to excuse themselves, so they did not puke in their buy’ce.

“These are all the same?” Her ba’buir rumbled a question to Fett who had come down to supervise them. The elder was gesturing to over a hundred hovercrates.

Fett nodded tightly. He had taken off his buy’ce and ran a hand over his bald head in unhappiness. “He found them by...himself. He was understandably upset, as you know.”

Ba’buir crooned in sorrow. “I can imagine.”

“What do you mean he was by himself?” Paz looked furious and about ready to tangle with Fett, but her ba’buir caught him by the back of his kute, shaking him lightly.

“Ku’ur, Paz Vizsla. Your vod is as grown as you are, and he is allowed to go on bounties by himself. He was very unfortunate to have to face this atrocity by himself, but I commend both Daimyo Fett and Lady Shand for their help in this situation. I also understand I will have to commend Marshall Dune as well when we meet.” Ba’buir gave Fett a look and head tilt of appreciation as he let go of Paz when the younger man sagged in his grip.

Fett sighed as he replaced his buy’ce. “I’ll leave you to your project Goran Oojar. Late meal is in seven hours but Cook assures me that she will have snacks and drinks sent down for you periodically.”

“You might want to send something stronger to brace us for this undertaking.”

**

Late meal was somber. Fennec watched as the Tribe members moved into their private room as if under heavy weights, after grabbing their meals. No one was speaking. Even Raig Oojar’s countenance was grave.

“Are you all right, Lord Oojar?” Fennec asked, pushing the fresh rolls over to his side of the table.

He sighed as he collected himself, taking one of the rolls with a small smile. “There are many things I have witness in my long years. Atrocities such as this are never easy to bear witness to. When Dha’kad said that verd’ika had found an Imperial cache with armor, I never imagined so much of it.”

Cook, who had been placing down a bowl of mashed root vegetable, looked askance at the Mandalorian. “Da...cad?”

“Ah. Big D. My apologies. They are Mandalorian, so I have been saying their name in Mando’a instead of their nickname.” He gave a wink to Fennec making her smile conspiratorially. “They were very adamant that it was not their nickname, but Din Djarin confirmed it for me.”

“Oh Din! He is such a good boy. I’m glad he has a partner out there. Who knows what he would get up to on his own.” Cook said as she started back to the kitchens. She had a lot to prepare for morning meal, considering the influx of their guests coming later in the evening.

Fennec shared a look with the older Mandalorian and smirked. “Yes. Good thing he has Dha’Kad to keep him out of trouble.”

They ate in a companionable state of gossip. Raig was truly a fountain of wonder and sly old man. Even Krrsantan liked him, but that could be the height and looking like he could arm wrestle the Wookiee. Fennec watched as Cook brought in some type of cheese soup and served Raig first! The nerve of him, unknowingly charming her apron off. Or knowingly with that crooked smile. The lout!

“Shand.” Boba interrupted their gossiping when he stomped into the dining room in a fit of temper. “We have a big problem.”

“Bigger than the one we already have?” Pointing to Raig in good humor.

“Yes.” He tossed her a com, and she played the message loud enough to stop everyone from continuing their meal. It was scratchy and disjointed, but the Mudhorn had sent five ships their way with refugees needing assistance.

“Well, poodoo.”

“We can help them, yes?” Raig was already standing from the table, as others also rose. “They must be very important for verd’ika to send them here.”

Boba tapped out a little message on his vambrace that she barely caught. Three hundred. Need more provisions. Poodoo times a hundred.

“He sent them here because they are Mandalorian.”

**

The droid was being mouthy again. It said bad words. Bad words that Buir had told him not to repeat until he was at least a hundred. If it didn’t want to come, then it should have stayed with Master Luke. Grogu knew how to pilot this rust bucket. Buir had been very thorough those last couple of months, telling him why he couldn’t push certain buttons and what everything did. Auto-navigation was a wonder...and Tatooine was already programed into it! It’s not so hard, droid!

Grogu felt his face scrunch in irritation. He admitted to himself that as plans went this one was not as thought out as it could have been, but he needed to see Buir. Right now. Master Luke was wrong. He could be a Mandalorian Jedi and Buir would tell him so.

And Buir said most plans never survived their first skirmish, anyway. Which was true. He had to levitate the droid from his position in the cockpit to keep it from rolling off and alerting Master Luke. Then when he put it down after a firm bonking against the x-wing, it insisted on coming with him! And complained about it the whole time! IG-11 never complained like R2 and IG was so nice and never said such bad words. Buir would not like this droid.

A few hours into the flight and he was feeling hungry. Buir had told him to bring rations if he was going on a trip, so he’d brought some frogs and cookies from the cooler. R2 told him not to get crumbs in the seat and he pinned his ears back and looked back at the droid crossly, purposefully dropping crumbs from his fingers on the seat. More bad words.

He sighed like Buir would sigh. He wanted Buir. This was going to be a long flight.

**

Paz Vizsla helped lead the miners in his group to their temporary accommodations, which was the throne room covered in sleeping pallets. The miners were pathetically grateful for anything that they were given, even the most basic necessities that all living beings were due, and it made Paz seethe with hatred for the Empire even more than he already did. The way the miners spoke of where they were imprisoned made Paz want to fly right out to Mando’yaim’s system and dig around until he found every atrocity that was still going on under their noses.

The miners also spoke of Din reverently, as if that di’kut destroying an Imp facility was so mandokar that it overrode the stupidity of him going in by himself. Again. He’d done it several times and each time Paz had to hold back a howl of irritation. Din never asked for help anymore, but he supposed after so much time being on his own and being held away from the Tribe, help was not something he expected from his brothers and sisters of the Creed. That he asked for help to defeat Gideon was a miracle. Still, six people to take and Imperial cruiser? Two of them dishonest and treacherous Nite Owls? Banthashit crazy.

Din needed better Mando’ade backup than this Big D too, Paz thought sourly as he handed out blankets with the Armorer’s ba’buir.

“That scowl on your face is not reassuring to our new verde.” The deep rumble caught his attention.

“Our new verde? They’ll have to deal with it if they keep admiring Din’s di’kutla actions like they do. Thinking of Din being an or’dinii without any back up does not reassure me that he has a brain.” Paz sniped back. He wasn’t going to give an inch to this elder, even if he was the Armorer’s ba’buir and some type of council lord. “You’d think that he’d never gone through the Corps with the way he saunters into trouble.”

The elder hummed lowly. “You disapprove?”

“Are we done here? I have foundlings to get settled.” Paz gave out the last blankets when the elder gave no reply and nodded at the Daimyo’s staff that were still helping. He was done being here when he had other duties. He tried not to stomp away in a bad temper, but it was hard when he realized that the elder had also taken his leave to walk beside him.

“You look more like Tor than you do Pre, you know.” The unexpected observation stopped him in his tracks.

“What?” He asked tightly, bring up his fisted hand.

“Tor was tall and broad like you, with the same dark hair.”

“I never want to be compared to either. They both were ruinous to our clan. Their actions created Kyr’tsad, then warped our Way. Their names deserve to be spat upon. Isn’t it bad enough that a Kryze is upholding their Way? Will I always be expected to be as vile and relentless as the Vizslas who came before me?”  Paz grit out. “Letting my family control me and treat me as they did has left me with nothing to show for it except a set of beskar’gam and a lot of issues to parse through. It has ruined the relationships that should have made my life full and tolerable.”

“Ferah had said you were in turmoil.” The gentle rumble made Paz scoff, realizing he had revealed more of himself more than he wanted to. He started walking again, the elder still keeping pace.

“Ferah...you mean the Armorer? Still holding things back from us when we are supposed to be far from the Way and united as a Tribe here. She wouldn’t even tell us her own name. How does she expect to reconcile with Din when she keeps such things withheld?”

“She has her reasons, young one.” The elder stopped. Paz turned, furious now at the familiarity the man was showing him.

“I don’t need a ba’buir. You hold just as much back and if you think that you can charm your way into my good graces or scruff me again, you’ve got another thing coming, elder. I’m watching you.” Paz stomped off toward the wing in which the Tribe was bedding down.

**

Raig watched the younger Vizsla sadly.

“Conversation not go your way?” Fett’s voice made Raig turn his head. The shorter man came into view and stepped up beside him, watching Vizsla’s progress down the hallway.

“Some of my conversations do not always go my way. I expect my conversation with you will be no different.”

Fett huffed out a small laugh. “If you compare me to my buir or ba’buir, whom I’m sure you’ve met in your long years of life, I expect that my reactions might be the same.”

Raig’s ears twitched at Fett’s admonishment. “Ah. I am foolishly sentimental sometimes.”

“We all have that problem around here.” Fett started walking toward the private wing but stopped to regard him consideringly. “Are you wanting that private conversation still or have you given up your grandfatherly machinations for tonight?”

“I have much to speak to you about.”

Fett let out a whole-body sigh and started walking again. “I’m sure you do. I have a bottle of Din’s tihaar.”

“I distilled that, you know.” Raig said in amusement as he caught up in a few strides.

A wounded noise made him laugh.

“I am trying extremely hard to dislike you. Did you make the uj cake too?”

“Yes.”

“Haar’chak.”

**

“I’ve lost the Mandalorian baby.” Luke stated calmly. It was the only way he was going to get through this meeting. On the outside, Jedi calm. On the inside, thousands of nunabirds frightened by fireworks and the thundering march of Mandalorian warriors ready for nuna dinner. No one had to know that he had just spent two hours running top speed for miles around the school looking for the diminutive green menace.

Leia looked unimpressed. Luke hadn’t even checked the time difference. “Are we talking ‘I’ve lost him in the tall grasses because I’m irresponsible’ lost or ‘he’s run away in my x-wing and I can’t find him even with my force powers’ lost? Because there is a difference with toddlers.”

“He’s run away and he’s shielding himself from the force. I can’t...wait, how did you know my x-wing is missing?”

Leia just stared at him. He stared back. Her stare was a durasteel curtain. His stare crumbled.

“I’m an idiot.”

“Yes. Fortunately for you, I know where he is going.”

Luke’s breath wooshed out of him relief.

“He’s on his way Tatooine.”

Luke let out a small whine.

“We’re going to pick you up in a few minutes.” The tone she said it in meant no arguments.

 “I’ll be ready.” Luke said with a resigned sigh.

**

“BOBA! Let me in!” Fennec yelled, almost whining in distress when she heard the squeals of children from down the hallway. She pounded on the private lounge door.

“What’s the password?”

“If you don’t let me in this door, I will tell Din that you’ve been conspiring with Grandpa Greef!”

The door slid open and Fennec ducked in, hurriedly slamming her hand down on the close and lock buttons. Leaning back against the wall beside the door she took a moment to thank the maker that she got away from so many sticky hands and whiny mouths.

As she caught her breath, she noticed the abundance of people stuffed into the private lounge, along with the palace’s lothcat population. It looked like a good game of sabaac was going on, several of the new miner additions eyeing her suspiciously, but petting the felines in their laps.

“What is going on? This is the Private family lounge.” Fennec said crossly, coming over to the improvised sabaac table and standing behind Raig. He wisely hid his cards against his armored chest and stroked his sabaac partner’s ears gently, getting a purr in response. She huffed in annoyance. He chuckled in mirth. Damn him and his charming ways.

Boba sipped clear liquor from a small glass. “We needed a bracing game of sabaac before we faced the enormous responsibility of organization today.”

“It’s barely passed first meal. You all have been missing the entire morning. The responsibilities have already been handed out.” Fennec grabbed the bottle of tihaar, only a few fingers left in the bottom. “I know you all are hiding in here for the same reason I am.”

“The freshers are full, and the little ones are just so sticky. How does that even happen?” The lead miner muttered, throwing down a card. His three fellows nodded in agreement. “I don’t remember them being so sticky.”

Fennec snorted, not feeling sorry for any of the people here after the battle last night and this morning with an over-excited pack of feral Mandalorian children.  These six fools had been ‘in a meeting’ for hours. Weak. Krrsantan had taken to hiding in the maintenance bay, pretending to be a rug so he didn’t lose any more fur like he did last night. Also weak. But the one person who truly impressed her in all of this was Vizsla. Vizsla was a freaking saint. The little monsters had been hanging off him the entire time and he barely complained, averting their sticky grasps with kind words and gentle hands.

“What do you mean the responsibilities have been handed out?” Boba flicked a card on the table, grunting in annoyance.

“One guess who has been leading most of the housing operations.”

“Oh maker. I owe that woman a raise.” He tossed down his whole hand, bowing out and standing up with smalls sounds of joints crackling and annoyance from the lothcats he displaced. “She said she wanted to run the kitchens...just the kitchens. Now she’s taking over the whole crime syndicate.”

“Cook is a wonderful individual.” Raig rumbled, also folding. He gently moved his lothcat so that he could stand.

Fennec snorted as she threw herself down on the sofa. “Stop paying her lip service. She’s not even here.”

Raig laughed as he moved to the door. All the others at the table sighed and got up too. When the door opened, it framed the Besalisk that they had just been talking about. She was frowning and even Raig seemed to shrink back.

“The six of you are on kitchen duty. I have a lot to prepare for midmeal and you have been slacking.”

She pointed commandingly toward the kitchens with three of her six arms and all six of the shirking rapscallions meekly wandered in that direction.

“Fennec, dear. Don’t skip out on lunch. Liquid courage needs to be followed by solid satisfaction.”

Fennec saluted her with two fingers tiredly. “You got it, new Boss.”

**

Mid meal was over and now they were going through hell.

Paz was not happy about having his bulk squished against a back wall while waiting for the meeting to be over. However, if he skipped this meeting, he might miss his allotted fresher time which he sorely needed after one of the ade had sprayed him with sticky paja juice. He needed a good wash, a kute cleaning, a nap, and alone time. He didn’t care what order they came in, but a break was sorely needed. As annoying as this meeting was, it was necessary to get everyone treated, fed, and cleaned up since there were over three hundred of them now.

The commotion caused by the arrival of the Mando’ade ship and the strange cut off message made him grit his teeth. These new Mando’ade had kidnapped Din for the Darksaber and were holding him hostage. Fett’s exclamation that Big D was going to kill them all was not reassuring in any sense. Even if that shabuir was with him, they had let him be kidnapped in the first place, which was unacceptable. He moved forward to join the efforts, but the Armorer pulled him pack as another holo-call came through.

“Shand?! Mando’s not answering my coms. This is important.” A small woman with a mass of curly hair appeared, looking irritated and worried.

“Motto. We've got a situation here. We’ll have to call you back.” Shand was about to disconnect but the woman who called would not be deterred and shook her head in the holo call. A small face appeared next to hers, big ears and big eyes the most prominent features

“Well, you’ve got a situation here too since Bright Eyes stole an x-wing and piloted it all the way here to my hanger to find his dad. And there's those skeezy Mandos in blue that Mando warned me about, prowling around Mos Eisley.”

Shand’s face had gone from serious to shocked as she looked at the little green face that was squinting into the lens. Fett had paled considerably.

It let out a squeal when it recognized some of the Mando’ade helmets.

“Boo-er!” The squinting continued, but it turned to Motto in the holo. “Boo-er?”

The woman patted the ik’aad consolingly. “Don’t know hun. You guys heard from Mando?”

Fett addressed Motto gravely. “He’s been taken hostage and ransomed.”

The ik’aad’s ears pinned back and Paz could tell the little one was distraught.

“Grogu.” Fett said gently. The ik’aad looked at him sadly. “We’re going to get him. We're also coming to get you so you can be here when he gets back.”

The ears perked up. “Patu? Boo-er?”

“Yeah. We’re going to get your buir. Motto, pack some things. I’m sending a ship your way.”

“You got it Fett. Can I leave the droid here though? He’s a pain in the rear.” She thumbed back toward the x-wing in the background that had a domed droid next to it.

“Unfortunately, I’m going to have to take that droid into custody. For letting a baby steal an x-wing.”

The droid let out a series of chirps, whistles, and beeps. By the look on a lot of people’s faces, they were not the savory sort.

“Stop saying those words! He understands binary!” Motto was preparing to throw a wrench as the feed cut out.

**

Big D was in fact not killing everyone on the ship. Knocking them unconscious? Sure thing. Killing spree? Definitely not. These were Mando’ade and even though they were filthy, kidnapping pirates, the Darksaber felt a certain need to keep them alive. For posterity.

After the last escape attempt, Din’ika had outlined some things they could and could not try if they ever fell into the same situation. Which, knowing about their ad’ika’s unfortunate Force luck now, seemed to be in the cards for the rest of their lives. They’d gone through simulations and worked on getting the Darksaber used to using the Force to move things other than itself.

So, the Darksaber had secured Din’ika’s person first. Found his buy’ce and slid it on, activating the seals. Gotten him down on the floor without breaking his arm and propped him up out of sight next to the doorway. The Darksaber could sense two more people had joined the guard outside. The Mando’ad was babbling nervously to their superior and the guard fiddling with the controls to come in, opening the door unknowingly. Perfect.

“Manda! The Mand’alor’s gone!”

HAH!

Glancing blow to the neck and out like a light. The Darksaber zipped back above the door.

“Daber! What are you talking about...Bridge! There’s someone...”

HIYA!

Another one down. The guard ran in alerted by his superior, but he too ran into a problem.

WOO-AH!

All three Mando’ade were down and the Darksaber beheld their work.

We’re getting the hang of this, we think.

The Darksaber pulled Din’ika through the doorway and pressed the panel control to lock the room behind them. Dragging him half upright down the hallway made a sort of singing grinding noise, from his beskar meeting the floor constantly. It attracted the attention of some verde. The Darksaber floated up, managing to get behind the verde no problem. Never looking up was a weakness so many beings shared. No one ever expects the Mandalorian Darksaber!

“Is that the Mand’alor?! Someone’s trying to steal...”

WAH! HIYA!

Two more down, but now the ship alarm was going off. They’d have to move faster.

**

“Alor! The Mand’alor...he’s haunted! A ghost is stealing him!”

Zuffra turned as she was starting her demands. “By the Manda, what do you mean he’s haunted?”

She shut the line down and hurried over to the verd that was looking anxiously between her and the surveillance screens. Her security officer rewound the footage showing three verde going into the Mand’alor’s room and not coming out. However, the Mand’alor was dragged out and the door shut. Then he was dragged down the corridor by nothing. There was no one there except the floating Darksaber. More verde joined them at the station as they watched the Mand’alor be dragged down the ship’s corridors, from camera to camera.

“De te runi be Tarre Vizsla! Me’bana? Jetii?” One of her oldest verd whispered in horror as they watched another two verd go down after being bludgeoned by the Darksaber. (By the soul of Tarre Vizsla! What is happening? Jedi?)

Zuffra hit the alarm controls and then the coms for all the security verd’s buy’ce coms. “Ogir eyn aru’e bat te me’sen . Val cuyir chakur te Mand’alor. Taylir gar sur’haaise tenn bal laam.” (There is an enemy on the ship. They’re stealing the Mand’alor. Keep your eyes open and up.)

Once the alarms started going off the intruder stopped handling the Mand’alor with care, much to their anger, and dragged him down the corridor by his belt.

**

It may be undignified to drag Din’ika around this way, but it was easier focusing on just his belt rather than his whole person. He folded in half on his side, looking like an ungainly beskar covered mop head. They continued dragging Din’ika, following signs to the nearest escape pods. When they found a one-person pod, opening it was easy. Getting Din’ika into it was a lot harder, since he was so floppy.

Annnnnnnnd hup. There we go...what are all these...ah, this goes into this, we suppose. Click...and this one too. How many buckles do they need? We feel like WE are the kidnappers here and tying you up for interrogation. Not a good feeling.  There we go.

So many straps, buckles, and things to contend with so he didn’t bounce around when they ejected. When they got home, this was definitely going to be practiced more. The sound of boots made the Darksaber duck into the pod further, so that they were hidden by the lip of it.

Six Mando’ade crept down the corridor warily, weapons ready. One of them was actually looking up.

Mirdala! Thought you all would never learn.

“Haa’taylir te aru’e?” The lead verd surveyed the area. (See the enemy?)

“Nayc aru’e. Shi te Mand’alor.” None of them lowered their weapons. (No enemy. Just the Mand’alor.)

“Cuyir val werdla? A je’karta kyrayc runi???” One verd near the back sounded on the edge of hysterics. (Are they invisible? A vengeful dead soul (ghost)???)

“Ne’johaa! Ogir cuyir nayc kyrac runii olar! Di’kut.” The other verd in the back grabbed the other’s shoulder and hissed. (Shut up. There are no dead souls here. Idiot.)

“Morut'yc kaysh. Val cannot eyaytir ti Mand’alor.” The lead sighed and made a forward motion to the unit. (Secure him. They cannot escape with the Mand’alor.)

Oh yes we can. Watch us.

One of the closest verd approached the pod and was reaching for the buckles when the Darksaber Force pushed them away, hitting the button to close the pod at the same time. Then it took some effort to pull the release lever and disable the tracking system at the same time, but with a clunk the escape pod detached, and the automatic thrusters engaged to clear it from the vicinity of the ship.

They were getting farther and farther away, when the Darksaber realized a huge flaw in their plan. They did not know how to pilot any type of ship. Also, Tatooine was getting smaller.

**

Boba quickly ran through all the options they had.

“We’ve got twelve ships. Only eleven with offensive capabilities and less than that number that can hold multiple warriors. Alor Daber. You said one of the mining haulers was damaged?”

“Yes. It was kept in the middle of the formation the whole trip here.”

“Then we need to split our forces effectively. Krrsantan and Shand, take the damaged ship and secure the little one. Make sure that it looks like an everyday landing for repair.”

“I will go as well.” The Armorer stepped forward. “The ik’aad has met me.”

Boba gave the armored warrior a searching glance but nodded. “Shand’ll stay here then.”

The duo headed off quickly. The others in the room crowded closer, coiled with energy and waiting for assignments.

“You miners sure you want to get in this tangle?” Fennec asked, trying to count the remaining force.

“He’s our vod! You bet your beskar we’re going to tangle with those pirates!” Alor Daber said firmly. The sea of nods behind him was a welcome sight.

“Okay. We’re going to split all those with beskar’gam. Half here, half in the ships. Pilots?” Boba

There were at least twenty raised hands from the Mandalorian crowd and just as many from the main staff.

“Get those ships up and running. I’ve already started the Slave I. Take fifteen verde with you a piece, but only those up for direct combat. There’s a large weapons locker to arm up with in the hanger.”

Pilots and warriors peeled off, organizing themselves efficiently. Some of the staff went with them.

“Vizsla. Oojar. You’re with me. We’ll contact that ship and make our own demands once we’re in the air and in direct contact. Alor Daber…stay here with those of your verde that are not combat ready. You, Shand, and the rest of the staff need to shore up defenses here.”

“Got it boss.” Fennec nodded and pulled a pad up calling for her group. She took everything in stride and started giving out commands.

Before they could move on the coms technician interrupted them again, placing the holo unit on the table in front of Boba.

“Another call from that ship sir.”

“Vizsla, Oojar.” The two large Mandalorians crowded close to him. None of the three of them were wearing helmets and all of them were looking displeased when the holo was turned on. Everyone who were still waiting on jobs had their arms folded and looked just as displeased to be hearing from the pirates.

“It would be best if you were calling to tell me that you were returning the Mand’alor without any demands.” Boba said venomously, seeing the black and red Mandalorian from before.

They took of their helmet and revealed a stern looking female Togruta. “I was not going to ransom him. I wanted to barter for first chance at getting a shot at Kryze. I have fifteen large wheels of cheese to put our name at the top of the list.”

Boba just blinked a few moments, mind not really computing what she was talking about.

“You don’t want to ransom him?” Oojar rumbled behind him. “You want to barter for Kryze, with cheese?”

“Ah, yes, Lord Oojar. We are actually on your side here and do not want more hostilities than have already taken place…the Jetii that you employ…they’ve already injured six of my warriors and have stolen the Mand’alor.”

“We don’t have any Jetii!” Vizsla said harshly. “You let someone steal him? After you kidnapped him yourselves? He’s a beroya! How did you even get him to go with you in the first place?”

She looked sheepish now. “We thought he was an undercover Nite Owl. So we gave him some riffon tea. It knocked him out for some time.”

A warrior stepped up next to her, looking aggravated. “I’m Baar’ur Sichon. The tea is usually gentle, but for individuals with certain dispositions it can cause them to fall into deep sleeps and alter their moods when they awaken. Because they are so sensitive to their surroundings, they become exhausted, and the tea takes advantage of that.”

Boba grimaced. That little lie was coming back to haunt him it seemed. “I see. So, he’s not conscious. And you let someone steal him.”

“Your Jetii…”

“We just said we don’t have any Jetii!” Vizsla said angrily.

A com sounded on Boba’s vambrace. “Go ahead, Jovi.”

“Boss. Jedi Master Luke Skywalker is asking for an audience.” He could feel the hot accusing glares from everyone in the room and on the holo-com.

“Why is he here?” Boba ignored everyone and spoke to the com center.

“He said, and I quote, ‘I’ve lost the baby. The Mandalorians are going to kill me with many knives. You need to help me, Boba Fett, you’re my only hope.’ He sounded very upset.”

“Did your Jedi refer to the Mand’alor as a baby?” The Togruta asked, aghast.

Boba laughed, kind of hysterically but this was his life now. “He is not our Jedi! And he’s talking about an actual baby that he seems to have misplaced. A Mandalorian baby…who we have located. Jovi! Send him to the lowest private lounge. You know the one…near Prince.”

He shut off the com and turned his attention back to the holo call.

Vizsla shifted behind him, point an accusing finger at the holo. “Who have you let kidnap Din then?”

“We haven’t let them kidnap him! It’s one of your people! No one else knew that we had him!” The Togruta looked angry now.

“We just learned not even twenty minutes ago that you kidnapped him, how could we kidnap him back?” That was Daber, joining in the conversation.

Everyone in the room was pressing closer and shouting at the holo which was starting to fill up with Mandalorians shouting back at whatever accusations were being lob. It was so loud, it took a few moments for Boba to realize the com on his vambrace was going off again, but he recognized that ID instantly.  He whistled sharply.

“Everyone! Shut it!” When the room quieted, he engaged the channel. But it was dead silent. “Din?”

No one spoke but there was a ringing tap.

“What is that?” Someone asked quietly. The ringing tapping continued.

Vizsla shifted, leaning down uncomfortably close to Boba, but he was focused on the vambrace. “That’s dadita…”

“Dee?” Boba asked. The tapping stopped and started again after a moment. It was not a version he knew. “Vizsla, translate.”

“We…need…help.” Vizsla was said slowly.

“Dee. Where are you?” The tapping was beskar against beskar, he realized as he asked the next question.

“Escape…pod. Din…is…not…responsive. We…cannot…pilot.” Vizsla shared a worried glance with him. The only time they had ever agreed thus far.

“Why not?”

“Don’t…have…have…arms…kriffer.”

“Can’t you, you know, do your thing?” Boba said with a grimace, trying not to give away that they had a force user on their hands.

“Still…don’t…know…how…to…fly. Din…makes…this…look…easy.” Vizsla snorted as he finished but continued. “Moving…away…from…planet…toward…a…sun.”

“Firfiek!” Oojar cursed. He made his way toward the door, but Fennec stopped him.

“Boba! I’ve triangulated their position. I’ve got Dune and Karga enroute to the escape pod.” Fennec pushed her way to his position and held up her own com and pad. “They’ve locked on and are ready to retrieve him.”

“Someone give that woman a raise!” Was shouted from the holo-call. Cheers went up along with relieved sighs from Vizsla and Oojar.

Fennec smirked in Boba’s direction. He just rolled his eyes.

“Since we have the Mand’alor situation taken care of, let’s talk about Bo Katan Cheese.”

Chapter Text

The problem with Destiny is that you do not necessarily have to believe in it for it to happen to you. Destiny is undaunted by refusals and running to the other end of the galaxy to get away. Destiny is also very mettlesome, since it will use every resource available, including your friends and family to do its bidding unknowingly.

So that means, that if enough people around you believe you will go on and do remarkable things, and you do remarkable things because you just so happen to be a kind upstanding generous sort of bleeding-heart person under a gruff murdering bounty hunter exterior, it will still happen.

If you also happen to have a strange, somewhat annoying connection to the great Cosmic Force of the universe and that Cosmic Force has decided to team up with Destiny, you are in trouble. Because not only will the team up give you some gritty, stout, pushy guides to get through to you about your destiny, both will also sprinkle a liberal dose of Force shenanigans in for funsies.

Din’s Destiny awoke on Arvala-7. Din started his Destiny ball rolling the minute he opened a pram.

The others around him? Bless their cynical little hearts, but every single person around him also had Destiny calling for them as well, even if they denied it with every fiber of their beings and said nope. Din’s mere presence just stirred the pot and threw them back into Destiny Stampede.

So, technically, everything that happens is really Din’s fault.

**

The newly reconvened Mando’ade Ruling Clan Council had a problem on their hands. Another one on top of the mountain of problems that came with decades of mismanagement and feuds that they could ill afford. The eye of the Core had turned toward their sector once again, only this time for unsavory and licentious libel, at a time when they did not need the scrutiny.

The sixteen Clan Alore that felt safe enough to move about had been meeting for the last two years at Krownest since Moff Gideon had been apprehended and the Darksaber whispered about. While the operations in their sector that the Moff personally saw to were falling apart, the Remnants who had dug in were still a problem even through multiple Mando’ade raids. There were still Imps on Mandalore and Concordia appropriating the resources for Imperial use, scattered clans asking for aid, and several Mandalorian outposts that were under Imperial control. It was a mess. Ursa Wren had hoped that they would have had some resolutions nine years after the fall of the Empire. She also wished this meeting would end after six hours of clan updates. They were finally on the actual meat of the meeting.

“Have you been able to get a hold of Lord Oojar yet? We have a situation, and his wise council will be necessary.” She asked the aide to her left. The others at the table were going over the reports that had been handed out.

The ge’ver’alor looked at the pad in her hand. “Countess Wren, his covert has replied that he is on a personal quest and has suspended all projects for the foreseeable future. He indicated that he would be on Tatooine.”

“What about Lady Kryze? Have we heard back from her about her recruitment efforts?” An Alor asked from down the table. Ursa knew he had a particular bone to pick with Bo Katan after she had admitted to not regaining the saber on Gideon’s Light Cruiser. After a year and a half of being mum about it.

“Recruitment efforts are not going well, per the reports that are coming in from the Outer Rim Alor’ade. Lady Kryze has not personally answered back, but her last known location was Tatooine.” Ursa sighed at her ge’ver’alor’s remarks.

“I have had multiple missives that a lost Mando’ade warship has reappeared, the Imperial mine on Concordia had been destroyed and the Imps deafeated, and that uh...Boba Fett is still alive?” Alor Lyst looked bewildered. “Is this the same mine that we were going to strike within the next cycle?”

“What warship?”

“Boba Fett?”

“Alore, gedet’ye.” Ursa held up her hand for silence. “Ge’ver’alor Syn’cho, please update us on all points if you would.”

Syn’cho dimmed the lights of the meeting room and the table display lit up, pulling up a composite of the Concordian mine in question.

“Ahem. The Concoridian mine was obliterated. There were charges placed inside and it was also bombarded by ship artillery. However, the traar’aliit that investigated the site found no dead except Imperials. The mine had been evacuated prior to demolition. They also found something else worthy of note.”

She pulled up a picture of a stormtrooper, cut in half with a long scar in the wall behind him and another with a hole burned through their chest. The Alore looked at each to Ursa, all of them knowing what the damage from a lightsaber would look like. Another image appeared, highly corrupted security footage, but they could just make out part of a buy’ce and breastplate.

“There were some ships that left the mine and their pings have been traced to Tatooine.”

“And this warship?” Ursa questioned when a picture of the long missing ship appeared.

“The Beviin be Manda’yaim. Last seen during the Night of a Thousand Tears evacuation, a thousand souls on board. Currently in orbit above Tatooine.”

“Boba Fett?” Alor Rook sighed in annoyance, knowing where this was going.

“He is alive and currently the Daimyo of most of the major cities of Tatooine.”

Ursa leaned forward on her elbows and rubbed her forehead with her fingers, hoping to ease the headache that had been coming on for the last few hours. What in the Manda was going on?

“So, we have all of this going on involving Tatooine...and now some Jedi is rambling about the galaxy in stolen armor and waving about their lightsaber impersonating Tarre Vizsla.” Alor Lyst flipped through a few pages. “Have we heard from Senator Organa again? Because I want to put a theory out to you all.”

“Senator Organa’s aide was very closemouthed but said that she had important business to attend to, family business...on Tatooine.” Syn’cho looked vaguely amused as she relayed that to the Clan Heads whose eyebrows just climbed higher in disbelief.

Ursa clapped her hand on the table in agitation. “Alor Lyst, what is your theory?”

“What if the Mando’ad who holds the Darksaber feels the need to earn the right to yield it by going about the Outer Rim, seeking out other Mando’ade in disguise and bringing together the diaspora? There have been many reports of a single Mando’ad gaining allies on a multitude of planets aruetii and Mando’ade, killing a Krayt dragon, liberating villages from Imps and raiders, destroying Empire facilities, uniting separated families, and recovering beskar’gam. What better way to unite the clans? By being so mandokarla that there’s no question that they have the legitimacy required to be Mand’alor?”

“And this Mando’ad is based out of Tatooine?” Ursa asked in wonder. “Then what was this about?”

She gestured irritably to a pad with the Galactic Mail open on the screen.

“If we go by Alor Lyst’s theory, that could be an undercover operation that went awry. The investigators for those shock rags do not ever really tell you the truth. It could be misconstrued, and it would explain the presence of a lightsaber and beskar’gam being mentioned together.” Alor Kerrin said, sweeping their eyes down the table to meet everyone’s eyes. “The fury over the sullying of Tarre Vizsla’s memory, so soon after the destruction of our culture by the Empire, made many of us react too quickly. We might have been a little overzealous on making a complaint to the New Republic Senate.”

“Why would they not come forward though?” Alor Rouast asked solemnly.

Alor Lyst flipped through her pad report, going through her notes and cleared her throat. “What if...they are a Child of the Watch? Our insider on Lady Kryze’s cruiser mentioned that the Gonzanti Freighter that was seized during the operation on Trask, was completed with the help of one of them. IF, and this is a big if, that same Mando’ad helped them win the cruiser, then it is very possible that they won the saber and were very reluctant to even come forward due to certain...views on their sect and pushback from Lady Kryze.”

“That would cover the need to be seen as legitimate and worthy to most of the Mando’ade left. We will need to go to Tatooine and investigate this. Lady Kryze must also explain herself.” Alor Rook stood, impatient and ready to move. He had been done with the meeting hours ago. “I will relay the change in plans to the ships if we are all in agreement.”

After looking around the table Ursa also rose. “We are. We will leave within the hour.”

Alor Lyst was the only one who stayed in the meeting room with Ursa who was studying the readout for Tatooine.

“What are you thinking, Ursa?”

“I am thinking this mysterious Mando’ad really wants to be Mand’alor if they are going through all this trouble to prove themselves to us. If the stories are true, then I will personally see to it that they stay Mand’alor. Lady Kryze has not fit the bill for a long time, no matter the fight she has shown.”

**

When Cara hauled Din from the escape pod, he was still unconscious. She was glad that Greef had gone all out and insisted on the bigger ship for this blue milk run. Partly for the fact that they could attach themselves to the pod instead of dragging it home like a recalcitrant dog on a leash and also for the spacious bunks that were easy to maneuver a dead weight Mandalorian that was floppier than normal. He seemed lighter to her as well. Thinner.

“Has he been eating Dee?”

Yes. We have been badgering him to eat meals and snacks...but he is burning a lot more energy than he should. Did he tell you what Boba said, about the Force?

Cara sighed in frustration. “He’s mildly force sensitive, right? Was the readout wrong?”

It could have been, but we think Boba was...ahem...trying to keep him from freaking out and said mild as a comfort. Usually, the powers will fade greatly if you do not use them.

“Din’s didn’t?” Cara moved up to the cockpit to join Greef. The Darksaber followed her and propped itself up on the dash, since both seats were taken. Greef nodded hello to the both of them as he turned his chair.

“Talking about the Force?” He had a cup of caf ready for himself and Cara, bless the man.

Force theory will never be our expertise. We are a Force being, but that does not mean that we know everything there is to know. The Force does what it wants and directs us where to go but does not share its secrets easily.

Greef snorted in derision. “Space wizardry. No offense Dee, but I find it difficult to believe even the Jedi could understand the Force Chaos we find ourselves in constantly.”

It does seem to find Din’ika quite a bit. I have a theory though.

"Fire those blasters, Dee. I need to know what we’re facing.” Cara used the seat controls to lean her seat back and settle in, for the two hours it would take at impulse to reach Tatooine. Sipping her caf, she waited while the Darksaber gathered its thoughts.

Beskar blocks the Force to a high degree. Not completely, but even beskar blended armor will have a repellent nature and prevent the wearer from being influenced by other Force users. But...and this is where it gets dicey...say you are Force sensitive and you wear it from an early age, from thirteen onwards, not taking it off for longs periods, if at all. There is an extremely high chance that it will suppress your abilities or dull them so that they are not...noticeable enough.

“Kid was always lucky. Going out on pucks that took down others. Maybe it’s the Mandalorian in him or the Force, but he did a lot of bounties I thought he’d not come back from. But I now know why he took so many.” Greef rubbed his chin in thought, scratching through his beard. “He wore that armor constantly, almost never took it off since he donned it, he said. Because of the Tribe’s rules.”

“You said not using them would make them fade? Is that dependent on how sensitive he is? Because what it sounds like you’re saying is that he is very Force sensitive and it’s only going to get worse from here.” Cara frowned into her caf.

They SHOULD have faded. Our theory is, is that he HAS been using the Force to augment his everyday living, so his powers are still active. He has been drawing the force through a straw where typical Force users draw it through a huge pipe. He must have been using it in the most efficient and disciplined way possible, as a true Mandalorian should, but still using it to be sharper and faster and do crazy things you think no one could. Is that not what Jedi have been rumored to have done? And now, after using it through a trickle, it is flooding him and he cannot control it as well anymore. It is using him, not the other way around.

Greef and Cara shared a look of discontent.

“We’ll have to get him to the medic at the palace as soon as possible to have him looked over. Fennec said something about a tea causing altered moods and to be on the lookout. Maybe sedate him again. Do you both think that he’s in danger?” Greef looked from Cara to the Darksaber.

He has been inhibiting the connection for a long time, since he was a child, only getting a trickle. Now the floodgate is open, and no amount of armor is going to stop it. Already, we have been bandying about the Outer Rim following the Will of the Force without noticing, even with the new armor which is pure beskar and not a blend. He has been eating so much and then expending so much energy. He has been more distracted and listless. He is also exhausted. Every time we run into these situations something that is supposed to only affect him for only a few hours puts him into a mini coma to make up for his unconscious use of the Force. He does not know how powerful he is and if he does not gain control, it could be trouble, but he is Mando’ad. Their training will allow him to gain the control he needs, if he knows what is happening and gets a chance to focus and practice.

“I always wondered why he could go from focused, driven warrior to teenage bantha tripping over his own feet afterwards. Part socially awkward, part using up all his extra power being badass.” Cara remarked lightly, draining the last of her caf. “Let’s get this mudscuffer home. We’ve got a lot to do and a short time to do it in.”

**

The Armorer was not sure what she was expecting when the giant Wookiee landed the ship in bay 3-5 but a short determined, curley haired mechanic with a giant blaster rifle aimed at them was not on the list.

“Oh, Santo. Didn’t expect you.” The small woman dropped the rifle and ignored the Armorer to focus on the Wookiee. “Who’s your Mando friend?”

Krrsantan trilled and roared, making the woman’s tension ease.

“Ah. I’m Peli Motto. Santo said you’ve met Bright Eyes?” The woman’s focus transferred to her.

“Bright Eyes?” The Armorer looked around for the child they had come for.

“Mando’s baby.” She thumbed over her shoulder, pointing to the x-wing where a small face was peeking out of the cockpit. When he felt acknowledged by their focus, he leapt out of the cockpit and landed on the ground, toddling forward quickly. “That’s right buddy. Come to Auntie Peli. We’ll go see your dad.”

The Armorer almost recoiled when the woman named herself aunt to the child. It was hard for her to embrace the fact that Din had made a life outside of the Tribe without them. Even though, after Glavis, it was their fault he’d had to do so. They had met so many people on their travels who thought of Din as a friend, even if they knew him sparingly. Sorgon had been an eye-opener, with that widow looking sorrowfully at the Tribe representatives and not finding the one she wanted.

“He should be recovered by now. Where are your things?” The Armorer was itching to get back to the palace and start setting things right with Din, even though she knew it would not happen immediately.

“Those three bags over there and the droids. Mine and the prisoner. The little one didn’t have anything except a bag of snacks, which from a toddler’s point of view was adequate gear for traveling.” Peli laughed as the child leapt into her arms. “Isn’t that right, kiddo? Let's get to it, yeah?”

“Patu!” The little one squealed, pointing to the ship. But when the Armorer moved forward, the child’s focus shifted, and he reached out his tiny arms to her. She hesitated to reach back, but Peli’s expectant stare bid her to move.

He was small and so very light. When he was settled in her arms, he dug under his little tunic to bring out a familiar kyr’bes necklace, tapping it against her breast plate and making the harmonious sound of beskar meeting beskar. The little one closed his eyes, seeming to be soothed by the sound. She ducked her helmet down for a quick kov’nyn against his forehead. By the time that was done, he had opened his eyes back up and was clinging to her, butting his head under her chin. He stayed there, clutching at the necklace and refusing to move.

“He misses Mando, and I don’t blame him.” Peli said sadly. She turned away and headed toward the ship. “Come on, guys.”

Her pit droids and a small droid rambled into the ship behind her, Krrsantan having already loaded the bags and herded the prisoner droid into it. She took a moment to pat the small back of Din’s child.

“Ik’aad, you can stay with me as long as you like. I will care for you until we find your buir.” The resulting sigh of impatience sounded just like Din and she had to smile under her buy’ce. Clan of Two, indeed.

As they were settling into the cargo hold seats, Peli looked over to them.

“What do I call you?”

“You may call me Ferah in private and Armorer in public.” The admittance was met with a broad smile.

“You and Din are so much alike, with the name thing. Say, would you be interested in dinner sometime later?”

“Are you...asking me out on a…date?” The Armorer stuttered, gripping the ik’aad a little tightly and getting a sound of disgruntlement from him. She took a breath and settled, tilting her buy’ce, and releasing the tension in her arms. It was time to get out of her comfort zone and remember what life was like.

Peli waited a moment for her to regain her composure, but still said slyly, “Are you thinking about saying yes to me asking you out on a date?”

“I will say yes on one condition.”

“What is that condition.”

“You must find a place with the spiciest food this side of Tatooine.”

“I can definitely do that.”

**

Boba had needed some alone time after the debate on how many wheels of cheese Bo Katan Kryze was worth. He was still wondering how those strange Mandalorian pirates were even in on the joke. Seeking shelter in the private lounge, he found Paz Vizsla sprawled across one of the biggest sofas they had. The man was not as bad as he thought after watching him interact with a fair few of the staff and the rest of the Mandalorians. While he was gruff and imposing, he was also gentle with all the adiik running wild and any miners that were in distress. Did not mean he would not needle him for causing Din stress, though.

“Freshers all full?” Boba said gruffly before taking of his helmet and setting it on the low table near the other sofa.

“I needed some time away from grabby hands trying to sweet talk me into their eleventh pastry and some of the more forward miners eyeing me as a potential riduur. Shand gave me the password for the private lounge when I offered her extortion material on Din.” Vizsla threw an arm over his bared face, his helmet also sitting on the low table. “I also needed to get away from the ridiculous debate on how many wheels of cheese would get you put at the top of the list to beat Kryze into the ground. Doesn’t anyone realize that the first person will always be Din, as long as he holds the saber? Mand’alore first and all that.”

“That’s rough and very admirable. Not only do you understand the intricacies of the challenge, but you have been here less than two days and already you are speaking Fennec’s language of bribes and extortion.” Boba sniped as he settled into the empty sofa, groaning as he stretched out his legs. Getting older was bantha poodoo.

“I don’t have any cheese on hand to speak your language.” Vizsla sniped back.

Boba grinned wolfishly. “You two really are vod.”

Vizsla sighed, removing his arm from over his face and looking at Boba upside down. Fennec was right in that the heterochromia was a very arresting feature on Vizsla. One eye a vivid blue and the other a dark honey gold, under a mop of black hair. A frown marred his chiseled face though.

“I don’t think he would consider me a vod after Navarro and Glavis.” The unhappiness in his tone spoke volumes to his line of thinking. “We used to be inseparable, but a lot of things got in the way. My idiocy being one of them.”

“Might be his idiocy, too. Din is one stubborn shabuir sometimes.” Boba hummed as he wiggled, trying to find the perfect alignment of his vertebrae and the back cushion. He ended up listing to the right a little.

Vizsla snorted softly as he watched him. “He is a stubborn shabuir, isn’t he?”

“He is also stubbornly clingy to the people who have gained his loyalty, regard, and love, even if they sometimes don’t deserve it.” Boba said softly, getting a deep forehead furrow from Vizsla. “Burc’ya, you are not the only one that owes him an apology.”

Vizsla bellowed out a laugh, which was very weird to hear from the reserved man.

“Manda, are we going to have to pay in wheels of cheese just to apologize to him, as well?”

“I happen to be the Lord of Cheese around here. No one can put down more wheels than me.”

“I’ll bet you five bottles of tihaar that Cook has more.”

“You are on.”

**

“Look Raig, all I’m saying is that if we place a couple of side bets right now, we can get some funds to set up a truly spectacular still around here and get that tihaar and other liquors mass produced. Din assures me there’s a market!” Fennec was hissing lowly, trying to keep their conversation private in their secluded corner of the dining room.

Raig smiled knowingly at Fennec, as she ran numbers on her pad. “You would hold the title of Manager of Quality Control in our little operation, yes?”

“If by Manager of Quality Control, you mean Overlady of Extensive Taste-testing, then yes, that can be my official title.” Fennec said, all business and ferocity, pointing her pad in his direction. “Agree to my deal.”

“I will only agree to your deal if you get Cook involved. She is the one who is Lady over these parts. We would have to find a storage room that has the space. In her space.” He crossed his arms, eyes roving the crowded room, searching for the Besalisk.

Fennec smirked in triumph. “What makes you think that she is not already involved?”

“Fennec, have you been conspiring against me?” Raig said with great disappointment, radiating hurt. It was faked, but it was one of his best weapons.

“Are you trying to use your Disapponted Stare against me? Me?” Fennec gasped dramatically. Then her face went still and serious, her voice dry as the desert outside. “You’re still only getting twenty-five percent. Nice try.”

Raig sighed in resignation and put an arm out to seal their deal. “It was worth a shot.”

“Din is going to be pleased. He’s been trying to set up a still for months.” Her communicator chirped as she sealed the deal, the com room informing her of the pirates landing on one of the outside landing pads and the Armorer and Krrsantan landing with the babe. “Let’s go rangle some pirates and welcome Din’s baby.”

**

“All of you, shoo! No more pastries until late meal.” Cook watched fondly as the little ones scattered, giggling as they went. It was nice to have little ones in the palace, really brightening up the space.

She looked around furtively, finding the kitchens empty for the first time today. She stepped into the large cooler, taking out a hidden com from behind a box of meliroons. Activating it, she waited for a few moments for it to connect.

“Laer, this had better be important.” The mechanical voice being changed by a vocoder had no inflections.

“There have been no new fruits coming through my waypoint. I am concerned.”

“Your waypoint is crawling with Mandalorians.”

“They are no danger to the mission and hot pots have never been a problem before.”

“We are also not doing very well in this grove; four agents are down or missing. Not all of us have a Daimyo attack dog on standby.” Even through the vocoder she could hear the sourness.

Cook was getting irritated by their presumptions. But the voice on the other end had given her an idea. “You are the one that chose the assignments. Send me an updated list of suppliers and groves you want to infiltrate. I can set up some new agents shortly.”

“You can’t...”

“Yes, I can. Despite you getting to choose the assignments, I am higher ranking. Do as I say.”

“Yes ma’am.” Came the petulant reply. The vocoder lost all use when they could not handle their emotions.

The com clicked off and she hid it again, this time behind the durag fruits. Grabbing a few bushels of herbs for cover, she stepped out into the empty kitchen. It was not a few minutes later that she was smacking adult hands away from the pastries with her spoon.

**

Grogu was sleepy. He had missed multiple sleeps so he could plan to run away and then actually run away. Now that he was held against familiar armor that quieted his mind, he was tired. The Golden Lady from the lava place was not buir but she was familiar, and she felt like he did, so he felt safe. She had even given him a helmet kiss!

The ship stopped vibrating and he felt the Golden Lady stand up. He heard Aunt Peli shooing her droids and Fur Tree crooned lowly. He waved and Fur Tree waved back tentatively. He could tell Fur Tree was undecided on if he liked younglings or not. Most adults felt like that. Not his Mandalorians, but most adults.

They left the ship and Grogu felt the suns on his face.

“Would you like to walk?” The Golden Lady asked gently. 

Grogu did want to walk. He was not a baby. He made the sign for down, hoping she would understand. Buir knew hand sign and taught him. He said he learned it from his buir, so it was tradition. Was Golden Lady his Buir’s Buir? Sadly, she did not know hand sign, so he wiggled and pointed to the ground. Once his feet touched the ground, he remembered how much he did not like sand. But he followed everyone, occasionally hoping far ahead, and waiting for them. When they reached the big building, some people he did not know were waiting for them. He hid behind Aunt Peli’s legs and listened to the new ones talk to Aunt Peli, Golden Lady, and Fur Tree

“No problems retrieving the little one?” This adult was BIG with golden eyes, large hands, and a thunderstorm voice. He was also pretty in the Force. He was probably one of Buir’s Mandalorians, so that was as it should be.

“The Nite Owls gave us no trouble. Krrsantan was able to set down in the hanger since it was one of the smaller mining vessels.” Golden Lady was speaking now. “Little one, come here and meet my ba’buir.”

Her tone was firm like Buir and Master Luke when they wanted something done. He walked forward hesitantly, stopping next to the Golden Lady and grabbing her boot. The large adult, Golden Eyes, knelt on one knee, holding out a hand to him.

“Come little one, let me get a look at you.” The thunderstorm was gentle and Grogu liked that a lot. He stepped forward a little more and signed to him.

:Are you Buir’s buir?:

Golden Eyes looked startled for a minute as the other new people started to murmur. Golden Eyes smiled sadly. “No Little One. I am not your Buir’s buir. What is your name?”

:G-R-O-G-U: He stumbled a bit on spelling out his name. Buir had had to modify some of the signs for his hands. It had been a long time since he had to talk so much with his hands, so he didn’t know if his next words were right. :Is Buir’s buir walking away?:

The Golden Lady gasped beside him. She did know sign! She knelt suddenly, took his hands in her gently and looked him in the eye. “He is little one. Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum. I am still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal. We remember him.”

He had not meant to make them all sad. He had just wanted to know. His ears fell back, in regret.

“Come now, Grogu. It is not so bad. We are sad yes, but we are also happy. Happy that you are here. Aayhan.”

Golden Eyes gestured for him to come forward more. When Grogu did, a broad finger swept over one of his ears. Little sparks of joy filled the air, the Force sang now. He was supposed to be here at this moment, he knew it so firmly, it filled his entire being.

“Let’s go get midmeal and wait for your Buir in the coolness of the palace. I hear you eat frogs.”

Golden Eyes picked him up gently as he cheered for frogs. Coming closer, he was able to see something he was not able to before. Golden Eyes had pointed ears! He gestured wildly and he felt a rumble of laughter.

“Say it again, but more slowly. It has been a long time since I had to talk this way.” The gentle admonishment was not bad and he only felt amusement from Golden Eyes, so he repeated the signs again.

:I like your ears:

The laugh that came out of Golden Eyes was like a clap of thunder followed by gentle rumblings. It startled him, but it was nice.

“Oh my. We match, do we not? I like your ears too.”

As they stepped into the big building, he felt more joy in the Force, as peals of laughter surrounded him. The laughter was loud, so no one heard Golden Eyes whisper to him.

“Let me tell you a secret...”

**

Cara was not sure how it had come to this. She had been hanging back from the bunkroom hoping Dee could handle Din for the moment. He had been very confused and disoriented at first, slurring his words and not really understanding any words being spoke to him. After he had started to come around and his head started to clear, Cara and Dee had explained what they knew of the situation regarding the pirates and now being on Tatooine instead of Naboo.

Cara excused herself with an excuse to check on Greef and their status but had actually headed to the med kit for a sedative, just in case. Din had been upset, but the cycling of his emotions had been happening too fast, going from furious to teary to placid in a few minutes. Dee had the floor now, explaining their Force theory and why Din might be having such a challenging time as they bounced around the outer rim. She did not envy the Darksaber that conversation. There was no yelling, so Cara would like to assume it was going well.

Greef called back that they were going to be landing in a few minutes, and she went to the cockpit to join him and buckle in for re-entry. It was a little shakey, but as they touched down on a large pad full of ships, both of them breathed sighs of relief until they felt the ship shudder and the ramp light went on. Cara unbuckled as quickly as she could, racing back to the cargo hold and bunk room, only to hear something ramming the door. She hit the button and it opened just as the Darksaber went for another go at the door making it fly across the hold and hit the other wall to the right of the ramp.

That shabuir! He’s made a break for it! Call Boba!

“Why?”

He is in rage and he has many weapons. But no helmet and no jet pack! We will follow him, but you must get someone here that can sedate him without killing him.

“Kriff.”

**

Leia Organa-Solo thought that this was Boba Fett’s subtle way at getting back at both Luke and Han when they were led to a private lounge, deep, deep in the palace. Han was jittery, Chewie looked bored, and Luke looked a little green. Probably because he could sense the presence of a rancor close to their location. Leia was unbothered by the rancor or the power play by Boba Fett. She’d strangled one owner of this palace, and it was within her abilities to cut off air flow of another owner for a bit if it kept the Mandalorians from declaring open season on Jedi and the New Republic. They might be a sparse people now, but they were fearsome and not to be trifled with if it could be helped. She was also a bit salty about Fett working with Darth Vader, but it could not be helped.

“You think he’s mad about the Sarlacc?” Han whined, sitting down in a plush chair and then automatically standing right back up. “I couldn’t see!”

“Yes dear. I have a feeling he’s mad about the Sarlacc. But I think he is more upset with Luke right now because he lost a Mandalorian baby and needs his help.” Leia smirked in Luke’s direction, but he was staring off into space. Probably pleading with the Force to reveal Grogu’s location so he did not have to face Fett.

Chewie was subduing Han after his twentieth pacing pass and Luke was still communing with the Force when a cough sounded in the room. Everyone startled but Leia. She did not know how the other three, especially a force user, missed the presence of someone so...interesting.

“Name’s Skad, at your service your majesty.” He bowed awkwardly, but at least he was trying and so polite. “The Boss is dealing with many emergencies at the moment so it may be some time before he can get to you. While you wait, can I offer you any refreshments or nibbles? We have a lovely cheese from Naboo that arrived just this afternoon. We call it Kokatan Cheese.”

His smirk denoted a joke of some sort, but it was lost on everyone else.

“Refreshments would be lovely.” Leia smiled pleasantly but Luke shot up from his meditation pose, all wild eyes and troubled.

“The Mandalorian is in trouble! Danger is coming!”

**

Paz was having a case of nerves. It was really humiliating for a heavy infantry verd to want to run away from confrontation. But this was his vod, who he had wronged, and he did not know how it would go. So here he was, pacing back and forth, running his hands through his already crazy hair, trying to decide the first thing he would say. His indecision was hidden from the world in the shadow of a mining freighter. Or most of the world. His distraction cost him when a silver beskar bullet named Din Djarin hit him at full speed, knocking the breath out of him and taking him down.

For a while it was just him trying to keep Din from hitting him in his too vulnerable places and then bucking him off to get room to regroup. But something was off. Din was their best fighter and if he were really out for blood, he would have given Paz no quarter. But Paz realized what it was the minute he got a good look at his vod. It was the first time in twenty-three years that he had seen the other’s face, but his eyes should have not looked so unhinged and hazy.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up here and showing your face!” Din spat, the vitriol ugly and mean on his countenance.

“Din...you need to calm down.” Paz held up his hands.

“I don’t need to listen to a besom hut’tun who would pull a blade on a vod! I don’t want you here!” Din’s face took on a fierce chilling smile. “I’m going to beat the osik out of you and dump you in the rancor pit.”

 A whining sound came from their left, a line of dust heading straight for Din. But he paid it no mind, deflecting it harshly off his vambrace with a swing of his arm. Whatever it was hit the mining freighter hard, leaving a huge dent.

“Don’t get in my way Dee.”

Then he lunged, fast and furious and it was all Paz could do to block him and stop him from getting a vibroblade between his plates. Parry, duck, deflect the blade, lock Din’s arm and shake it to get him to drop the blade, only to get a powerful follow up strike to his flank making his ribs twinge. Paz danced away, backwards, deflecting another blade with his vambrace. Din carried a lot of blades and karking small explosives! Paz tossed himself to the side to avoid having a leg blown off and popped up on Din’s other side, already having to use his vambrace to deflect another blade, this one bigger and longer. He wished he had his buy’ce to keep that concussive blast sound from partially deafening him.

They circled each other, Din gritting his teeth and making a dissatisfied noise at Paz’s reluctance at taking the offensive stance. He needed to get close and behind him, but Din knew that strategy and would never show him his back. If Paz got in too close to use his mass to overpower him, he was also going to be in the range of those lash fast hands with knives and whistling birds attached to them. And they knew how to get between his plates having spent years learning to do it.

Din was all rage, pain, and sorrow, Paz could feel it in the air. He was letting it cloud his judgement and that meant the next flurry of blows was not the strategic and energy saving movements Paz was used to, but a wild whirlwind of fists and knees and vibroblades. He was becoming uncontrolled and getting sloppier the longer Paz defended. Din was infuriated, and he deployed his whipcord to trip Paz up while he came in to get under his guard with a rough shoulder.

It did not work out that way, as Din had pushed Paz to the edge of the landing platform. His back heel hit air and he stumbled, arms wheeling and clutching onto the most stable thing in his vicinity which happened to be Din, who was not stable or prepared to be grabbed so roughly. They both went over the edge, hollering, tumbling and rolling down the steep incline together, the whipcord getting in on the action and binding them tightly, chest to chest. Din was still trying to fight, snarling, and throwing his head this way and that, catching Paz in the face with his forehead. It did not break his nose, but it still burst with pain and blood started running as they came to a stop at the bottom of the steep incline. Din howled and was still trying to break free.

“Din! Gev! Gev! Ni ceta! Ni ceta! Gedet’ye. Gev!” Paz nasally pleaded with him, feeling the smaller man’s limbs strain against the whipcord. His desolation was making Paz’s head hurt, in some places quite literally.

He heard a strangled sob as all the fight went out of Din, the whipcord no longer straining to contain him and tightening as he fought. A curly head ducked under his chin, butting up against the underside, and a hand that had been trapped between them gripped the edge of Paz’s breastplate.

“Gedet’ye. K’uur. Naak. That’s it.” Paz closed his eyes in relief and felt his nose throb in time with the hitched breaths against his throat. “Jate. Jate.”

“Why couldn’t you have stayed gone?” Din asked a few moments later, voice hoarse and full of anguish.

“Jorcu ni cuyir eyn utreekov bal ni ceta. Gar ner vod’ika. N’eparavu takisit. Gedet’ye.” Paz’s voice was just as hoarse. (Because I am an idiot and I am sorry. You are my little brother. I eat my insult. Please.)

Minutes passed as they just laid there, their breathing evening out and their limbs losing tension. It was a thankful resolution to how they started. It was awkward and uncomfortable, but it was also peaceful.

A scrape against stone made Paz’s eyes fly open, and his eyes flit around the area they landed in. Shadows were gathering farther away from them, coalescing and then separating into the forms of people in clothes he did not recognize. No beskar’gam between them. They were cautiously coming toward them with weapons in hand instead of running to help, so Paz knew there was no way they were on their side.

“Uh-oh.” Paz breathed out.

“Let me guess, we’re getting ready to receive some company.” Din’s flat tone almost made Paz smirk.

“Lek.”

“Sharp blades and blasters pointed at us.”

“Most likely.”

“Akaanir gar hailer.” (Fight your fill. Essentially: Bring it on.)

“Oya.”

**

The Darksaber did not know what pain felt like, but if the tearing and weakness it felt was their version of pain, then they were in a lot of it. Din’ika had unconsciously used a tremendous force push to deflect them off his vambrace and now all they could do was lay in the dust of the landing pad and hope someone came soon. Something was wrong and they could not move themselves or channel the force for anything more than sensory input. They could see a discarded buy’ce from the verd that Din’ika had attacked and prayed to the Manda that at least one of them was conscious, considering they had gone over the side hollering and tangled in Din’ika’s whipcord.

It was some time before they felt the vibrations of many booted feet. They hoped that someone they had connected to in the past was among the group because it was getting harder to stay aware.

“Where would he have gone?” The gentle rumble of Raig was a relief. He was close.

Raig.

“Dee? Dee, where are you?” That was Fennec. Oh, thank the Manda.

Over…over…here.

“Kriff.” Fennec came into view and kneeled, not touching them but looking concerned. Raig loomed over her shoulder. “What it going on? Where’s Din…and Paz?”

She pointed to the discarded buy’ce and then her hands hovered hesitantly over them.

They…fell. They fell…over the…side. We…cannot…move. It…is hard…to focus.

“Fennec, take the group and follow them down. They must be at the bottom and might need medical attention. I will take care of our friend.”

There was some murmuring, but the rest of the group left leaving Raig stooped over them and hesitating like Fennec to touch them.

We think…we are dying. Hold us…to your…beskar bosom…as we perish.

“K’uur. So dramatic. Dha’kad, there is a Jetii here that can help you.” Raig finally picked them up, cradling them close. “He is young, but he has a lightsaber as well.”

They filled with horror at the thought of the Jetii touching them.

No. Just let…us die. We…do not…want to be poked…by that kidnapping…sorcerer.

“Will you give up before you meet your bu’ad? Din’ika will certainly miss you.” That filled them with shame, Raig’s gentle admonishment a reminder that they needed to be here for all their adopted ones. They started moving toward the palace.

Our bu’ad is...here? What if…what if he…does…not like us?

A stifled laugh. “Dha’kad. He will love you. He is Din’ika’s ad’ika.”

Take us…to the…space…wizard, then.

“So quick to change your mind.” Raig prodded with gentle humor. “Just lay back and think of Manda’yaim.”

That…is not…comforting. Have you…seen…Manda’yaim lately?

**

Fennec cursed when they found nothing at the bottom of the incline but a small puddle of blood and drag marks. The boot prints in the dusty ground gave the impression of a small group of around ten or so that faded off into one of the crevasses the surrounded the palace on this side.

Fennec hit her com angrily. “Boba. Someone was sneaking up on the palace and happened upon Din and Paz, who are probably injured. They’re gone.”

“Vanth is here. He arrived minutes ago and said that the underground was warning of a retribution attack.”

“Firfiek!” Fennec spat angrily.

“This is not good. We have too much going on for mere spice runners.” The angry response was followed by a curse as Fennec heard movement and shouts for the other leaders to gather.

“Yeah. The Mandalorians are going to lose their minds.”

“Those spice runners are going to regret every second of their lives if they hurt our vod’ika.”

“Oh, they are going to regret more than that.” Fennec said darkly, looking toward the crevasse.

**

Fenn Rau was brought out of his light nap at his desk by the ping of his com.

“Rau.”

“How close are you to Tatooine?” The crisp voice of Ursa Wren filled his bunk.

“Hours. We had a training run and recruits to pick up from a holding. Why?” He grabbed his buy’ce from the stand and made his way to the door.

“You now have a Mand’alor to protect. You and the Protectors better get there before he kills himself or Bo Katan tries.”

He almost dropped his buy’ce but caught it before it hit the floor. Hurrying forward, he reached the galley in a few short steps, looking for his ver’alor. Thank the Manda the ship was small. His next exclamation was heard by a full mess hall.

“A Mand’alor? Are you serious?”

Dead silence eavesdropped on Wren’s next words.

“That dinii just liberated Mando’ade from a Concordian mine, by himself. He’s going to need every one of us to help him reclaim be’Manda’yaim kote and to keep him alive. Wren out.”

Fenn’s eyes met the eyes of his shocked ver’alor who had a spoonful of dinner halfway to his mouth. Then they drifted over to his ruus’alor who had shot to his feet. Tristan Wren looked just as shocked as the rest of them. He opened a ship wide channel.

“Get ready for transit. We’ve been directed by the council to get to Tatooine.”

“Oya!” Rang throughout the ship.

**

Luke Skywalker had to admit he was a little intimidated by the giant Mandalorian standing across from him. The man was massive and his ochre skin, pointed ears, and glowing yellow eyes combined with his thick green and scarlet armor plating threw him out of his tizzy of worry for the Mandalorian and Grogu and made him start worrying about himself. That he was asked for specifically after his dire warning was not a comfort.

“I have an understanding from Skad that you would like to see me?”

A head tilt and he felt amusement in the Force. “Yes. But please let me reassure you that young Grogu has been recovered and that he is safe in the arms of a trusted ally for the moment.”

The tension that he had been carrying unlocked at those rumbled words. Whoever this man was, his Force presence was soothing.

“Master Luke Skywalker. I am Lord Raig Oojar, Goran of Clan Oojar, of House Ferst. My request of you is very sensitive in nature and I must ask that you keep this between us.”

The Mysterious Request made the hairs on his neck rise. This was not a good sign. But his Force signature was so nice. It was a horrible balance.

“What is your request? I will see if I can fulfill it.” He tried to remain calm and collected, putting on his best Jedi voice.

“I need you to repair this ancestral entity. Only a Jetii can fix them, and I ask that you try your best.”

“Ummmm...huh.” He was a little wary until Lord Oojar produced the hilt of a lightsaber, of the likes he had never seen before.

The hilt was boxy and more like an actual sword, with a small cross guard. He held his hand out and when the lightsaber touched it, he almost recoiled in horror. That lightsaber carried much more than a kyber within it. It carried a whole people, their presence heavy and watchful. He could feel the imprints of the hundreds who had held it, the history of triumphs and defeats. Desolation and hope. Not Dark and not Light either. A shade of Gray so deep it was a wonder that he had not felt it come into the room or that he could not feel it half a planet away, its presence was so powerful.

He forced himself to handle it carefully, using the cybernetic hand more, so that his flesh hand did not contact it more than necessary. It made bearing it easier.

“What exactly is wrong with it?”

“They are not working properly. Can you assess them and see if their internal mechanisms are sound?”

Lord Oojar spoke of the lightsaber in a fond tone as if they were friends, which Luke found disconcerting. But he did as asked and used the Force to suspend the saber in the air as he deconstructed it. The parts floated together as he examined everything, looking for cracks or flaws, but he found none.

Except...there! The kyber was offset from its housing, maybe from decades of rough handling but as he realigned the crystal within, there was a humming sound. The kyber did not sing as his own did. This one thrummed in alternating waves that one could feel deep in their bones. Like scan of his whole being.

It was not something he expected or one he particularly liked. He reconstructed the lightsaber carefully, making sure that all the pieces were together and sound once more.

He cleared his throat as he handed it over. “The kyber was misaligned. If it had not seen any maintenance for a while, then the decades of rough handling were to blame.”

“Ah. We are very thankful for your assistance. We will escort you back to the private lounge.”

Luke was a bit disturbed by the switch to plural address. Lord Oojar had not seemed conceited before, but with lords, you never knew. He had gotten what he wanted, so maybe it was a powerplay against the Jedi. Before he could think more on the possible reasons he was returned to the lounge and Lord Oojar stepped off in a sprightly manner.

“What did he want?” Leia came up beside him and they stared at the door together.

Luke furtively looked at Han and Chewbaca, keeping his voice low. “He needed me to inspect his lightsaber.”

“Luke. You turned him down, right? You are allowed to say no. The Senate is not selling your virtue to please the Mandalorians.” Leia looked so earnest but the way she said it made his face blush bright red. He was only trying to be a good Jedi and help those in need.

“What?? No. His lightsaber was broken, and I was the only one who could fix it.”

“I’m sure he said that, but men lie. Do not let them take advantage of you.”

“I wasn’t!” Luke seethed. “The kyber crystal was offset and it just needed a little special handling.”

Leia looked at him skeptically. “You need to stop giving in so easy and being so nice. Handling another person's lightsaber is a serious business and not one to take lightly. Don’t settle for every Lord with a lightsaber.”

“I know that. His lightsaber was so odd and felt so heavy. It was a little hard to handle it all. The feeling was intense.”

“Luke, you’ve only known him for minutes at most. Don’t get attached to his lightsaber. You need to explore the galaxy a little and get to know other...lightsabers, if that’s your thing.” Leia patted him on the shoulder in solidarity.

Luke turned a disbelieving eye on his sister. “I’m the only Jedi, how could I get to know another lightsaber if I’m one of the last left?”

Leia’s eyes turned disbelieving in turn, squinting doubtfully at him. “Were you actually talking about a real lightsaber?”

“Yes!” Luke said firmly. Then he got suspicious. “What were you talking about?”

Leia coughed delicately and started to smirk behind her hand. “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

“We’re the same age.” Luke stated flatly.

“Not mentally, it seems.”

“What are you two whispering about?” Han’s whining voice broke them apart, allowing Luke to think back on their conversation.

It dawned on him in a flash, making him let out a scandalized shriek. “LEIA!”

Her cackle was victorious.

**

The gathering of Mandalorians was not as loud as it could be, but since all of them were spending time cleaning and readying weapons, it was an intense atmosphere broken up by cooing Mandalorians holding a new treasure. Boba glanced across the impromptu planning table and watched Din’s little gremlin charm the cookies out of every hardened warrior in the vicinity. Like buir, like ad, it seemed.

The minute Raig had brought him in he was being passed from one person to another. Boba had been wary about how he would react to him, as the clones had been the reason his first home and people had been destroyed, but the kid had landed in his lap and refused to leave for some time, inspecting all the armor within his reach and signing rapidly. Raig sat next to him before the call that Din had arrived came in.

The little one liked him. Raig had given him a supportive pat and told him to calm down. Ade were easy, they would really let you know if they did not like you. Pah. He was relieved though. It had been a fear. Fennec had also received the same inspection once the kid made his way over to her. She looked wide-eyed and unsure, but once he had her inspect that Mandalorian pendant he carried with him, they were firm friends.

Cara’s arrival had heralded more unwelcome news and what prompted the readying of weapons once Fennec and Raig had returned, no Mand’alor in tow and down one Vizsla. Now, here he was, sharing a planning table with Mandalorian pirates, miners, Tribe, and his own crew trying to make up a plan of attack to get back the wayward and troublesome Mand’alor. His vod’ika either had the best luck or the worst, depending on how you looked at it.

“I still say we use Dee to track him.” Fennec piped up.

“That will not work currently.” Raig voice was loud enough to carry over the din as he rejoined them.

“Dee had suffered great injury and is resting to regain strength. I have put them in Din’s room.”

“What did Skywalker say?” Boba was intrigued. He did not think that lightsabers could be injured.

“Decades of mishandling and that last blow from Din’ika in his state of anger did the damage we saw. But with the Jetii’s help, we were able to put them back together satisfactorily.”

Fennec whistled. “Kriff. He must have been more influenced by that tea than we thought. The footage we have is crazy. He never fights like that in training.”

“You are not Mando’ade. He would not fight you like he would a beskar clad opponent.” Raig murmured, watching the fight on the pad. “Paz’ika would not engage him which made him angrier and sloppier. His sloppiness means he is tired and still under the effects of whatever the pirates gave him.”

Captain Zuffra made a noise of offense and Boba smirked. Raig was growing on him, like a charming fungus.

“We are not pirates! We are Mando’ade.”

“We shall see about that.” The Armorer remarked curtly. She was currently in possession of the baby, and she had not been impressed when encountering the Mandalorian pirates. Even the miners had expressed disapproval at their methods of...negotiation. Everyone was still a little salty about the kidnapping and now Din was kidnapped again as a direct result of being kidnapped by those Mandalorians.

“I can’t believe the type of osik the Mand’alor gets into. How do you stand it?” The pirate’s baar’ur was looking at a pad in horror. It was probably the top ten Din feats list from sabacc night.

“Usually, we just watch him do it and give him snacks afterward.” Cobb chimed in, sliding a pad across the table, which Fennec promptly confiscated. The woman was so bossy in these situations. “Here’s that information. My lookouts said that they must be sheltering in the canyons around the spot highlighted in red.”

“Which means, we’ll have to go in on foot and during daylight. Those canyons are treacherous and depending on the size of their group they are courting danger with the local denizens.” Boba remarked as he looked over Fennec’s shoulder as she flicked through the maps.

Cobb hummed. “The Tuskens have been made aware and they...ah...have offered to join the search party. The Krayt Killer is one of theirs. They’ve made that very clear and they are very happy to help Boba, a Tusken Brother, when looking for one of theirs.”

Boba gave a small smile at that. Tusken Brother sounded official.

“Are you saying that Din really did kill a greater krayt?” One of Din’s tribe exclaimed while everyone not knowledgeable looked aghast.

“Nah.” Cobb’s eyes took on a bit of mischief as he smirked, as everyone breathed a sigh of relief. “It was one of the bigger varieties, huge, with sixteen legs and acid spit. Swallowed him and that bantha whole. I don’t know how he got the entrails out of his armor, to be honest. Grogu, how big was the krayt? Was the krayt steak yummy?”

Grogu had turned at his name. He signed excitedly, all big gestures and big eyes.

Raig, who always seemed so calm and grandfatherly, looked a little murderous for a second there as he translated.

“The krayt was as big as a mountain and buir made the steak spicy. Buir polished his armor for hours. He was sticky and smelled bad. We had four bath times.” Raig’s golden eyes turn to angry slits as he regarded Cobb with grandfatherly disapproval. “Why was the little one there?”

Cobb held up his hands in defense. “We were all there, and Din didn’t trust anyone with him at the time, so we couldn’t find a babysitter.”

Boba chortled and watched those slit eyes turn toward him accusingly. “Calm down grandpa lothcat. We’re lucky that he wasn’t wearing the birikad yet.”

“Stop riling everyone up, Cobb, Boba. We need a plan of attack.” Fennec set a holo-projector on the table. Always keeping everyone on task. “Now, listen up. These are the entry points we can take to search that area. We are going to set up a lot of watch points overnight so they can’t sneak away or attack us. Daber, you and yours up for this?”

“Oya! Anything for our cousin!”

An exclamation of surprise came from the pirate group. “The Mand’alor is our cousin?”

“Not you, you dirty Daber dog, now that you’re a Mand’alor-napping pirate!” Alor Daber yelled.

Boba rolled his eyes, letting out a gush of breath through his nose. This territorial contest was getting ridiculous. He watched a tic start on Fennec’s face as the squabble started up again. He pitied these fools when someone was messing with Fennec’s plans

“How many Dabers do we have here?” Cobb hollered, receiving a lot of ‘Oyas!’ around the room. From both pirates and miners. Cobb’s grin faded when Fennec slammed a vibroblade into the surface of the innocent table. All motion in the room stopped and a lot of Mandalorians flinched away, knowing a predator when they saw one. That vibroblade was deep.

“If ANY of you banthabutts ruin our chances of rescuing my little brother, you will wish for a quick death and not get it. Now shut your yaps, I’m speaking.”

Boba was sure that the shine of admiration in many an eye was going to turn into a free for all in marriage offers. He could not wait. But Din had to be there. So, he got back to task pulling out his pad and waving a warning finger at Cobb, who gave him a sheepish shrug.

**

Din was sure that he should not be so cold right now, but what did he know? He was getting kidnapped left and right.

Opening his eyes did not make things better. The firelight barely touched where they were sitting. He and Paz had been retied with the whipcord, only back-to-back with their arms twisted up behind them and legs splayed out in front. His arms were twisted in a way that prevented him from releasing his vambrace weapons unless he wanted to injure Paz. It ached horribly. In fact, his whole body ached from being electrocuted with those damn prods until he fell unconscious.

“Din?” Paz’s whisper was almost nonexistent, but he heard it.

“Paz.”

A blaster bolt pinged near them, making Din flinch. A form detached itself from the fire and sauntered over.

“No talking Mandalorians.”

“What if we need to air some grievances?” Paz sassed, in a thick nasally sort of way.

A blaster whipping him across the cheek was the answer.

“The only grievances you have here are going to be broken bones. No talking or I’ll gouge one of your pretty friend’s eyes out.”

Din felt Paz’s shoulders tense at the threat and bumped his head gently against Paz. They were in for a long night, best not antagonize their captors until they could see what they were up against.

“Good choice. If you behave, I’ll come tuck you in later.”

**

The Armorer was running on fumes by the time the little one fell asleep. Somehow, the fact that Din was still kidnapped had not gotten through to him until after the meeting, then he was inconsolable. He hadn’t wanted anyone else besides her and Peli. Fennec suggested that they bunk him down in Din’s room because it felt like his, so the little one might find comfort in that. So here they were, finally watching the exhausted toddler fall asleep.

When he was out, Peli started straightening the blankets.

“I will get a warm damp rag from the fresher.” The Armorer went in the fresher and started to heat the water enough that it was warm but not hot. While she waited, she poked around finding the fresher as neat as the rest of the bedroom suite. Din had always been so efficient.

After the rag was sufficiently warm, she came out of the fresher to a scene that she could not believe. The Darksaber hilt that had been innocuously sitting on a pedestal in the corner was floating next to Peli, who was looking down at Grogu fondly.

“Didn’t I tell you he was precious?” Peli murmured quietly.

You did. Look at those wee ears, just like Din’ika described. We are glad he is here now. Din’ika had been miserable since the cruiser. Boba and Fennec were contemplating stealing him back from the Jetii.

“That sounds like them. Are you still nervous about meeting him?”

We are incredibly nervous. Raig has assured us that Grogu would love us, but we are…differently alive. There are many who would not see us as an appropriate companion for a wee one.

“Like whom?”

The Armorer stepped forward angrily. “Like me.”

Peli whipped around in surprise and the Darksaber lit up, blade extending in a flash. It dipped however, seeming to find it hard to stay in the air.

“Ah, Ferah. There’s nothing to worry about! Dee is very much good people.”

“Had I known that you were possessed, Dha’kad, I would have thrown you in the smelter when I first held you. What have you done to put these people in thrall and make them think you are good? What have you done to Din to have him keep you and accept the title you entail?”

The Darksaber crackled with lightning, and the Armorer could feel anger sweep through the room.

Excuse you, betrayer? You dare to question our intentions when you are the one who has caused pain and anguish to our ad’ika? You, who has cast him aside and left him unprotected, poisoned his mind with dar’manda teachings, made him suffer without family and work himself to death to provide for a covert that provided extraordinarily little to him in return? You dare to challenge us? We should strike your head from your shoulders for the mere fact that you have betrayed your sacred duty as a Goran, much less the fact that you are personally responsible for the way Din’ika was raised to disregard his own life.

The Armorer clenched her fists in fury, stalking forward. “You are a dark parasite who leeches energy from those around you and forces them to be your companions and do your bidding. Your dispersions on my character have no merit, considering what you are. I will have no qualms when I feed you to the forge. You do not deserve any of my family’s regard, no matter how much they are willing to give it. YOU are the deceiver here, not I, Dha’kad.”

“I think that we all need to calm down and think about where we are. You two need to take this outside.” Peli moved between them, hands on her hips. “You will wake the baby.”

“Bah?” Everyone turned to find Grogu sitting up from his nest of blankets, rubbing his eyes sleepily. The Darksaber’s blade retracted and the anger clouding the room dissipated.

Everyone watched Grogu observe them, his head moving from one to the next, but paying particular attention to the Darksaber. When the hilt dipped for the fourth time, Grogu reached out a hand and the Darksaber flew into his grasp. The Armorer had reached forward to stop it, but Peli grabbed her arm.

“Bweh?”

Errrr…hello, little one. We are glad to finally meet you.

“Boo?”

Oh, he talks about you all the time. You are his favorite, you know. He loves you very much.

The Armorer felt warm regard fill the room and pulled away from Peli in shock. Was this feeling from the baby or the Darksaber? Peli was beaming with pride and crossed her arms, watching the two interact. Grogu’s ears wiggled and pressed back

Oh…that was just a small disagreement. You know adults.

“Ba.”

Yes, we are very silly sometimes, are we not?

“Padoo. Bwep.”

You are very tired, we know. Go back to sleep. We apologize for being loud.

Grogu released the Darksaber and it floated up as the little one snuffled and burrowed into the blanket nest. The air seemed to gather and release in the room, and the Armorer felt some of her tension ease now that it was away from the child. The Darksaber floated close to Peli but still addressed her.

In all our years of existence, no one has ever changed us as much as Din’ika. We would choose him as Mand’alor in a hundred lifetimes, but even more, we would choose him as family. We apologize to you for what we said. We are very disturbed by the state of Mando’ade society, and we took it out on you.

The Armorer did not know what to say. She was still incredibly angry with and wary of the Darksaber, still mistrustful of an object that should not be sentient. The silence dragged on. Peli was looking between the both of them looking torn, but the Darksaber addressed the awkwardness first.

It is all right Peli, she does not have to accept our apology, nor does she have to accept us. That is the way of the galaxy. We will let ourselves out and find Boba and Fennec. We will track Din’ika and bring him home.

All her tension left as soon as the cursed thing was out of the room. Finding a chair, she sat down heavily.

“I’m going to my room. Will you be okay here?” With a shake of her buy’ce, Peli went off to find rest.

The Armorer continued to sit straight backed in the chair for hours and contemplated everything that was said. The Darksaber had not been wrong and that was what haunted her. Her perspective of the galaxy and being Mando’ad was also changing. Could she let enough of the past go to fit into this new normal?

**

Early morning was not pleasant for Din. His body ached miserably, and he was very cold. Even being dragged close to the fire had not helped much to stave off the inevitable chill that came with a night in the desert. He knew that it would not last long once both suns rose. He would be wishing for the chill before too long. The spice runners were still asleep. The guard on watch had taken up a post on the other side of camp so Din felt safe speaking.

“Paz.”

He got a strangled groan in response. “Manda, why?”

“Are you injured anywhere?”

“Just my nose and cheek, surprisingly. Considering we fell down that steep incline. You?”

“Everything aches. My brain, my muscles, my bones.”

“Feeling murderous still?” Paz asked with a sigh. His chest expanding tightened the cord and then loosened.

“Don’t feel like murdering you, no.” Din said hearing Paz chuckle. “My head feels weird though. Foggy.”

He felt Paz sigh again. “That’ll be from the drug the pirates gave you. How did you even end up with them?”

“To be fair, they were not pirates when we met them, they were just...ah...what did Dee call them? Veriduure. We ducked into their establishment to hide from the Nite Owls hunting us.” Din shook his head in disgust, thinking of those di’kute. His next words were said with disturbing amount of self-loathing. “I am sure they were not expecting some lying verd with the Darksaber showing up. They must have been extremely disappointed that I wasn’t a proper Mando’ad like Bo Katan.”

“The miners and pirates are very keen on you. They are very impressed with all your feats and legends, practically begging for bedtime stories. You are so mandakarla, they’d follow you anywhere. Even if you weren’t the Mand’alor. I am so angry with you for that.” Paz said darkly. Din felt him shift in agitation.

“Why are you mad? You can be Mand’alor! I don’t want to be Mand’alor!” Din felt trapped and panicky.

“Then stop doing stuff that makes you the Mand’alor! Everything you do is di’kutla. You are risking your life needlessly to prove you are a Mando’ad when you don’t have too!” Paz spat angrily.

“It’s not my fault! It just happens!”

“What…are you saying you’re not doing this on purpose?” Paz said weakly, anger fizzling.

“I know I’m Mando’ad! I don’t need to prove that anymore. All this stuff that’s been happening? Dee said it’s because of the Force or some osik. They said I was out of control because I was awakening my Force powers or some such nonsense.” Din couldn’t control his voice, as it became high and plaintive.

“I thought it was just me.” Paz whispered in shock. “You’re ka’ra touched too. How did I miss that?”

“You are too? Why is this happening? I don’t want to be force sensitive! But I am and stuff just keeps happening! I don’t want to a space wizard! I just want to be a beroya and travel around the galaxy with my son and be with my family!” Din let out a desperate sob, head hanging forward. “Even you, you kriffer!”

“Din. Ni ceta. I’m so, so sorry. That’s why my family told me to stay away from you…because I hurt you that one time and they just…they lied to me and punished me over and over to make it go away…” Paz’s voice was thick with emotion and Din was horrified at what he had revealed.

“Why didn’t you say? You were my vod! I wouldn’t have cared. I would have helped you. Buir would have helped you!”

“It felt like it was too late. We were fighting all the time. Then your buir died and you never came back. Not for long enough times for me to make amends and I was angry that I wasn’t your partner to hunt! It wasn’t fair.” Paz sounded wretched with hopelessness. Din hated that sound.

“I was too sad to stay because everyone pulled away and treated me like aruetii. But I…I chose you as my partner. I told the council that you’d be the best to come with me, even if we weren’t getting along and they…and they said no, there wasn’t enough of us to have teams.” Din pleaded with him to understand.

“My buire said that you refused a partner…they said…they lied to me!”

Sitting back-to-back in that moment, both realized how much time they had lost due to the whims of others. It was heart breaking to know the depth of deception the Tribe had forced upon them. To keep them apart and to keep them compliant. They sat there, in the rapidly heating air, trying to get a handle on themselves and contemplating their futures. Din cleared his throat, but when he spoke it was still hoarse and heartbroken.

“Paz, they lied to everyone to keep us cooperative. I heard a rumor that they only sent the ones with no clans out to keep the larger families intact. It might have been a half-truth but very few of the ones who left the covert regularly had aliit.”

“They would send me out now. I no longer have an aliit. I disowned them.” Paz admitted thickly.

“Why would you do that?” Din was taken aback and accidentally bumped his head into Paz’s in shock.

There was a sorrowful chuckle and Paz began to speak haltingly. “Because...because I just couldn’t take it anymore. I was basically alone anyway. None of my vode wanted anything to do with me and my buire just wanted an enforcer of Vizsla superiority and not an ad. After I lost the Darksaber to you, I was reprimanded...harshly. It had always been that way, maybe because of being ka’ra touched or maybe because the whole Vizsla line are shabuire. In the end, that’s not the person I want to be, and I certainly don’t want to be treated like that by my own aliit. So, I left.”

There was silence after, and both just breathed together in the stillness of the morning. As their breaths matched up, Din was hit with an awareness that he had never felt before. He felt like he was on a tipping point and that all their futures were going to hinge on the next moment. He had to make a choice and the soft buzzing that he always felt in his mind fell quiescent, as if waiting to see what he would do.

He cleared his throat. “Ni...kyr’tayl gai sa’vod, Paz Vizsla.” (I know your name as my brother, Paz Vizsla.)

Din felt the world expand around him and something snap into place in his mind. Everything was clear.

“Din! Din, no! You just can’t...” Paz pleaded, starting to struggle against their restraints.

“Yes I can! I am a Mando’ad.” Din crowed triumphantly, feeling buoyant and light. “We adopt anyone or anything we want, anywhere we want, at any time in life. It is the Way.”

The struggling stopped but he could still feel Pax’s shock in the back of his mind. He prodded what he thought was the bond and felt Paz jerk behind him

“What...” Paz asked wonderingly.

“You’re a Mudhorn now. No take backs!”

“What’s going on over there!” The grumpy voice interrupted their bonding moment and Din watched several of the spice runners start waking up at the exclamation of the guard. They had been getting a little loud.

“Family matter. No need to be concerned.” Din called back. He heard Paz grunt in disapproval.

The one from the night before made an appearance and shoved a blaster in Din’s face.

“Didn’t I say I’d gouge one of your eyes out if I caught you talking?” The spice runner turned out to be a Klatoonian dressed rather horribly. They gripped Din’s chin hard and tipped his head side to side “Just tell me which one. Slave markets will still take you for labor.”

The camp started making a ruckus, perhaps thirty beings, getting up and starting to get ready to move. As the Klatoonian holding his chin started slipping a vibroblade out of its sheath, a voice stopped him.

“Resh. Stop harassing them. We don’t get to start cutting off parts until after we make our demands.”

Resh stopped and shoved Din’s head to the side in disgust. This caused Din to catch movement on a ledge, far enough away that it could only be a scout. A Tusken scout to be exact.

Din let out a screeching howl, calling out to the scout and warning of numbers. He got a rifle but to the face to silence him.

“You think he called out to the Tuskens?” The Rodian near them twitched and looked around warily. No one got a chance to answer him as the ground started to shake and rumble.

“What is that? An earthquake?” Paz yelled as the spice runners dropped their possessions and started running.

“Get up! Paz get up! That’s a krayt!” Din frantically tried to bend his legs to get his feet under him. “There must be a nest nearby and those dikut’la spice runners have woken it with all their noise.”

Paz joined the struggle and they somehow got to their feet.

“You mean you woke it, or’dinii. With your screeching.”

Their shambling sideways didn’t get them far as the way they were tied made them stumble. Paz took the initiative and turned them, leaning forward so Din’s boots left the ground.

“Tuck your feet up!” And he was off, not waiting for Din’s reply. Facing backward was problematic for Din. For one thing, it was awkward and for another it let him see the maw of death that would eat them coming through the small canyon. This krayt only had four legs but it was still fast...and still a krayt.

“Run faster!”

“I...am...running...as fast...as I can! Even though...you are little...Din’ka...you are...still...covered...in...beskar!”

A roar shook the canyon and the concussive force of the sound waves made Paz stumble. He did not go down, but it cost them. The krayt was advancing too fast. They would never outrun it.

"We won’t make it!”

Paz skidded to a stop and straightened. Din’s boots hit the dirt.

“I’m going to try something I’ve done before. You need to focus and send me whatever energy you can through that...thing in our heads.”

“What are you...?”

“Din!”

Din nodded his head, though Paz could not see it and focused on calming his breathing and heart. The krayt was upon them now but he and Paz were facing it together, true brothers. A cloud of sand enveloped them.

Chapter Text

“Koska, what is it? I just got off duty and I want to sleep. I’m on break the next two cycles starting in the morning but I am trying to keep Bo Katan from vaporizing half of Tatooine, so not technically a break.”

A sheepish cough sounded. “Uh...Alor’ad Woves, it’s Felnor. Felnor Reeves.”

Axe Woves screamed silently in frustration before sighing and tried to keep his irritation from showing as he answered. “Yes Verd Reeves. Where is your sister and why are you calling me on your sister’s com?”

There was a nervous hum and a strange tapping. There was also a strange echo, as if Felnor was in a confined space.

“Koska is asleep and I’m hiding out in the fresher. I...uh...I know it’s unusual and very improper for me to use her com for...private matters...and to go outside of the chain of command, but I need your help.”

Axe stared at his com, blinking rapidly in silence.

“You were the only one I could think of that would maybe help since...you stood up for my sister to Lady Kryze. Which I appreciate by the way! I just...I have this problem...and it’s strange and I’m not sure it really is a problem but I’m worried because he was ill the last time I saw him and...” Felnor rushed to explain when Axe did not respond.

“Felnor. Stop. Start from the beginning. I will see if I can help you.” Axe was intrigued and if this problem could distract him from the absurdity that had become the Tatooine Mission, then he was onboard. Axe heard a muttered ‘oh thank the manda’ before Felnor cleared his throat.

“So, we were on Bandomeer, doing our supply run and I happened upon another verd also doing a supply run. He must have been taking care of many ade because he bought most of the toy stall. But he was very sick and that’s not right…why would his aliit send him out if he was sick? So, I thought, he must be in trouble.”

“So, you’re worried about a possible hidden covert? That they’re not doing well because they sent out a verd that was ill, possibly because they all are ill?” Axe leaned forward and fished out a data pad and started to take notes.

Another covert, one possibly in dire straits, was concerning. Of all the things he regretted about Lady Kryze’s campaign to win back Manda’yaim, it was their lack of assistance to the coverts and hidden pockets of vode in the last two years. The ones they could track and find anyway. When the recruitment efforts went south or the sect of Mando’ade turned out to be Ja’hai’ade or some of the more mistrustful sorts, Lady Kryze just left them without any offer of connecting them to a clan or House that could shelter or help them. It sat wrong with him.

He was loyal. He had pledged his service to the Nite Owls as an officer and he was intent on reclaiming Manda’yaim, but, and this was a big BUT, he felt that the mission was no longer sound. Almost two years after losing the Darksaber, the forward momentum of their mission had started to falter, grinding to a halt here on Tatooine. To reclaim Manda’yaim, they did not need the Darksaber, but Lady Kryze insisted they did. It had been a sidenote of their mission two years ago and now it was all their mission was about. The Darksaber was not going to save their people. They had to save themselves.

He was getting tired of being planetside on Tatooine and being trolled by that crime lord and that Ja’hai’ad when they could be out gathering more allies in their mission. Or gathering their people to shelter them and provide the assistance they had needed since the Night of a Thousand Tears and then the Purge. It had started to wear thin the longer they stayed. It also irritated Bo Katan to the point it was hard to stay in a room with her simmering rage.

“Alor’ad?” The timid question pulled him out of his thoughts, and he realized that Felnor had been speaking and he had been distracted.

“I apologize Verd Reeves. Please repeat what you just said.”

“I uh...I am worried about them being sick yes but also because, he is a ba’vod’ad. He’s from the Fand Clan and you know they went missing during the Purge. Do you think you can help me find him?”

Axe’s eyebrows rose in surprise. The Fands had been Ruug’la Mando’ade ori’ramikad and had opposed not only the Evaar’la Mando’ade and Kyr’tsad, but the Empire as well. It had not gone well for many of their clan, and many had died before and after Clan Wren and the Empire loyal ori’ramikade had battled each other. Clan Saxon had been as suspicious of them as they had been of Clan Wren.

“Felnor...Bandomeer is extremely far away from where I am currently. I will not be able to look for him for some time.” Axe hated to disappoint the younger man. He was always trying to set a good example for the younger verd.

“Oh! I er...well, I put a tracer on his vambrace. He’s on Tatooine. He’s not answering my messages like he said he would. We’re also headed to Tatooine because we were recalled by Lady Kryze, but it will take more than half a cycle to get there.”

Axe sucked in a breath of anger at Felnor’s offensive actions and because Lady Kryze hadn’t informed him of the recall of their forces. Had she set him on other projects to get around his protests? And Felnor! A tracker on a fellow vod? Beyond acceptable!

“Verd Reeves. That is an extreme invasion of privacy.”

“I was worried!”

He was gritting his teeth when he spoke next. “That does not excuse your breach of proper conduct! Even though your heart was in the right place, you are going to be disciplined and reprimanded. But I will investigate the potential of a hidden covert here, because it is necessary to ensure that our vode are safe and ascertain if they are in danger or need help. You will also have to write up a formal apology, since I am very sure that even as he is aliit, it may be seen as an extreme insult. Your aliit will also be told, Koska included.”

He heard a sigh of relief from Felnor, even after being reprimanded and threatened with exposure. This verd must mean much to the young man. “That’s all I can ask Alor’ad. His name is Shennec Fand. I’ll send the frequency and files over when I get back to my room...I...”

There was a muffled banging and shouts and Felnor cursed.

“I’ll send it. Reeves out.”

Axe sat back in his seat. He needed to think. Lady Kryze had become obsessive about watching the comings and goings of the Palace, so he needed a discreet way to look for a hidden covert, so he would not face Lady Kryze’s ire at looking into another project that had nothing to do with the Darksaber. She was already high strung and stressing over finding the absentee beroya who held it after the confrontation with Fett and the other Ja’hai’ade. All the verde with them were strained, after the revelation that someone else had attained the Darksaber almost two years ago and no one was told until Fett had taunted Lady Kryze with it.

The rumor mill had run rampant, and he’d had to start fighting fires the minute they got back to the ship after the confrontation. Then the Cheese Incident happened. That had been…traumatizing to some of the younger verde, as Lady Kryze had seemed so unhinged over what was seen as a grand joke by many of them. They were starting to speculate about this mysterious and allusive Mando’ad. Axe was not sure that he put all the fires out, because he had felt judging eyes from some of the other officers and there was reluctance from many  verde to continue to fulfill their duties and obligations to this mission. The longer Lady Kryze crusaded to acquire the Darksaber, the more chance they had of being taken to task by the Council and losing support for their mission to retake Manda’yaim.

He looked longingly at his bunk but a ping from his com indicated the promised files and his new distraction. Time to get to work.

**

“So when you said, ‘Din, I’m going to try something I’ve done before, send me some energy’, you expected this to happen?” Din said sarcastically, swaying back and forth.

“You know what, I just saved your life. You would think you would be a bit more appreciative.” Paz sniped back, swaying in time with Din.

Din snorted loudly, gagging a little when a hot fetid breeze brushed through his hair. “I helped save our lives too! Don’t go all you think you would be more appreciative on me. It was a team effort!”

“Soooo much team effort. You have been unresponsive for more than fifteen minutes. I had to do the heavy lifting!” Din could hear the superiority and smirk even if he couldn’t see it and kicked back at Paz’s ankle.

“The only one doing the heavy lifting is the krayt and it is straining to carry around your massive ego. Now let me sway here in peace. That rifle butt to the face did me no favors.” Din’s sarcastic reply shut down Paz’s comeback. He had been feeling the other’s worry through the bond since he had retched all over himself minutes before. But he needed to close his eyes and focus on anything else other than their situation before he retched again.

And that was the matter of the hour. The giant krayt dragon was currently carrying the both of them off, like a mother lothcat scruffing her wayward kittens. It was taking them into the unknown, under the direction of one nunahead named Paz Vizsla. They were still tied together, and Din’s arms ached fiercely from being in their current twisted position for so long. They were hanging from a giant tooth, close to all the other giant teeth that were going to crunch them, no matter the beskar, after Paz’s bamboozle magic wore off.

When he had tapped into the bond that had just snapped into place, it had been such a strain to push energy through it, having never had to do so with Dee. After the krayt had stopped, its giant maw just inches from engulfing them, Din had felt blood dribble from one of his nostrils and a blinding headache take over his priorities. He had all but collapsed, the only thing keeping him standing was being tied to Paz. Waking up swaying and in the wash of warm raw meat breath was not how he liked to wake up, hence the retching. It was only bile, but it was still exhausting.

Din felt the coolness of a cave come over him and breathed a sigh of relief. At least he would be cooler instead of baking in his own vomit before he was dismembered or eaten whole. It was blissfully dark, and Din’s headache tempered as the krayt carried them down into caverns clawed from rock. He was mentally preparing himself to leave the mortal coil, reasoning that his son was safe with the Jetii, when they were set down and the krayt made an inquisitive noise. Din opened his eyes. There were little pinpricks of light streaming into the cavern where the krayt had brought them, letting him see that they had been set down in a bowl formation of some kind. It had tableware. Perfect. A krayt with table manners.

“Din? You with me?” Paz whispered frantically as the krayt lifted and sat on its hind legs, surveying them. It was deep red and had three horns and molten golden eyes. Eyes that showed intelligence.

Din locked eyes with it accidentally and suddenly he could feel its inquisitiveness.

[Hatchling? Egg?]

“Uh Paz...what type of wizard magic did you use?” Din recoiled, breaking eye contact. Oh kriff! Oh kriff!

“Made it think we were krayts. Why?” Paz sounded like it was no big deal and when Din was free, he was going to punch that mudscuffer in the face.

“Look her in the eyes, di’kut.”

"Her?”

When Paz recoiled a second later and his head knocked into Din’s head, he felt entirely vindicated. But it got worse. He felt an outside presence in his mind that was not Paz. It was foreign and reptilian and simplistic, but the emotion that came through was very easily understood. Possession. Mine. My babies. My hatchlings.

The krayt cocked its head to the side, then leaned forward, its head dipping into the bowl and huffing over them, scenting them. Then the huge tongue came out and enveloped Din and Paz, cleaning them but leaving them covered in krayt saliva. Din could feel his hair sticking straight up on one side as Paz squirmed in disgust.

“Ugh. We are so kriffed.” He sounded like he was spitting.

“Well...we are Mando’ade.” Din said with false cheer, trying to wipe saliva off his face on the neck of his kute, unsuccessfully. He had once been covered in krayt entrails, so this was not actually that bad. “If we can adopt anyone and anything, I guess we can also get adopted by anyone and anything. Think of what Goran Oojar and the Armorer would say when we requisition krayt beskar’gam for our new buir.”

“That’s a lot of beskar.” Paz said wryly, still squirming annoyingly. “Are we Clan Krayt now...or is Buir a Mudhorn?”

Din laughed a little hysterically and instantly regretted it, wincing. “We’re going to need a bigger ship.”

The krayt settled down around them, securing them in the bowl. Din leaned back against Paz and closed his eyes, trying to continue to ignore his injuries and his suddenly growling stomach. He was hoping he’d wake up back on the Razor Crest with Grogu and this whole Mand’alor situation was just an exhaustion fueled dream.

**

Fennec was either going to rip her hair out or someone else's.

The plan had not been going smoothly at all. She’d had to leave Boba behind because the sudden appearance of three more Mandalorian ships this morning had set off the other Mandalorians and they really did not need a pitched space battle over Tatooine, so she had left him as the only Mandalorian adjacent person on their crew. Also, because he was Daimyo. It would teach him to play with others and stop encouraging Cobb to rile everyone up. Raig stayed as well, to do his job as Lord of some such and Greef had stayed because he was Mayor of the largest city on Nevaro...which turned out to be a holding of Mandalore. Din was going to freak out once he found out that Greef had known this whole time, especially with Dee in the picture. When she had time, she would have to grill Greef to see if he was conspiring with Dee on some mischief.

Dee and Cara had come with her, as well as half the miners, a lot of pirates, and a whole herd of bantha with Tuskens riding them. Cobb had come to translate. Dee had still been weakened but was able to pinpoint a direction once they got closer and they sent out scouts. They were getting closer and closer to the spot where Dee indicated as the first sun rose. They heard the cry of a Tusken which caused Fennec to stop their advance and consult the Tusken leader and Cobb. But the leader signed it was not one of their scouts, as they were not stupid enough to be so loud and risk waking things that lived in the canyons. The debate halted as they felt the ground start shaking, pebbles and sand raining down on their whole party. As they moved forward cautiously, spice runners rushed towards them, and they did not care that the rescue group was brandishing weapons. A blubbering Klatoonian wailed at them when three miners subdued him.

“That crazy bastard called a krayt! Why would he do that?? We’re all going to die!”

Fennec sighed in consternation. Must be Din. He’s the only one who knew Tusken out of the two kidnappees and stupid enough to call one accidentally. She shared a frustrated looked with Cara as they moved forward, sending the captured spice runners back for interrogation.

By the time their scout made it back, the vibrations in the ground had lessened then disappeared altogether. The scout explained that Din had called out the number of enemies, but the ruckus of the camp and his call had woken the krayt. Visibility of the region was poor since the krayt had come through. Dee spoke up, only heard by Fennec and Cara.

Both are in pain. But they are still alive, which means that they are not being digested. We can sense Paz more. His mind is active, and he is conscious at least.

“This retrieval plan is not turning out how we thought, eh?” Cara still held her high powered blaster rifle up at the ready should she need to use it. She had been chomping at the bit to get Din back after he’d done a runner. She was a blessing to have along, as she had only had to be told the plan once and she was ready to go.

She and Greef had taken their late meal in the kitchen getting pampered by Cook instead of the dining hall. They were out of sorts after landing and running around trying to find Din, so they were filled in later after the meeting.

Her late arrival and her obvious connection to the Mandalorian they were all pledging their loyalty to, had led to many a roving eye by the miners and pirates, especially after she had arm wrestled Krrsantan after late meal. She hadn’t won, but just the fact that she had voluntarily put her arm in jeopardy had sent some of them in a tizzy. Amateurs. Fennec and Cara already had bets in the pool about how many marriage offers they might receive, since Din and Boba had insisted it was common during one of the many sabaac night conversations. Battle marriage. Din’s speculative number was remarkably high. Boba’s too. That pirate captain had been eyeing him like a side of bantha meat.

“Better or worse than Gideon’s Light Cruiser?” Fennec asked, smirking as she heard a choking noise from one of the pirates. That’s another one for Cara’s count.

“Well, less Darktroopers, more surprises or more Darktroopers and less surprises. I don’t know which one I’d prefer.” Cara said thoughtfully.

We prefer no surprises and no Darktroopers. Gideon was a hut’tuunla shabuir.

Both snorted as they came upon the crushed remains of the camp. Huge, clawed footprints were dug into the ground and a lot of the gear had been flattened.

“This can’t be good.” Cobb said, trying to measure with his boots and making gestures to the Tuskens to judge the size. By those sweeping frantic gestures, this one appeared to be larger than a normal canyon krayt.

**

Ursa was a pragmatic Mando’ad. She knew that she was seen as cold, strict, and unyielding by others but having gone through so many leadership changes in the past years, it had only firmed her reasoning that she had to be so. She had always wanted what was best for her Clan and being part of House Vizsla had lost the prestige and protection it once had. If she ever ran into another Vizsla, she’d be surprised, as Pre had all but sealed their clan’s fate to fade into history.

The loss of power, led to her contention with the other clans under their House. Coming out on top had been lengthy and arduous but here she was. Serving on the Clan Council, getting the Protectors back up and running with Rau, and representing what had become House Wren after House Kryze had lost the favor of many clans who then pledge to Wren. From her days in Kyr’tsad to this, a coalition of clans just keeping their people alive and intact. A great turning of tables.

Being on the Council did not mean she was looking forward to the coming confrontation. While she was invested in this new Mand’alor for all that they had accomplished, she did not relish the thought of having to face Bo Katan and getting her to back down. There was also the matter of sand. She hated sand with a passion. Why did the new Mand’alor choose Tatooine? Couldn’t they choose something closer to Yaim? Base their quest to reclaim to Manda’yaim out of somewhere like Nevaro, Concord Dawn, or even Yavin 4?

“Has anyone on Tatooine responded?” She asked ge’ver’alor Syn’cho.

“Yes. Just now. They indicated landing coordinates and their openness to discussion. Nothing else.”

“Well, that is something at least. Better than being shot at. Tell the others. We’ll head down in an hour. Oh, and Syn’cho. Hail Lady Kryze. I expect her at the palace by midday. No excuses.”

**

“Explain to me why you hate Dee so much.” Peli sat with Ferah on a bench overlooking the morning desert. The balcony off Din’s room was shaded by an overhang that cooled the air around them.

“That thing has caused so much trouble for the Mando’ade.” Ferah’s voice was flat with no inflection, meaning she had retreated into herself and her masks.

Peli sighed. This was going to be difficult.

“Did Dee cause the trouble directly or did the Mando’ade use them to get what they wanted, thereby causing trouble with them at the center?” Peli almost tripped over the Mandalorian word, but she was no quitter. She could speak Frog.

“What are you talking about?” Ferah said, incredulous. “Are you trying to say that that possessed object is not at fault for anything?”

“I’m not, not saying that they may be at fault for some things, but why is it so important that most of the blame fall on them?” Peli shrugged her shoulders and looked out across the desert again.

“Whoever wins the saber in combat is Mand’alor. Whatever sorcery it holds, chooses the winner.”

“That sounds like a dubious way to choose the leader of your people and a way to cause a lot of needless fighting over who obtains it. Were there Mand’alors in the past who were unfit but had the saber? That caused untold horrors because they thought themselves entitled because they had Dee?”

“There were.” Ferah said shortly, refusing to answer more. She sat stiffly and upright.

“Who made it Dee’s choice? Who ordained the Darksaber as the chooser?”

“Once the saber was reclaimed back from the Jedi after Tarre Vizsla’s death, the clans decided to make the powerful weapon of one of the greatest Mand’alor the way to determine the next. It’s tradition.”

“So they stole Dee, a Force being with their own mind, and made them a prisoner and slave on your planet. They made it tradition to fight over a saber for a thousand years and made Dee choose the Mand’alor?”

“That thing is not a slave. It is a dark parasite.” Ferah seethed out. She looked ready to get up and storm off.

“What do you call being passed from owner to owner with no rights of their own and pushed into service that they didn’t choose?” Peli asked reasonably and held up a hand when Ferah tilted her helmet in a way that meant she was going to argue. “Ferah, if you believe that the Darksaber is dark parasite, why would your people continue to depend on it and hold such reverence for it? And why would you believe Din is Mand’alor just for having it? He doesn’t want to be.”

“No one knew that it was…”

“Sentient? I’m sure that there were many who did know but refused to acknowledge it. A thousand year? Come on. Not knowing or acknowledging it, does not make it right nor excuse the abuse. Now that some of you do know, you can find a different way, because Dee IS alive!”

Ferah sat back and Peli let her marinate. It was going to take a while for all these Mandalorians to understand and change their thinking about the Darksaber. Look at Din. He’d confided in Peli after Fennec and Boba found out, that he’d gone months resisting and playing it off as a hallucination. Peli hadn’t believed it either until she had spent some time with the Darksaber while Din was playing mechanic and dodging Palace life.

Dee was still insisting that they chose the Mand’alor and that it was their duty to do so and keep them safe. Peli had seen that a lot with freed people who had been slaves their whole lives. They fell into habits and routines that they knew and sometimes they fell back into that life without ever understanding that they were more. Din and the others were changing Dee and Dee was changing them. One day Dee would get that they were fully free and stop thinking that they were only alive to choose the Mand’alor. She hoped it wasn’t because one of these idiots Mandalorians pushed them to violence. But since most of them were chasing after Din, who Dee was excessively protective of, that might not be possible.

“Why are you defending the Darksaber?” Ferah’s voice had gone flat again.

Peli looked over at her consideringly. “You ever have that one friend who’s as stupid as a dust mite with no self-preservation and they keep getting into trouble cuz they’re mouthy, creepy, kriffers but they are good people who don’t deserve to be treated like bantha poodoo because of their past?”

Ferah’s helmet tilted.

“Yeah, that’s Dee. Good metaphorical heart but shit at staying out of other people’s business.”

**

Bo Katan looked upon Tatooine from the bridge of her light cruiser and scowled. She hated this planet with a passion. Not only because it was stymying her efforts to retake the Darksaber, but it was also full of dar’manda that had no place in Mando’ade society. There was nothing special about this planet and yet...another ship full of Mando’ade had arrived just yesterday, refusing to answer hails and sending down three ships to land at the palace. If that Ja’hai’ad thought that he could gather support so he could overrule her challenge, he thought wrong.

“Lady Kryze, we just received a hail.” Her communications officer spoke from their station.

Bo Katan turned with a sneer. “Those hut’tuunla Mando’ade are finally responding to us?”

“No, my Lady. Three ships just dropped out of hyperspace and hailed us. It’s the Council.”

“Me’ven?!”

**

“No. I hate it. Take it down.” Boba growled unhappily, eyeing the two large banners and a bunch of smaller ones. Of the large ones, one had a Mythosaur skull in the Haat Mando’ade stylization and the other was a Mudhorn. The smaller ones were the clans represented between the pirates and the miners. When he saw the people in the throne room look at each other hesitantly he growled again in frustration, barking his next direction out harshly.

“This is not New Mandalore. This is Tatooine and this is my palace, you are temporary guests.” Raig placed a hand down on his shoulder and he shrugged it off. “Take. It. Down.”

“Boba.” The chiding tone irritated him to no end. Boba turned angrily.

“Lord Oojar. Understand that I have made many concessions to you regarding your request for sanctuary, but this crosses the line. As Din is not in residence, those banners come down. Do you understand?”

“I do.” The look he gave Boba was sad. The big man gestured for them to be taken down.

“Let me know when the kriffing Mandalorian Council shows their faces. I’m going to my office.” Boba took his leave by stomping through the exit with a fearsome scowl. It was way too early in the morning for them to make his blood pressure rise by being so irritating. Fennec was going to get an earful for making him be Daimyo today. He hated politics.

He kept the look on his face all the way to the private wing, scattering everyone in his path. He had been settled in his office for thirty minutes or so before someone tracked him down. He was expecting a grandfatherly talk about propriety and expectations with Lord Oojar. He did not expect the pirate, Captain Zuffra, to sink down on the guest chair and wait patiently for him to speak.

He ignored her for some time, looking through his padwork and completing some tactical plans he wanted to enact. He signed off on several requisition forms, huffing at Fennec’s neatly filled in one requesting armored dummies for the training room. Must have put that one in after the meeting last night. Seeing Din fight an armored opponent had been something to watch and Fennec wanted to test him out. Bloodthirsty.

Finally, he decided to quit while he was ahead and get rid of his silent watcher. He tossed the pad aside and looked her full in the face, neutral expression in place. He was not in the mood to be nice today. He could be out there finding his vod’ika, but he had to be here, playing nice with politicians. Warrior politicians, but politicians all the same.

“Do you need something...pirate?” His dry, even question caused a tick in her upper jaw. Same a Kryze. Interesting.

“Why do you not want your clan represented? You are the Mand’alor’s ori’vod.”

Boba slammed his fist on his desk angrily causing the pirate captain to jump.

“The only person who believes wholeheartedly that I am Mandalorian, is him. People see this armor I have inherited and assume that I am Mandalorian, but I am only honoring my father’s memory by using it the way he intended. I have received no recognition most of my life from any other Mandalorians, because I am a clone and because my father was banished from Mandalore. I do not wish to be Mandalorian. For you to even bring it up, means you do not know as much about our situation as you think you do.”

“He believes you are. So does Lord Oojar.” She stated bluntly.

“Your audacity in even assuming you know my vod’ika on any level after holding him as a prisoner, is offensive. He spent most of his time with you drugged out of his mind. A fact which I take great umbrage to.” Boba hissed angrily. He stood and leaned over his desk menacingly. “My vod’ika doesn’t even want to be Mand’alor. Had you even considered that before you came in here crusading on his behalf?”

“He wields the Darksaber.”

“There is a lot more to being Mand’alor than carrying an overvalued trinket of a bygone era. You are a fool if you believe otherwise.” Bob crossed his arm and sneered at her. “As for Lord Oojar. He is a sentimental old fool who wishes things to be different than they are. Much to my annoyance. I am going to remind you as I did him, this is not a Mandalorian holding. You have extremely limited power here. Do not forget that. Now get out of my office.”

She had leaned back in alarm, but her lips pursed. “We will come back to this.”

“No, we will not. You are not my aliit. Get out of my office and stop wasting my time, pirate.”

She rose stiffly and walked out. Boba sat back down and put his head in his hands in frustration. So much idiocy before he even had first meal! Now was not the time to get worked up about the past and scream in frustration. These fickle Mandalorians with short memories were only going to get them all killed.

“Lord Fett?” Boba looked up to see Cook in the doorway. He took a deep calming breath before answering.

“Yes Cook?”

“I made banners for throne room with some fabric my Treasured One brought months ago. Do you want me to put them up and show those pretentious Mandalorians who’s leader around here? They are a homage to Tatooine and your glorious reign.” There was a glimmer of mischief in her eyes.

A devious smile appeared on his face. He looked Cook in the eye and said in good humor. “Cook, you’re the boss while I deal with them. If there are any problems, feed them to Prince. Especially if it’s Solo.”

The Besalisk smiled conspiratorially, and Boba felt proud. Loyal staff that had a mind for craftiness was so hard to find these days.

“I’ll send you an early first meal. You look stressed.” She had an innocent face on, but he knew that she was smirking somewhere in that devious mind of hers.

He laughed, more lighthearted than before. “Get out.”

**

Raig had never imagined that a day would come where he would have to negotiate a truce between Mandao’ade factions that had nothing to do with their philosophies and everything to do with their chosen career occupations and kidnapper status. Getting them to agree to be a united front with he and Boba had been time consuming, but it was done.

Alor Daber and Alor’ad Zuffra had come to stand behind the two of them and Mayor Karga had agreed to join on account of being from Nevaro. Ferah was standing stiffly behind them as well, to represent the Tribe. A few Mando’ade from each group also occupied the platform as somewhat of a greeting party. Half of them wore no beskar’gam but considering what the miners had gone through it was to be expected. It would have to be alleviated, but it had only been three days. Three tiring days of non-stop chaos. He was feeling old. Maybe he would go and let the adiik pile on him later and absorb their childish energy and exuberance through osmosis.

Boba stood stiffly next to him, fully armored, as they watched the ships descend. He had been barely civil, especially to Alor’ad Zuffra, but he admitted that they needed to deal with the Council and get them out of their hair so he could focus on his criminal empire and running a planet. Not Mandalorian things. Dealing with Kryze and Din’ika refusing to be Mand’alor were on Raig’s plate. But if they made Din’ika upset or tried to force him into anything, he’d kill them and then Fennec would follow up. That had been stressed. Four times. Protective ori’vode and burc’yase. Din’ika had chosen well.

He watched as Countess Wren led the charge down the ramp, guards setting up a perimeter and the Council congregating before them.

“Su cuy’gar.”

“Su cuy’gar, vode.” Raig rumbled back. There was an extended silence as the Council looked around expectantly. Ah. Right for the main subject. They were not going to beat around the kokiri tree.

“Where is the wielder of the Darksaber? We wish to speak to him, immediately.” Countess Wren’s demand was firm and even. Even through the vocoder.

He knew Boba was unimpressed by the set of his shoulders. “He is not here, and he is currently out of communication.”

“Daimyo Fett, Lord Oojar. Are you telling us that you agreed to a meeting with us without his approval? You don’t have authority to do that.” One of the Alor said with a confrontational tone, to the strongest leader of the planet they currently stood on. Manda preserve them, sometimes his vode were ori’buyce, kih’kovid.

Raig raised his hands for peace. “We agreed to meet to prevent any hostilities from flaring up between the many factions that have come together here and the inhabitants of this planet. Some of these Mando’ade are refugees seeking asylum and some of them are factions that are seeking the wielder of the Darksaber. It has been a very tense atmosphere and now you are here as well. Daimyo Fett has honorably agreed to host us, in his palace while we wait for the return of…the wielder of the saber.”

He was becoming too laid back here while having the time of his life. He’d almost said something quite different, out of fondness. He was getting too old and sentimental.

Boba tipped his buy’ce at his gaffe, his body language suddenly becoming very agreeable and welcoming. Raig felt his ears twitch. That was not a good sign.

“Yes. Why don’t we all proceed to the palace and get out of these, punishing, hot suns. I’ll have refreshments brought out and you can all put your feet up and take a rest.”

“Ah, Lord Fett, that will not be necessary…” One of the Alore had sensed the blood in the water as it were and were trying to back out. Mirdala.

“Oh no, I insist.” The response was dark and dangerous. “In fact, I know that there is another party that is interested in meeting with you. Something about a scandal? I’m sure that you have much to talk about. I’ll arrange a room for the meeting.”

Boba turned and clapped his hands imperiously, playing up his Lord status. Then started marching toward the palace. Raig just followed along, keeping in step with Boba and trying not to interrogate him on his plans. Well, this was going to be horrible. He could feel it in the tips of his ears.

**

Boba was going to hide out in his office, but when he got there, he found Raig and Greef. He’d thought he’d given them the slip. They were sitting primly in his visitor chairs. He was going to have to get rid of those things. They invited people to have conversations with him.  Made him seem welcoming to their companionship and interested in socializing. Made them think he was open to discussion about his secret plans, inner thoughts, and personal business. Fennec and Din just sat on the edge of his desk to pester him. He shut the door with a put-upon sigh.

“What is going on?” Greef asked in good humor. “You’re not exactly the pinnacle of host with the most.”

Boba debated lying, but did he really need to?

Raig rumbled in his seat. “I can see the debate in your eyes. Whatever mischief or problem you want to cause or solve, we’d be happy to help.”

Boba rolled his eyes. “Stop it with your grandfatherly intuition, you two. I’m not old enough to join your club.”

Greef laughed and Raig crossed his arms expectantly.

“So?”

“We do have a problem. A massive, maybe start a war problem.” Boba sat in his chair heavily.

Greef stopped chuckling and peered at him sternly. “How big of a war are we talking?”

“Say there are more than a thousand foreign warriors on your planet and in your airspace, expectantly waiting on the person who holds the object that classifies them as king, who most of them back as king. They request his presence and you as a leader of said planet and family of said king can’t produce him, find him, or prove that he is not murdered, nor can you produce the object that he carries. What would you expect those hot-headed idiots to do?”

“Kriff.” Greef rubbed his whiskered chin in worry.

Raig sat back in shock. “They weren’t able to recover them?”

Shaking his head, he brought up the tactical map from last night.

“Fennec and the others tracked them to here and then had to stop…because a kriffing krayt dragon plowed through the spice runner’s camp and made off with those two idiots…for unexplainable reasons. They’re still alive per Dee, but even combined, the Super Bantha Rescue Squad doesn’t have the type of fire power to fight a krayt.”

“They are on their way back?” At Boba’s nod, Raig got a determined look in his eyes. “We will have to stall if we can then, so they can regroup and pick up more fire power, then go back out without anyone being the wiser. I think we’ll need a grand lunch and introductions to the Hoard Vault to start with.”

“Smart.” Boba rubbed his chin and looked at Greef. “Feel like taking up some time with a Nevaro sob story and how you feel unsafe in Mandalore space?”

“Absolutely. I am a very good actor.”

Boba nodded and tapped on his desk a few times in thought. “I’m going to stir up some trouble between the pirates and the Council during the Jedi meeting. All the rest of our plans should take up the rest of the day and we can think of more during the chaos if we must. ”

“Ther’s something else.” Raig guessed and Boba had to grimace.

“It has become apparent that a lot of these Mando’ade think he wants to be Mand’alor or that he already is. We will have to disabuse them of that notion until he returns and makes the decision himself. We need to give Din as much time as we can. When he gets back, we need to make him understand that it is his choice. I do not care who they are, they do not get to decide. We are playing defense.

They all nodded to each other in satisfaction and grim resolve.

“Let’s get this show in the hyperlane.”

**

R2D2 rolled into the room in front of Scad as he brought first meal to the four guests in what Luke had deemed the Rancor Lounge. Leia just looked at Luke and Han with a withering stare as they moaned and complained. They looked rough after a night’s sleep in a perfectly acceptable bedroom suite that had two beds and a cot brought in. As it was explained to her, they had a lot of refugees to manage, and the staff was apologetic about the cot.

Leia understood of course and had told them that the suite was perfectly acceptable and all of them understood the delayed meeting. Daimyo Fett was under a lot of stress and had many, many matters of state to take care of and they were the ones who showed up unannounced. Of course, Luke going all crazy eyed and panicky about his Mandalorian had made things…a little strained since the whole palace refused his help, even if he was a Jedi. Or perhaps they refused because he was a Jedi. It was hard to tell. Lord Oojar had been the only break in between waiting and eating, and that hadn’t taken long at all.

As they ate a delicious first meal R2 beeped and booped continuously, much to Leia’s annoyance. The droid complained nonstop about his horrendous treatment at the hands of Daimyo Fett’s inquisitors and had planned to break out right before release into her custody. By the look on Luke’s face as he translated, the story was much embellished and full of unsavory language. The droid sometimes brought the tone of the room down several notches. It did not help that Han was egging R2 on by serving up his own imagined Fett torture. Force help them.

Per Skad, Ms. Motto had left the droid to its own devices at the hangar, occasionally throwing a wrench for the obvious lack of manners in front of the baby…who understood binary and did not need to learn that type of language. Grogu’s father would be furious. Then R2 was brought to the palace, kept in a clean and dry storage room without inquisitors because they were too busy to care about it, since they had a lot going on and now the Mandalorian Clan Council had suddenly arrived. Hence R2’s release and their summons.

After first meal Luke and Leia left the others behind and were led to a larger lounge that had a long table with sixteen frowning Mandalorians facing them. Their helmets were also all facing them, so it was like facing thirty-two intimidating stares. Daimyo Fett, Lord Oojar, and an unarmored elderly man sat to the side at their own table. They looked amused and wholly entertained. Another six Mandalorians were stationed at the entry and exit points of the room, standing guard. There were three chairs in front of a table facing the council, one of them occupied by a helmeted Togrutan Mandalorian in red and black armor.

Looking at Luke she watched as he debated with his flight response. She grabbed Luke’s arm, forcing him to the table without making it look like she was. She kept her politician smile on the whole time, looking pleasant and open to talking with the council. This nerfherder was NOT going to mess this up. Taking their seats, they waited for the meeting to begin.

“Greetings, Senator Organa-Solo, Master Skywalker. I am Countess Ursa Wren. I believe you were in contact with Alor Lyst about the scandal we are discussing today?” The severe looking woman gestured a hand down the table to a less severe looking blue-skinned Nautolan.

“Gathered council, I can assure you that the report of Jedi Master Luke Skywalker wearing your sacred armor and parading around in a den of iniquity using the alias of Tarre Vizsla is entirely untrue. He is a respectable and upstanding New Republic citizen and as a Jedi, he would never sully another Jedi’s memory in such a crass and reprehensible way.”

Leia watched as they conferred with each other in light murmurs. She had heard a disbelieving scoff from Daimyo Fett’s table as she was speaking, but she could not acknowledge the slight if she was to stop Luke from becoming a Jedi pincushion. She knew that the Mandalorians had very low opinions of Jedi and saw them as interfering, arrogant sorcerers, and ancient enemies. She hoped that this situation could be settled without bloodshed.

“Do you have evidence that Master Skywalker was not the one perverting the sacred memory of one of our great Mand’alore?” Alor Lyst asked, patiently waiting for an explanation.

“Master Skywalker has been faithfully instructing a student in the ways of the Jedi for the last two years and has not left the academy’s grounds for anything other than supply runs and to answer Senate summons. No personal trips to indulge in less than savory ventures. In the last three days, his only movements were with me, to come to Tatooine to resolve a family matter.” Leia poked Luke with the Force.

“My student’s education is of the utmost importance. I would never risk his safety or the reputation of the Jedi for a risqué encounter.” Luke intoned, his face stoic and calm. “I only left the academy to help Senator Organa-Solo.”

“Per Daimyo Fett, that matter has been settled internally without need to disclose it to the council since it was a…family matter.” Countess Wren looked disbelieving, but Leia was extremely grateful to Fett. Something she never imagined she would be. He must not want to bring Grogu to the Council’s attention since he was a Mandalorian child learning to be a Jedi. She whole heartedly agreed with that plan.

“I can also confirm that it was not Master Skywalker that started the rumor.” The Togrutan Mandalorian at their table spoke up, taking the Council’s attention away from them. Leia was a little surprised.

“Captain Zuffra. How is it that you can corroborate Master Skywalker’s alibi?” A Council member said with barely restrained irritation. They were at the end of the Council table, closet to the Tatooine delegation.

Captain Zuffra sat up straighter and looked grim. “The rumor originated in our place of business…which is emphatically NOT a house of ill repute.”

Fett let out a dissatisfied noise. “What was your business called again?”

“Madame Zuffra’s House of Massage.” Lord Oojar replied before Captain Zuffra could. He had a disappointed look on his face, but Leia could feel his amusement and felt certain that their group was trying to get some type of leverage on Zuffra.

“There is nothing wrong with sex work. It is an occupation that deserves just as much dignity, relevance, and a place in society as any other.” Captain Zuffra said stiffly. “However, the House of Massage was a front for my covert’s business transactions to keep them alive and funded after the Purge. We had to maintain a semblance of authenticity when approached by those who were not our actual clients, but there were no actual massages or sex work involved. Our one service was bounty hunting and we also sold goods such as textiles, handmade furniture, and…liquor.”

“And how did such a perverse and insidious rumor start at your place of business?” Alor Lyst looked intrigued and expectant.

Captain Zuffra made an aggrieved sound before she started speaking. “A verd came into shop seeking shelter from the Nite Owls that had been chasing them. They took shelter in one of our closets with my ver’alor and their…conversation was loud enough to be overheard. A reporter was discovered and promptly expelled from our property. We did not know at the time that he had also overheard the closet conversation until the Galactic Mail came out with a very twisted version of the conversation an hour later.”

“Why was your ver’alor talking about Jedi and lightsabers to a verd they did not know?” Another council member’s question dripped with disgust at the very thought.

At this point Captain Zuffra was rubbing her forehead as if she had a headache. She looked very reluctant to answer but grit her teeth and powered through.

“Because my ver’alor felt the Darksaber on the Mand’alor’s belt.”

The council looked appalled, but Fett only looked vindicated.

“Are you telling me that your ver’alor was…touching the future Mand’alor in an intimate manner in a closet?” Countess Wren looked ready to explode and by the look on Luke’s face he could also feel just how incensed the council was becoming.

“Then they drugged him, kidnapped him, and were trying to ransom him to us. Who knows what unsavory things they had done to him in that time.” Fett’s bored droll from the Tatooine delegation table was comical, even if the subject was serious. Leia did not know who this Mand’alor was, but he sounded like he was prone to a lot of mishaps and Fett had been part of more than a few.

“Me’ven?!” Exploded out of a giant Mandalorian at the table. He had jumped to his feet so fast his chair hit the wall behind him.

Ah, looked like Luke was off the hook for being a pervert. This went a lot easier than she thought it would. She felt a little bit of pity for Captain Zuffra when she saw the small triumphant smirk on Fett’s face.

**

“Grogu, it is time for a nap.”

Grogu looked at Aunt Peli and Golden Lady from his perch on one of Buir’s Mandalorians. This one had introduced herself as Kir’teech and had been teaching him a hand game that he was not very good at. Kir’teech’s hands were just too fast for him. He suspected she might have been cheating with her adult ways. He issued a dramatic sigh.

“Sounds like Din, he does.” Kir’teech said as she chuckled.

“Yes. The two of them are a well-matched pair. Dramatic and grumpy when they do not sleep well. Which is why this one needs a nap.” The Golden Lady seemed amused, but her voice was very flat. Did Buir learn that from her? “Come little one.”

Grogu did not want a nap. He wanted Buir. All these adults were talking about his rescue and how he would be back soon. He did not want to be asleep when Buir returned. Who was going to make sure Buir got cookies? Not the adults, that was for sure. And he might be hurt which Grogu could fix better than any nasty med-droid.

:I want Buir:

“I know you do, but you had a rough night, and he will not be here for some time.” Golden Lady felt like she needed a nap more than him.

:I want Ba’buir then. You sleep:

Golden Lady huffed impatiently. “My ba’buir is going to be in a meeting. He does not have time to watch you for the moment. You will see him at mid-meal.”

:Not tired:

“You need a rest before mid-meal. Your dad would want you to be taken care of, so he doesn’t have to worry.” Aunt Peli was trying to mind trick him with her soft tones. It was working. Buir would want him to sleep and be well rested. He scowled and squinted his eyes.

:Can I sleep in Buir’s bed again?:

“Of course.”

Maybe Darksaber would be there, and they could talk in secret through the Force. Aunt Peli and Golden Lady would never know.

**

Paz startled awake when a giant claw brushed his breastplate.

The tap made a slight ringing sound, but the claw just seemed to be checking on them, trying to situate them in the nest. When it got caught on the whipcord, the inquisitive presence seemed to ask if the cord hurt them. Paz carefully projected his response, trying to get the krayt to cut the cord gently without impaling either of them.

Once the cord was cut, Din slumped away from him worryingly, but Paz needed to be free to check on him. With them tied together, he hadn’t been able to reach his hidden vibroblade. Now it was quick work to cut his arms free. It hurt to move them after so long and he had to rub them for a while to get regular blood flow back into them. Gritting his teeth, he pushed through the painful tingles and turned toward Din.

His vod’ika had not moved from his slump and when he went to cut his bonds, he found them to be cruel and punishing, twisted back and up. The only thing that had saved him from severe injury was the fact they could not get Din's vambraces off and had to tie around them instead of his actual arm. If any of those spice runners were alive, Paz was going to make them regret all their life choices. Severing the cord and moving the stiffened limbs in increments as he tried to rub life into them, he finally got them unbent and in the proper position. Ripping off Din’s gloves he checked his fingers for swelling or discoloration. There was some, but now that his arms were released, they were getting back a healthy hue.

What worried him was Din barely making more than small sounds of discomfort and the trail of blood from one nostril that the krayt hadn’t cleaned off. Checking his eyes, he found the pupils to be evenly sized. It didn’t rule out a concussion, but it was hopeful. Maybe the deep sleep was due to using the ka’ra and not from a catastrophic brain injury. The bruise from the rifle butt was already turning green, which Paz had learned through years of trial and error meant the ka’ra was working. He’d always healed a lot faster than his siblings and if he overdid it, he slept for a long time. After checking him over one last time he settled on his haunches and just stared at Din’s face.

Manda, it had been so long since he’d seen it. It was different and the same. He wondered if that dimple was still there. His ba’vod’ad had had a huge crush on Din because of that dimple. Paz ran a hand through his hair, feeling it spike against his wishes. Being two years older meant Paz had sworn the creed earlier than Din and taken missions to earn his rank and learn from the verde of his family in hopes that he would make a decent beroya. Din had taken to wearing his helmet a lot even before his verd’goten because he was always going on missions with his buir, learning to track and hunt and survive out there on the Rim.  Their dreams of being a beroya team had been shattered when they were young but as he looked around the cavern they were in, maybe even back then the ka’ra had known where they would end up.

“Well, Din’ika. You rest up. I’ll see about a plan of action. I’m sure we can get out of here.”

Patting his Din’s leg, he had to laugh when he noticed Din’s curly hair was sticking up comically on one side due to krayt saliva. He probably looked no better, being covered in it too. He heard a shift behind him and felt a huffing breath. He knew what that meant and threw himself over Din to spare him another full-frontal wash. It was not pleasant the second time around and now he was fully covered in saliva.

“The things I have to do for you.” He rolled to the side and surveyed the krayt, up on its hind legs again.

It came close and seeing it fully now, it was monstrous. It was inquisitive and gentle with them meaning Din was right. They were now krayt babies. The tongue started to roll out again because it had missed Din, but Paz pushed it away and pushed his thoughts at the krayt.

 "We’re clean. Stop licking us.”

It retracted in a huff and went off to do krayt things in the gigantic cavern.

Paz krept toward the lip of the bowl formation and peeked over the rim. There were several fissures in the rock, many too small to fit Din and him. They were leaving together or not at all. There was one incredibly close to them, but the only problem was getting over the lip of this nest quietly and quickly. As he turned from his inspection of the fissure he had decided to use, he came face to eye with the krayt. One giant slitted golden eye not even half a meter away. He startled back with an undignified yelp as he landed on his shebs and jostled Din who shot up in shock with a yell. The smaller man struck out uncoordinatedly, hitting Paz’s breastplate bare knuckled. A pained yelp made him grab the flailing arm to calm him.

“Osik. Din! It’s all right. Ni ceta. The krayt startled me.”

“Paz? Where are my gloves?”

“Here. I have them in my belt.”

“Oh, okay.” In the silence, Paz could feel his confusion, hunger, and deep exhaustion. He was also shivering slightly. Kriff, how long had it been since he had eaten? Din could barely keep his eyes open as he stared at Paz. His mind was wide open and projecting, and the creature behind them was moving closer, when his next sentence registered. “I’m cold.”

Paz did not expect the krayt to nudge him aside to pick Din up gently and cuddle him close to its neck with a low hum. The clawed paws were bigger than he was and that was a little frightening. But he was not going to be daunted or separated from Din if he could help it. To escape, they needed to be together.

[Tiny hatchling sick]

The foreign thought startled him. But he pushed a thought right back. I’m cold too.

He was picked up and transferred to the paw that held Din and he tugged his vod close as they were enveloped in warmth. This was the strangest situation he had been in so far and he did not know how he was going to explain being adopted by a krayt dragon and then receiving cuddles from it. Maybe leave out the cuddles? His thoughts changed track as he caught sight of the fissure. They were getting out of here.

**

“Are you sure that you haven’t seen any strange Mandalorians?”

“All Mandalorians are strange. Have you met them?” The cantina owner gave him an annoyed look. “All I know is, Daimyo Fett and his right hand Mando are decent, fighting for the people, and that the blue ones that suddenly started prowling around here are kind of big kriffers and are trouble whenever they show up.”

“Of course.” Axe sighed in annoyance. Of course, these people saw them as trouble. “Thank you for your time.”

This had been his fifth market and sixth cantina. Overall, the view of the Nite Owls who had been sent to scout was that they were menaces and should stay the hell out of town if all they wanted was to cause trouble. He looked at his pad in consideration. IF the covert was here, then they were not wearing beskar’gam when they came into town. Which was supported by some of the stall owners responding that they had heard a language like Mando’a being spoken by some of their non-Mandalorian customers.

Axe rubbed his forehead in dismay as he thought of his next course of action. His civilian clothes had helped him immensely with the search and he decided to forgo his armor for the rest of the day. Maybe he would try tomorrow in armor and see if the answers would be different. It was barely mid-morning, and he had few leads. So, more market searches and med clinics today? Or should he track Felnor’s cousin into the canyons where his location hadn’t changed for hours? Looking around the dusty city and feeling the two suns on his back he had his answer.

He should follow the signal since this was proving pointless. If the covert was in the canyons, it would make things a lot simpler.

“Alor’ad! I didn’t know you were on leave too! Let’s have a drink.” One of the younger officers in his command hailed him from down the street, from a gaggle of five others.

As he walked toward them, intending to tell them no, the door of a large hanger opened and there were twenty Protectors, their tricolor armor gleaming in the light of the twin suns. Their leader took off his buy’ce and tracked Axe as he walked past.

“Woves.”

“Rau.”

By the Manda, he did not need this today.

**

Cara, Fennec, and Dee arrived at utter chaos. Well, much more chaos than usual. There were staff and miners and pirates and small children all rushing about. There were bright eye searing banners hanging everywhere and trays of refreshments being sent up from the kitchens at a fast clip.

“What in the cheese maker?” Cobb grab a cheese cube from a passing tray. “Why are they putting out the good cheese?”

Cara looked to Fennec, who was tossing her eyes about, assessing everything.

“Hmmm. Delay tactic maybe? To give us time?”

We can sense a lot of angry people in the direction of the big lounge…they are starting to move toward the dining room.

“Definitely a delay then. Boba wouldn’t waste the good cheese on a mere political lunch.” Fennec commented as the three of them stepped back into the door alcove, out of the way of a huge table being carted down the hall by four enthusiastic miners.

“Marshall Vanth, get back to the squad and get them geared up for fighting a krayt.”

“You got it Marshall Dune.”

Fennec rolled her eyes at them, and Cara joined Cobb in wearing huge grins to annoy her. Since they discovered that they had similar occupations, they had never missed a chance to call each other Marshall.

“Make sure those banthabutts don’t blow themselves up, Vanth. We need heavy ordinance, not candidates for the bacta tank. Let’s go pretend for an hour that we didn’t lose Din.”

Cobb turned with a little salute and sauntered back the way they had come. Cara and Fennec followed the stream of food and people to the dining room and pushed two people out of their seats so that they could sit next to Boba. Greef and Raig had taken seats among Mandalorians they did not know and were speaking urgently with sharp gestures as the food was brought to the tables. The Jedi and Solo looked uncomfortable where they were seated, right in Boba’s line of sight, where he was staring at them intently. Their Wookiee looked at ease and raised a nuna leg to sniff at it. The Senator looked to be in a serious discussion with Alor Daber and some of the miners and the pirate’s baar’ur.

“What do you think they are talking about?” Cara whispered to Fennec, nudging her shoulder.

We can find out for you if you wish. We love eavesdropping.

Boba leaned forward to vaguely look in Fennec’s direction, talking lowly. “We know you love eavesdropping. Go then and listen to the Council. The Senator is more than like being regaled with Din’s tales of mandokar anyway and we all know those stories.”

You all let us do fun stuff. Din’ika is always ‘Dee, don’t stab people, don’t gossip, don’t this, don’t that’. He is such a buir.

Cara groaned. “Din is not going to like that.”

Which part? You letting us do fun stuff or the fact that his mandokar is spread throughout the Mando’ade populace like a virulent oral disease?

They all grinned at each other at that and then looked at the Jedi and Solo, who suddenly looked like they wanted to be anywhere else. The duo vacated their seats and were through the door quickly, they missed the Armorer appear with Grogu at the opposite end of the hall. The little one gave them a beseeching look before being taken over to the Council table and placed in Raig’s lap. Cara felt sorry for the little guy being stuck at the stuffy table. She might have gone to save him if Dee had not spoken up at that moment.

Release us, Cara. We will collect information for the Hoard and then we will stab the others for their gossiping.

Fennec whispered out of the side of her mouth. “Don’t be so dramatic. No stabbing, only eavesdropping.”

Fine, nanny.

**

“Felnor. Why are you so jittery? You’ve been pacing and spacing out this whole trip. You shouldn’t worry about joining this mission.”

Felnor snapped back into focus as he heard Koska try to reassure him. She meant well, but it was not what he was focused on. He quickly looked to the side, away from her, trying to keep his guilty face from showing. They were waiting for their ship to be cleared, so they could disembark.

“The mission. Right.”

“All right...I feel like you’re keeping something from me.”

Felnor decided to go with half-truths. His reprimand had not come through yet, so Koska did not know he had contacted Alor’ad Woves. He also had not received an assignment yet, so maybe he had some time to do his own research and find Shennec on his own.

“What do you think about ba’vod’ad Fand?” He pressed quickly as the ramp light turned green. The verde around him shifted in anticipation.

“Who?”

“The verd we met on Bandomeer?” Felnor said in disbelief.

“Oh...the one that was coughing like he had the plague?” Koska made a moue of distaste, as she walked down the ramp and Felnor closely followed. “Why are you even thinking about him? Some rando Mando from the streets?”

Felnor gasped in outrage. “He’s our ba’vod’ad!”

Koska rolled her eyes. “So, you say. But honestly, Felnor. You cannot just claim a man you just met!”

“You can if he’s family!”

Koska stopped in annoyance and turned to Felnor quickly, tugging him out of the way of the others. “Felnor! What do you know about him? You spent no more than ten minutes with him. Why are you so invested?”

“He’s not answering my coms. I’m worried about him and his family!” Felnor whispered hotly, seeing a lot of their comrades starting to take an interest in their conversation.

Koska gave the passersby a glare, making them speed up to get away from her. Then she looked at him in anger, speaking lowly and harshly. “You gave him your com number? How could you be so di’kutla? You need to focus on your service in the Nite Owls and helping to reclaim Manda’yaim, not on hobbies and saving every sob story on the streets. You are going to bring shame on our clan if you continue to act this way, more than I already have with my past actions.”

Felnor puffed up in indignation and not a little hurt. “I’m not going to...”

Koska’s vambrace ping and she looked at Felnor in displeasure. After reading her message, she straightened, checked her blaster, and donned her buy’ce.

“You better get your head on straight. This is an important operation and messing up in any way could be fatal to your rank. I must take my post at Lady Kryze’s side today. Stay out of trouble until you get your duty assignment.” By her tone, he knew she was dreading her post and was irritated that she had to look after him too.

She stalked away, scattering fellow verde in her wake.

“Alright there, Felnor? Ver’alor being hard on you again?” One of the piloting crew came up beside him, fiddling with a pad. They were on their rounds of safety checks.

Felnor shook his negatively. “She’s just trying to keep me centered.”

“My condolences.” The pilot grinned and slapped him on the shoulder. “Get going. Best get some food in you while you have the chance. I heard the situation is tense here, so who knows when we will be called in to help.”

“Vor'e, ruus’alor.

Taking his leave, he jogged to catch up with the off duty verde, trying to see if there was any spot near him where he could start his search. That’s when he spotted Alor’ad Woves in civilian attire, looking agitated and disgruntled in the doorway to another ship hangar. He was having in an intense conversation with some red headed Mando’ad in blue and white armor. Geesh. Protectors. Why would they even be here?

He sidled closer and hid in the shadow of a building. He slid his buy’ce on and turned up the audio once it sealed.

“Rau, I am on leave. I do not have time to waste to hash out old grievances with you.”

“That makes me think that you are up to something for Lady Kryze. Something the council would want to know about.” Felnor watched the redhead lean in menacingly.

“It’s a personal matter.”

“What personal matter could a verd like you have on this planet? A high-ranking officer mucking about in civilian attire. Suspicious.”

Felnor was so invested in spying that he missed the Mando’ade coming up behind him with a raised blaster.

“Hands up.”

Felnor raised his hands in acquiescence. Three Protectors surrounded him, relieving him of his weapons and marching him to where the two officers had been arguing. Alor’ad Woves looked like he was ready to detonate as he watched Felnor come closer. He gulped in panic. Koska had said stay out of trouble and he could not even do it for ten minutes.

"What’s this Woves? A spy for you?”

Woves crossed his arms in anger, looking at Felnor calculatingly. A little tilt to his head trying to convey something.

“Thought I told you civilian attire. Why are you in beskar’gam?” He said gruffly.

“I...uh...I forgot.” Felnor licked his dry lips and released the seal on his helmet. Taking it off, he squinted while his eyes adjusted. “I was preoccupied.”

He heard a sigh and watched Alor’ad Woves rub the bridge of his nose. “We want subtlety. You’ll spook them if you are not more careful.”

“Woves.” There was warning and authority in that tone. “Me’bana?”

“I’m going to be honest with you Rau because I don’t need you or want you interfering. As Protectors, this has nothing to do with you or your duty. Verd Reeves has family here that are in hiding and we are trying to find them. I offered my assistance.”

Rau stiffened. “There are Mando’ade here that need assistance? Why the subterfuge?”

More Protectors had come out of the hanger and surrounded them. They were looking agitated at the thought of vode in trouble. Rau looked grim. Felnor bit his lip to keep silent. His Alor’ad did not need him to mess this up in such a tense situation.

Woves gave him a considerate look before returning his attention to the Protector in front of him.

“Looking for coverts is no longer a priority to Lady Kryze’s Mission and as this would be considered an unsanctioned activity if I was on duty. I am using my personal time to help Verd Reeves locate his ba’vod’ade and get them the assistance they require.” Alor’ad Woves’s resolute gaze and lifted chin taunted Rau to say something.

A com pinged in the silence. Rau looked away from the standoff to read the message. His lips thinned as he pressed them together. Rau closed the message, but it looked like he was making his mind up about something.

“Ver’alor Conte, take seventeen verde up to the palace and meet with Countess Wren. Tell her that I have a mission to handle. Ruus’alor Wren and the rest of you, change into civilian attire.”

“I said I didn’t...” Woves was shocked and indignant.

“We are coming with you, Woves. I’ll make this mission sanctioned, so you will not be reprimanded. Reeves! Come! We will lend you clothes.” His bark broke no arguments as he headed into the hangar.

“Y...yes...sir!” Felnor stuttered, giving Alor’ad Woves an astonished look as he followed.

He heard an aggrieved sigh as the older man followed behind him.

**

Bo Katan stood next to her rented speeder, watching impassively as three squads got into formation for the mission brief. She was taking forty verde to the palace with her in anticipation of a coming skirmish. The thought of Fett obstructing her challenge with the Council in attendance made her blood boil. He and that hut’tuunla beroya would pay. She seethed at the fact that someone who would dodge the duty and responsibility of leading their people wielded such a powerful weapon and would not be honorable enough to even fight to lose it to a more worthy opponent.

Koska Reeves appeared around a corner and looked for her. The young officer approached her confidently, but Bo Katan could see the hesitation in her eyes.

“Lady Kryze, we are ready for the brief. Will Alor’ad Woves be joining us?”

“No. He is on leave. He has been working tirelessly to contain the situation and needed a break. I had not anticipated the summons by the council today. It is very unfortunate.” She almost scowled at the thought of not having such a seasoned and loyal officer at her side for this. “Let’s brief the squads and get moving. Countess Wren has given me a time limit.”

**

Grogu was grumpy. Aunt Cara and Aunt Fennec were back and Buir was not. He had only taken a nap on the promise that Buir would be here when he woke up. Now he was trapped in Ba’buir’s lap having a staring contest with a blue-skinned Mandalorian tentacle head. He looked over to the other table longingly. He could be with Uncle Boba but Golden Lady had brought him here. Tentacle Head was being rude still when he turned back, and he went to throw a piece of bread at her, but Golden Lady stopped him with a gentle grip.

“No little one. We do not waste food.” She let go and he stuffed the whole roll in his mouth in protest. She sighed and continued to cut up his meat into smaller pieces. Buir wouldn’t have. He never made Grogu eat small bits. Buir knew that he ate frogs whole.

“That is an interesting child. Have you adopted, Lord Oojar?” Tentacle Head had a weird feeling when she looked at Ba’buir. A goopy feeling. He hissed at her, showing his teeth. “Oh my. Such a protective little one.”

“Alor Lyst, I am just caring for him at the moment, for his buir. He is usually very affable. He must be out of sorts from his nap.” Ba’buir handed him to Golden Lady gently, but Grogu kicked his legs out. Ba’buir protected his feet with one of his big hands, preventing him from hitting Golden Lady’s armor. “Calm little one.”

These Mando’ade are so boring. Where’s all our sordid gossip?

Grogu stopped squirming and shoved a meat bit in his mouth.

Darksaber?

Oh, little one. Su’cuy! We have missed you.

Where is Buir?

Ah…we had some trouble. But we are going back to get him after midmeal. We are just spying for Ba’vodu Boba right now. We’re headed back that way. Any message to send?

I miss Buir.

We know you do. He’ll be back before you know it.

Darksaber’s presence faded as they moved away and Grogu grudgingly finished his plate, watching all the adults around him talk to each other. Didn’t they all know Buir was missing? Why were they just eating?

He slammed his hand down on his plate, causing a ruckus. Several adults turned toward them with small smiles and chuckles. His ears went back, and he showed his teeth again. They all chuckled more.

“Someone’s cranky.” It was a big Mandalorian in red and black.

“Ferah, hand him here.” Ba’buir rumbled. Golden Lady handed him over and he kicked and flailed in protest. No matter how much he kicked, Ba’buir held him gently. “Naak, ik’aad. Naak.”

When he was out of breath and tired of squirming, Ba’buir set him on the table so they were face to face. He caressed his ears and rumbled soothingly.

“Talk to me little one. Tell me what troubles you.”

Grogu lowered his ears at Ba’buir’s understanding tone. He was acting awful. He signed quickly because he was becoming more upset.

:I want Buir I want Buir I want Buir:

“I know you do.” Ba’buir brought him up and tucked him under his chin, letting Grogu grip his collar tightly. He felt a gentle rumble as Ba’buir spoke to the other adults. “I am going to take this little one to a quieter place. Please excuse me.”

“Of course, Lord Oojar. Children take precedence in such instances.” He heard Tentacle Head speaking as Ba’buir started to leave the table. She felt gloopy still, but also very kind like Master Luke. Grogu closed his eyes as they moved out of the noisy room and into the quieter hall. He felt a sparkle presence nearing as Ba’buir walked down the hallway.

“Oh, Lord Oojar. Is something wrong?”

He opened his eyes to see Cook looking at him in great concern.

“He misses Din’ika.”

“As he should.” Cook sighed and he felt a broad finger caress his back. “Little Treasure, you will see him by the end of the day. Do not worry so.”

She took out two familiar blue cookies from her apron pocket and gave him a wink with one of her large eyes as she handed them to Ba’buir. He felt the Force swirl around him, urging him to listen closely.

“I’ll be heading into town in half an hour to gather more of the provisions I ordered. You Mandalorians will eat us out of house and home if I would let you. Would you like me to pick up anything for the little one?”

“No. The cookies and rest should be sufficient for now. Thank you, Cook.”

“It is nothing. If you change your mind, my speeder is in the hangar. You’ll be able to catch me there before I go.”

Grogu looked over Ba’buir’s shoulder as they walked away. Cook winked at him again and the Force whispered.

**

Wooo! We are tired. Remind me to never offer to do spy missions after some major reconstruction. I’m taking a nap before we leave again.

”Anything good?” Boba said, using his drink glass as cover.

That big one, Alor Kast, would probably put down as many wheels of cheese as he could if he knew about the List. He is very angry. Countess Wren hates sand. Alor Lyst has a crush on our dear Raig. That tall Alor in light green? Pretty scandalized about someone named Ver’alor Loton and is planning some type of retribution. Oh, and Grogu misses Din’ika.

“That’s all?” Cara said incredulously behind her hand.

Right? We thought it’d be more scintillating, but they are all horrendously normal and boring. Did not talk shop at all. They were very impressed by the cheese platters. Did the space wizard leave?

“Boba scared him and Solo off with his fierce scowl.” Fennec muttered.

Weak.

Boba barked out a laugh, startling those around them. Some of them felt their souls leave their bodies. Especially Ver’alor Loton. He had been feeling a lot of eyes upon him since the meeting.

**

“Why are we cuddling?” Din opened his eyes a few hours later, warm and surprisingly well rested.

Paz snorted somewhere above his head. “If I don’t cuddle you and keep you warm in the nest, the krayt will. You do not want to be conscious when you are being cuddled more than 21 meters off the ground without a jetpack. Trust me.”

Din’s forehead thunked lightly against Paz’s chest plate as he thought about it. “Manda. I guess not. How long was I out?”

“Not long. Few hours. My vambrace says it’s just past midday.”

“Got a plan?” Din asked so quietly, Paz could barely hear it.

“One. Buir would not leave us at first. Thought you were sick. Now she has agreed to let us sleep in the nest if I keep you warm. She has been off doing...krayt things. But she is also fast, silent, and creepy, for such a huge dragon. So, we must move fast and quiet while she is doing her rounds, or we will be in the baby krayt nest forever. We’ll have to leave shortly.” Paz continued their low conversation. “Eat this first though. I know it’s dry and we have no water, but you need the calories.”

Din felt a foil pack poke him in the face. He grabbed it and unwrapped it, greedily chewing and swallowing the ration bar. He finished it in seconds, barely satiety the hunger that had roared to life within him.

“What about you?” He whispered in shame at his disregard.

“I had two stashed in my belt. I ate mine earlier.” Paz reassured him with a light tap of his shoulder.

“Right. Where’s the exit?”

“Straight up from our heads. There is a fissure that is big enough for the both of us and it has tons of fresh air moving through it. I’ll boost you over the lip and then you pull me up. It’s not far.”

“Okay. Sit up and observe?”

“If we do, she might lick us. You prepared for that?”

“I blew up a...a...worm...from the inside and was covered in guts for hours in the hot suns. Saliva is a lot less gross, believe me.” Din tried not to admit to killing a bigger krayt in front of another krayt. It seemed impolite. Kriff, he was worried about hurting her feelings.

When they sat up, the krayt was nowhere in sight. But Paz had said she was fast and silent. So that was not a guarantee. They shuffled backwards together, sticking close so they could cuddle immediately and feign sleep. They got all the way to the right side of the nest and leaning against the curved wall before Din sensed something and tapped Paz’s arm in warning. They immediately pretended to sleep, and Din felt a huff of breath over them. They were on their sides and the krayt obviously found this unacceptable since she used her claws to push Paz over gently to use him as a blanket for Din.  They waited a several minutes before stirring from fake sleep.

“You sense her?”

“No.”

“Next time, remember that you’re the blanket.”

“Got it. I’m checking on her. Prepare to move.” Paz sat up quickly, rolling onto his knees smoothly and used his height to peer over the nest lip. “Go. She’s out on her rounds.”

Din stood quickly and Paz got close enough that Din automatically put his foot back and Paz boosted him up. Din hung over the lip and gave his ori’vod and hand to get up as well. They got to the fissure and Paz ducked inside, then Din. All of this was done near silently, thanks to all their training in the Fighting Corps. They would have made a great beroya team if they’d been given a chance.

Knowing that they had a small window to get as far as they could, they followed the cool breeze coming from the tunnel, using their hands to feel their way forward in the dark. Not the easiest, but they did not have their buy’cese. Fifteen minutes later, they heard a roar of rage and what Din thought sounded like betrayal, echo through the fissure.

“I feel bad now, for leaving the nest.” Paz admitted, echoing Din’s feelings unknowingly.

“Maybe we can bring her a bantha later and apologize?” Din asked hopefully. “Think we can bamboozle her into thinking we’re grown instead of babies?”

“We are very pitiful krayt specimens. She’d never believe it.”

“We’re runts, that’s all. We’re independent krayts and we need our space.”

Paz snorted and continued forward, with Din’s hand on his back. Another fifteen minutes and they came to a fork. Both could smell a hint of fire and metal down one, which was very familiar. Someone had a forge in this canyon. The other side had an air current from outside. Din could smell the sunshine.

Paz paused. “Investigate the forge smell or escape into the hot suns.”

“What does your gut say?”

“Forge.”

“Mine too.”

Moving forward, they cautiously felt their way down the tunnel, that seemed be getting narrower. When they could only pass through sideways, both could feel the rocks scrape against their back plates.

“Kriff. I’m going to have to repaint my backside.”

“If it gets any tighter, you’re going to have to repaint your front too. Let’s rest a moment, yeah?”

 “Sure.”

Even though they thought they were being careful, they weren’t cautious enough when the back wall they were both leaning on collapsed outwards and they fell backwards into a cavern and onto a hard flat surface. At least Din fell onto the flat surface. Paz landed on him.

“Manda...vod...get your...ori’shebs...off me.”

“I’m the blanket. Kark why is it so bright in here? My eyes feel stabby.”

“You’re...crushing me...with...your...generous backside!” Din wheezed out, trying to free an arm to push Paz off him.

“You are covered in beskar’gam and I’ll have you know, that my shebs are perfectly proportionate to the rest of me.”

“Get off!” Din finally managed to get some leverage and roll Paz off him. He took a moment to catch his breath, closing his eyes against the bright light. “You do know we are squishy between the plates right? We can still get crushed. Even our kidnappers knew that! Kriff, why are the suns so bright?”

“I am a krayt dragon now. I will never be crushed!” Paz proclaimed loudly as he struggled to sit up. “That fall wasn’t...so...bad...”

Din felt his concern spike as Paz trailed off. He could feel his vod’s uneasiness and anxiety building. He sat up quickly. Squinting in the bright light, he looked around. They had landed on a long table in what amounted to a mess hall. They were surrounded by the stunned faces of a lot of Mando’ade in yellow and black beskar’gam. There had to be at least a hundred in this cavern room, alone. There were some in several tunnels leading from the cavern with weapons at the ready, alerted by the ruckus that they made. There were even adiik, shielded by the adults, with tiny vambraces and too large helmets.

Ah, that’s why Paz was having a little bit of a shock. This would remind him of Nevaro. Din swallowed thickly and just stared. This was making Din a little anxious too.  The Mando’ade stared back at him, not moving, or making any sounds.

“Vode, are you all right?” Din snapped his head to his left and found an elder staring at him. She was approaching them cautiously, her ungloved hands wrinkled and worn, as they made an aborted movement to reach for them. Din sucked in a breath of distress at her weary features and her thread bare kute. Looking at all of them, he noticed a lot more patches and wear on everything. The adiik though, were healthy and strong, as expected of Mando’ade.

“Tion gar gai?”

Paz’s shoulders shifted and he felt an arm nudge him in unhappiness. He must see their ragged state as well.

“Tion gar gai?” Was repeated gently. This time by a whipcord thin verd with mismatched armor.

Din licked his lips, croaking out the only alias he remembered. “Uh...Shennec...Fand. Shennec Fand. This is my ori’vod...Kerreck.”

“Are you really Fands?” An ad’s rushed question broke the spell, people starting to move forward to help get them off the table.

As he was helped up, his mouth made a lot of aborted movement before he could weakly push out a me’ven?

“Welcome, vode, to the Fand covert.” The thin verd from before smiled brightly and put a hand on his vambrace in solidarity but pulled away his hand with a grimace. “You both look like you are in shock. Let’s get you to the baar’ur. Manda, what are you covered in?”

Din heard Paz let out a strangled noise at the word baar’ur. He crowded at Din’s back, like a hulking shadow. His skittishness was treated as normal for surprise visitors and Din was glad for that. He did not think that they could admit quite yet that these strangers made their skin crawl at the memory of being in their own covert. They were led to a smaller cavern that hosted four ragged cots and an incensed baar’ur.

“Get them to the sonics to get whatever that is covering them off before they ruin my clean sheets.” The no nonsense voice pointed to a hulking machine in the corner.

Wherever they got this sonic, it was made for giants. They were both shoved in at the same time and they had room to spare. A few minutes later, the cyclers shut off and the door opened. A hand reached in. It found Din’s arm first and tugged him out except Paz was not having that and pulled Din back in. A brief tug of war ensued, which Paz won because the hand gave up. The door closed again and left them in silence.

“Din! What the firfiek is going on?” Paz whispered harshly, sounding a bit strained, verging on hysterical.

Din grabbed Paz by the pauldrons and shook him as much as he could. “You know when I was talking about stuff just happening to me? Mandokar osik that everyone thinks I’m doing on purpose, but I said I wasn’t?” Paz nodded slowly and Din slapped his chest plate harshly, continuing to whisper. “This is one of those times. Shady wizard magic.”

“Osik.” Paz muttered, running distressed hands through his hair. “We should have picked the other tunnel.”

“I don’t think it works like that. Even if we picked the other tunnel…we still would have been led here, regardless.”

Paz whined in distress. “Why is space wizard osik so complicated? Our lives are hard enough. I don’t want to be ka’ra touched!”

“Me neither.” Din said harshly. “Are you having trouble with the bond?”

“I can feel most of what you’re feeling, if I’m close enough.” Paz admitted. “It’s weird, but I don’t mind it.”

“Jate.” Din closed his eyes in relief. If Paz did mind, he didn’t know what he would do.

“What are you whispering about in there? It better not be plans about escaping treatment.” The baar’ur said loudly from outside.

Din winced, huddling closer to the back of the sonic. The covert’s head baar’ur sounded the same, if somewhat harsher. He not been gentle nor compassionate with anyone who came into the med bay. Din had dreaded going there so much that he once skipped going even with a broken leg. Their baar’ur’s apprentice had been so much kinder when she treated him for it, but she was not allowed to treat Din often, after that. Paz did not like going to the baar’ur for the same reason, so he did what every overprotective, newly adopted, freaked out, ori’vod would do if they were the right kind of dinii and hated baar’ure. He spun Din around, wrapped an arm around his waist and carried him out of the sonic like a sack of tubers. He looked the baar’ur straight in the eye, fierce, protective, and a little wild eyed.

“This is my vod’ika. We don’t get separated, ever. No needles. No med droids. No sedatives. You make one wrong move, try to injure us more, or threaten us with punishment, I’ll snap your arms off. I’m watching you baar’ur.” With his other hand, he made the watching you gesture and stomped off to the sturdiest looking cot that could take his bulk and set Din down on the one across from him.

Their beds kept the few people in the room in sight and the exit close. Din saw a look of understanding and sorrow come over the baar’ur’s features before he focused on his agitated ori’vod.

“I never thought I’d say this, but I actually miss the palace right now.” Paz confided in him lowly. He crossed his arms and his foot tapped impatiently. “It was growing on me, like a horribly obnoxious mold.”

“Or like aggressive moss. Remember Turina?” Din said, trying to get his mind off the closeness of a baar’ur.

“Oh, ugh. We didn’t stay long there after the whole mess hall was covered in it overnight, did we?”

The elder had approached and was looking them over.

“You’re not Fands are you?”

Din cringed. He looked at the elder warily. “How do you know?”

She pointed at Paz’s right pauldron where the shriek-hawk symbol was barely visible in the chipped paint. “Vizsla.”

“I’m not a Vizsla anymore.” Paz said hoarsely, looking aggrieved. “I’m a Mudhorn.”

The baar’ur came to stand by the elder, supplies in hand. “I’ve never heard of Clan Mudhorn.”

“It’s our clan. Our aliit. It’s little and broken, but it’s still good. We’re nothing like Clan Vizsla.” Paz sounded so earnest and heartbroken. Din stood, blocking Paz from view.

“Ni ceta. I’ve had to have aliases to stay safe and I switched around some letters in a friend’s name. It was an honest mistake. Gedet’ye.” Din needed them to understand. Being underground in a strange covert was dangerous if these verde decided to take offense. After the last two days, both of them were tired, hungry, and injured. Fighting their way out would not be an option.

None of the verde looked upset at all. The elder only looked intrigued. “What is your friend’s name?”

Din blinked. “Fennec Shand.”

“You actually have a friend named Fennec Shand?” The baar’ur sounded doubtful.

Din cracked a small grin when he saw the elder smile. “Lek. Assassin. Sniper. Crack shot. Dry, wicked humor. Bossy. Drinks spotchka and has developed a taste for tihaar. Loves holo-dramas.”

“Don’t forget the use of extortion to show her love.” Paz added thickly.

Din intended a good retort, but a tremor ran through the cavern, making the lights flicker and everyone hold their arms out for balance. Paz stood, bracketing him, as a rougher tremor started. They died down as quick as they had come.

“That’s the fourth earthquake today.” The thin verd remarked.

Paz gripped his shoulder harshly as Din stared at them in dumbfounded shock.

“That...that wasn’t an earthquake.” Paz said in a low voice, cursing under his breath. “Kriffing Buir.”

They all looked alarmed as Din shrugged out of Paz’s grip and turned to push him back down on the cot.

“How long have you been here?” He asked as he fussed with the collar of Paz’s kute and got his hands slap for it.

“About two years.”

Din grimaced at the elder’s response, as he sat on his cot and crossed his arms. He was not good at this. If his next words came out flat and dispassionate, he did not mean it. “I am sorry about this, but you need to pack up and move. I’m surprised that you remained undisturbed here, considering.”

The baar’ur huffed a little. “Bandits and Jawas are not much of a challenge.”

Paz snorted and shook his head at their naivety. “He’s not talking about bandits. He’s talking about your very, very close neighbor, the krayt dragon and her nest.”

The baar’ur’s mouth dropped open in shock and the elder looked faint.

“A...a krayt?” A large verd in the back looked terror-stricken, their voice going high and stressed. “We’ve been living...next to a…krayt...for two years. I need to sit down.”

Everyone needed to sit down apparently because they all were on the cots in seconds. Next to Din, the elder rung her weathered hands in distress.

“We’ve nowhere to go. Our ship is on its last leg, I doubt it could make it out of the atmosphere.” She started to get teary. “What will we tell the ade?”

Din slid to the ground and pivoted on one knee, taking her hands gently. Paz settled a hand on his shoulder.

“We have a place you can go. It’s not far and they will take care of you. Ori’haat.”

Two hours later, Paz and Din watched the hidden coverts overloaded ship take off in the direction of the palace. Din felt a harsh slap to the back of the head.

“OH ORI’VOD! I DON’T WANT TO BE MAND’ALOR! Wah, wah, wah!” Paz mocked in a high voice, ending on a rude sound. He put his hands on his hips and rocked back on his heels, shaking his head at Din in incredulity. “Din, I would have believed you before if I didn’t just see you kneel and swear to help those Mando’ade like the most mandokarla Mand’alor to ever have existed. Ka’ra preserve us.”

Din’s mouth dropped open in horror. “Oh kriff.”

“At this point, I think you’re going to be Mand’alor whether you want to or not. Once the Fands meet the Tribe, the Concordian Miners, and those pirates? You’ll have the backing of more than a thousand Mando’ade from more than a dozen Clans. “

“I’m just a beroya. I’m not good enough to lead all these people.” Din let out a wounded sound. “I can’t even take care of myself and my ad’ika properly.”

“Vod. That’s why you have us to help you, you di’kut. You don’t have to do this alone.” Paz laid his hand on the back of Din’s neck, scruffing him in comfort. “Didn’t anyone explain that?”

“Oh.” Din felt something in him release. All the tension he had unknowingly carried since taking Dee back from Gideon, draining out and leaving hollowness in its wake. He suddenly needed a long nap.

Paz chuckled and pulled him into a rough side hug. “BUT, you’re not officially Mand’alor yet, so let’s go out on the lam and dodge your duties some more to annoy Kryze. I was thinking about learning to make cheese. You have any experience with that? Think your ad’ika would like to learn?”

“Boba and Fennec are going to kill me.”

“Maim you, maybe, but not kill you.” Paz said brightly.

Din sighed and looked up at the sky. “Let’s get one drink in town and then head back to the palace. I need something to calm my nerves before I head into that craziness.”

“You got it.” Paz headed for the battered speeder. “Maybe we should find a cheese stand and see how much cheese it’ll take to apologize.”

“How do you know about the cheese?” Din asked, catching up to the older man.

“Oh, vod. You are never going to believe this.”

**
Cook had just checked that she had her pad and lists when she heard a scuffling. She’d have to tell the Boss that the gremlins were back in the hangar. They were so hard to get rid of once you got an infestation.

Getting in the speeder, she headed toward Mos Espa, talking to herself and going through her lists.

“I hope the market is not too busy. That always makes things so difficult. If it is, I’ll stop by Sanctuary and grab some refreshment.”

A little scuffle and hum from the back seat made her smile. Looks like she might have brought a gremlin with her.

**

Grogu had not had time to get snacks for this mission like he had last time, so now he was wandering through the streets trying to figure out where Buir could be with a rumbling stomach. He had only been able to grab one thing and it barely fit in his knapsack. Darksaber was much too big to carry around without it. He felt a bit bad about taking them with him without asking, but he had been in a hurry. He had hoped that Darksaber would be able to help but they were very tired and sleeping. So he was on his own.

At first, he followed Cook, but she wasn’t searching for Buir. She was buying things. Sniffing melons. Scooping things out of bins and arguing with people over meat. He would have liked to do those things too, but he needed to look for Buir. Maybe after he rescued Buir he could convince Cook to buy the right type of eggs. He’d stopped following her when the Force nudged him to go down an alley. He didn’t feel lost, though he knew he probably was. But he had to trust in the Force to lead him.

He heard a ruckus up ahead and ducked into the shadows behind a large decorative pot. There were a loud group of people heading toward a big building up ahead. He felt the Force urging him to follow so he ran as fast as his little legs could go, getting into the door right before it closed. That was close.

He stuck close to the group he had come in with, trying to follow the eddies he could sense. He was so focused on a particularly strong nudge that he ran right into the legs of a tall head tail lady. The ones from that time on Buir’s ship had had a bad feel, but this one only looked startled to see him. She did not feel bad in the Force.

“Er…hello little one. I am Madame Fwip. Are you lost? Where are your parents?” She was looking around, but she wasn’t going to find Buir here. That’s why he was looking.

“Bah?”

She looked around some more, but not finding what she was looking for she picked him up and carried him to the tall bar in the back.

“Rell, please get me some water and perhaps a light snack for this little one.”

The human behind the bar nodded and Madame Fwip looked him over gently, caressing his ears in amusement.

“Do you know where your parents are?”

Grogu didn’t at the moment, so he shook his head no. She pursed her lips.

“Do you know your name?”

:G-R-O-G-U:

“Oh. I do not know that language. I am sorry.” She did look sad that she did not know. She let out a frustrated sigh, tapping her fingernails on the bar and muttering to herself. “No one has reported a lost child recently. How will I find where you belong?”

Grogu knew where he belonged. He was a Mandalorian. Oh! He reached under his collar and pulled out Buir’s necklace, waving it to get her attention. When she saw it, she paled further than she was already and touched it gently.

“You are a Mandalorian baby. That changes a lot of things.”

Rell came back at that moment with a small plate of cookies and a cup of water. Oh good. He was thirsty. Madame Fwip helped him drink the water as she spoke to the human tensely.

“Call Daimyo Fett immediately and request an audience. It is an emergency.”

He didn’t know anyone named Daimyo, but if Madame Fwip thought Daimyo could help him find Buir, then perhaps he could. The Force was telling him to wait and be patient. He could do that. He had cookies now.

He really like Madame Fwip.

**

Mid meal was finally over. It had seemed to drag on even after the last of the plates were cleared. After an hour of Fennec and Cara acting normal, to cover for their team and give them time to re-arm themselves, Boba had excused them all with the intent of seeing them off. He knew that Bo Katan had arrived, and he’d had her sent to the throne room to cool her heels while he got the Rescue Squad out the door. The quicker they got Din and Paz back, the less he’d have to deal with her.

They did not even get halfway to the hangar before Raig stopped them, looking harried.

“What’s wrong Raig? Running from Alor Lyst?” Boba smirked, but it fell off his face when the big Mandalorian could barely speak. Oh. This was going to be bad. Raig was not easy to spook.

“Din’ika’s ik’aad is gone.”

Boba grabbed the bigger man’s vambrace, trying to ground him. “You’re sure he is not exploring?”

“Dha’kad is also missing. Their pedestal was knocked over.”

Cara gasped and Fennec got a razor-sharp look in her eye. Boba tossed his head in the direction of the Rancor Lounge.

“Get that space wizard. He has the best chance of finding them.”

“On it!” Fennec marched off in a fury.

“Raig! Pull it together. They can’t have gotten far.” Cara opened her mouth, but he held his hand up. “Cara, if you say the k word, this situation is going to get a whole lot worse. If we start pointing fingers, this palace is not going to be able to contain the fury of the Mandalorians. You need to take the Squad and get Din and Paz back.”

“Dank ferrick.” She hurried down the hall, getting her com open on the way. “Vanth?”

Boba refocused on Raig whose vambrace he still clutched in a punishing grip. He shook it hard.

“Din’ika is never going to forgive me. He doesn’t know…”

“Old man! Raig!” Boba barked, pulling him along, back toward the dining hall. “You better get it together; we’ve got a baby to find.”

Raig stalled for a moment before seeming to pull himself together and straighten out from his desolate slouch.

“How did he just disappear?”

“You do remember he’s a space wizard baby, right? And he’s Din’s kid. If Dee is with him, then we have a good chance that he won’t be in too much danger. They are fiercely protective.”

“They were just injured, and they do not have a good track record at rescues.” Raig pointed out.

Boba scoffed. “At this point, we don’t either.”

As they entered the hall, a com tech ran up.

“Boss, a badly damaged freighter is asking to land. They are requesting to meet with you.”

Boba wanted to scream in frustration, but he took a deep breath and braced himself for one more thing to go wrong. Everyone in the hall had stopped and gone silent. Even the Mandalorian Council was listening.

“Did they say who they were or what they wanted?”

“They are Mandalorian and are requesting assistance. The Mudhorn sent them.”

Boba rolled his eyes and ran a hand down his face, suddenly needing a nap. 

“Of course, he did, that kriffer.”

Chapter Text

Ferah was using the maintenance of a mining freighter to put her thoughts in order and settle her mind after a tense midmeal. Having to put up with the council, a cranky ik’aad, Din still being missing, and that woman simpering after her Ba’buir on top of her expanding thoughts on the Darksaber and Mando’ade history, was trying her patience. She’d excused herself right after her Ba’buir and sought out something to do to help the situation. The last three days of chaotic development at the palace was why she hardly left the forge in the covert and preferred company only when it was necessary to discharge her duties or help her vode. This type of work had always been a way to help her work through problems and make hard decisions. Beating sense into beskar was a lot easier than beating sense into atin Mando’ade with little sense. She’d been here for an hour, burning away her irritation and worry with a welder while Peli and Krrsantan worked on the forward engine, when she came to a decision.

They were trying to get all the ships flight worthy in case they needed to defend the Palace Fortress and repel the Nite Owls. When Din was recovered, he was going to have to face Kryze’s challenge, no matter how much she did not want him to take up the burden that came with holding the Darksaber. After her talk with Peli, the saga of the Darksaber took on a much darker, sinister, and abhorrent tone. Din was in the middle of all of that. To think of all the Mando’ade who could have known about the saber and had not said anything. The Goran’e of House Vizsla keeping that part of history to themselves and breaking their oaths. Goran were confidants of the Alore and the Mand’alor. They must have been told and done nothing. The Mand’alore who had held the saber had done nothing. Could the civil wars have been averted if they had?

When Din and Paz were recovered, the Tribe was going to have to have a serious conversation without the Concordian Miners and the Pirates involved. Din deserved an apology from her. He also deserved a choice and when it boiled down, the Darksaber also deserved a choice. Those two were going to have a lot of work to do, whatever decisions they made. But they would have the Tribe Aliit to back them up and that was what needed to be entrenched. Din had spent too long being alone out on hunts and not relying on anyone. He needed them now more than ever. She was not going to let him down again.

She finished her last weld and set the instrument back in the rack to cool. Following the sounds of banging, she found Peli perched on expanding scaffold with her hair covered in a red and white bandana and welding goggles and wielding a wrench against a stubborn panel. She stopped working when she noticed Ferah and leaned on the safety rail.

“That panel give you any trouble?” Ferah shook her head and crossed her arms.

“I am giving Dee a chance. I need to speak with them.” Ferah said slowly.

Peli cackled, pointing a wrench in her direction. “See, I knew you would come around. Santo! You okay with holding down the hangar for a bit?”

The Wookiee leaned over the top of the engine and trilled and growled something that made Peli whoop with laughter.

“Of course they are sticky. They’re kids. Kids go from zero to sticky in seconds if you’re not careful.” She started lowering the scaffold but called back to the Wookiee. “Hiding out here is going to be your best bet for the next few days. They’ll settle down eventually.”

“It would help if the kitchen staff would stop giving them paja juice and sticky pastries for snacks.” Ferah opinioned loudly. Krrsantan trilled in agreement.

After Peli had cleaned up some, they headed toward the last place they knew the Darksaber had been but instead of finding their intended subject, they found chaos. There were staff running back and forth, different groups readying supplies, and several in deep discussions. Her ba’buir and Daimyo Fett left one of the deep discussions with the Council and headed over to them as Marshall Dune and Marshall Vanth arrived.

“Let’s go, you four. My quartermaster and steward are taking care of this crisis. However, we have one that is a little bit bigger than this one. The Super Bantha Rescue Squad in the smaller dining room?” He tossed that to Marshall Dune as they walked purposefully down the hall.

Marshall Dune looked grim. “Yes.”

“Don’t we have to get going though? Din and Vizsla are still out there.” Marshall Vanth looked confused.

Ba’buir shook his head with a sigh. “We’ll explain when we’re all together.”

Ferah took up a position with all the others in the room as they faced Daimyo Fett and Ba’buir.

“The Super Bantha Rescue Squad is now the Wizard Baby Rescue Squad.”  Fett crossed his arms a looked disgruntled. “Din and Paz are no longer in need of assistance. Now we have a wizard baby to find.”

A murmur went through the crowd. There was relief that Din and Paz were found but alarm about the subject of their new mission. Ferah heard her gloves squeak in rage. Din’s ik’aad was the only Jetii baby in this palace and it was unacceptable that he was missing. Marshall Vanth raised his hand in question.

“Vanth?”

“How do we know Din and Vizsla are all right? And what do we know about how the baby disappeared?”

“Those two kriffers have sent another ship full of Mandalorians here to seek refuge. If they had time to do that, then they are no longer in the clutches of the krayt. The baby disappeared during his naptime and there were disturbances in his room. He’s either wandered off on a holiday or been taken. We must assume the worst and then find out which scenario is correct. It’s only been twenty minutes since we learned about both, so we must get a move on.” Fett looked at Ba’buir.

With his hands on his hips, he laid out the situation in a soft rumble. Whether Grogu had walked off himself or been secreted away by a kidnapper had yet to be seen. Now was not the time to have him walking around in such a dangerous situation with so much chaos happening. They were bringing in the Jetii and his group to help the search. No one else but the people in this room were privy to that information as they had too many feuding groups in the palace that would hinder the search.

“You can work out how you are going to investigate, but it needs to be discreet. There are Nite Owls in the throne room, Council members walking around, and in less than half an hour there will be another covert of Mandalorians arriving in unknown condition. We are under the blaster on this.” Fett shook his head in agitation. “We would assist here, but the two of us must be visible and greet the new arrivals. The Armorer, Marshall Dune, and Marshall Vanth will be heading this operation.”

Ferah caressed the hammer on her belt. No foundling had ever been lost on her watch. If it was a kidnapper and not Grogu just wandering off, there was no where they could hide. If it was Grogu wandering off to find Din, he was going to get a scolding and a very long time out.

“Let’s go. Send Fennec to me once she brings the Jedi.”

When those two left, Ferah turned to Cara and whispered lowly. “Where’s the Darksaber? Can’t they find them?”

The grim look she had been wearing turned bleak. “Dee is missing too.”

**

When the raggedy, pock marked, and soot scored ship touched down on the landing pad, Fennec felt like she should get inoculated immediately for everything under the suns before approaching it. The thing was not going to be winning any classic ship contests, that’s for sure. The armored people who spill out, do not reflect the exterior of the ship however, but each of the adults looks worn to a nub, careworn and fraying. To no one’s surprise, the children are well taken care of and healthy. It showed who their priority had been, wherever Din and Vizsla had sent them from.

Boba, Fennec, Raig, Daber, and Captain Zuffra prepared to meet them, while the rest of the palace’s expanding Mandalorian population, even the newly arrived Council, stay back to observe, as not to overwhelm them. Their arrival had made Boba stand the Super Bantha Rescue Squad down. Because if Din sent them, they no longer had to fight a krayt dragon over those two morons and that was a relief to most everyone. There had been no takers to ride an explosive bantha into the mouth of the dragon, so Din’s method had been crossed off the list they’d come up with on their way back from the canyon. Their list of effective methods had been very short.

The Super Bantha Rescue Squad being repurposed into the Wizard Baby Rescue Squad was brilliant and now included the space wizard and his unsavory friends. Plus, the Senator. Her palatableness was very high, since most of the Mandalorians learned she choked a Hutt to death with the chain holding her as a captive. Cara and Cobb were holding down that little adventure without alerting every single person in the palace. They did not need anyone not in the know, discovering the fact that they may have lost Din’s baby, be it through kidnapping or Jedi sorcery. Fennec was sure that there was going to be more than trouble when they found out about the Darksaber, never mind that Force sensitive Mandalorians that seemed to be popping up all over the place.

As the Alor came closer to meet them, Fennec immediately understood why Din, that bleeding heart, would have immediately sent them to the palace. The elder that led them was short, straight backed, and sturdy, but her age spotted, tawny brown skin and stark white hair belied her age. Her armor had seen some action and everything she wore was worn and well used. Fennec found herself admiring her proud and unflinching demeanor. Her own grandmother had been the same. Geez, even she was getting sentimental. Din was having a noble effect on her.

“I am Leita Fand of Clan Fand. We were sent here by Clan Mudhorn to gain assistance and we are glad to provide the service of our ori’ramikade in compensation to ease the burden of your gracious undertaking, Daimyo Fett.” She intoned solemnly.

“You are well met, Alor Fand. The services of your ori’ramikade are not necessary but welcome. We are hosting quite a few...clans, at the bequest of Clan Mudhorn, so it might be a tight fit, but we will provide all the assistance and housing we can.”

The older woman raised an eyebrow and looked over the huge crowd that had spilled out of the palace to meet them. “It seems that our vode, Shennec and Kerreck Fand, have been busy.”

Her knowing look, combined with the small smile let Fennec know she was in on the joke, taking no affront and still claiming those two as clan. The other Mandos still would not give up on Din being their cousin either, even though they knew he had given a fake name for obvious reasons. Mandalorians were a riot. No wonder Dee wanted to adopt everyone.

Raig stepped forward. “May I escort you to the palace, Leita?”

The woman sniffed at him disdainfully. “You may not. I am perfectly capable of walking there on my own, Raig Oojar. Doddering old fool, I am not.”

She walked forward to Boba and cocked her arm out to the side with a pointed look and elegant sniff. Boba took it with a magnanimous gesture and a smirky helmet tilt to Raig. She was getting good at deciphering the quirks of these helmet heads.

“Come along everyone. Stay together and do not dawdle.” She called back. The whole outfit organized themselves efficiently and with little fuss, even the little ones who held onto the hands of the nearest adult.

As one unit they moved forward, parting the gathered crowd as they proceeded into the palace. Raig just stood back, with his arms crossed and a look of exasperation on his face. Fennec wandered to his side as the crowd started back into the palace as well.

As they entered the palace, Raig let out a humph.

Fennec folded her arms and adopted the same pose as the older man. “I sense some history here.”

“There is no history.”

“I’ll find out Raig. Save yourself some pain and just tell me now.”

“Is this how you get stuff out of Din’ika?” The rumble sounded bemused.

Fennec laughed. “No. I squeeze it out of him with sweet moves on the mat. The first time, he let me squeeze him unconscious, refusing to say anything in that stalwart Mandalorian way. He learned. Retribution from me not knowing is worse than just telling me on the front end.”

With a tsk, he looked about, seeing that they were the last left on the platform.

“If you must know, you incorrigible tooka, Leita and I are rivals in the field of Mandalorian History. As a Goran, it is my duty to keep the history of our people recorded and remembered. She is a Clan historian for the Fands and she is jatnese be te jatnese, the best of the best. Not only is she a historian but she is also an ori’ramikade.” At Fennec’s raised brow, he shook his head. “Super commando. Stylus and beskad.”

She pointed an accusing finger at him. “So there is history!”

Raig smiled conspiratorially. “She still has not forgiven me, even after all these years, for scooping her on an ancient poem translation. She tried to stab me once for the offense.”

Fennec whooped with laughter. “You are academic rivals! Even Mandalorian historians are a hoot.”

“Are you satisfied? We do have Din’ika’s little one to find.”

Fennec offered her elbow to Raig. “May I escort you to the palace? Lean on me if you start feeling overcome by age.”

“Why are all of you like this?” He asked with a laugh.

“We happen to be the best of the best in the field of Giving Cheek.”

Fennec saw Raig’s attention drift as a small transport touched down on the crowded landing pad. Mandalorians in tri-color armor spilled out and when one of the saw Raig they headed their way.

“More Mandos? Who is it this time?”

“Protectors.” Raig looked up to the sky, as if asking for patience. Oh, ho, ho. Had he met his chaos threshold?

“What do they do?” Fenned poked him in the side under a beskar plate.

“They are the Mand’alor’s Royal Guard.”

“Kriff. They are very sure that Din is going to be Mand’alor.” Fennec grabbed her communicator, to alert Boba.

“They are sure someone is Mand’alor. They would not have come otherwise. Who is going to hold the title remains to be seen. We can no longer depend on the Succession of Wielders, because Dha’kad is no longer going to be used that way.”

“Are you getting sweet on Dee?” She needled, hitting the connection button.

Raig’s look of outrage delighted her. It wasn’t a no. Maybe it was time to place some more bets.

**

Skriss’tichlianlisssss was very certain her two new hatchlings were trouble. Or in trouble. Did it matter with hatchlings?

Oh, she knew they weren’t Horned Ones. They were so wee and puny and had no tails, of course. Little meatbags with fur on top. Hardly anything to coo over even if the hard shells were interesting enough to intrigue her. What made her collect them was the fact that they spoke to her in the ancient way, making them special and worthy to become her hatchlings. 

Those two had given a very good try at convincing her they were grown, but honestly, they were not grown enough if they had to sneak out of the nest behind her back. And how she found them? They were alone in a desert canyon with no food or water or a nest. They had also gotten themselves tangled in some sort of root and could not separate. Horribly bad at taking care of themselves, so they obviously needed a dam to take care of them in their pitiful attempts at independence.  Meatbags and their treatment of younglings had always baffled her. Letting them think they were grown when they got into so much trouble? Irresponsible.

Defiant and independent hatchlings were the bane of every parent. She should not have left them alone so soon after recovering them from the canyon. Blue was very wily and was most likely the instigator of any mischief the two of them got into. Gray’s poor condition was probably why Blue was so protective and did not let her clean them properly. So, Blue had led Gray out of the nest and off into another situation she would likely have to collect them from. Perhaps they were hungry?

Now, she was following them at a great distance. Her magnificent eyesight letting her track them as they sped away in a meatbag machine. They were going into the large cluster of meatbag nests and who knew what they would get up to in there. It was best to stay on the outskirts and wait for them, lest she go in and crush some unsuspecting meatbags or their mud nests. That usually ended up badly for Horned Ones. Red and green fire like little pinpricks and metal spears. She had heard from her batchmate that some little meatbag had taken down a Mountain Eater. Good riddance, really. Burrowing all over the place without a care in the world for anyone else. Only good thing it did was get rid of the that smelly Tooth Pit. Such was the circle of life.

After some time, she heard another meatbag machine start passing her, away from the city. Ah, the scavenger meatbags, tiny with glowing eyes. These ones she saw in her desert quite frequently, but they hardly ever came near her nest.  She watched them pass over the horizon and heard another whine of a small meatbag machine.

This one had multiple meatbags stuffed into its open interior and it moved toward the cluster of nests at a fast clip. It was almost to the cluster but stopped suddenly at the edge of the nest cluster. It continued forward eventually, disappearing into the unattractive nests. What would her hatchlings get up to? What was so compelling in the meatbag nests that anyone would want to stay there? Meatbags were so strange.

Ah, well. Those two would come out sooner or later. She would just have to wait.

**

Luke Skywalker was fairly sure he was going to need some hermit time after their stay on Tatooine. This was getting out of hand.

Leia had been in the middle of scolding them for leaving lunch early when the scary assassin had burst in and demanded their help in finding the Mandalorian Wizard Baby. Without more explanation, they were herded into a smaller dining hall, finding a dusty and grim looking group of mismatched individuals. There was a shock trooper and a distinguished silver haired gentleman, Sand People, a golden helmed Mandalorian armed with hammers, more Mandalorians in a variety of colors, heavily armed people in flight suits, and a familiar looking lady in coveralls.

“All right Wizard Baby Rescue Squad. You’re all here, so get to it.” The assassin clapped her hands, and everyone turned their attention to Luke, who felt sweat start gathering on his body. “I’m going to the landing platform. Don’t kill the Jedi.”

The assassin left and there was silence as he was stared down. A cough from Leia drew their attention away from him, thank the Force.

“While I can guess the object of our mission from your most accommodating name, I still have a few questions before we can lend our vast tactical and beneficial expertise to your cause. May we take a minute to introduce ourselves and decide on a plan of action?” Leia’s calm collected senator voice captured the room and Luke felt the energy change from frantic to waiting stillness.

The shock trooper stepped forward. “Senator Organa-Solo. I am Marshall Dune, that is Marshall Vanth, that is the Armorer, Peli Motto, Suik’latra from the Tusken Tribe Silky Moon Bantha, and Mandalorians from Concordia and Beviin be Manda’yaim.”

“Hello.” Leia greeted them regally and lifted a hand to their group. “My husband, Han Solo, our good friend Chewbacca, my brother Jedi Master Luke Skywalker, and our droid, R2D2.”

R2 decided this was the moment to curse up a storm.

Peli Motto stepped forward and shook her fist at the droid. “I’m warning you. A lot of people here know binary and so does the baby. Who taught you that sort of language?!”

Luke saw Leia purse her lips in displeasure and he tapped R2’s dome. “Maybe go wait in the hall before someone dismantles you?”

R2 made a concerned noise and zoomed out. When the doors closed again, everyone refocused on him.

“I’m going to assume that it’s Grogu missing again. Can you take me to the room where he last was?” Luke made his request in his mild Jedi voice. “I will have to see if I can follow any signs of his Force signature.”

Marshall Dune did a complicated movement with her eyebrows while looking at the others and the golden helmed Mandalorian tipped her helmet and shrugged. Marshall Dune cleared her throat. “Sure. You can follow me and the Armorer. We’ll take you there. The rest of you, start splitting up and combing the palace, top floor to bottom. If any signs point to the rancor pen, we’ll have to get Fett. I don’t know how well it would take an invasion of strangers.”

“Wait…how come you can’t…you know…do your magics from here?” Marshall Vanth waved his hands around vaguely.

“That’s not how the Force works.” Luke said a bit testily and dropping his Jedi calm.

“That’s just what a sorcerer would say...if they were trying to keep their magics a secret!” A lot of heads nodded in agreement to the loud rebuttal from a Mandalorian. Luke sighed in aggravation, but it was Leia who stepped forward.

“The Force is a sensory tool and requires focus. Luke will need to start in the baby’s room and move forward. Time is of the essence, and we need to act quickly. Let us do as Marshall Dune directed and then regroup. Does everyone have a com unit?”

“Uh…yeah.” Marshall Vanth looked bowled over at being talked to directly and so did the Mandalorians. If fact, Luke thought he felt that if Han wasn’t here, Leia would have been married by the end of the day.

Luke left Leia to do her General thing and followed Marshall Dune and the Armorer to a well-furnished room in what he was told was the family wing. He started at the bed with an obvious Grogu nest and found a litter of lothcats in the closet, closing it hastily when he heard a warning hiss.  As he walked the perimeter of the room, he came to a tipped over pedestal and small silver satin pillow.  He recoiled when his senses hit a familiar feeling.

“You let Grogu sleep with that Mandalorian lightsaber in here?” Luke closed his eyes, sensing the remnants of Grogu’s light Force signature and the heavy imposing gray signature of the lightsaber. There was also another signature...wispy and dissipated throughout the room. Hmmmm.

“You can sense the Darksaber?” The Armorer stated cautiously from the doorway where her and the Marshall waited. “Is it a dar’Jetii...dark Jedi, artifact?”

“No, no. It’s just…it holds impressions of a lot of your history and your people. It is not light or dark…just intense and old. Its presence is powerful. But there’s something else here...not a recent signature, but faint.”

Marshall Dune’s eyes widened a little and her shoulders shifted in agitation. She knew something about the old signature at least. Luke continued around the room, looking for anything useful Force wise when he felt the wispy signature become strong in front of a blank wall.  He focused, feeling a locking mechanism and tweaking it, making a hidden panel open. He was not prepared for what was inside nor the feelings that occupied the space.

“Uh, Marshall Dune. Who’s room is this?”

“What’s wrong?” She came to stand next to him and surveyed the contents of the hidden cache with shock. “That miserable son of a mudscuffer. Why can’t he just communicate his feelings?”

**

Cara watched the Jedi walk down the hallway with his eyes closed and his hand outstretched. She stayed at a distance to let him work but followed him just in case the Force did not alert him to oncoming stairwells.  Beside her, the Armorer walked silently. Surprising for someone covered in metal, but Din was the same way. After their little shock earlier, the Mandalorian had not said anything more to either of them.

“I have to ask you something.” Cara whispered suddenly, letting the Jedi get further ahead. “I know you’re here to apologize. Fennec said as much. You’ve known Din a long time?”

“I have known him since he was a very small child. I have watched him grow from a foundling into our best hunter. He has sat at my forge and shared his confidences with me for most of his life. I can only hope that my apology will be sufficient to gain those confidences again.”

The even tone seemed fond and mournful, and Cara hoped she was getting better at reading Mandalorians rather than assigning emotions that weren’t there. This was a breach of trust she hoped would pan out and not come back to bite her in the ass. But she was going to take her chance and see if she could help Din.

“Did you know...” She stuttered and rubbed her arms in agitation. She could do this, she had to know. “Did you know he was Force sensitive?”

The Armorer stopped, standing stock still and radiating a kind of shock that came from a rude awakening of gigantic proportions. Cara turned, so she could keep the Jedi in her peripheral vision but focus on the Armorer.

“Din’ika...is ka’ra touched?” She whispered with her hands fisted at her sides. “Those...karking shabuir’e!”

“Woah! Din didn’t know.” Cara tried to reason with Mandalorian as she gripped the hammer at her belt tightly.

Cara watched her release her hammer and shake out her shoulders with a ripple of fur. There were a few deep breaths and then eerie stillness.

“Cara Dune. I would never in all this galaxy blame Din’ika for something he did not know or for being who he was. I am tremendously angry but not at him. The people who I am angry at are either dead or are going to have their skulls caved in very soon.” The menacing promise was chilling. “Let us find the ik’aad. Jetii! What have you found?”

**

“The hairs on the back of my neck have been standing up since we left the canyon. Someone’s hunting us.”

Paz watched Din look back at the way they had come for what seemed the hundredth time since they left the canyon. He had been having the itchy feeling of being watched, but it was compounded by the bond and Din’s anxiousness about the same thing. It was distracting, but Paz pushed it aside. Din did not mean to do it. He had only recently learned about being ka’ra touched and started feeling it flow through him more and more. Paz had lived with it his whole life and practiced in secret.

It was no wonder Din had been running from a lot of things. Paz himself did not want to be a space wizard, but he did not mind the ka’ra, even if sometimes he wished he couldn’t feel it. Look where it had led him. He had his vod’ika back and even with all the chaos, their lives were turning out okay. The Manda was with them and all those that surrounded them. They could make a difference just how they were. It was time to reinforce his stance on Din having a choice.

“Din, listen. You don’t have to be a space wizard or even Mand’alor if you don’t want to. I know I said it was inevitable about being Mand’alor, but it’s not. I’ll stand by you, no matter what you choose. Even if that involves storming Manda’yaim or running to the edge of the galaxy. I know that Kryze is itching for a challenge. Let her. Others that are not in our current extended aliit, will challenge you as well. That’s always been the Way of the Dha’kad.”

“About Dha’kad…”

“It talks?” Paz slid his eyes over to Din, watching him splutter.

“How did you know that?!” Din looked betrayed as his questioned ended on a slight whine.

Paz released one of his hands from the yoke and pointed to himself. “Paz Vizsla. Creator of the Dha’kad? Tarre Vizsla. Many di’kutla Vizsla Mand’alore. Most recently, diniise Tor and Pre Vizsla. Family secrets that lead to a lot of misunderstandings? Vizsla specialty. Mando’ade history might have been a lot different if any of the Mando’ade that knew about Dha’kad had said something instead of using them for their own purposes. Not just the Vizslas that knew, either. All of them. You don’t have to be ka’ra touched to hear them.”

Din was rubbing his forehead in consternation at this at this admittance. Paz decided to continue.

“You know, I was a little jealous to hear that you had a hunting partner, this Big D, and then when I found out they didn’t have arms and could only speak in dadita when those pirates kidnapped you? I figured it out quick after that. I mean, who ejects themselves out of a ship straight toward a sun?” Paz chortled.

“They shot us toward one of the suns?” Din said flatly.

“AFTER they had convinced a whole ship of pirate Mando’ade that you were haunted by Tarre Vizla’s ghost and that we had employed an invisible Jetii to steal you back before we even knew you were kidnapped. Despite the gravity of the situation, I was greatly amused.”

Din groaned at his pun. “Dee is not subtle.”

“That they are not. Kind of sassy though, right? Called Fett a kriffer.”

Din snorted. “Sassy is one word among many that I would use to describe them. Bossy, moody, intelligent, meddling, stabby, vain, hot-headed, stuffy, possessive, entertaining, talkative, gregarious, protective, prissy, and a buir if I ever saw one. Likes to defend my honor and virtue.”

He might have rolled his eyes, but Din sounded fond and bashfully pleased. Paz felt relieved. Din was going to change history, even if he refused the title. Paz knew he would not let Dha’kad be used further if he could help it. He was glad that Clan Mudhorn recognized Dha’kad as a person instead of an object. It was about time someone did. He’d always thought it was wrong when the aliit spoke of using the being for their own schemes.

Paz was intrigued though. “Defend your honor?”

“One of the most uncomfortable and strangest conversations I’ve ever had, was explaining the fetish for all things Mando’ade, to a floating hilt, who had gone out and chopped the dicks off someone who offered to buy me for a night.”

Paz gripped the yoke hard and could feel a little murder enter his voice. “Is this person dead?”

“Really? You too?” Din tipped his head back on the head rest. “To answer your question, yes. He is very dead.”

“Good.” Paz said, triumphantly vicious as they entered the outskirts of Mos Espa.

“You know, that’s what it is like out on the Rim. You’ve got some of the worst of the worst and you’re going to run into them or rub elbows with them in our line of work. Some of the work was decent but most of it was barely tolerable. But I had credits to earn and a whole covert to provide for. Being propositioned was at the bottom of the list of things that offended me enough to chop off someone’s genitals. Turn right at the intersection.”

“It happened that often?”

“That or them looking to kill me to steal my beskar’gam. Apparently, I seemed very approachable for asking to kark. Even when they had my blaster pointed in their face. That fetish really makes them think that’s a rough type Mando’ade foreplay.”

“It sometimes kinda is? We have battle marriage.” Paz laughed.

“Among other Mando’ade, maybe. It is not supposed to be for open interpretation by aruetiise!”

 “So, you’re saying that aruetiise think you are a rough and ready Mando’ad tart?”

Din crossed his arms and scowled. “Take a left here. Just wait, ori’vod. Once you step into those places regularly, even you will have someone panting after you. I hear that ori’shebs are in demand.”

Paz grinned and looked around the dusty street as they passed the port. A glint off beskar’gam made him duck down in his seat and Din copied him when he saw the glint too. Not that Paz could duck his huge frame down a lot in this ramshackle land speeder. The foot room was atrocious.

“Who were they? I’ve never seen those colors before.” Din whispered, even though they were now out of sight.

“Din, I think that might be a Protector. Buir said something about those colors. Said they were pretentious snobs too, but coming from buir? Not a good judge. They are the specialized unit that protects the Mand’alor.”

“Why are they here? Kriff, this is too much. I really need that drink now.” Din settled back in his seat with a shake of his head. “Take another left up here, there should be a spot to leave the speeder close to the building at the end.”

Leaving the speeder in an open spot, they ambled down another street toward the cantina. Paz was glad that Din told him to watch his head because that doorway was low. He’d probably be sporting a lump if he hadn’t stooped a little. As they came down a small set of stairs, two Twi’leks came to greet them. He looked them straight in the eyes, because letting his eyes wander seemed rude. He was not used to all this skin being on display.

"Would you like your helmets serviced and cleaned?” The yellow Twi’lek asked pleasantly. Paz started sputtering when he realized that he had been without his since he had been reunited with Din and had not minded at all.

Din elbowed him but responded to her question. “We left them on the ship. Thank you kindly for the offer.”

“If you need anything, do not hesitate to seek us out.” She gave them a little wink and smile, pulled her companion away.

Paz pitched his voice low to Din as they headed toward the far side of the bar. “That is the worst service. There’s so much tampering one could do. How could anyone hand over their buy’ce? That’s just asking for your head to be blown off.”

“Tactically, it’s a bad move. But here, it’s about trust and following the ways of Tatooine. Madame Fwip only employs the most trustworthy people. Trusting her is a partnership and should someone under her employ cause offense by being a traitor, it’s punished severely. Two spotchkas and two Corellian ales.” Din dug around in his belt, finding his hidden stash of credits and tipping the bartender generously along with paying for the drinks.

“Doubles. I like it.” Paz watched the bartender’s fast hands as they prepped drinks at a speed he doubted he could copy. When the drinks were set down in front of them, he turned to Din who had been shelling kokiri nuts in agitation. “You’re worried?”

Din sighed. “After seeing that Protector, I’m thinking more libations would be appropriate for this situation. Also, tihaar this is not. It’s going to take more than one.”

“Libations? Really? You’re getting fancy with words now compared to the past. You barely spoke then.” Paz ribbed gently. “Guess hanging out with a stuffy being almost a thousand years old is really rubbing off on you.”

Din laughed and just shook his head. He drained half the glass of spotchka and started eating the nuts. Paz took a huge mouthful of the bright blue drink and felt the taste buds in his mouth shrivel away from the taste. He set the glass down, sliding it over with one finger to Din and started gulping down the sweet Corellian ale.

“Not to your taste?” Din asked with a grin, finishing Paz’s glass with ease.

“That is...revolting.” Paz grimaced with a shudder and took another long draught of his ale.

“It’s distilled from fresh water blue shrimp. It’s an acquired taste. Fennec is a big fan.” Din caught the bartender’s attention and ordered a few more drinks Paz had never heard of and more Corellian Ale.

They settled in at the bar, Din consuming drinks in a worrying fashion. For every one of Paz’s ales, he drank at least four. After an hour the empty glasses had piled up and Paz, even in a slightly hazy state, knew it was time to cut Din off. As Mando’ade, it was not good for them to be in such a state, but these were trying times. They needed to get back and face the compounding problems. He wasn’t going to let Din face it alone and all this liquid courage was going to make it either a lot easier or a lot harder depending on who they had to face first. They were also going to have to get transport as neither of them could drive.

“Come on vod’ika. Let’s stop at the fresher before we go home.”

Din’s smile was a bit dopey and open. It suited those porg eyes. Adorable. “It is our home, isn’t it? It’s so great to have one. And to have aliit.”

“Yeah. It really is.” Paz said quietly. He was steadier on his feet, so he did the steering after inquiring where the fresher was.

As they headed down the large hallway, a child’s squeal stopped Din cold. He was looking around frantically, almost losing his balance.

“Din?”

“I thought I heard...I heard my...ad’ika.” Din’s eye started to water, and he closed his eyes in anguish. “I shouldn’t have drunk so much.”

“Din, he’ll be...” Another squeal interrupted Paz and Din’s eyes flew open.

Din lurched unsteadily forward, toward an ornate door at the end of the hallway. The squeal sounded again, followed by loud giggles. Paz came up behind Din as he threw open the door and they came upon a pale, finely dressed, Twi’lek blowing on a squirming green infant’s belly making it squeal. Both looked up from an overstuffed settee in surprise at being interrupted. The Twi’lek smiled at them, and the infant righted itself.

“OH! That was fast. I was not expecting Daimyo Fett to send...”

“That’s MY baby! Why do you have my baby?” Din slurred, going for his empty holster and Paz blocked his movement, hiding it from the Twi’lek. Paz’s eyebrow’s rose as the feelings of relief, love, and longing filled the room. The little green ik’aad was making excited hand signs and they were Mando’ade specific signs.

:BUIR! I found you!:

“Uh Din?”

“Boo-er!”

Din forcefully pushed Paz out of the way at the shouted word and moved forward, collapsing on his knees with a sob in front of the Twi’lek and the ik’aad, holding his arms out beseechingly. The ik’aad jumped into his arms and snuggled up under Din’s chin, sniffling and starting to cry. Din had started to cry as well and collapsed to his side, curling around the ik’aad and covering them with what was left of his cloak, shutting out the world.

Din’s heartache was dissipating, and Paz could feel the ka’ra coalescing around them. He wanted to comfort them, but he had a feeling that it would be intrusive. So, he stood there with the other occupant of the room, observing the tearful reunion, and waiting. It seemed like a long time but was really no more than ten minutes before a ripple went through the room, full of love and light as Din and the ad quieted.

Paz shared a look with the startled Twi’lek, who held a hand to her chest.

“I...well.” She cleared her throat and stood, straightening out the wrinkles in her dress. She looked down at the sniffling pile of Mando’ade at her feet and smiled indulgently. “I am glad he is reunited with his parent. I was worried when he wandered in here by himself.”

“He wandered in here alone?” Paz rubbed his forehead, muttering to himself. “Those di’kute. I swear. Losing an ad? I’m going to kick their shebs.”

The Twi’lek laughed and Paz looked up, realizing that they were in a personal office. It was elegantly furnished, and he watched as she went over to a sideboard and poured a drink from a cut crystal container.

“I am Madame Fwip. Would you like a drink?” She offered graciously.

Paz shook his head, stomach churning at the thought of having another. He moved out of the doorway and crouched down by Din. “Paz Vizsla and I think we have had enough for today. Apologies for bursting in on you.”

She shook her head, her lekku swinging pleasantly. “The apology is unneeded. Children are precious. Will he be all right?”

“He will be. He has not seen his ad’ika in a while. He is supposed to be away at school.” Sighing he pulled Din’s cape away, but Din only curled up tighter. “Din’ika. We’ve got to go.”

“Garsa?”

Paz sprung to his feet, turning defensively, so that he was in front of Din and Madame Fwip. But he relaxed at the familiar presence at the door.

“Oh my, what has happened to you, Treasured Ones?”

“Cook. Thank the ka’ra!”

**

Cook smiled gently at Paz’s exclamation. This was turning out to be a fruitful supply run indeed. It was quite possible that the answers to her problems stood in front of her...or rather, one stood, and one was curled up on the floor. She would have to find out if she could make use of this development.

“I am glad to see that you are no longer captives of spice runners or...krayt dragons. Are you well?”

“Uh, not so much. We might have had too much to drink...do you think you could give us a ride to the palace?” Paz looked a little embarrassed to be admitting to their soused state, even though he looked to be sobering up quickly.

Cook sighed and shook her head fondly. “I’m headed that way myself. Bringing you along would be no trouble. Garsa? Have you found any help with our problem?”

She watched Paz cock his head questioningly as Garsa answered her.

“I’m afraid not. Help like that on such short notice is in little supply and the meeting is today. We might have to let the targets go and hope that we can recover anyone effected later.” Garsa had an understanding look as she shot subtle glances at the two Mandalorians in the room.

“Are you two trying to manipulate us into helping you?” Paz asked bluntly, with an eye roll. “Because let me tell you, Din is so jare’la that he’d just do it without finding out the particulars. So just ask, so at least I know what we are getting into.”

Cook laughed as Garsa’s eyes widened. “Oh, you are a Treasure Paz Vizsla.”

“I know. No one appreciates that fact though.” Paz stooped down so he could get a better handle on Din, finally deciding to just scoop him and the ad’ika up. “Where are we going and what are we doing?”

Cook felt her smile widen.

**

"...and then, we will need to get as much information as we can to find their base.”

“That should be possible. Thank goodness you had the remedies for hangovers.”

The Darksaber felt their cognizant state change abruptly. One minute they were asleep, the next they were in a strange sitting room with four people they knew and one small, golden skinned, evilly grinning woman. Was that glitter? How distasteful.

What on Tatooine had these two gotten into now? They reasoned that if Din’ika and Paz’ika were here, there was no need to go krayt hunting. Thank the Manda for that. But this situation was sounding and looking a little dubious. Now was the time to observe and figure out what their ade had signed up for.

Din looked a little green as he sipped from a tall glass. Paz looked healthy, but since they didn’t know his baseline yet, that could mean anything from great to catastrophic organ failure. Their ade never took care of themselves properly. Grogu was burbling happily as he explored the room with them on his back and the Besalisk from the palace looked calm and collected. The tiny gold woman in black however seemed to suffer from some sort of mental affliction. That wicked gleam in her eye could not be healthy. At least the room was clean. Din’ika had a disturbing penchant for ending up in the filthiest of places, morally or otherwise.

“Eida and I have decided your cover names. Bim Bjarin and Pez Jizsla. They aren’t the best, but we are working on the fly here. Since we only have two people instead of four, your mission has changed.” The Besalisk looked apologetic for a moment. “I was hoping to have you be bodyguards, but our operation is suffering after losing four agents so quickly.”

“Yes, yes. Very unfortunate that those sickly-looking agents from Flora cannot be here, and these fine fettles have replaced them.” Eida said unapologetically.

“Eida!” The Besalisk said reproachfully.

“You know I am right. They will fit in well here. This is an establishment with exacting standards which is why those villains have their eyes on using it for their operation. What better way to get superior product for their clients? We have perfection fully formed and dancing onstage and they can take it by force if they find it suitable.”

The Besalisk sighed. “I do apologize.”

Your apology is pending acceptance.

Din snorted but ignored them and leaned forward to address Eida. “We can’t dance.”

Eida jumped up on her ugly, stumpy legs and thrust a fist into the air. “You are warriors! You dance the dance of death, darlings. You have spent all this time rusting! This is a chance to use your skills and ascend to a higher plane of existence, as Pez and Bim!”

Paz rolled his eyes, pushing Din back and making him start drinking from his glass again. Din looked mutinous, but Paz just ignored it, focusing back on the loud, boastful troll. The Darksaber admired his ease in handling their stubborn ad but was unsure of this operation. Paz seemed dubious as well.

“You want us to do Mandalorian fighting drills, onstage, in front of jittery and suspicious marks? That is not going to work. We have reputations and our armor is distinctive.” Paz lifted his arms, showing off a proper suit of beskar’gam.

“That is a tramp suit, darling! You can’t be seen in such an atrocity. I won’t allow it.”

Paz's offended gasp covered the Darksaber’s own. Of all the nerve. Din’ika looked insulted and the Besalisk was shaking her head, looking irritated for once. Even Grogu looked displeased at the affront to their beskar’gam. What a proper Mando’ad he was becoming.

Paz stood, towering over the diminutive woman. “There is nothing more perfect than a suit of armor made of Mandalorian iron.”

Eida was not cowed in the face of Paz’s bulk or ire. She only smiled in challenge. “I have just the thing for you then, Pez darling. You want Mandalorian iron. That is just what I am going to give you.”

Paz scoffed. “I need some air.”

Paz stomped though a door and into the sunlight beyond it, letting the door close with a whump. Din sighed and looked at his vambraces thoughtfully. Grogu had thrown himself at Din's boot and was picked up and cuddled, which meant they got cuddles by proxy. It was nice.

“We’re keeping the vambraces on. Where’s this costume?” Din asked as he tucked Grogu under his chin and tapped out a greeting in dadita on their hidden hilt.

“Finally! A better head prevails. You are now my favorite. I will get them. Start taking off that...armor.” Eida gave a disdainful sniff and strode out of the room dramatically.

The Darksaber felt like hissing at the woman. Din’ika and Paz’ika were theirs. Din’ika. You have always been our favorite. OUR affections are not so fickle.

Din shook his head in bemusement.

“I will find a bag in which to store your armor safely. I will watch over it for you.”

“Thank you Cook. Make sure it’s a big bag. My armor is compact, but Paz has infantry armor.”

Cook took her leave and the three of them were left alone.

“Did you enjoy your nap? Grogu has been regaling me with your adventures.”

We would not call them adventures. We also needed that nap after you batted us into a freighter and dislodged our kyber. We had to be repaired by that blond haired space wizard.

“I apologize...I was not in my right mind, and I was angry.”

We forgive you Din’ika. It was those hoodlum pirates that are to blame. And the Force. But mostly those pirates.

“Bah?”

Gro’ika, did you sneak out of the palace? Raig is going to have a fit.

“Boo-er.” His ears lowered and he tapped his nails on Din’s chest plate at the chastisement. He clung to Din with a whine.

“We’ve discussed his romp. He knows that he owes everyone in the palace an apology for the worry and he is going to take any punishments within reason, without a fuss. But I’m sure that all your bavodu’e will go easy on you. Cook will be taking him back shortly.” Din’ika spoke fondly and caressed a pointed ear gently. “But I’m enormously proud of him coming to rescue me. That was very brave. Dangerous, but brave.”

The Darksaber signed in contentment at the warm glow suffusing the room. It only lasted a few moments, because Eida stomped in triumphantly. She was a mood killer.

“Bim Bjarin! Look upon your future. Simple. Elegant, yet bold. You will look splendid.”

What she held up defied explanation and went against the very fabric of nature. It was a monstrosity.

Who the kark does she think is going to wear that kriffing affront to sensibility?

Eida was lucky that they were still in this knapsack because that costume was a stabbing offense. Their ade were NOT wearing that.

But as it turned out, their ade were definitely wearing it.

**

Axe was wishfully thinking of dumping Fenn Rau out of their rented land speeder.

When the other man shifted in agitation for the third time in the seat next to him, Axe had had enough. The man’s crossed arms spoke of his faint disapproval and contempt for the current situation. Which Axe did not earn since he did not want to be saddle with the Protectors. This was all on Felnor, who was meekly keeping his head down, trying not to draw the judging eyes of the Protectors that had followed them on their quest.

Which had yet to be fruitful. Changing into civilian clothes, explaining the plan, yelling at each other, arming back up, and renting a land speeder that could fit them all had eaten up two hours. Two excruciating hours where Axe could feel some of his hair fall out from stress. After this, he was taking a long vacation. Hopefully nowhere near other Mando’ade.

“You’re going too slow.” The pointed remark made him clench his hands on the steering wheel and purse his lips. “You drive like my ba’buir.”

Axe took deep breaths through his nose, ignoring the comments and kept his gaze forward. Best not to give into the annoyance that was Fenn Rau. This was a test. Just a test of his mental fortitude and mettle. If he knifed Rau, he could lose his rank. Just think of that, Axe Woves. Do not think about how satisfying it would be to get rid of that prissy shabuir.

“Why are you going this way? We’re almost back to where we started.”

Axe spoke through clenched teeth. “I told you. The signal moved. It’s in Mos Espa now.”

“Couldn’t you have known that before we left Mos Espa?”

That was it! Axe hit the brake, throwing everyone forward at the sudden stop.  They were on the edge of the city now, but he was done.

“All Protectors. Out of my speeder. Right now.”

“Woves!” Rau barked warningly; hands braced against the dash.

“Get out. This is a personal matter and has nothing to do with the Protectors. I let you come before because I thought you could be some help. All you’ve done is eat up hours of our limited time arguing about and criticizing an operation that wasn’t even yours to begin with. Causing us to have to double back! As this is on both of our free time and is for our aliit, it does not need to be sanctioned.”

No one made a move to get out while the two Alor’ad bickered. The two younger Protectors seemed intent on staying with their Alor’ad and Axe knew that Felnor was wishing he was anywhere else, possibly even with Koska and Bo Katan. Axe just didn’t understand Rau’s motives. Why was he so invested in this? The moment they had even mentioned Shennec Fand, Rau had immediately taken them to task and started asking questions and being a dour besom. Time to poke the mythosaur, as it were.

“We are trying to help fellow Mando’ade that may be in trouble. We’re Protectors.”

"Oh ho ho! Protectors.” Axe jeered, point his finger at Rau’s face. He was about to fight dirty. “Your ancient duty is to guard and protect the Mand’alor or whatever leader of Manda’yaim you deem fit to ally yourselves with. Evaar Mando’ade, Nite Owl, Empire Puppet. Your kind do not debase yourselves with the rabble’s worries. You are here because Countess Wren called you as witnesses to a possible new Mand’alor. You are here for the same reason I’ve been stuck here for the last month. The Darksaber is up for grabs and the Clan Council wants you here. So, dropping that sacred honor and delegating that duty to your Ver’alor to come here to help a couple of Nite Owls on a personal errand? Seems suspicious. You three can get out at any time. Go back to your guard duty and let us take care of our aliit.”

Rau looked offended at his mention of the Protectors’ previous history, but then he got a stubborn look and squared his shoulders.

“I am helping you whether you want me too or not. My buir and ba’vodu were Fands. I have an obligation to them just as much as you do. Protectors are guardians and we help our vode.” Rau slapped his accusing finger away and sat back with his arms crossed, scowling fiercely. “Let’s go. He's probably getting ready to go on another supply run if what you’re saying is true.”

“Why didn’t you say Rau? For Ka’ra’s sake! This would have been a whole lot easier if you had just started with that. Don’t make me regret this.” Axe shook his head, starting the speeder forward. He yelled back to Felnor in the back, startling him. “Where’s the signal now?”

“Still the same vicinity for the last hour.”

Axe rolled his eyes and guided the speeder through the streets that allowed such vehicles through. Coming up on an area where there were multiple speeders and other conveyances were corralled, he parked next to a speeder that looked like a grav sled that had been crapped out of the back end of a trash compactor and had repulsors slapped on it to make it look like a speeder.

“That thing needs to be smelted.” Ruus’alor Wren grinned at his fellow Protector, elbowing him playfully. “Verd Reeves. Don’t get too close. We don’t know where it’s been.”

Rau gave a moue of distaste upon looking at it. “How does that thing even run? I feel ashamed for the people that own that.”

“Uh...Alor’ad Woves?” Felnor asked nervously. He had been examining the speeder closely. He pointed to a small symbol on the aft of the vehicle, well-hidden if you did not know what to look for.

All of them crowded around the back end and there it was, a small kyr’bes.

“Well, osik.”

“At least we know we’re in the right place.” Axe looked around for any place of interest that the mysterious verd, Shennec Fand, would have gone. The tracker gave them a general area. The closer they got, the more accurate it was. Just like a bounty fob. He was going to recommend Felnor for the Tech corps after he was reprimanded for misusing his genius.

They had not walked down the street long before they passed an alley where they heard a loud bang and cursing. In Mando’a. Sharing a look with Rau they headed cautiously into the alley, hands near their blasters in case they needed them. The verd they found was dark haired, tall, and broad with hands on his hips and a scowl aimed at a dented bin. He was clad in heavy infantry beskar’gam. Blue beskar’gam, the same shade sported by Axe and Felnor and there was the shriek-hawk, faded out, but proudly displayed on the pauldron. The verd’s eyes widened as they spotted them, but then the heterochromatic eyes turned hard and shrewd, watching their hands. Their shoulders shifted into a tight coil, ready to move quickly. Mistaking them for ruffians.

Axe signed to him to stand down, and the tall man’s head tilted slightly considering them, like a shriek-hawk with prey. Axe saw Rau getting ready to speak out of the corner of his eye, but a singsong voice calling from a doorway further down the alley broke their standoff.

“Pez, darling! Your magnificent, beautiful, flattering, costume is ready for its debut. Nothing like those...” The voice cut off, as if muffled by something.

The big verd rolled his eyes, giving a frustrated huff, and signed a quick farewell before bellowing and stooping down to get through the doorway. “Don’t call me darling, you pretentious harpy. Any of your clothing choices will be hideous. Back me up Bim! Oh, Manda! What has she done to you?! Why is there so much glitter?!”

The door closed on the disturbed wail, cutting off any reply from inside. The five of them were so startled at the encounter that they stood there for several minutes, just looking at each other for confirmation that the weird scene had just happened.

“What do you think he was here for? That was a Nite Owl, right?” Rau asked, hands on his hips. His well-used spacer get up was very convincing. He looked like a grizzled criminal.

“Right colors, at least. I’ve never seen a verd like that in our ranks, though.” Axe rubbed his chin in thought, mentally running through their ranks. “Those eyes are distinctive. We do not have a heavy infantry division that wears that type of armor. Did you see the jetpack mounts? And the mounts for a heavy weapon? That’s serious beskar’gam tech that’s missing.”

“Didn’t have a blaster either.” The third Protector muttered. “Holster was empty. There were also fresh scratches in the paint on the backplate.”

“Good eye, Kisk.” Rau said approvingly, with a friendly hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll have to inquire about him with the quartermaster and Assignment Officer onboard the cruiser later. See if he is on the lam from duty or newly recruited and unassigned. That mystery will sit. Let’s find Fand.”

The door opening again made them pause, but it was not the verd named Pez. It was a six-armed female Besalisk clutching a bundle high on their shoulder on one side and hauling a huge bag on the other. The Besalisk gave them a cheery wave with an upper hand and headed down the alley in the opposite direction. Before she turned the corner completely, a small, green, three fingered hand, waved at them. Axe was trying to remember why that seemed so familiar. Ah well.

**

Din had not been impressed with Eida’s interesting choice of…costume, but he knew that garments like those were favored by these types of establishments, and they had been for an exceptionally long time. He forewent mentioning to Paz later that even Jabba the Hutt found these clothes, if you could call them that, attractive. Paz was going to have to reinforce that beskar shield around his sensibilities and morals if he was going to continue to travel around the Outer Rim. He decided to give Paz some time to cool down and come to terms with shedding his beskar’gam, by submitting to the costume first.

The other dancers had swarmed Din after he had taken off his beskar’gam and packed it away neatly in the bag that Cook had brought. He left his son in Cook’s care in the sitting room as he donned his metal and silk costume. His ad’ika did not need to see this.

He had to hand it to the other dancers though. They had him groomed, accented with makeup, and slathered in glitter within ten minutes. They were also able to hide his vambraces easily with wrapped silk and mag-jewelry. It had been a trial in restraint not to shy away from all those hands touching him and moving his limbs about, but he endured it. It helped that they were perfunctory and professional. None of them wandered, which he could understand. They did not want to be pawed at either.

The head piece had been a weird weight. So much lighter than a buy’ce but one of the dancers, Moxi, had assured him that it would not fly off during their ‘dance routine’. He was given a comfortable brown robe to ward off any chill and went to the sitting room to retrieve Paz for his transformation into a beautiful krayt dragon, but Eida got to the door first. He was just glad to get there in time to muffle her offensive slander of beskar’gam again. She was small enough Paz could punt her halfway across Mos Espa with one kick, if he felt vindictive enough.

When Paz shouldered his way through the door, DIn made sure that his back was to Grogu and Cook.

“Don’t call me darling, you pretentious harpy. Any of your clothing choices will be hideous. Back me up Bim!” Paz stopped in his tracks as Din pulled open his robe with both hands, flashing his costume and grinning painfully. “Oh Manda! What has she done to you?! Why is there so much glitter?!”

Before he tied his robe, he grabbed Paz’s arm by the vambrace. “Tap your arm against the front.”

“What?” Paz said aghast, trying to pull away from Din. “No.”

Din grit his teeth. “Just do it, before she gets started again.”

Paz relented and tapped his vambrace against the front of the decorative harness. The ring of beskar on beskar was distinctive and familiar. Paz had a moment of dumbfounded shock before his face darkened in rage.

“Eida! How dare you use our sacred metal…”

“Darling.” Eida’s sharp, serious voice stopped Paz’s yelling. “I recovered these from an Empire pleasure cruiser from my days as a pirate, years ago. If you must be angry, direct the anger at them but do it later, it makes your face blotchy. Hurry! Out of your armor! The villains have arrived.”

“Come on ori’vod. I’ll help you.” Din pulled him into the dressing room and behind a changing screen. Packing away his armor was a bit harder, but it all fit in the bag along with their flight suits, flak jackets, belts, and boots. Unfortunately, they had to also pack away many of their hidden weapons, because there was not enough coverage to hide sixteen vibroblades, Paz!

After getting him in a slightly different style of costume, this one much more harness like to fit his broader body type than Din’s molded brassiere and belted loincloth monstrosity, he left Paz to the others while he took a moment behind the changing screen to find a way to stow Dee on his person and slip on the soft boots with jeweled clasps. Dee grumbled because they were wedged uncomfortably under the silk padded beskar bandeau. The sleeves were held onto his upper arms by gold bands and collected at his wrist, so he could easily tear them away should he need to.

When you said Mando’ade fetish, we never imagined that the Empire that would stoop so low as to make such a gaudy beskar desecration. What did that troll call them again? Bikinis?

Din shuddered. “I never want to explain beskar bikinis to the Goran’e. Ever.”

Coming back out, Din felt Paz simmer over the bond as one of their fellow performers applied a liberal amount of glitter to his chest and back. They were expertly wrapping the silk to hide his bulkier vambraces as well. Surprisingly, they were done with Paz a lot faster than himself. Paz had a lot less jewelry but a lot more silk attached to a low-slung belt.

“Pez, come here.” Din tugged him behind the screen quickly, under the cover of doing final adjustments.

“This is debasing. But it will potentially break up an underground slavery ring, so I think I can handle it.”

Din grinned in relief, glad he was calming down. “I have Dee. Here.”

He pointed to his metal top.

“Hey Dee.” Paz whispered as he grinned back. The Darksaber started to splutter.

Oh you little osik! Din’ika!

“Ku’ur! He figured it out on his own.” Din sighed at the Darksaber’s whine. “I’m glad you’ve cooled down. Your anger was giving me a headache.”

Paz ducked his head. “Sorry. I’m not used to this bond.”

You Force bonded? When?

“I adopted Paz into Clan Mudhorn. We also got adopted by a new buir, so you have some competition in parenting us.”

We’re all clan now?

Din shared a looked with Paz at the shy hope in their tone. “Yeah, Dee. We’re a clan of nine now.”

“Darlings! We only have a few minutes.” Eida called from near the curtain.

WAIT, WAIT, WAIT! Can’t that harpy give me a moment to bask in familial fuzzies?!

“No time. Here, take these. I’m going to say goodbye to Grogu and take Cook the bag.” He shoved Paz’s boots into his hands and hauled the bag to the sitting room, to find Cook already getting ready to leave.

“Cook. Please take care of Grogu and our armor. I’m trusting you.”

“Of course, Treasured One. They will not come to harm under my care.” One of her broad hands gripped his shoulder tightly before chucking his chin quickly. She smiled and picked up the bag easily. “Take care of your brother. He gets wound up too easily.”

“He calms down quickly though. We’ll be okay.”

Din picked Grogu up from the settee and hugged him to his chest, just breathing with him for a moment before he loosened his hold and tipped his ad’ika back to look at him.

“Be good.” Din watched his ears fall, feeling his longing already and rushed to reassure him. “I will see you later this evening. I promise.”

We will make sure that he’ll be there, ad’ika! Never fear.

Grogu burbled happily after one last hug. He easily went to Cook and waved as they headed out the door.

Din continued looking at the door through two more breaths before he closed his eyes and loosened his shoulders. Two deep breaths and bolstering himself with determination, got him moving into the dressing room and taking his place next to Paz at the curtain.

“Adjust your veil and prepare, Pez Jizsla. We’ve got work to do.” Din secured the veil across his face and let his robe drop.

**

Felnor had waved back to the ad’ika along with Protector Kisk. He had never seen an ad with such tiny, cute hands.

“...Verd Reeves!” Protector Rau barked. The scuffing of boots brought his attention back to his companions and he realized they had started down the alley without him.

He looked at the raised eyebrows of the others as they walked down the street and got self-consciously defensive. “What? Don’t you have adiik in your aliit? They love waving at anyone they see!”

“Sure.” Ruus’alor Wren said, smirking. That shabuir. “Were you daydreaming of the day you’ll have your own little ones with your riduur?”

Felnor felt himself flush. Damn his inner romantic. He sniffed disdainfully, to cover his embarrassment.

“Some of us actually aspire to higher things in life, Wren. I can’t imagine you’ll find one, with that attitude.”

Wren let out an airy sigh. “I’ll have you know that I have always aspired to marry my riduur in battle.”

“My riduur and I said the riduurok when we were undercover in Shushtugaar. That was wild.” Kisk injected giddily.

Felnor grinned at the Protectors, feeling a comradery he’d never felt before. “A greater tradition there will never be.”

Wren and Kisk grinned back, but they dropped it when Protector Rau glared back at them. When Rau turned around, Wren whispered an ‘Oya!’ to him.

 “Check the tracker program, would you?” Alor’ad Woves called back.

Felnor fumbled to get the pad with the program out of his bag at the reminder. He stopped walking and went through the program. “Uh. Huh.”

The others clustered around him as he studied the readouts and tapped the side of the pad a few times, as if that would make the readings change. Alor’ad Woves crossed his arms and cleared his throat when Felnor seemed to hesitate, encouraging him to speak up.

“Well, according to this. We are practically on top of them. They are about 10 meters back…that way.” He pointed his thumb behind him and realized something. “That’s near that alley. You don’t suppose that, that verd…”

“Let’s go.” Alor’ad Woves moved toward the alley as Felnor trailed off. They got back to the door and Protector Rau broke the lock with a small welding tool from his belt. They all piled through the door with blasters raised only to find themselves in a small worn unoccupied sitting room. From here, they could feel the bass through the walls. It must be heavily sound proofed, wherever they were. There was another door leading further in and Alor’ad Woves opened it cautiously, immediately putting his blaster down behind his back.

 Felnor peeked around his shoulder and saw a well-lit dressing room with racks full of outfits. There were a few people getting ready, putting on makeup and checking the fit of their costumes. Felnor heard a strangled gasp from his Alor’ad and looked where his gaze was pointed. Two well-muscled figures stood before them, one pale and one naturally tan. Both had kyr’bes inked on their backs in deep black, glitter liberally applied everywhere, and scars where it was obvious their beskar’gam had not protected them. Their shoulders and back muscles were tensed because the two had their arms crossed and were leaning slightly forward on delicately booted feet to listen to a tiny woman explain something in hushed tones.

Felnor felt a blush rise in his cheeks seeing how low the metal belt was slung on the taller wall of muscle and he felt it rise further realizing that they also wore a silver metal and shimmering blue silk harness over their shoulders and upper chest. This was connected to strands of blue silk covering their arms and stirring around their legs as they moved slightly. The smaller verd had a more complicated costume with way more jewelry, but in red and gold. The woman finished and was gesturing toward a curtain.

The verde took huge breaths and let their arms fall to their side loosely, starting to bounce on their feet in anticipation.

“You better shake what the Manda gave you, Bim Bjarin. We need those tips.” The taller turned slightly, revealing a delicate silk veil over the bottom half of his face connected to a metal head piece in his dark hair.

The smaller turned slightly as well, showing the same veil. “These toned legs and beskar bosom are going to give you a run for your credits, Pez Jizsla. You better shake your ori’shebs hard, ori’vod.”

“For the aliit.” They both said in unison, tapping the forearms between them. The ring of clacking beskar rang out lowly, indicating vambraces hidden by silk. They tapped them together again, nodding their heads and facing forward as they prepared for battle. “Oya!”

Then they were gone in twirls of silk and a wave of sound, through the parted curtain.

“It’s worse than we thought. They are selling their bodies to fund the Fand covert!” Alor’ad Woves whispered in object horror and a little bit of admiration at their dedication to their aliit. He shared a determined look with the rest of them. “We must stop them. No vode of ours are going to stoop to such means if we can do something about it.”

They all shared nods of resolve. Even the Protectors, who had seemed a little unsure on their reason for coming with them in the beginning. Now they had a fire in his eyes, to stop injustice to their vode. Felnor felt a sense of grand purpose filling him. Shennec and his handsome ori’vod needn’t gain help this way. They were aliit.

“Ahem.”

All five of them snapped their heads to the petite golden woman in black robes, who had been giving their vode instructions.

“Gentlebeings. You should be in the seats on the main floor if you wish to ogle. You should not be backstage, bothering my performers. Come.” She ushered the five of them through the room firmly. Pushing them down a set of stairs to the main floor where they stared around in absolute mortification. Undulating bodies were on various stages and a crowd of every species you could think of drank, yelled, and tossed credits with abandon. The air was filled with the smell of sweat, perfume, and was filled with glitter and the sting of spice.

“Ka’ra preserve us. My riduur must never find out about this.” Protector Kisk whisper yelled over the blaring music.

“Do you see them?” That was Alor’ad Woves. Always so calm and focused.

The five of them did not have to look far as a roar filled a corner of the huge room. There were the Fand brothers, do complicated fight maneuvers that looked like a dance of flexibility. That set of drills must look a whole lot different with beskar’gam and knives than silk and open hands. Felnor still felt his jaw drop as the ori’vod performed a lift, with one kriffing arm.

“Wayii! Fight Corps never taught us that!” Protector Wren crowed.

Felnor felt the music pumping through the sound system lower to the deep bass they had felt before and the Fands made their way off stage, to mingle with grabby handed patrons.

“The Fands are jatnese be te jatnese ori’ramikade. Their verde are not trained with Fighting Corps material. They would never use a program designed by Kyr’tsad.” Protector Rau said, moving forward. He growled lowly as a customer got handsy with the smaller vod. “Come. We’re putting a stop to this. This is beneath their dignity.”

**

Boba wasn’t sure how many more Mandalorians he could stuff in his palace.

Fands. Concordians. Pirates. The Council. Nite Owls. And now Protectors

It felt like if any more were added, there would be an eruption, spewing Mandalorians everywhere, blanketing Tatooine in beskar, vibroblades, and flight suits.  There were so many they had foregone the large dining room since that was full of staff and even more Mandalorians coordinating supplies and bedding. He pulled a face as observed the people packed into the largest room they had, which was the training arena. They had so many Mandalorians to talk to at once they’d had the coms techs whip up a sound system. Maker, why couldn’t he go back to just being a crime lord? It had only been four days!

At least Raig was doing his duty and politicking his shebs off. Alor Fand refused to have anything to do with the older man and had one of her unfortunate warriors be the buffer between them. She had even sniffed disdainfully at Countess Wren and a few of the other Council Members. By the way she was eyeing Kryze, there might be a stabbing in the future. How fortunate for him.

He continued to stay in the shadows, tucked near the back door, waiting for Fennec to report in so he could possibly pack all the Mandalorians in the basement and go back to his life of crime. Someone settled near him in the shadows.

“Boba.”

“Greef. Any word?”

“We’ve got good news on that end. Grogu is heading back toward the palace. From what Skywalker said, the little womp rat was incandescently happy and indicated that he was not kidnapped. That’s all he could get.”

“Well, at least that is wrapping up and it gives Din less reason to enact a revenge plot. Stand the Wizard Baby Rescue Squad down.”

Greef snorted. “It already is. The minute Skywalker said he was returning, Cara released everyone and went down to the hanger to wait with the Armorer and Vanth. She did not look happy. In fact, I’m sure the whole Rebel team is down there too, hiding out from you.”

“My ‘imagine tossing them into a sarlaac’ face is too much for them.” Boba admitted with a small curl of his lip. “The only one who would never be intimidated is Organa. But I bet she dreams of choking a lot of people like she did Jabba.”

“She is certainly not one to mess around with.” Greef agreed. “Say...how much did our bet make?”

“Eight to one. After I...moved things along.” Boba grinned fully this time. “Thanks for the stake by the way.”

“I have never been so thankful that you’re alive.” Greef ribbed gently. “You and Din certainly make life more interesting.”

“Stop, you’re making me blush.” Boba drawled dryly. “Oh relief. Fennec is back. We can get all these Mandalorians settled and out of my hair.”

“And what beautiful metaphorical hair it is.” Greef chortled.

Fennec did not come to Boba directly. She stopped to pick-up Raig and tow him to the shadow corner which alerted Daber and Zuffra that something was up, which meant that the Council had to come along, and also Alor Fand and her right hand and one of the Protectors. And maker preserve them, Bo Katan Kryze and Koska Reeves.

“Fennec, was this all necessary?” He gestured to all the pesky hangers on behind her.

“I only brought Raig. The rest came uninvited to this party.” She sighed, looking like she hated to be the bearer of bad news, but she in fact relished in it. He knew she practiced that dead eye stare in the mirror.

Boba crossed his arms. Maybe more beskar between them would soften the coming blow. “Go on. I can already tell that I’m not going to like this.”

“You know that really big, long room in sub-basment four that we were thinking of turning into barracks?”

“Yes?”

“Did you tell Shennec that’s what we were going to do with it?” She smirked at Din’s alias, but it didn’t last.

“No why.”

“He’s become a hoarder.”

Boba’s eyebrows rose in concern. Din Djarin was a minimalist. He would have lived in one ratty flight suit for the rest of his life if Cara hadn’t mothered him into buying more. Getting him to accept anything had been a trial and a half. Cara had been the most successful out of the four of them. What would make him start now?

That was how Boba, Fennec, Greef, and a group of Mandalorians found themselves looking upon sub-basement four in horrified wonder as the lights cycled on from the front to the back. It looked like a giant storage warehouse. It was two hundred times bigger than the Hoard. Grav-sleds full of beskar ingots and other metals. Stockpiles of weapons and med supplies. Crates of loot.  There was even a kriffing Fang fighter under a tarp. How did he even get that down here?

“By the maker. What has Din been doing? Where did he get all of this?” Greef tapped a holo table set up in a corner and when it activated, a map of the galaxy materialized with highlighted points across the whole board. Activating the holotable also activated the rest of the lights in the corner, revealing a wall of flimsiplasts, with a red string connecting points on the wall.

“Din’ika is a little bit scary.” Raig remarked under his breath. He had been studying the wall over Boba’s shoulder.

“Only a little?” Boba gestured to the full room. He watched the other Mandalorians fan out and saw Bo Katan engaging Wren in a deep discussion some ways away. “Anything else, Fennec?”

“He must have done most of this before he got back into his armor, because this goes back almost a year. Look, he added a lot of points in the last three months, more than likely from the Hoard’s datasticks. He’s only hit four of those.” She pulled up the points and that was where most of the beskar had come from.

“He wasn’t brooding in the desert or asking for bantha tips, was he?” Boba said while trying to piece this together.

“I think we all know what he was doing.” Raig rumbled sadly, fingers brushing a discarded pad. “I had gathered he was trying to atone for something from our conversations at the Forge.”

It clicked then. Din Djarin was predictable if you knew what made him tick. Conversations of the past suddenly made much more sense. Boba himself knew what all that rage and desolation could do, how you could feel so much, and you funneled that into other pursuits just so you didn’t have to feel. But Din had a far narrower framework for how to constructively use that, thanks to that cult.

He had a very strict worldview and that world valued three things. Following the Resol’nare, foundlings, and preserving the Way. It was a frightening concept, and they were lucky that Din was just as honorable, humble, and self-sacrificing as he was an emotionally constipated idiot. He could have worked out his feelings in a worse way than becoming a vengeful Mandalorian pirate stealing money from the defunct Empire. They might have had a rampaging Warlord on their hands, that could use the Force. Kriff. Dodged that Sith bullet.

Boba picked up a pad and instantly wanted a nap when he saw its contents. His vod’ika was so kriffing dramatic. “He was earning back his right to wear the armor by following Mandalorian teachings. The only way he feels he can, is to hunt and provide, like he always had. For his family, his clan.”

“Except, this is for more than a clan of two. Who else is he providing for?” Fennec murmured as she shifted through the pads on the table.

Boba handed her the pad and sighed in aggravation. Din had made them clan. There were credit accounts under Clan Mudhorn for Grogu, Boba, Fennec, Cara, and Greef. If Dee was able to use credits, he knew there would be one open for them as well. There were substantial amounts in each, but Grogu’s had the most. As expected, really. Grogu was always his priority. Even over regaining his honor and armor. Fennec handed the pad to Raig who stayed silent. Greef, who had been looking at the pad in Raig’s hand did not.

“Are you saying that under the cover of the bounty pucks I gave him, Din marauded across the galaxy raiding hidden Imperial Remnant stashes and storing huge amounts of loot in your basement, under everyone’s nose I might add, by himself? Without letting us get in on the action? Just so he could earn his right to be a Mandalorian? And to provide for his family? Four of which didn’t exactly know that they were adopted?” Greef put his hands on his hips. “He needs a time out. And possibly an intervention. This can’t be healthy. Why didn’t Dee stop him?”

Fennec snorted. “He’s emotionally dense, Greef. He was raised in a cult…how is that healthy? He also left Dee here sometimes. They complained bitterly. At length.”

“I’m guessing since Dee was pressing him on being Mand’alor, that he didn’t want to give them more ammunition by doing the types of things that would give him more points on Dee’s list of acceptable Mand’alor activities. He kept it secret. The Hoard was…a point of contention between them and that was an accident. But, if it was acceptable to them, I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t stop Din from doing anything.” Boba tapped his fingers on the table impatiently.

“Dee is not going to let him dodge the title of Mand’alor because they haven’t figured that they actually are a sentient being and not a Manda’lor criterion.  And by the way that those other Mandalorians have been talking about it, they are not going to let him dodge it either as long as he holds Dee.” Greef pointed out.

Boba snarled in frustration, slapping the table angrily. “Then he chooses. They don’t. I don’t care what they say.”

“What are you thinking?” Fennec went sharp eyed and dangerous. She was getting a little more protective of their little family the last few days. If there was a problem, she was not one to stand back from fixing it.

“That little shit made us Clan Mudhorn, which means we’re family. I am Daimyo of Tatooine. Which means Din, as a member of my family is a citizen of Tatooine. And I get to say who is welcome here. It’s closing time. The only Mandalorians who get to stay in this palace are the Tribe, the Concordians, and the Fands. We’re turning the rest of them out, TODAY. They are going to have to wait until Din is ready to either become Mand’alor or tell them to go kark themselves. But they are not waiting here!”

“Holy kriff, you protective softie.” Fennec smiled mischievously. “I vote Raig gets to tell them!”

“I second that.” Greef called.

“Third!”

“You all are horrible children and need to be spanked.”

“Raig, you are the kinky second grandfather that I never wanted.” Boba deadpanned. “I bet Bo Katan would like to be spanked.”

“WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT?! Gah!” Fennec shook her head in disgust as she shuddered. Raig just laughed, attracting the attention of the everyone near them.

One of which happened to be Koska Reeves. She had been coming closer as they talked, covering it by looking at the treasure as she went.

“What exactly is it you want Verd Reeves?” Raig rumbled sternly. “It seems like you have an interest in our conversations. They are not for you to know. But I should tell you now, that getting the Dha’kad is not going to be possible for Bo Katan Kryze any longer. Or for any Mando’ade looking to make a challenge, even you. You may pass that on to her Ladyship.”  

He had straightened to his full height and towered above them all.

“He’s not going to accept her challenge?” Reeves looked calculating and wary at the same time. Raig was a lot to take in.

“When he gets back, I think all Mando’ade will be in for a nasty surprise.” The menace in Raig’s tone surprised Boba considerably. Here was that long-lived ori’ramikade and not the charming grandfather they had come to know.

Reeves looked spooked and beat a hasty retreat.

“Raig?” Fennec was looking at him in admiration.

“I think laying the groundwork for Dee no longer being a prize to be won should start before anyone can even start thinking of sentient lightsabers.” He said lightly, stacking the pads in front of him. “Come. There is much to discuss, and I think we should do it in the family lounge, with just us. They all can cool their heels while we sip some tihaar and gripe about Din’ika’s inability to take care of himself properly. Then we can evict them.”

Boba was hesitating but a cry of ‘he found a mythosaur skull covered in beskar!’ really decided it for him.

“Let’s go. I have so much griping to do.”

Chapter Text

The suns made the air very hot, but Cook’s shadow and sparkle presence kept him cool and comfortable as they made their way down the road in the speeder. It had been a while since they had left the city and Buir. They were headed back to the palace, and it seemed to be taking a lot longer than the first time. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to go back to the palace when Buir was off doing bounty hunter things without him. Someone might need to be rescued.

Grogu was sure that the adults in the palace tried hard but really had no idea how to rescue his Buir. Not that he would tell them, because he did not want to hurt their feelings, but they were bad at it. Even his ba’vodu’e. They were so bad at it that Buir and ba’vodu Paz had to rescue themselves. Then Grogu had to go find them and it was easy. The adults made it seem like it was so hard! Obviously, Buir might have to teach everyone lessons, like Master Luke taught him about jumping in the Force. It would certainly help if they lost him again. Grogu couldn’t do all the work.

At least there was the Blue Owl near Buir, and he had friends with him. If Buir needed back-up, it was best to have more than just Ba’vodu Paz. Even though Ba’vodu looked like he could toss two banthas at once. They were going to help Scary Gold Woman stop slavers. Grogu thought that was wizard, but he was a little put out that he wasn’t allowed to stay and see Buir and Ba’vodu’s costumes. The Scary Gold Woman had said that they were better than armor, but nothing was better than Mandalorian armor, especially Buir’s! He would just have to wait until Buir was back.

What excited him most was that Buir had the Force now! And so did Ba’vodu! Since Buir had taught him new words in Mando’a, all of them could talk together, like a secret club. Darksaber, Buir, Ba’vodu Paz, and him. He could hardly wait for nighttime.  Although, Ba’buir and Golden Lady were sure to be mad that he had left and his other ba’vodu’e were sure to be mad as well. But he promised Buir he would apologize and take their punishments. He just hoped that they wouldn’t make him take a nap and be in time out before Buir got back.

“Little Treasure, are you hungry? I have snacks. I know finding your father was very exhausting and the ride to the palace will be longer than normal with the load we must pull.”

“Bweh.” Cook patted his head with one of her many hands after he responded. It was nice to have an adult like Buir who knew he was always hungry.

Grogu watched Cook rifle through her large satchel and pull out a small, lidded cup, a paja fruit, and a crinkly bag. She put them on the seat between them, in easy reach of his small arms. As he munched through the fish snacks and drank his juice, he felt a familiar presence in the Force. Master Luke was looking for him and his ears fell back in guilt. He glanced at Cook, who didn’t seem to have noticed and answered back.

After assuring his teacher that he was not kidnapped and was coming back home, he finished his snacks. In a surprise move, Cook snagged the back of his jumper and settled him in her lap and now he could see above the dash!

“Help me drive Little Treasure.”

Grogu giggled. Cook had so many arms! She didn’t need him to help drive. How silly.

“Maybe you can keep lookout for me then. Little Treasures like you are very good at sensing things.”

Grogu peered around and sent out his Fore presence to see further like Master Luke taught him. There were some of the Small Stealers in the distance and he could feel the familiar presences of the Children of the Sands too. Buir liked them, the Small Stealers, not so much. Oh...there was a big presence in the distance. It greeted him kindly, wondering if he knew their hatchlings. He said he didn’t, but he would keep an eye out and let them know their buir was looking for them. The presence was pleased and faded as they got farther away. Maybe he could convince Buir to look for the hatchlings after he stopped the slavers. And after that, maybe they could ride on speeder bikes or fly around with the jetpack. There were so many interesting things here! He liked this planet. But he especially liked it because Buir was here. And his ba’vodu’e. And Golden Lady and Ba’buir. And Cook. Even Fur Tree!

The Force agreed. This was where he was supposed to be. He tried not to get too excited and lose concentration. Cook had given him the job of lookout. Buir said that was important. So, he focused but felt nothing near them as they drove along. Cook had been humming so nicely the entire time, but when she stopped, Grogu looked up at her.

“Little Treasure. We will be at the palace soon. Now remember, your father would rather they didn’t know he was on another mission. We’ll have to keep it to ourselves for the time being.”

Grogu nodded, his ears flapping in the wind. He could keep secrets and he wasn’t going to narc on his Buir.

Cook chortled. “That’s the spirit.”

**

Bo Katan was in a quandary.

While she was still spitting angry at being denied the right to challenge that Ja’hai’ad and getting the Darksaber back, she was also in spiteful awe of that shabuir’s pure audacity in regaining pieces of their home and history. That Ja’hai’ad had collected this in under two years and he was an uneducated heathen from a cult. What was in this room was ten times more than what their reclamation team had gathered since the Purge. If he could do this in two years, what more could he do under her instruction and command? He was wasted here on Tatooine.

She should have chained him to their cause onboard the cruiser and kept him with her until he was well enough to take the challenge.  Perhaps she still could after she won the Darksaber. If she could take him away from Fett’s side, he would be an excellent resource and hunter for her if she could sway him. His running from acknowledged responsibility would end, she would make sure of it. He must feel some duty to Manda’yaim if he did all this and she would use that to get her way and get off this stinking planet. She would use him any way she saw fit.

She might have had stirrings of apprehension when she had sent foot in the palace again, but that was over now.

Talking with Ursa had proved to be an irritation she didn’t need. The woman who had once stood next to her and claimed loyalty to her rule was now speaking to her about giving up the pursuit of the Darksaber. As if that was even an option. Since the rumor of it being reclaimed had leaked out into Mando’ade society from the mouth of an unknown traitor, it was one of the only ways to get their full support and backing to take the fight to the shabuire occupiers and flush them out.

The newly formed Council thought that this would be an excellent time to extend their useless oversight on her activities and faction. Those hut’tuune had been lurking in the shadows while she had been at the forefront of the reclamation and the fight for their home for almost fifty-one years. She did not need oversight. She needed the Darksaber and a free reign to bring the fight to the Empire remnants. Now that Moff Gideon was gone, they would run like noonas from dinnertime.

She watched Ursa speak to Alor Fand. Clan Fand. Back from the dead. She had not missed the look on Fand’s face when she was finally called to meet with Fett, only for the shabuir to duck into a corner and make Lord Oojar handle everything. And wasn’t that a stick in the craw as well. Lord Oojar of House Ferst playing patsy to Fett and that Ja’hai’ad. The warrior was the most influential Goran to ever come from Manda’yaim. He had apprenticed over thirty goran’e in his lifetime, trained countless ori’ramikade, and he had been a confidant of many of their past leaders. Even her sister had met with him to seek his council before she exiled their warriors.  That made his presence here and his behavior utterly baffling.

“Bo.” Bo Katan turned away from her observation of the scattered Council members to face Koska. She looked pale and unsettled.

“Koska. What is the matter?” Being so far from everyone let them drop the titles and Bo Katan was relieved that they could talk this way after the upset months ago.

“Lord Oojar said something to me that I do not think...will bode well for this mission.”

“What did he say?”

“He said that no one would be able to claim the Darksaber any longer and that we would all be in for a nasty surprise once that Ja’hai’ad comes back.”

Bo Katan took in a sharp breath at that, trying to think of all the things that could mean. One of the thoughts that came out on top was horrifying. Could he have destroyed the saber to prevent the challenge? Destroyed it so NO ONE could be Mand’alor?

Koska cleared her throat. “What should we do? Fett and Shand rule here. Lord Oojar and most of these Mando’ade are on his side.  He’s not even here and they are still protecting him. Making us run around in circles.”

“Tell the Bes’bavar to send down the freighter with an attachment. Land it near the palace. I am not going to let that Ja’hai’ad continue to make a fool out of me and spit on our traditions. If he doesn’t want to be Mand’alor, then I’m going to make sure that he won’t be.”

“Aye. I’ll make the com.” Koska stepped away and Bo Katan went back to trailing Ursa as she wandered around the room.

Had she been paying attention, she would have seen the Fand ori’ramikade that had been tucked behind a shelving unit and shamelessly listening in on her private conversation. He was able to report to his Alor before they were all ushered out of the Hoard Room by Fett’s group.

**

Cook could see the group of people waiting for them in the hangar as she drove closer. The little one’s ears went down as he saw them too, making her chortle. He knew he was in trouble. Miss Cara was at the forefront and had her arms crossed. Ah, she was no nonsense, but Little Treasure was unbelievably cute and had those porg eyes just like his father. Both sets were formidable. Resisting them was no easy task. She hoped the group was up for the challenge.

It was a tight squeeze with all the new ships, but she got the speeder and the attached sled settled close to the door that led to the staff hallways. The kitchen stores were easy to get to if you went through this way. She got out and grabbed her satchel, situating it before carefully unloading the Little Treasure. She set him on the ground, giving him a little bum push since he refused to go forward.

“Go on Little Treasure. You promised your father you would take your punishment for running off, even if it was for a noble cause.” She whispered as she crossed one set of arms, shooing him forward with another hand. “I hardly think that they will be too harsh on you. Go on.”

He walked toward the group but kept looking back every so often, with those large soulful eyes. Younglings. Such characters. It was a good thing she had raised three and took care of many more. With a put-upon sigh, he trudged forward, only to be scooped up and hugged by Miss Cara. As the scolding started, the Armorer come forward to speak with her.

“Thank you for his safe return.”

Cook laughed and shook her head. “It was no trouble. I was more than likely his ride into town in the first place. Younglings are so sneaky and mischievous.”

The Armorer sighed in commiseration. “Yes. He comes by it honestly. Din was the same way when he was younger.”

“Ah. A true adventurers spirit then. He’s in good hands I think.” Cook confided with a smile. “Don’t let me take up too much of your time, you’ve got the Little Treasure’s porg eyes to resist.”

The startled laugh out of the stoic warrior before her charmed Cook a lot more than it should have. But she was glad that the other was in a better place and felt free enough to let the out the slip of emotion. All that beskar made it hard to get a read on these Mandalorians, but that’s what counting pastry and spicy food consumption was for.

“I will let you get back to your task. I know we are not easy to feed all at once.”

“You are much better guests than those on exploration vessels and pleasure cruisers.” Cook assured her. “So bland and lifeless.”

“I can imagine.” With that, the Armorer walked away, and a very mismatched crew took her place.

Three humans, a Wookiee, and a very…free spoken droid. This Rebel crew was very famous and Cook had a feeling she might be seeing more of them in the future. The blond-haired person of course, was the famous Jedi. She waited him out.

“How did you find him?”

“Oh. It was happenstance, really. Luck was on our side.” She looked them over and smiled. “Would you like something to eat?”

“No thank you. We should be getting back to the rabble and then settling up to get home.” The Senator said politely. “By the way, if you ever get tired of cooking for this lot, please don’t hesitate to seek me out. Your pastries are divine. Here’s my com.”

Cook took the offered flimsiplast and tucked it away in her satchel.

“You best be getting on. It looks like the scolding is over and they’ll be heading toward Lord Fett.”

“Of course. Thank you Cook.” The Senator turned away pulling the scruffy human with her. The Wookiee offered a roaring thanks and shooed the droid ahead of him. The blond lingered and studied her intently.

“Is there anything else you need Knight Skywalker?” She grabbed the armor bag and two other cases from the back of speeder and turned toward the door.

“No, no. I’m just thankful you found him. And it’s Master Skywalker actually.”

Cook turned back slightly. “Oh, have you raised Padawan Grogu to knighthood then? Congratulations, Master Skywalker. May the Force be with you.”

She heard a faint, confused, and with you before the door shut and had to grin. These young ones. Always in a rush to grow up. She was like that once.

**

The four of them did not get a lot of time to gripe about Din because Leita Fand called them out for their stalling. With prejudice too because Raig was in their group. Fennec had shared that little nugget of rivalry with Boba while they set out the glasses at the bar. One shot later and much grumbling, the four of them headed back to the training room. Everyone had gathered once again, and Fennec pushed Raig to the front of their group when all eyes turned their way. Boba was glad that they’d be able to eat in one dining area after this.

“Ahem. After careful and serious deliberation, Daimyo Fett has decided to extend his offer of hospitality to only a select few. To take the burden off his staff and the current occupants of the Fett Palace, the Mando’ade groups that are allowed to stay are the Tribe, the Clan Fand, and the Mando’ade under the Alor, Miner Daber.” Raig gestured to the parties mentioned.

“As opposed to the major Dabers of the Beviin be Manda’yaim?” Someone yelled angrily.

More than likely a Daber. Captain Zuffra shook her head with rolled eyes. Boba found a reluctant kinship of sympathy with the woman. A tiny, tiny, tiny sliver. He was not going to forgive this morning’s office visit for anything less than major groveling.

“Miner, not minor.” At the dumbfounded looks, Raig elaborated. “Miner as in occupation, not as a lesser specimen of the Daber clan.”

Fennec snickered beside him. There was an uproar as those being turned out started protesting vehemently.

Boba stepped up angrily. “Silence!”

Raig handed the small speaker unit to him as the crowd fell silent.

“My patience with all of you is wearing thin. You are stressing out my staff, taking up valuable administration time, eating all my cheese, and occupying too much space. The ones being turned out have ships they can live in while they are waiting, so they have no hardship. If you are going bother us further with requests or demands, you can make an appointment instead of just showing up and inviting yourselves in.” Boba eyed the Nite Owls and the Protectors distastefully. “Now out. You need to be gone within the next hour. I want a peaceful dinner.”

“We want to stay!” Captain Zuffra protested.

“You can’t all stay! There’s too many of you.” Boba shot back.

“What can we pay?” Oh maker. The pirate’s head baar’ur was getting in on the action. They wanted to lie in wait for Din. He knew their type.

Fennec swiped the speaker unit. “You know what currency we take now. Think you can pay the price?”

“Does Tatooine even have a thriving cheese market?” Greef asked lowly from behind him. Boba shrugged. They had banthas, so maybe?

The pirate Captain looked frustrated. “How are we going to get that much?”

One of the Din’s Tribe members stood and intoned in a grave voice through their vocoder. “To have the cheese, you must find the cheese. It is the Whey.”

The whole Tribe stood up as one and turned their helmets in one movement to the rest of the room. Altogether, they sounded ominous and wickedly gleeful at the same time, as they repeated the invocation.  “It is the Whey.”

Boba grinned. They were really using that cult upbringing to the fullest creepiness. His estimation of all of them went up a lot. Everyone else in the crowd just looked unnerved and lost for words. Except Bo Katan. She looked livid. This joke kept getting better and better. Bless Din’s little troll heart.

As all the squatters stomped out, Bo Katan being forcibly removed by Urse Wren, Alor Fand and her second sought them out. She gave a haughty sniff at Raig’s presence but looked Boba in the eyes with steely determination.

“Lord Fett. We might have a problem beyond you having a Mando’ade cheese cult and treasure hoard in your basement.”

Boba clicked his tongue and huffed. “What now?”

**

“Sir. Let’s go to a quiet corner. I have a plan.” Protector Kisk put his hand on Fenn’s shoulder, stopping Fenn before he could move a few steps.

They all followed him to a secluded booth, whose occupants vacated it as soon as they saw the menacing looks angled in their direction. Kisk left them in the booth as he sidled up to the bar and spoke to a burly Devronian bartender in a tight synth-leather, studded vest, passing over a few credits and then some extra after the two went back and forth for a time. Kisk looked right at home now, whereas before he seemed traumatized and awkward.

Fenn was impressed. When he had recruited Ver’alor Kisk, his undercover work and spying had been greatly played down by his commanding officer. All the better for them, now. The man really knew his way around a place such as this. The booth that Kisk had picked had a great view of the stage and the cordoned off VIP section near it. The Fand vode had moved into the section, entertaining at a plush sitting area, full of rowdy patrons. Watching them was a test in patience, as most of the table could see how they were pawing at everything that came by. The bigger Fand took a tray of drinks from their fellow worker, so they did not have to approach the sitting area. The woman looked relieved.

Kisk came back, shoving Tristan over and leant forward. “Nito is making us drinks. But what I really wanted to know, was how much it was going to take to get into that VIP section. He’s willing to get us in for a few hundred.”

Verd Reeves made a choked sound.

Kisk rolled his eyes. “According to Nito, those undesirables in the VIP section are some type of crime bosses from off world who are trying to set up a base here. They are trying to undermine the current Daimyo.”

“Fett.” Woves supplied testily. “Boba Fett.”

“That kriffer is still alive?” Tristan exclaimed, getting an elbow to the ribs from Kisk. “Take it easy, would you?”

With a roll of his eyes, Kisk continued. “He also said that those shabuir’e are suspected of stealing people, locals, from the area and selling them into the slave market off world, since most of their product cannot come through here anymore, due to Fett outlawing the slave trade. They need product and I’m guessing that is why they are here. It’s only a matter of time before Fett finds out, but right now it’s our problem.”

“The Fands are in real danger, then.” Fenn scratched at the stubble coming in on his cheeks. “We were worried about their dignity, but they could be kidnapped and sold. The proprietor must be in on it.”

“Yeah, why else would she put them in such tiny...outfits.” Tristan’s pause caused everyone to focus on the vode, watching the smaller stop a wandering hand from touching his vod. “Those metal pieces sure aren’t beskar. Those pretty bits won’t protect anything. They more than likely were only able to stash a few vibroblades in there.”

“We’ll have to buy our way in. If we shadow them, we can ensure that they aren’t taken and have an opportunity to speak to them.” Kisk said.

Woves had a considering look on his face and Fenn wondered what he was thinking.  He found out a few second later. “We'll secure seats in the forward area, where they are entertaining those unsavory fellows. Do not make contact with them quite yet. If we startle them and then get them in trouble, they may never forgive us. They are here to secure funds for their aliit. We will do them a great disservice if we get rid of one of their only means of employment without having a way to shelter and help their entire covert.”

Well now, Fenn was amazed. Woves was a lot steadier and forward thinking than most of the Nite Owls he had encountered. It had been a shock really, that he had stood up to him and almost tossed him out of the speeder. Bo Katan had been and still was a hot head and single minded, so he had expected most of her warriors to follow in the same vein and follow her blindly, but here was an officer tangled up in a mission with a verd’ika for something that was expressly discouraged by command. Clan Woves was turning out better warriors this time around, at least.

“I’ll pay for it. It’ll be put it on my expense report.” Kisk gave them a cheeky smile before heading back to the bar. Fenn was not able to discern the handover of the bribe as Kisk grabbed a tray of drinks and headed back

After the drinks were handed out, they waited for an escort to the VIP section. Their escort turned out to be a very pleasant and provocatively clad green Twi’lek named Moxi, who led them to plush seats very close to the objects of their surveillance. Fenn himself was almost rubbing shoulders with a corpulent and pungent human who had pawed at the smaller vod earlier. He tried with their escort, but she was quick to shy away under the guise of getting their group settled in the section.

“I will be your host, but if you see another host you would like, please let me know. We are here to serve.” She bowed neatly and took her place among them. She sat between Verde Reeves and Tristan. “What are you here for this evening?”

“We’re celebrating our young cousin’s coming of age! Thought we’d bring him out and get him to take a break from being so serious and straightlaced. It is money well spent I think!” Kisk gave Felnor a rough half hug and ruffled his hair. “Our uncles are here to supervise us and make sure that we don’t traumatize our poor young delicate space flower of a family member.”

Fenn snorted at Kisk’s explanation. Felnor looked like he wanted to be anywhere else as Moxi got a wicked smile on her face and a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Would you like more than me for your private dance?” She caught Felnor’s eye and Fenn watched as his face start turning bright red. He shook his head, and she clasped her hands in delight, playing it up for Felnor’s reaction. “Oh, a tough customer! What type of host would you prefer? Buff, tiny, male, female, androgynous, lekku, shelled, tentacles, furry? We have many hosts to choose from to meet your desires and fantasies.”

Felnor’s eyes strayed to someone behind Fenn and Moxi lit up like Life Day decorations when she followed his gaze. Felnor started stuttering in a high strangled voice when he realized everyone had caught on to his wandering eyes.

“No...ah...no...you’re fine. Moxi! I choose you! You can give me a dance. I don’t need anyone else to give me a dance. Just you!”

Woves held his nose in exasperation and Fenn had to fight a grin, trying to maintain an air of stern, boring uncle. Moxi leaned in conspiratorially, joining Kisk and Tristan in their torment of their ‘ba’vod’ad’.

“Bim and Pez aren’t usually on the floor in this capacity. They’re usually guards, but we were short a few dancers. I’m sure one of them will be able to satisfy you.” She grinned again and called to the other section loudly. “Bim? Pez?”

“No!” Felnor whisper-shrieked desperately.

Only, it was too late. The smaller Fand looked toward them, veil still in place, stepping away from his perch on the arm of the chair of a shifty looking Chagrian. As he stepped forward toward their grouping of seats, the malodorous human next to Fenn lurched up and grabbed his upper arm, trying to reel him back.

“Where yah going, sweet thing? You’re our host.”

“I am a host for the entire VIP section. You will have to wait until I am finished here.” The tone was firm and no nonsense. And polite. Fenn wouldn’t have been.

“Tha’s not good enough. You need to service me!” Smelly yelled, getting into the Fand’s face.

The smaller man tried to pull away, but the aggressor outweighed him by a lot. The small tussle that ensued started a chain of chaos events that Fenn Rau would not be able to fathom, even hours later.

**

Din got into a fight over his own arm with the gigantic human. The man was one of their marks, but he was also very handsy and drunk. Well, nothing for it. He brought up his knee right into the man’s genital vicinity and he went down, whining in pain. He shoved Din away as he went, right into the lap of a sleazy red-headed spacer. As Din tried to catch his balance in the awkward straddling position he landed in, he heard a crunch as his beskar bosom met the man’s face.

What was that crunching noise? Whoa!

Dee fell out in all the jostling and landed in the dazed man’s lap. Din looked down. The man looked down then back up. Din looked back up and met his hazy and comical look of surprise with a surprised look of his own.

The man gaped for a minute before he started to nasally stutter. “You’re...you’re...the Mand’a...heurk”

Din interrupted him by snapping up the hilt and pressing it into the man’s throat and using his other arm to bring up a curtain of silk between them and the actual slavers. Now that he knew they were Mando’ade, precautions were out the window.

“Ain’t no Mand’alor here. Just Bim Bjarin. We green?!” He hissed in a low whisper. The man wheezed a little with the pressure, but Din knew he had enough air to answer.

Yeah, you shabuir!

“Super green.” At his strangled answer he released the pressure and stuffed Dee back into the bosom pocket before coming back from his panic mode bubble to the sound of total bedlam around them.

**

Paz might have been too far away to prevent that besom from grabbing Din, but he was not too far away to start cracking skulls after one of their marks yelled about ‘Mandalorians’ while vaguely pointing in Din’s direction. Din had the big guy down, but he was regaining his balance in the lap of one of those strange Mando’ade from the alley! He heard Dee yell.

And then, absolute chaos.

Of course, those idiot Mando’ade blew their cover somehow. He hoped Din punched that red head in the face. The slavers drew their blasters and the undercover Mando’ade leapt up and drew theirs. One of the slavers had the audacity to try to reach for him distractedly as he shot a blaster toward the Mando’ade, hitting one of his compatriots in the arm, who then shot a towering Wookiee in another section in the leg. Di’kut. Paz was twice the man’s size! What did he think he was going to do? Carry Paz off in the chaos? All it did was ruin his shot.

Grabbing a full mug of ale, he smashed that one in the face and It. Was. On! Paz leaped over the back of one of the settees grabbing a blaster from an unguarded holster on one of their marks. It was a really osik blaster, but it would have to do. Paz was able to clothesline one of them and he whistled at a guard from Eida’s squad to haul him and glass-face away. Two down, ten more to go.

When a lizard arm went sailing past his head, he realized that now it wasn’t just their section getting in on the action.

The Wookiee from before roared, had looked for the shooter and had thrown a table at a group of Trandoshans and they in turn started shooting back at the Wookie and another group they obviously had a problem with. A woman in studded leather armor jumped up on a table and bellowed, ‘everyone attack!’ and a lot of projectiles launched through the air from multiple directions.

Thank the Ka’ra he had sensed that. Getting hit by severed limbs was gross. He tried to find his next target, but a group stampeded passed him. There were people screaming and trying to get away and then there were the ones who were going to make a stand and take out their rivals. Paz kicked over two tables and pulled down a few fleeing employees and patrons behind them who weren’t armed.

“Press this against that cut! Crawl out that way!” He pressed a towel into the hands of one of the men and pointed to a stage exit.

As everyone started to crawl away, he peeked above the table just to watch Din sail through the air, Dee yelling curses the entire way, and land on the back of the Chagrian who stumbled around crazily with the added weight of a full grown Mando’ade trying to strangle him. The red head that Din had landed on was not far behind, taking out what could have been the Chagrian’s guard with an impressive series of punches.

THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT! OYA!

Paz grinned at Dee’s exclamation and vaulted his table hideaway. Moving forward only to barely miss being hit by another one of the slavers’ guards. A swift kick to the gut and pushing him over a railing to the lower floor took him out of the equation, as he landed on some drunk spacer who was not happy with the surprise drop in on his table.

There was so much chaos. It was getting out of hand now. The undercover Mando’ade were contending with a lot of others from the VIP section that were taking exception to the slavers’ taking exception to the exceptional Mando’ade presence. Punches were flying everywhere along with bodies. Many of them going through the decorative glass panels that separated the sections. The Devronian at the bar smacked a few overzealous bar flies with some hefty liquor bottles and tossed back a body that had flown over the bar.

Din’s Chagrian was down and being hauled away by Eida’s minions. His vod’ika was engaged, back-to-back with one of the younger Mando’ad, against several fighters who had cornered them. Both were holding their own, although Din was missing a sleeve. The Twi’lek Moxi had just clubbed someone right in the face. One of the Mando’ade seemed to be shuttling workers and noncombatants toward the door, then hopped over the bar to help the bartender. One of the older Mando’ad was subduing an opponent with Din’s missing sleeve. The woman was Wookiee sized and one of the slaver crew. That left five slavers and one Mando’ad unaccounted for. Paz waded in, dodging a flying chair and another arm.  That Wookiee needed to learn how to aim. He grabbed the arm from the floor.

“Hey vod, need a hand?” Paz smacked one of Din’s opponents in the face with the Trandoshan hand, cracking up at the look of horror that overcame the other Mando’ad’s face.

“You’re not funny.” Din said flatly and a little breathlessly, although with a little curl of his lip. He punched out one of the men and got another woman in a headlock who was going for his eye with a broken bottle. “Not my beautiful face!”

We think you are hilarious, Paz’ika!

Paz laughed and swung his severed limb weapon, hitting someone sneaking up on him. “That’s the spirit! Hey you! Mando’ad! One of your friends is missing. Might want to find him.”

Paz took up his spot as the younger man ducked away.  Din’s bad luck was making him live his best life right now! He was guarding his vod’ika’s back and brawling in a beskar bikini. Who would have ever thought it would come to this? Not Paz! He laughed loudly as a hobbling Nikto took a swing at him. The man never had a chance, taking a severed arm to the face and a fist to the gut.

He did not stay at his vod’ika’s back for long as the huge human Din had nutted earlier dove toward them. Paz had no time to help with that mess because another slaver rushed him, sending them both over a railing. Paz landed on top of the Lasat, who was regretting their life choices by the amount of groaning Paz could hear. Hah! Ori’shebs for the win. He’d have to tell Din later. Well, bantha poodoo, he’d lost his extra arm in the fall and his veil. A hail of bottles started coming down and he rolled under the one miraculously standing long table in the entire establishment. It was there he found the missing Mando’ad.

**

Axe Woves would never admit that he was getting too old for this osik, but he was getting too old for this osik.

The others had been scattered throughout the bar when the fighting expanded out of the VIP section. It was bad luck that the Lasat had recognized Fand’s tattoo during that small scuffle. He had even seen Fand threatening Rau, thinking he had a hand in the whole thing. It might have been oddly satisfying to see that smug face with some bloody nostrils, but Rau looked gobsmacked in a way that Axe didn’t like. Had Fand stabbed him?

He had not been able to get to Rau before the man was up and punching his way through multiple opponents, trying to follow after that dinii Fand who was swinging around on the back of a Chagrian.

“Alor’ad Woves! I’m going to help evacuate!” Kisk shouted, shooting a Nikto in the leg.

He barely had a chance to look over before the Protector was gone. The other two of his party were facing off against a motley crew with the aid of their host, and wasn’t that a surprise? The Twi’lek was swinging a table leg in fine form. Axe saw Felnor take a hit to the face and winced. Koska was going to skin him alive for bringing her brother to a dance bar.

He made his way forward only to have that Chagrian and Fand stumble in front of him. The Chagrian went down and Fand staggered up. Axe caught him as they both ducked a chair thrown by that damned Wookiee.

“Must be one of Krrsantan’s friends. Oh, hey Woves. Glad you could make it.” Fand patted his arm as he looked around the room with exhilaration. “Heads up, sleazy redhead!”

Axe clutched at the sleeve in his grasp and watched Rau throw himself to the side rather than be taken down by a raging rotund human. Fand was ripped away from him by one of the patrons from his section, leaving Axe with a sleeve and a vague feeling of familiarity at the voice. How had Fand known his name?

It was as he was subduing a tall, broad human woman with Fand’s sleeve that the super nova went off in his brain.

Fand couldn’t be the Ja’hai’ad who wouldn’t remove his buy’ce...right? RIGHT?? Axe caught a glimpse of Fand. He was back-to-back with one of the young Protectors and a dark beskar hilt peeked out from under the bottom of the verd’s top.

Oh Manda, he was.

And he was brawling without any beskar’gam at all.

**

His first dance bar visit was turning out to be a little more exciting than Felnor expected. He was going to have to be sure to take the blame off Alor’ad Woves if this ever got back to Koska. It really was Felnor’s own fault...the older man was just helping him.

In all the excitement, he had been separated from the rest of the group and had ended up on the main level of the bar and hiding under a table. He was nursing a swollen cheek bone and hoping the furniture throwing Wookiee left this table alone for a little while.

When a broad form rolled under the table, he came face to face with the elder Fand. Oh…oh no.

“Hey! Missing Mando’ad! You fight good!” The buoyant and smiling face was friendly and very distracting.

“Thanks! You too!” Felnor dropped his gaze, suddenly feeling bashful. His face was starting to flame.

“My eyes are up here.”

 “And what beautiful eyes they are.” Felnor sighed musingly. Then he realized who he was speaking to. “Uh…what? …I mean. You have eyes. It’s great you have them. Because they’re…useful. To see.”

“To see that you’re perfect riduur material.” Felnor peeked at the other Mando’ad and found him blushing and looking horrified.

“What?!”

“Uh...kriff…I’ve got to go!”

“Hey...wait!”

He rolled out from under the table quickly and Felnor was not going to let this go! They were having a perfect moment.

He popped up after him still red faced but determined, only to meet the eyes of the younger Fand. He was looking between Felnor and his ori’vod with a searching look before he found something in Felnor’s demeanor he didn’t like.

“YOU!”

Fand breaking a thick piece of wood over his bare thigh and brandishing the pieces at Felnor was honestly a little frightening.

**

Paz did not know what he was thinking when he replied to the other Mando’ad. The exhilaration of the fight must have made his brain stop and let his mouth do all the work when their eyes met. He was relieved to get back into the fight to get out of the situation, but it was all ruined when the other Mando’ad popped up behind him. Din had turned at that moment to search him out and suddenly those keen eyes were looking at them both in shrewd judgement. Paz knew it was going to be bad when the muscles in Din’s jaw tightened and his eyes got flinty. But the recipient of his anger was a surprise.

“YOU!” Din broke a wooden rod across his knee, arming himself in both hands. He pointed one threateningly at the Mando’ad behind Paz. “Turn your lascivious wandering gaze away from my ori’vod, you vile seducer!!”

PAZ’IKA! How far did he get? Did he touch you anywhere? Steal a kiss? We’ll protect you!

“I’m going to make you regret besmirching his honor and beat that lustful look off your face! Tsikador! AKINAAR NI!”  Din started stalking over with deadly intent and Paz heard a frightened meep from behind him.

Oh Manda. Dee had infected Din with their protective streak. AND THE SLAVERS WERE GETTING AWAY!

Paz ran forward and grabbed Din by the waist, hauling him over his shoulder and booking it toward the back exit where the last of their marks was disappearing.

“We’ll have none of that. You’re coming with me mister! We’ve got slavers to catch.”

“But, your honor!”

“Din’ika. You are far to late to defend that. Years too late. Save it for your ad’ika.” Paz burst through the door and set Din down to run on his own.

“Ori’vod!” Din wailed, scandalized.

They ran down the alleyway and came out on the street, close to where they had parked their speeder earlier. Some of the fight had spilled out into the open air and they both had to dodge multiple bouts of fisticuffs. The slavers had just started to pull away with their speeder when they hopped into theirs.

“Lap restraints everyone!” Din yelled as Paz powered up the speeder and gunned it.  “Oh Manda…I’m doing it. This is horrible. I’m becoming a ruug’la jag!”

Paz looked over quickly to see a horrified look on his vod’ika’s face.

Jehaat’e! We think it’s great. The power of the buir is strong in you.

Paz’s belly laugh was loud as he dodged fleeing pedestrians. Of course, the slavers would take the most populated route out of the city. They made it out of the city going as fast as their ramshackle speeder could go and in the open the slavers started shooting at them. Paz pushed his pilfered blaster at Din and he returned fire, managing to hit one of them in the opening salvo. His dinii vod’ika was a good shot.

They exchanged a good amount of fire, Din managing to hit three of them in some way, before Din’s lone blaster ran out of charge and they were left unprotected. They were still too far away for his whistling birds or flamethrower to be effective.

“Harchaak!” Din exclaimed throwing the blaster to the floor of the speeder. “I should have grabbed that bowcaster when that Wookiee was distracted and ripping that last arm off. Krrsantan waxed eloquently about one for hours the other night. Those di’kute are still horrible shots though.”

Which was when one of the slavers returned fire and one of his shots bounced off Din’s beskar bosom and into the speeder, under the dash. The speeder sparked, giving a sad little whump-whump-whine before dropping straight into the sand. 

AD BE’MYTHOSAUR!

**

Cara carried Grogu with her while they sought out Boba. Cobb was not allowed to hold or even look Grogu in the eye, because everyone in the group knew that he would fold like wet flimsiplast in a second. Even before Grogu was in sight, Cobb had pleaded for a lighter sentence for the little scamp. He was forced to walk with the Rebels and Peli, who was scolding the blonde Jedi for cheating her out of some speeder part.

“I have a mind not to let my Ba’buir see him until after he has served at least one time out.” The Armorer said from beside her.

Grogu’s ears went back in shame, not meeting her eye, and plucking at her shirt with his claws. They approached the big training room and were ready to go inside before Cara paused.

She sighed, giving in, and providing some comfort. “It’s okay. It won’t be so bad. We were just really worried about you. Your dad would never forgive us if something happened to you.”

That got a little nod of understanding and Cara patted him on the back.

“I think that a time out and no extra snacks until dinner will suffice for now. You will have to face Ba’buir’s punishment when you see him as well. You snuck out on his watch, and he was very…distraught.” The Armorer’s pause came as they pushed into the large room and came face to face with almost all the grown Mandalorians in the palace and the rest of their small family group. They looked in better spirits, but they also looked like they were spoiling for a fight.

Grogu’s ears went up and he started to reach toward Greef. Looking for the biggest sucker, for sure. She had to see if any of them could resist the eyes. Their group shuffled forward and close to Boba, Greef, and Fennec.

“Oh! Come here you little rapscallion!” Greef cuddled him instantly, no thought of punishment on his mind. “Grandpa Greef was worried. We must have snacks. Your adventure must have made you so hungry.”

The Armorer scoffed and Cara smirked.

“Where’s Dee?” Fennec asked and everyone went still.

“Oh maker! DEE! Grogu! Where’s Dee?” Cara looked at the little one in Greef’s arms, who had a blue cookie halfway shoved in his mouth.

Grogu shoved the rest of the cookie in his mouth and made a few signs. Then he looked surprised and suspicious. He looked at her like she had tricked him and like he wanted to take his signs back. Cara turned to the group and saw a giant Mando she hadn’t met look bewildered.

“He said he left them with buir…but where would he…” The rumbling voice tampered off as all eyes focused on Grogu who was looking away and not meeting anyone’s eyes.

Cara breathed in through her nose and a let it out in a rush, trying to stamp down her irritation. “Grogu. Where is buir?”

The little one shook his head with his eyes scrunched closed. The giant Mando looked pained but reached for Grogu and Greef handed him over with no fuss.

“Come now, Grogu. You will not get in trouble for telling us where buir is. Your ba’buir swears on his life. Haat, Ijaa, Haa’it.” His big hands almost dwarfed Grogu, but he was gentle and soothing.

Ah, this was Ba’buir Raig. Cara found that she liked him immensely, even though they had never been introduced. Last night had been tiring and there were a lot of Mandalorians bandying about. This warrior was a good choice on Din’s part. Grogu was now peeking at him with one eye but was still resistant.

“Ad’ika. We need to bring your buir home. He is needed.” The Armorer said stepping forward and being gentler than Cara ever imagined she could be. The hammers and brute strength the woman wielded were deceptive. But she guessed that people would say the same of her. Her build and shocktrooper status were a façade that many did not look past. She was muscle and not much else. That’s why she really loved these kriffers, dank ferrick. They made her life more enjoyable.

Grogu signed and Raig looked exasperated.

“He said he can’t tell us, otherwise buir, Dha’kad, and ba’vodu won’t be able to kick those slavers’ shebse.”

Boba let out a choked noise and all the Mandalorians grouped around them in the room looked incredulous. Fennec was rubbing her forehead and Greef lips pressed together in consternation.

“Is he saying that his father is off fighting slavers?” Han Solo’s voice broke through the cloud of disbelief that had enveloped all of them.

“Oh, for kriff’s sake! He probably stumbled on their enterprise when him and Paz fell off the platform. Of course, he would be fighting slavers after being kidnapped. They weren’t taken by the krayt, they escaped through the caves.” Cara said as she shook her head in irritation. She shared a look with Fennec

“They must have been going after the slavers when they happened upon the Fands, and got them to safety, and then continued to hunt.” Boba looked at them in amazement. “That krayt was just pure, dumb luck.”

“Are you all getting ready for dinner?” Cook’s large form peeked around the doorframe, distracting them. “I’m making that spicy stew my Treasured One said you would enjoy.”

Grogu signed excitedly and Raig’s head turned slowly, ears twitching, eyes narrowing, and nostrils flaring. He handed Grogu back to Greef and stalked forward.

“I’ll be having a word with you, Laerlo Cookshear.” The tone was dangerous, and Cara’s eyebrows rose. Was that Cook’s full name? The Armorer stiffened beside her.

“Of course, Lord Raig Oojar. Let’s step into my office.” The Besalisk met Raig’s tone with a stubborn tilt of her head, a challenging look, and two sets of crossed arms. She looked a bit intimidating now, even with an apron on. She then looked at all the rest of them. “Make sure to wash your hands before dinner.”

The two of them disappeared through the door and Cara let out a breath. “What was that about?”

“I…I do not know. I did not catch what the little one said.” The Armorer admitted.

“Do you think that he is cheating on Dee with Cook?” Fennec mused.

Boba and the Armorer scoffed while Greef and Fennec smirked. Cara was missing something, but when Fennec flashed a credit in Cara’s direction, she got it. The betting pool was getting hot.

Cobb and Peli stepped up, leaving the Rebels behind them.

“So, do we go after Mando and…the other Mando? And Dee?” Peli looked concerned. “I’m all for it, but what about those other Mandos…and these Mandos?”

All the Mandalorians around them stiffened with affront. As if any of those idiots would not join them. Cara was pretty sure even if Din wasn’t involved, that this whole group would stream out of the palace yelling at the top of their lungs, brandishing weapons, and igniting jet packs at the hint of battle. They might look warn and tired, but when had that ever stopped Din from wading into the thick of trouble? The man was a perpetual tired parent, and he still blew up krayt dragons and stopped bandits, all while romancing sloe-eyed widows with an admiration for a man in armor.

“Well. We’re going to have to fight through the throng surrounding the palace now. Bo Katan just called for reinforcements.” Boba looked ready to stomp off and be done with this whole mess.

“What? Why are they all outside?” Cara asked. She was so confused.

Fennec barked a laugh. “We kicked them out. Well…we made Raig kick them out. And our Tribe friends alarmed them out with their cult ways.”

“What did you do?” The Armorer sounded disapproving, turning toward the Tribe members who shuffled in place, contrite when faced with their leader.

A quick explanation had Cara laughing so hard she was bent over. Cobb was using her to steady himself and Peli.

The Armorer was not impressed. “I told you not to get carried away.”

A brave Mandalorian stepped forward, and took off their helmet, revealing the earnest gaze of a Pantoran. “Armorer. They were pirates and Nite Owls. How could we not?”

“That is actually a fair point.” The Armorer mused.

A throat cleared behind them. Ah…the Senator and her crew. The Senator stepped forward and gracefully folded her hands together. Cara had to tamp down her hero-worship crush and tried to focus on the enormity of the situation.

“Are those outside, enemies?”

Boba looked to be thinking about it, before replying. “Yes. And also, no. One of them is definitely not someone we want around. Her crew might be on the fence since there was a little bit of whispering going on, but the rest? They want in on the fun and are big, big fans of Grogu’s buir.”

Grogu gave a little cheer. “BOO-ER!”

There were so many awws and sappy looks from those that wore no helmets. Cara’s own insides were going gooey. Grogu spoke! It was unbelievably cute and just so…wholesome. Greef was already cuddling the little one. That lucky massiff!

The Jedi stepped forward. “He’s famous?”

“Well, Mandalorian famous.” Cara drawled, eyeing the Jedi. “Not famous to the New Republic quite yet.”

“Wait…our cousin is famous to Mando’ade? What for?” One of the new arrivals stepped forward and looked at the rest of them in askance. Cara jaw dropped and Boba, Fennec, and Greef suddenly looked like they were asking for any deity to strike them down. Everyone turned to the leader of the newest addition of Mandalorians, and she also looked hesitant for the first time.

The Armorer’s helmet tipped in question. “Why did you let him send you here?”

She side-eyed what Cara assumed was her second before answering. “Alor Mudhorn relocated us to get us out of danger from the krayt. We were under the impression that he and his vod were working for the new…Mand’alor.”

A strange expression crossed the elder’s face as she faltered. Cara heard the Senator whisper Mand’alor to herself, as if trying to dredge up a memory. Her eyes turned into slits a second later and the Jedi eeped in terror. That was going to be entertaining, whatever it was. Cara’s attention was brought back to the elder as she made a mournful coo.

“Is that sweet verd the Mand’alor? Is he off fighting slavers?” The older woman asked in horror. “Without a full guard of ori’ramikade or Protectors?”

Oh dear. Din had another grandparent.

**

“Oh firfiek! Woves! Get the others! The Fands have gone out the back!” Fenn yelled, dodging a flying liquor bottle. Woves gave him an understood signal and headed off for Tristan and Kisk.

He was trying to reach Verd Reeves who looked to be in some sort of shock and just standing out in the open. When he reached him, he shook him to get him out of his stupor. The young man snapped out of it and looked at Fenn beseechingly.

“Alor, I think I’m in love.”

Fenn growled. “No time for love, only battle! Get your head out of the romance novel and into the hunt. We’ve got Fands to catch, Verd!”

He pulled the protesting Felnor toward the back exit and met up with Woves who towed the two young Protectors by their collars. Their Twi’lek host was tagging along and looked bemused as they all marched out the back.

“Miss Moxi, I’m going to politely ask that you stay here.” Fenn pushed Felnor forward in front of him and down the alley.

“And I will cheerfully and definitively decline your command and come with you, Protector Rau.”

Everyone in their group did a double-take.

Woves looked stricken. “Excuse you? What did you say?”

“Su cuy’gar! Ner gai cuy Moxi Fand.”

All of them stood there in shock while Moxi just smirked at them.

“Really, that’s all it took? Come on you di’kute, let’s go save my ba’vod’ade.”

They followed her meekly as she led the way to the main street.

Tristan let out a pained noise and whispered to Felnor as they loaded themselves in the speeder. “Wayii. I think I’m in love too.”

Fenn was too old for this.

**

Ursa Wren could not believe that she had just been kicked out of Fett’s palace. What had happened to all that hospitality talk earlier. She watched the meandering Mando’ade that had streamed out of the palace clump into groups and whisper to each other. There was a clear delineation between the Nite Owls and everyone else. She turned to her fellow Council members.

“I have a feeling that they are trying to stall.” Alor Kast said, looking angrily at the gathered Nite Owls. “The addition of some unwanted guests probably made Fett’s sudden welcome wear thin.”

“I do not think it is that.” Alor Lyst spoke up.

A throat cleared. “You are somewhat correct.”

They all turned quickly toward Alor’ad Zuffra, some with their weapons half pulled. She put her hands up in peace.

Ursa gestured for everyone to stand down in annoyance. This whole situation had made everyone trigger happy and Zuffra should have known better than to sneak up on them.

“Why are we standing out here, when the Fands, some miners, and a group of Ja’hai’ade are allowed to stay?”

Alor’ad Zuffra clutched her buy’ce to her side in anger. “Fett and his crew are trimming the fat so they can fortify the palace. They want less competition for the List and since Bo Katan dropped in, they needed room. The Mudhorns don’t see us as the Mand’alor’s verde yet after the kidnapping mistake, so we must prove ourselves and defend the outside.”

“Wait…Mudhorn?”

“House Mudhorn.” Zuffra said tersely. “The Mand’alor’s house.”

Whispering broke out behind Ursa, but she powered through to make sense of Zuffra’s revelation. “What is the List?”

Zuffra’s moue of distaste made Ursa dread the coming explanation.

“We had to pay an exorbitant amount of cheese to even get on the challenge list to fight Bo Katan in the Mand’alor’s stead.”

“That cheese cult made you pay in cheese to fight…Bo Katan…” Ursa tapered off faintly, because what Zuffra said defied reality. She was getting angry now. “Why would you even entertain their lunacy?!”

“Because I want to bash Bo Katan’s smug face in?” Zuffra grit out. She sighed, shaking her montrails, but continued on vehemently. “For the first time in hundreds of years, like the Mand’alore of old, we have a Mand’alor that is interested in uniting all Mando’ade and giving us the help we desperately need. Finally, after all these years of suffering, purges, and feuds we have a chance to save our people through someone whose house has no connection to anyone and yet it will take anyone. How much cheese would you pay?”

Ursa looked at her in wonder.

“It’s not about the cheese at all.” Even Alor Kast sounded awed.

“No. It’s about belonging.”

**

Din righted himself from where he landed against the dash and stuck his hand under the beskar top to rub against his rapidly bruising skin. Between the blaster bolt and the dash, he was going to look horrible.

“Manda, I’ve landed on my beskar again.” Din groaned when he hit a particularly sore spot. He took Dee out carefully, inspecting the hilt for damage. “We’re lucky the beskar held up. I didn’t imagine they’d get such a good shot to my chest.”

Din’ika out of all the bosoms that we have experienced, yours is the worst. We thought, you know, we were warming up to them. Only liking those we know…but this experience. Do not recommend. And now the speeder is down.

“Everyone’s a critic and a stray blaster bolt is not my fault.”

Well, if you would stop falling into dangerous situations bosom or generous shebs first, maybe we would give you a better recommendation. Paz’ika…we would like to be carried in your bosom harness now. Din’ika makes us feel uncomfortable and unsafe. We are just falling out everywhere.

“You will not fit in this harness. You’re just going to have to deal with Din’s unworthy bosom. Stop whining.”

You are enjoying this, aren’t you?

“After that horrible, embarrassing defense of my honor? Immensely.” Since they were half plowed into the sand, Paz had to lever himself out of the speeder with an equally pained groan and roll to the side to even get clearance for his legs. Din had an easier time and let Dee float free.

They came around and looked at the sad remains of their speeder in silence. “We’ll have to walk back. There is no way we’ll catch them. Hopefully Eida’s people will be able to get the information out of those we captured before they clear out.”

Paz joined them and crossed his arms. “We’ll have to wrap the beskar pieces otherwise we’ll sizzle like a nerf steak on a hot grill. We…”

The ground started shaking in a familiar way. Din and Paz started turning in a circle to see where Krayt’buir would be coming from. She popped out of a dune to their left with a shower of sand and some black melons. She came upon them fast and neither of them tried to run, because that was a useless endeavor. Her hot breath washed over them, and Din looked at Paz for direction. He oversaw the bamboozling, Din just helped.

“Buir. Fancy meeting you here…in the desert...where you live.” Paz chuckled nervously.

[Hatchlings need to be in the nest. Danger is here.]

AND WHO IS THIS?

Dee rose higher into the air, coming hilt to eyes with Krayt’buir.

[Metal Spirit. Our meatbag hatchlings are trouble. We must watch them more.]

OUR? Our meatbag hatchlings? What does she mean by…?

Din grinned and interrupted the sputtering Dee. “Remember when I said we’d been adopted again? Meet Krayt’buir.”

ARE YOU SERIOUS?

[Skriss’tichlianlisssss. My name.]

Oh. You are very polite. We’re…

“Dha’kad.” Paz supplied, when Dee hesitated. “We just call them Dee.”

[Dee. Are you all undamaged? You are very delicate.]

She picked both up gently, but they grumbled as she inspected them.

[Where have your shells gone? Are you molting? Is this a growth cycle of your type of meatbags? Is this why you left the nest?]

Meatbags implies they are edible. But they are not molting. They can take their shells off and wear smaller shells sometimes. They left to hunt.

[Impractical. Shells as magnificent as yours should never be discarded for these smaller shells. They protect nothing.]

Dee could feel Dee’s smugness at the mention of the superiority of beskar’gam. He saw Paz roll his eyes from Krayt’buir’s other paw.

[I would also not eat hatchlings that can talk in the ancient way. Other meatbags? Up for discussion.]

“While we can talk about the merits of shells and eating meatbags all day, we need to get back to…” Paz stopped and Din watched as a wicked look came upon his face. “Krayt’buir. What are your opinions on egg and hatchling stealers?”

[SCUM. They should be hunted down and perish in the jaws of justice.]

Din had to admit Paz’s idea was a good idea. What better way to put the fear into your enemies than to hunt them down on the back of a krayt dragon?

“Do you think you could give us a lift and follow them?” Din asked.

[I will do more. I will hunt them with you, my noble hatchlings. Your cause is my cause.]

We think that we’re going to get along splendidly.

And that was how Din, Paz, and Dee found themselves riding on Krayt’buir’s crest, hanging onto her horns, and whooping in delight. She moved faster in the open and soon they could see the slavers’ speeder on the horizon. They. Looked. Horrified.

OYA!

Chapter Text

“Rickles! Go faster!”

The shout from the backseat rankled him. He had only been with these guys a couple months and was already regretting getting involved in their operations. None of their plans had worked out and now the big boss was in the hole, trying to provide product they just didn’t have. Worst, they had come to Tatooine, which both the Hutts and the Pykes had abandoned, to do business. This business was very unadvisable, not only for the main reason of the new Daimyo coming down hard on operations such as theirs, but now the whole planet was infested with Mandalorians. It was never going to end well if you saw more than one Mandalorian.

He had cautioned them, told them it was a bad idea, but when had the higher ups ever listened to a grunt? Now they had just had a tussle with undercover Mandalorians and possibly killed one of them. It was not going to be pretty when the new Mandalorian Daimyo found out. He wanted to dump the rest of his companions in the desert and just skip town. He could always find another job on Nar Shaddaa. Easy. He also wouldn’t have to deal with these idiots anymore. They couldn’t even remember his name.

“Rickles is not my name! My name is Rikes.”

“I don’t care, just go faster.” The blaster in his side made him roll his eyes.

“Really?” He pushed the arm with the blaster away. The others were trying to patch themselves up from being shot by that cute dancer, so it wasn’t as threatening. “I’m going as fast as I can go. If I overheat the engine, we’ll be stuck in the desert. Didn’t you shoot your pursuers down a ways back?”

“Now we’re being chased by a krayt dragon.”

Rikes rolled his eyes. “Sure buddy. Sure.”

A roar from behind them had his head snapping around to look behind them. Lo and behold, there were the provocatively dressed dancers, riding a krayt dragon in pursuit. Rikes faced forward and tried not to hyperventilate. They were so kriffed.

“Head toward the old palace. There’s an easy road there.”

“There’s Mandos there!”

“I kriffing know that. They’ll distract the krayt so we can get away.”

Rikes heard the byplay from the back and suddenly wished he had been knocked out in the bar. Anything was better than this. He did not have a good feeling.

**

Boba watched Fennec duck out to take a com as everyone stood around stammering and explaining to the Fands what was happening. Not that anyone knew what the heck Din and Paz had gotten into. It was all supposition at this point. The Rebel crew was also listening in, especially the senator. Galactic politics was her bag and if she had the upper hand over her fellows in the Senate regarding Mandalore, he knew she would use it. He was holding back and letting everyone else do the talking because he had fulfilled his word and patience quota today. Greef had not relinquished Grogu to anyone, baby hoarder that he was, so Boba had to suffer alone until Cara sidled up to him and let out a noise of frustration.

“Me too.” He agreed.

They watched the frantic gestures and heard the exchanges get louder and more heated. Especially between the Armorer and Alor Fand. Not that the Armorer ever let anyone see her get ruffled beyond tense shoulders and sharper words. It was something that Boba admired, but in a sour, spiteful kind of way.  Her absolute gall at detaching from the main Tribe and leaving that ridiculous cultish trash behind was to be commended. He was not sure that he particularly liked the woman, but he had to hand it to her, she did not do half-arsed apologies. Must be a Clan Oojar thing.

“I expect that most of them will still be greatly confused the minute Din sets foot in the palace.” Cara remarked as the bickering continued. “Even if Din was a bantha on a hover board, he’d still be their wonderful cousin.”

A stifled snort from behind them made them turn.

“Boba.” Despite the brief humor, Fennec was frowning. That was never good. “Kryze just challenged you for a fight.”

“That stupid karker.” Cara swore. “Boba doesn’t have Dee. I thought that was the whole point of the challenge?”

Fennec and Cara looked done with Mandalorian shit and Boba was right there with them.

“Kryze said that she had made the challenge to Din three days ago. She said and I quote, she ‘made a challenge to that skanah’ and warned him that if he didn’t answer her that she would make us pay for his cowardness. I guess her patience ran out...or the additional forces that came down bolstered her courage enough to be a gravel maggot.”

All three of them sighed and Boba tipped his head skyward in aggravation.

“Dank farrik. We’re going to miss dinner. Cook was making stew, bantha loaf, and cheese dumplings.” Cara bemoaned.

With that reminder, Boba lamented ever getting tangled up with all these people. Din was his vod’ika and he would do anything for him and his ad’ika, but these others? Missing dinner? Unacceptable.

He grunted when Fennec nudged him. “Well, I’m not going out there alone. You all are going to have to suffer through Bo Katan with me.”

Cara gave a dismissive wave. “Let me get the kids and Greef settled. Maybe even get the rebels on babysitting duty. Then I’ll come out. You get to handle the rest of them. I usually only deal with one Mando on a regular basis, so I am all funned out. Greef!”

“Sure, your bossiness.” Fennec drawled as Cara left them to pull Greef away. She raised her eyebrow at Boba.  “Heavy ordinance or sniping?”

“Yes.”

Fennec let out an amused snort. “You always let me do the fun stuff. That’s why I like you.”

“You like me because I bought the big holoscreen and a full bar for holo-drama nights.”

“That too.”

**

“Osik. That looks like their speeder.” Fenn swore as they came upon a wreck in the desert.

They got out and surveyed the wreckage with dismay. It was empty and the desert around it had been disturbed.

“Oh Banthashit Betty, I will not miss you.” Moxi patted the back of the speeder fondly. “Well? What are you all thinking? They must have gotten a ride from someone.”

“Uh...Alor’ad? Protector Rau? I think we have a...problem?” Felnor’s strangled question made Fenn’s eyebrows pinch together and he shared a look with Woves, who started around to the front of the speeder.

He watched Woves stop in shock and stalked forward to see what the fuss was. When he saw what had them so enthralled, his jaw dropped in shock. There were huge footprints and a message in Mando’a dug in the sand.

You idiots better hurry up. We can’t do all the work. Headed northwest.

“Fierfek.”

“My ba’vod’ade are the best.” Moxi crowed, running back toward the speeder and taking the driver’s seat with relish. “Come on di’kute! Time’s a wasting!”

**

Once they were in the kitchen, Cook turned toward him with two sets of crossed arms.

“Well Lord Raig Oojar? Using my full name is rather serious.”

Raig found Cook’s tone infuriating. The pluck of that woman in the face of what the ad’ika revealed.

“You know why I’m angry.”

“I’m sure I do not.”

“Where is their beskar’gam?” He hissed. “How did you even get it?”

She huffed at him. “It was entrusted into my keeping and here it will remain until my Treasured Ones return this evening to reclaim it.”

Her eyes didn’t move nervously in any direction to indicate where she had stashed it. They remained on him, and her tone remained bland. She was not intimidated by him at all.

“You have a lot of nerve. Are you playing both sides now? Making Din and Paz get rid of your rivals so you can take over since you haven’t managed here at the palace. How very clever of you.” He lunged and she put a huge butcher’s table between them.

“My rivals? However, did you come up with that scenario?” She kept out of his reach, moving around the table, never picking up any of the knives or other implements on it. Like she didn’t see him, an armored warrior, as much of a threat. “I would never be in the business of slaves, spice, or illegal merchandise.”

He scoffed and held up the comlink he had found earlier. “This is a long range, encrypted comlink. The last call was to Nar Shaddaa.”

“I have a perfectly good reason to have that comlink. Are you willing to listen or are you going to continue to be a hotheaded, idiot Mandalorian?”

“Mando’ade are not hotheaded...”

Cook rolled her eyes as she slid away from his grasping arm, batting it away with one of hers. “Are you serious, Raig? You lot are the most impetuous, trigger-happy, rash, armor-covered, banthakarking, morons, in the galaxy. And I am saying that nicely.”

“Get back here! You’re not going to be able to run.” Vaulting the table did not work. Despite her size, she moved faster than he expected and got the table between them again. Then he got a tuber to the eye for the effort.

“Oh dear. I was not aiming for your eye. Tubers are so unpredictable these days.”

He reached for his blaster in irritation, planning to use it as more of a threat to keep the Besalisk in place but a familiar snap hiss stopped his hand. The colored light and the hum were different, but he knew the devastating effect of those weapons. He was not wearing his buy’ce or a gorget.

“I really did not want to have to do this, but you’re being entirely unreasonable.”

“I’m unreasonable? You’re a...working with slavers...”

“I am not. Who told you I was working with slavers?”

“Grogu...”

“Grogu is a youngling, despite being over fifty.  He sees everything from a child’s perspective, behaves like a child, and responds to trusted adults like a child. What he imparts is going to be skewed by his understanding and can be easily misinterpreted by overprotective guardians. If he said something and you are here now, it has nothing to do with him and everything to do with you and what you’ve already found. What evidence do you have, Mandalorian?”

The calm tone in this situation was throwing him off. He was at loss for words for the first time in a while and stood straighter, his shoulders tensing. She grew irritated with him, but another snap, hiss had the weapon disarmed.

“When have any of my kind ever worked with slavers except to bring them down from the inside? You are old enough to know, even if those young ones out there do not. I know you do. Even with all the bad history, I expected better out of you. I should not have.”

“You expected better out of me?”

“I am not working for slavers, you obstinate dolt. My work as a cook here at the palace is an actual job that I enjoy since my original...employers...are all gone. To tell you the truth, I was glad that I had a call about a year ago, bringing me out of retirement.  Now I run missions on the side. I am part of an underground force freeing slaves and getting them the support and opportunities to start a better life. I am well suited for it, after all. Life on the run and in the underground are second nature to me.”

“Does Skywalker know? Does Din?”

“Skywalker is a nuna’s nest for me. It’s complicated. As for Din...” She sighed. “You may know, or you may not...”

“He is ka’ra touched or what your kind call Force sensitive.”

“Yes. He stands out like a shining star. Just like Grogu. He is hard to miss. And...” A speculative look and then a derisive expression. “And Dha’kad, is very loud and obnoxious when they aren’t being careful enough. Their lack of civility and tact...by the Force, it’s a wonder that Din is going to come back here and wade into Mandalorian politics for you all with a friend like that haunting him.”

“He’s going to...no. He can’t be Mand’alor. No. I won’t allow it.”

“Oh, but he is.” Her knowing grin made Raig pale. “You’ll see soon enough.”

“You can’t know that!” He pointed accusingly at her as he felt a chill up his spine. He watched her eyes shift off into the distance and her smile only widened.

“You better keep my Treasured One alive, Raig Oojar. He will bring balance to many places. Not only Mandalorians.” Her eyes sharpened and her smile dropped. “Now get out of my kitchen. Dinner is in half an hour, and you’ll all be eating like krayt dragons. Don’t forget to wash your hands, who knows where those other Mandos have been.”

She shuffled him out and shut the door behind him, leaving Raig stupefied and unsettled. Had she actually....out ba’buired him?  Deflected and made him leave empty-handed, with no real answers and none of the beskargam from the ade? Bamboozled him into dropping his line of questioning?  That was his job!

He straightened his shoulders and took a deep calming breath. He’d come back to this. She couldn’t keep her secrets forever. But right now, he had a challenge to intercept. No bu’ad of his was going to be Mand’alor. It was too dangerous and was already giving him anxiety just thinking of his poor, sweet, honorable, verd’ika trying to wrangle all these...these...besomla utreekov’e. Din would be crushed under the weight of their stupidity. It was not to be allowed.

**

“Challenge Fett and those that stand with him, for interfering.”

“Make him come out of the palace to face you.”

“He cannot protect the Ja’hai’ad forever. He is a disgrace to the blood of Manda’yaim.”

“The Darksaber is yours and we deserve to have a Mand’alor that is not a hut’tuun or one who associates with dar’manda like Fett.”

Koska felt like gnashing her teeth and slipping some vibroblades in between some beskar plates. This was a horrible time for Axe to be on leave, but maybe that was the point. It was entirely possible that Bo Katan had let them schedule his leave for when she was planning to make the Ja’hai’ad come out and face her. Axe would never have pushed for the challenge, knowing full well that a battle against other Mando’ade would lose them favor. That they could not afford to lose with the Darksaber in play.

The confrontation had been suggested as soon as the freighter had come down and their additional troops had spilled out onto the desert sands. Koska was skeptical of the plans pushed forward by the Alor’ad of their Company. He and some of the officers had approached Bo Katan half an hour ago and now the challenge had been made.  

Woves and his loyal officers had kept Bo Katan from making hasty plans and attacks that would cost them, keeping the others reined in when there was no need for battle or conquering. Just cohesive plans and coercive treaties for loyalty. None of them were present now. The influx of the officers coming in with the recall, had brought those who believed wholeheartedly in Kyr’tsad ways, to the forefront. As a Ver’alor, Koska could not step out of line and voice her thoughts on how bad this would look. It was not the right time to bring their faction’s doctrines to the fore. They needed full control over the Mando’ade.

Once they had the Darksaber, they could regain so much favor and gain more power. Power sorely needed as the Council snapped up disenchanted clans left and right, using them to put pressure on their warriors to step in line with their thinking. She knew that some of the other officers, who had been with Bo Katan in the ranks the longest, resented having to listen to or even share the table with those who were newer to their movement or to have to work within the Council’s purview.

She had a suspicion that one of them had leaked the reappearance of the Darksaber to the rumor mill, dissatisfied with their slow progress. Her search for the perpetrator brought her into conflict with many and a tussle with one of them had gotten her a reprimand and a disciplinary action resulting in her having to take a platoon of warriors to the outer rim near Manda’yaim and look for recruits. Which had been unsatisfying, since all those who they had come upon had insisted that the Darksaber needed to be in hand for them to even consider joining with Bo Katan for anything.  Because of the leak. It was maddening.

Adding to the fact that there were more factions out there than they had been prepared to face. Hidden coverts of Ja’hai’ade, Ruug’la Mando’ade, and even some pitiful Evaar’la Mando’ade that had scraped by the Night and then the Purge. None had looked on them fondly, especially when Bo Katan’s name had been brought up. They sneered at the conviction and truth of Koska’s faction, whispering Kyr’tsad under their breaths and shaking their heads. Its why Bo had abandoned recruiting most of them when they were encountered. None of them had the fortitude to take back Manda’yaim like the Nite Owls. Not even the Council and those loyal to them.

This was not good for them. No. She could not weaken her conviction thinking about the disappointment she might face. Even if she did not like the old guard’s plan, they were right. Bo Katan was right. Koska sneered, eyes on the palace. It might look bad, but they needed to take Fett out.

Fett and those that followed him were not Mandalorians, no matter that some of them wore beskar’gam or claimed to be lost clans. They were roadblocks. She believed that whole heartedly. But Fett was crafty, and his people were dangerous. They were outnumbered here and Koska could tell that most of those in attendance were itching for a fight and it was not with Fett.

In the open area on the desert side of the palace, hundreds of Mando’ade gathered, but she could see where the Nite Owls ended, and the others began. When Fett lost, those black and red Mando’ade would come after the Nite Owls. It was a given. And the Council. Manda. The Council was here, and they had brought Protectors. If the Council thought that Bo Katan would let those traitors watch over her once she was Mand’alor they had another thing coming. Once this was all decided, there would be no Council and no Protectors. Only the one true ruler, Bo Katan Kryze and their faction keeping the Mando’ade strong.

“Fett is coming out.” One of the ruus’alor murmured. The whole platoon stood up straighter and focused.

The large doors on this side of the palace came down, all the defenses disarming. Fett was in the lead, wearing his recognizable armor and black robes. He was flanked by two Gamorreans and a huge Wookiee with what looked like bounty hunters and guards.  A large group of yellow and black Mando’ade followed, fully armed. Another group of armored warriors spilled out next to them, armed to the teeth, led by an actual goran and there were unarmored people marked with the kyr’bes on their flight suits, on the shoulders or over their hearts. Up above, on the balconies and battlements, Shand and similar warriors took positions with their weapons trained on those enemies below.

All the jesting and tongue-in-cheek pretense that she had heard about were dropped and Fett's group met this challenge fully prepared to defend their home and the missing holder of the Darksaber. They all came within ten meters of the Nite Owls.

“By the Ka’ra. How did they even find so many gorane? I haven’t seen even one in almost a decade.” A voice whispered to her left.

Another whispered back. “We’re fighting other Mando’ade now? This is ridiculous.”

She looked over the opposition and saw Lord Oojar, shouldering his way through everyone to join Fett’s side. He leaned down to say something that made Fett grimace.  And there, among the Mando’ade in yellow and black was another goran that she hadn’t noticed before. Gorane were so rare now and they had three. Why would all these people follow that hut’tuun Ja’hai’ad? He had done nothing for them!

Bo Katan stepped forward, he eyes flinty and full of provocation. “Fett.”

“What are you challenging me for Kryze? I don’t hold the Darksaber and you have no authority here.” Fett was easily heard because the whole space had gone silent. His tone was dark and malevolent. “It’s counterproductive to get into a fight you can’t win.”

Bo Katan scoffed. “You think I can’t win against you, clone? Or against the dar’manda that stand with you.”

There was a shift in all the people behind him, those without beskargam or buy’ce hissed angrily and those with, stiffened in offense. The Council even looked offended.

Fett just tilted his head to the side and his next words were amused. “Getting a bit ahead of yourself there, princess. You’re not Mand’alor yet. You can’t make your prejudicial leanings the only reality until you are, so you might want to make a ba’slan shev’la and save your strength. You’re going to want to have time to dig deep into that deep pit of spite and conceit for the real challenge.”

His chuckle was ugly.

Koska was beginning to wonder what Fett thought a real challenge could be when four different coms went off.  One of them being hers.

**

Ursa had been listening to the confrontation before her in rapidly escalating levels of disbelief. If Bo Katan had gone mad, Fett had also. And there was Lord Oojar and his distinguished figure wading into the bantha osik pile of a tableau that was this challenge, voluntarily. The other members of the Council, especially Rook were spoiling for a fight and even Captain Zuffra and the venerable Alor Fand looked ready to start swinging. All of their factions were tense and just waiting. Her com going off startled her.

“Ursa Wren.”

“Countess Wren!” There was a lot of interferance, as if from a buffeting wind, but she could make out Protector Rau. “The Mand’alor is coming your way. He’s chasing some slavers. We’ve got to...Moxi where did you learn to drive?!”

The com cut off and Ursa looked up as she felt small vibrations through her boots.

**

Bo Katan’s personal communicator went off at the most inopportune time. Fett’s helmet just tilted mockingly as if to say she better take it. She could see out of the corner of her buy’ce that there were three others taking calls too, Alor Fand pushing her way to Fett’s side, Ursa looking like she was seriously aggrieved, and Koska looking surprised. What in the ka’ra? She gritted her teeth and hissed out a greeting to Woves.

“Woves this had better be important.”

Through a lot of whipping wind, she heard Axe’s tinny voice. “My lady! The Ja’hai’ad is heading your way but there’s something wrong with him. We can’t challenge...banthafarking piece of...”

The com cut off. The ground started to shake.

**

Koska ignored everyone around her even as she felt her ruus’alore lean in to listen. Her brother didn’t even wait for her to greet him before he was off talking.

“By the Manda, Koska! Our ba’vod’ad is one the most kandosii dini’la di’kute I have ever met. We...hang on Tristan! I’ve got you!”

It sounded like the comlink had been dropped as there was a lot of shouting and shuffling. She heard her brother yell ‘this is why we wear seatbelts!’ before the com cut out with a sad fizzle. The sands started to shift around them, and a high whine sounded.

**

Alor Fand pushed Raig to the side as she brandished her comlink in Boba’s sightline.

“Moxi?”

“Alor! You will never guess who I met! Our ba’vod’ad is kandosii’la! And he’s riding a...!” A grunt and the sound of wind rushing by covered that last part, so whoever it was, was in a moving vehicle and going very fast.

Boba’s eyebrows rose behind his buy’ce and he saw Raig stiffen as shouts in the background of the call made it through.

“Would you focus and drive!”

“Both hands on the wheel Fand! BOTH. HANDS!”

“This is why we wear seat belts!”

“The tail has spikes. Manda preserve us!”

Boba wanted to laugh hysterically and cry at the same time as the com cut out and the ground started to shake. The whine of a maxed-out speeder was coming up on them.

**

“Din! What have I been doing all my life?! I could have been out in the galaxy with you, catching slavers and bad guys, but no! I was stuck underground with, with...gah!” Paz yelled his frustration to the wind as Krayt’buir moved forward. He felt Din’s hand on his sun-baked bare shoulder, in comfort and to keep his balance between the head spikes on Krayt’buir’s head.

“Don’t worry about it so much Paz! You’re here now and we can do whatever we want!” Din’s veil fluttered in the wind and the sun glinted off the gold jewelry and beskar.

Paz’ika, you are ours now! There is plenty of adventure in the galaxy that we can partake in! First up?! SLAVER SCUM!

[They will feel these jaws crunch their bones to dust.]

They were coming up on the palace and Paz had to shake his head. These slavers were not the brightest bolts in the blaster. Running toward hundreds of Mando’ade and Fett’s gotra? Dini’la. But he supposed if he had a several hundred-tons dragon on his tail, he would try some unadvisable osik too.

Din’ika! Hold us up so we can see if tossing us into their midst would be an option! We want to bet a hundred credits they will wet their pants!

“I’ll bet two-hundred!” Paz laughed as Din let go of his shoulder and held Dee aloft.

LIGHT ME!

The slavers looking back at them gave shouts of terror as the light sucking black blade shot out of the hilt. 

Paz happened to look over toward the palace as they passed by, seeing a huge crowd of Mando’ade frozen in shock. One even dropped their buy’ce. He waved at a sniper he assumed was Shand as they were peering through the scope on their blaster rifle. After he got an enthusiastic wave back, Paz focused forward and nudged Din a little.

“Wonder what was going back there! Looks like a party!” Paz yelled. “We weren’t even invited!”

They’ve probably eaten all the good cheese by now!

[What is cheese?]

“You’ll love it! We’ll get you some after this job! OYA!” Din yelled back.

“OYA!”

OYA!

[OYA!]

The roar Krayt’buir let out was stupendous as they cleared the palace and continued following the slavers.

**

Ferah was fairly sure that no Mando’ade in this desert had been prepared to see a packed speeder zoom by followed by a crimson krayt dragon with two scantily clad warriors riding between the head spikes, red and blue silks streaming behind them. They definitely were not prepared for the one in red, with a delicate veil and gold crown, to hold the Darksaber aloft and light it. When he screamed oya, sounding the charge, the krayt roared. Some in the pirate section dropped their buy’cese.

“Armorer. Did you just...see that...?” One of the Tribe stuttered in shock.

“We must all be hallucinating together, because there is no way that Din or Paz would have shed their beskar’gam and would be riding a krayt dragon almost naked.” Ferah replied evenly.

Another speeder zoomed by full skeezy looking spacers shouting at the top of their lungs…in Mando’ade.

“Right?” Some else asked, trying to confirm that it was a group hallucination and that could not be their tribe members. “Someone else must have obtained the Darksaber. That wasn’t Din...right?”

A herd of Tuskens, riding eopies as fast as possible, went past them howling gutturally, following the two speeders and the krayt around the palace.

“Oh by the Manda.” Someone whined in despair, throwing their hands up in the air. “Not again. Why is he like this? Dini’la mandokarla.”

A large land speeder rounded the palace and Cook pulled up near the crowd yelling for Fett.

“Get in banthabutts! We’ve got slavers to catch.” She yelled as she idled. She pointed at Ba’buir and her teeth flashed. “Not you Oojar! I’m still salty about you! Use your jetpack.”

“Outta the way, di’kute!” Fett rushed forward, pushing Nite Owls out of his path.

Which was easy because they all were still in shock and docile as newborn loth-kittens. As he scrambled into the speeder, Ferah followed behind him at a fast past, taking her chances along with Alor Fand and Alor Daber.

“Fortify the palace. Watch over the adiik! Those with sen’trase, follow quickly!” Ferah yelled back to the still shocked Tribe. She settled in, buckling her lap harness as Alor Daber and Alor Fand gave out similar instructions. Fett had more than likely given direction via internal coms since his staff headed back inside at a fast clip along with many of the Concordians.

“Let’s go Cook.” Fett bang his hand on the side of the speeder twice. “We’re not getting any younger and we sure as haran aren't giving any of those skanah Nite Owls a ride.”

She heard a lot of sen’trase ignite behind them as they jolted forward.

**

“What the fark just happened?” Alor Rook roared, startling everyone around them.

“That was the Mand’alor.” Alor’ad Zuffra said mildly. She put her buy’ce on and looked at Ursa, tilting her helmet. “He’s a Mand’alor of action. Why would he wait around here for stuffy Mando’ade politics while there were injustices to right? He’s helping his ori’vod clean up this planet.”

“Half naked and on the head of a krayt dragon?” Protector Conte asked in disbelief.

Zuffra watched Loton pick up his buy’ce sheepishly, but he still had a dreamy look in his eye.

“Our ancestors rode mythosaurs. A krayt dragon is just smaller.” Loton sighed admiringly. “Besides, that is not the first krayt he’s faced. At least this one is still alive. I heard he let the greater krayt ingest him to defeat it.”

“Ingest…!” Countess Wren’s jaw dropped in shock.

Zuffra watched her head baar’ur approach quickly.

“Can we ah…go now? All the others are taking off.” They thumbed behind them and Zuffra watched the head cook of Fett’s staff drive off with Fett and three others while many lit up their sen’trase and took off to follow them. “I’d like to at least get to the Mand’alor before he collapses from heat stroke and dehydration. Manda knows what condition he’s in after the last few weeks, being kidnapped again, and rolling around in all this sand. He might have parasites by now.”

Choking sounds from a lot of the Council had Zuffra smirking in her buy’ce. Nothing like shock treatment to get those prudes to get a move on. Zuffra suddenly sympathized with Fett. His frustration with them was starting to make sense. What type of warriors had they become if they could not go into battle at a moment’s notice at the first sign of a vod in trouble? Fett had jumped into the speeder as soon as it had appeared, no hesitation.

The current Daimyo had gone from one incident to another with focus, smooth efficiency, seriousness, and mandokarla in spades. His crew a well-oiled machine focused solely on the mission and achieving victory, letting others be distracted by their petty squabbles and deliberate distractions while they finished the mission. They knew what was always going on and left everyone else in the dust if they weren’t worthy. Masterful. It was no wonder that the Mand’alor trusted them to keep him and his ad safe and to get rid of the interlopers while he was doing good works. They would earn their titles to be part of the elite. Damn the Council and their glacier pace.

“All right. Let’s go. Delta and Eita Squad. Stay here and defend the palace from those blasted Nite Owl di’kute. The palace may not need it with Lady Shand in charge, but a little bolstering never hurts.”

“Oya!”

The two squads peeled off and headed toward the palace.

“Let’s go. We’ve already fallen behind. We’ve got to earn our stripes, verde!”

“Wait!” Alor Lyst held up a hand. “The Council has not sanctioned this.”

Zuffra scoffed. “Alor Lyst, the Beviin be Manda’yaim does not answer to the Council. We follow the Mand’alor and as he is currently riding away on a krayt dragon, we follow.”

Stepping away, she and her crew lit their sen’trase, heading toward the huge cloud of dust in the distance.

**

Fennec watched as the pirates shot off into the air to follow after the convoy of crazy. This must have galvanized the Nite Owls, because most of them followed, including Bo Katan, leaving a skeleton crew to watch the palace. However, there were pirates taking up defense in front of the door and a lot of those inside were manning whatever defensive position they could, which meant they were well covered to take on those idiots. Mandalorians were fierce warriors, but immune to high powered explosives they were not.

 Krrsantan came up behind her a trill-roared a greeting.

“Santo. Hangers secure? I can’t believe you let Cook sweet talk you into using the Clarion land speeder. Thought that was your baby?” She remarked calmly, watching through her scope as an awkward Nite Owl adjusted themselves. “You didn’t do that because Din’s in trouble, did you.”

Fennec snorted at the adamantly roared negative.

“You big liar. I know that you and Din are thick as thieves over your secret project. You know I’ll find out.”

“I know what it is.” Came Cara’s voice. Santo let out a mournful sound.

Sitting back, she watched Cara come up the stairs with a baby sling wrapped around her front. A little green ear poked out of the side, letting Fennec know it was nap time, but Grogu was being fussy. Cara patted Krrsantan on the arm.

“Don’t worry big guy. It’s nothing to be embarrassed over. I know you were helping him de-stress. We all are trying in our own ways.” She took two little knitted dolls out of the sling. One was Boba in armor, and one was Din in armor. “They’re adorable by the way. Did you make the blankets?”

The trilled response was brighter.

“Thought so. They are Wookiee sized.” Cara chortled.

Fennec gasped. “Were you guys in an underground knitting cabal and I wasn’t invited? Where did you find these?”

“Din had another hoard in his room behind a secret panel. I think we’re going to have to interrogate him when he gets back to see where he’s hiding things. This is his third hoard. He may have more. Wait until you see the other dolls!” She crowed.

**

Din felt the burn of the sun on his shoulders and regretted not stopping for his armor on the way. Paz’s skin was starting to redden, and he worried that neither of them would be in any shape to fight once they did catch the slavers if it was going to be a long chase. However, if they were going where he thought they were, this was not going to last much longer.

The di’kute were straining their speeder to go as fast as it could and it was staying ahead of them, but not by much. They were headed in a familiar direction. The small, abandoned way station between the Palace and Mos Eisley was not a good choice for them to operate out of and it was suspicious that they had not been detected before, since the rumors he’d overheard at the bar went back a few months. It was something to bring up with Fennec and Boba once they got back. They might have an agent in their midst. But it also meant that there could be ‘product’ stashed there, as much as that soured his stomach. They’d have to be careful.

“Buir! Circle around. I think I know where they’re going.” He pushed an image and distance into their bond and Krayt’buir slowed, veering off to the side behind a ridge. The slavers cheers made Din roll his eyes.

They settled on the rocky ridge overlooking the station, in between Krayt’buir’s forelegs. It amazed Din how silent and carefully Krayt’buir could move, and how she contorted herself to blend in with the ridge. They hunkered down on their bellies in the shadow of a rock formation and observed. Dee propped themselves up against one of Din’s arms.

The slavers slid to a stop in front of the building in a cloud of dust. They scurried into the building like sidan roaches. Din guessed that some type of fortifications were going up inside and they were arming themselves better. What could they have in there that would go against a krayt? Nothing. It made him smirk in glee.

“What are you thinking?” Paz whispered.

“They might have slaves there. We need to infiltrate, incapacitate the enemy, and preserve any data we find for Cook and Eida.”

“Let’s just say we’re doing this for Cook, please.”

Din let out an amused snort.

We agree. Should we sneak in for you and do some reconnaissance?

“I think that would be best. After all, no one would ever expect the Mando’ad Dha’kad.”

Yessssssssss. Let us just get in position. Come if you hear the signal.

[What is the signal?]

Din looked at Paz with an eyebrow raised and they responded at the same time. “Screaming.”

That is offensive.

Dee had no chance to even leave their position propped up against Din’s arm, as a speeder came into view, pulling up short a distance away from the derelict building. They all got out, cautiously hunkering behind their speeder.

[Ah. I have seen those meatbags before.]

“Really? Huh…” Paz shook his head in confusion. “Those are the banthabutts who broke our cover and is that…Moxi?”

[Are they edible?]

“No.” Din stressed. “One of them is named Axe Woves. He’s one of Bo Katan’s officers.”

“Yes edible, then.” Paz insisted.

“Paz, no!” Din hissed warningly, although it was halfhearted.

“Paz, yes.”

We hate to interrupt your debate on who is edible, yet again, but there are more people coming up behind them.

Dee floated up above their heads as a herd of Tuskens on eopie came to stop near the other Mando’ade. Two scouts split off, starting up the ridge a bit away from them, more than likely to snipe. Moxi seemed to be having a conversation with one of the Tuskens. Soon enough, another speeder approached, this time with people that were immediately recognizable. Three because of their beskar’gam and one for her six arms.

“Awww…why in the ka’ra did they bring ba’buir Fand? She deserves a spa day, not baking in the sun.”

Din had to grin at Paz’s proclamation. The elder had gained a soft spot in both their hearts, fussing over them constantly while the whole covert had prepared to leave. Din swore that he had seen her pinch Paz’s cheeks, but he would never say since she had slipped him some minty candies before they left.

The sound of sen’trase filled the air as the horizon started to fill with small specks that coalesced into Mando’ade. It looked like a colorful cloud of locusts. Well-armed locusts. They started landing, surrounding the way station at least ten deep. Some even landed on the ridge, but nowhere near their hiding spot. Goran Oojar was stalking over to the others after landing.

[They have the same shells as you do. Look at that large one. I did not image that your meatbag kind would be so colorful or of such varying sizes. Are the blue ones your hatchmates?]

“Absolutely not!” Paz squawked. “Just coincidence. I’m repainting my beskar’gam as soon as we get out of this mess.”

We approve. You and Din’ika should think about the clan colors. Skriss’tichlianlisssss’s crimson and our dark grey and black would be lovely.

“Self-promotion much?” Din muttered, keeping an eye on their aliit among the mass of Mando’ade.

[Hatchlings matching their parents is very common. Others would know who you belong to.]

“Ugh. No. I’m rebelling. I am going to paint it what I want.” Paz groused.

So dramatic, Paz’ika. We expected that from Din’ika, not you.

“Hey! Would you all focus? Slavers. We are here to catch slavers.” Din whispered harshly, elbowing Paz.

“My sunburn!”

[If you had been wearing your magnificent shells, your delicate skin would not burn so. Scales and shells are useful.]

See? Even Skriss, may we call you Skriss?

[You may.]

Skriss agrees with us that Mando’ade beskar’gam is a superior form of protection.

[Are Mando…ade the name of your meatbag kind, Dee?]

Oh yes! We are a very magnificent and hardy people. We take in meatbags from all over the galaxy, and they are Mando’ade if they live by our creed, the Resol’nare. Anyone can belong and it’s beautiful. You can become one, Skriss. You would make a stunning Mando’ad.

[It does sound like a favorable option. Desert Home is not very exciting. Now, tell me about…]

Din groaned and rolled over on his back, jostling Paz as he tuned the other two out.

“We are never bringing the two of them on a stake out again. Buire.” Paz breathed in his ear. Din could hear the eye roll.

Din nodded and looked up at the sky. He took a few deep breaths and then rolled back over. He let those two natter, as he and Paz tried to observe the goings on down below. They were too far away to hear anything, but Bo Katan was distinct and stomping around in a fury. Looked like Boba was taunting her. Goran Oojar stepped between them. As did Woves and the sleazy red headed Mando’ade. There was a group of unknowns surrounding them. The pirates and the Tribe however were ignoring the fuss and focusing on the building. Cook was directing with her arms.

A few minutes later, the slavers all came out with their hands above their heads, and they were being prodded by a few unhappy people with blasters. Ah. The captured locals had saved themselves. Din grinned.

“You think if we slunk back to the palace and acted like we had been there the whole time it would be believable?”

Din barked out a laugh and then covered his mouth with his hand. Hopefully no one had heard that.

“Yeah, I didn’t think that would work either.” Paz muttered. “Hey, you two gossipers. The slavers are captured.”

What? Oh. Well, we guess that’s done then. Good job Mando’ade and all that. Teamwork. Oya!

Din pushed himself up and stood, helping Paz upright. He started brushing sand off the silks. “What teamwork? While you were chatting like old biddies, the captured locals did all the work. They freed themselves. No Mando’ade required.”

[Resourceful. Desert Home has hardy meatbags as well.]

The place does grow on you, like a very invasive toe rot.

When Krayt’buir shook made an agreeing sound, Din had to cover his face with one of his hands. Paz carefully put his hand on his shoulder and shook it gently in solidarity. Whatever he was going to say was interrupted by a chirp from Din’s bosom. He retrieved the emergency com from the depths of his harness and turned it on.

“Treasured Ones. Are the four of you done sitting up on the ridge and chatting? I’m afraid there is a situation down here, beyond the slavers, that you will have to take care of immediately. Apparently, someone named Bo Katan…Cheese is making quite a fuss at you being absent. It’s very tense.” Cook sounded unrepentant at getting Bo Katan’s name wrong and there were loud jeering hoots when she said it.

Din burst out laughing and shoved the com into Paz’s hand as he tried to get a hold of himself. Leaning against Krayt’buir’s crest, he tried to stifle the chuckles, but it took a while. In the time that it took him to contain his mirth, Paz had agreed to come down and face the mass of Mando’ade. Dee, however, had started to spark in rage.

“Dee!” Din held his hand out it worry, not touching them because of the sparks, but near all the same. “You’ve got to let it go for now. She won’t win. Ever. You’re not going anywhere.”

“Come on Dee, you think our Din’ika would ever let that crusty old bag win any challenge she makes?”

We just…we don’t think we can stop ourselves from stabbing her. She is an affront to the Manda, no matter what she thinks she has done to save Manda’yaim. The plans she had while I was with her…they remind me of Tor and Pre. Mando’ade and Manda’yaim will perish if she takes the mantle.

“I am one of the last remaining Vizslas and Din is Mand’alor. Her way will never be the Manda’ade way. We swear it.”

Dee let out a gasp and the sparks faded. They wailed in happiness.

You’re going to be Mand’alor? Why didn’t you say?!

Din cleared his throat and toed the ground, suddenly a little shy in his admittance. “It took me a while. But I’ve had a lot of people believe in me and since I’m not going to be alone, because of my aliit, I’ve come around to the idea.”

Dee rocketed into his chest gently and he wrapped a supporting arm around them as they sniveled and did what he guessed was the Darksaber version of crying. Paz’s arm on his shoulders pulled him in closer and they all leaned into Kray’buir’s neck. After a few moments Din pulled Dee away from him and let them free float.

“Gross. You’re getting ka’ra tears all over me.”

You little osik.

Krayt’buir huffed in amusement but ushered them up to her head crest.

[They are getting restless. They have been staring at our spot for a while now. We should go down…and you should let me have a snack.]

Din shook his head. “No snacks.”

[Just one? You won’t even miss them.]

“No.”

Mand’alor the Fun Killer.

“You name me that and I’m banning you from the holoscreen for a month.”

You’re ruining our moment with tyranny. TYRANNY!

“Two months. You’re going to make me start regretting saying yes.” Din snatched Dee out of the air and secured them in his harness.

Din’iiiiiiiiiiika.

Paz scoffed and rolled his eyes as they moved down the ridge. “Shut your kyber. Kaysh cuyir atin. Quit while you’re ahead.”

**

Watching a giant crimson dragon pick its way delicately down a ridge and then deposit two scantily clad Mando’ade before them was not how Axe thought that he’d end his day. One of the suns was close to setting, so the light was less harsh and it was lending everything a rather stunning glow. Especially the costumes of the Ja’hai’ad and his hulking ori’vod. The much sought-after man still had the delicate veil over his face, so only his eyes and brow were visible. His eyebrows rose when Bo Katan pulled herself out of Axe’s grasp and stomped over to him.

“I challenge you for the Darksaber!”

“I will not accept a challenge for Dha’kad.” He paused and then continued. “I will however accept a challenge for the position of Mand’alor.”

Bo Katan snarled. “It is the same thing.”

The Goran from the Ja’hai’ade stepped forward. “I assure you it is not. Do you take up the challenge, verd Kryze?”

Axe winced mentally. Not even an acknowledgement of Bo Katan’s title or station. Gorane were not meant to be messed with. Even Lord Oojar and the Council looked unimpressed and wasn’t that a stinging slap. What had happened while he was chasing the verde before him over all and sundry?

“I accept.” Bo Katan’s barely contained rage almost made Axe sigh. She turned with a huff and returned to their group. But she didn’t return to his side. No, she went into a bowed head meeting with other officers he recognized and did not like. Firfiek! The old guard that she had recalled. He thought that they’d get through this without trying to slaughter other Mando’ade. Koska sidled up to him.

“So?”

He was feeling very disgruntled with this situation and did not feel like being generous to another Reeves.  

“So what? The challenge has been made. What else is there to discuss?” He kicked at the packed dirt under his feet. His anger was starting to build now that he was on the ground and among his own faction. Pieces were starting to fall into place, and they were pieces he didn’t like. “Who pressed the challenge to Fett?”

“The other officers convinced her. It was necessary. She’s the rightful heir and they are dar’manda.”

Axe sneered. “Look around you Koska. Get your head out of your shebs. You think that that way of thinking is going to matter among this crowd? Even if he loses, she will face another and another. They will never let her hold the title again. If he wins, our faction will not be welcome.”

He pointed to the scantily clad Mando’ad that was in a close meeting with Fett.

“He has changed. We will become dar’manda if we don’t change as well.”

He turned away from her wide eyes with heavy breaths. He had not meant say what he said out loud. This had not been the venue for it, but he was too stressed to keep it in. He should reprimand himself. He turned back slightly.

“Make sure you get some water. I’m going to check on the others.”

As he left her behind, a tussle broke out as a slaver tried to escape. The man was stopped short by the pulling of many weapons, but most of them pulled away and almost dropped their weapons in horror when a giant maw descended, almost engulfing him before a shout made the krayt pause.

“BUIR!” The Ja’hai’ade marched over in a fury. “I said no snacks!”

The maw ascended with a grumble, leaving a terrified and shocky man behind. Even clad in cloud of silks and delicate jewelry, the absolute authority of the Mando’ade was not diminished. When he crossed his arms sternly, the dragon looked contrite, if a giant, spiked beast could look so. More grumbling.

“If you do it again, I’m going to put you in a time out.” A huffed-out breath ruffled the silks, but the man was not deterred. “We have food at home. You can wait.”

The krayt trundled off and sat primly next to one of the speeders.

Maybe it was just Axe, but there seemed to be a great disconnect here. Fett and the others were watching the moment with astonishment. If they were not going to say something, he would. Axe was not letting this go. He was done.

“What do you mean buir?”

The Ja’hai’ad turned back to them as his big ori’vod gathered him to his side in a half hug. The smaller man rolled his eyes, but the taller’s smile was sharp and wickedly gleeful.

“We got adopted while we were kidnapped. Buir’s great once you get to know her.”

Chapter Text

Their speeder finally, miraculously came to a stop. Once he felt like he was not going to regurgitate his internal organs and could be vertical without wanting to list sideways, Felnor was able to take in the situation. 

Another speeder was abandoned hastily in front of a shabby building and there was no sign of the krayt dragon or its passengers. He was still confused as to whether their quarry was running away from them or chasing someone else, but he was here for his ba’vod’ad. No matter how scary he had gotten back at the bar about that misunderstanding about his ori’vod.

Wren elbowed him a little as they all huddled behind their speeder and out of sight.

“Vor entye, vod. I was not expecting that turn to be so sharp.”

“I wasn’t either. My first high speed chase was not how the books described it.” Felnor admitted sheepishly.

“You’re welcome.” Moxi said sourly as a herd of eopies and Tuskens came to a stop near them. “I’ve got this...I know some hand sign.”

Felnor watched as Moxi debated with the Tuskens as another speeder came to a stop near them. The occupants disembarked and started across the open ground toward them when the sounds of hundreds of sen’trase filled the air. A giant Mando’ad in dark green and scarlet came over once he had boots on the ground, stalking toward the second speeder group and making harsh whispering demands. He couldn’t hear what was said, but Felnor thought maybe a fist fight would start. However, a goran stepped forward smoothly, joining the conversation between a shorter Mando’ad and the larger one.

The larger one wasn’t looking to fight though, because ever with the harsh motions of his hands, everyone near them seemed to be listening carefully to what he was saying and in one movement all helmets turned toward the Besalisk who had left them, coordinating with the Mando’ade in black and red and some in blue and yellow. That group focused on the shack ignoring the byplay going on behind them, but Felnor’s attention came back to the confrontation. A shiver went through him at the sight of the Goran’s hammers. They must be here to ordain the Mand’alor. Why else would a goran appear here?

“Stay here Felnor, you two. We will find out what is going on. There should not be this many Nite Owls here. Or Mando’ade in general. Or even the Council.” Alor’ad Woves said as he stood and walked over to where Lady Kryze was landing gracefully.

Protector Rau headed over to a group that had a myriad of clan symbols on their armor. That must be the Council. Some of them took of their buy’cese as he approached and looked very dour as they took in the whole scene.

His Alor’ad never reached Lady Kryze before she took off her buy'ce and the yelling started. She was alarmingly angry and Felnor was taken aback. He had never seen her being anything other than calm and calculating. The shorter Mando’ad in green stepped forward sharply, pushing past the others in his group. His gruff voice carried.

“Shut your yap, Kryze. This is Tatooine business and has nothing to do with you. And again, as you can see, he is not here so your presence needn’t be either. Collect your warriors and go.”

“You are a clone and have no business dictating me or anything regarding Mando’ade politics. You will regret your constant interference to my challenge. I don’t care who you are or what you are pretending to be, I should kill you where you stand, hut’tuunla dar’manda!”

Felnor mouth dropped open as Lady Kryze spat more insults at the Mando’ad across from her. The large Mando’ad and Protector Rau stepped forward, as did Alor’ad Woves who seemed to have to physically restrain her. She quieted down after a few harsh words from the bigger Mano’ad, but her face was mutinous.

“Uh...wow. I did not expect so much vitriol. I guess she wants to be Mand’alor too?” Kisk observed. “Or again, I guess. Can you even get a second try after you lose the saber the first time?”

“Thought it was already decided.” Wren muttered, pointing to the colorful group. “The Council called us in to be the guard to the Mand’alor. They are backing the current holder. That’s not going to go over well since the Nite Owls will only back Kryze.”

“Oh.” Felnor whispered faintly. He was a Nite Owl, technically. Should he even be talking with these two? What were the consequences of being on an unsanctioned mission with them? “Uh, I don’t know what to do now then. Should I...follow ner Alor’ad?”

Wren grimaced. “I would not want to get in that tangle. Lady Kryze looks a little unhinged.”

“We should just join the fringes of whoever we belong to, no need to get close to the main bout. It’ll be safer for you at least.” Kisk offered his arm and Felnor clasped it quickly with a broad smile. “It’s been fun Felnor. I hope we get to have more missions together in the future.”

Wren grinned, as he offered up his own arm and a sheet of flimsi. “Here. Take my com number. Hopefully you’ll think about joining the Protectors, yeah? Could be fun.”

Felnor was touched and a little bowled over. He had never received this type of easy welcome and comradery from any of the squads in the company. Even if they had snarked at each other for most of the mission, it had been leagues better than any Nite Owl mission he had ever been on. But he’d have to shelve those thoughts as he saw his sister looking through the crowd and scowling.

“Vor’e vode. I’ll com you.”

“You do that. We’ll expect it. Come on Tristan, I want to see why the Protectors are just standing around like statues. Maybe Conte has picked something up.”

Wren and Kisk wandered off, but Felnor stayed in place, because at that moment, ten beings were marched out of the shack with blasters at their backs. A small cheer went up from the Mando’ade surrounding them.  One mystery solved. Those were the suspected slavers per Kisk’s information, so that meant that his ba’vod’ad was hunting slavers and their impromptu squad had fallen in on the mission. Felnor grinned a little. He knew Shennec was mandokar down to his bones. But everyone else being here was still a mystery.

Their presence was intense and a little awe inspiring. Hundreds of Mando’ade, all working together. It was a little much for such a small band of slavers, but Mando’ade did not do things by halves. Were all these people here to see Lady Kryze challenge the vod who held the saber and had just been roped into this mission same as they had been? 

As the hollering calmed down, the Besalisk pointed to the ridged behind Felnor. Hooting laughter and jeers started up again as a com was talked into and then almost the whole outfit turned to watch the ridge. Felnor watched with them and could feel sweat beading down the side of his face. He was really missing his cooling systems. And his buy’ce too, to cover his dropped jaw as a crimson krayt dragon picked its way down the ridge with his ba’vod’ad riding on its crest.

It came forward, and besides the sniveling of the slavers, everyone was silent. It was probably shock. Because he was in it as he followed the massive creature’s progress. The krayt let the two silk and metal clad men down gently and sat up on its hind legs, making it more monstrous appearing than it was before. Then everything got more confusing, and Felnor could just not comprehending what was going on. There was a disconnect somewhere in his understanding because Lady Kryze was challenging Shennec. His ba’vod’ad. Challenging him for the Darksaber and then the title of Mand’alor. Because he held...the Darksaber...and that would mean...

“Holy osik! Our ba’vod’ad is Mand’alor!” Moxi crowed as she joined him, slapping him on the back, pitching him forward.  “Don’t worry verd’ika. I’m sure Pez will overlook the family connection. You’ll be saying the riduurok soon if you can get passed Bim and that krayt.”

He let out a strangled sound of horror, making her snicker.

**

“What do you want to bet that those all idiots are going to try to come back in the speeder?” Cara surveyed the prowling Nite Owls through her binocs. “Maybe we can shoot all the blue ones to make a Mandalorian blue carpet for them to walk on? Do you think they'd like a welcoming party?”

Krrsantan let out a thoughtful sound as he looked over the desert below them. He was currently providing shade from the evening suns so that Grogu could have a cooler nap. The little one had not wanted to be parted from Cara, so into the baby-sling he went. The Mandalorians running the Daimyo Daycare had their hands full with over forty younglings, so one less was a relief. Especially since he was a known escape artist and a space sorcerer. He was the only child that Cara would willingly put up with though, since he was Din’s, so she took him off their hands. He also shared his snacks, which was another point in his favor. Fennec sat in stillness beside her, and Cara knew by the twitch of her trigger finger that her resolve was being tested.

The other woman rolled her eyes after a moment of thought and nudged Cara. “We have too many bets on the books. You’ll have to get them. They have probably burned themselves to a crisp now that they’re not wearing their armor. And Boba said no shooting if we could help it.”

“Damn him trying to be the mature crime lord now. Let’s go big guy. Fennec can hold things down here and I’m going to need back up that can pick up Din and carry him off if those Mandos start fighting over him. I’ll let Greef and the others know that we’re going to retrieve them.” Cara said as she plucked her com from her belt. “We’ll make sure to heckle both of those moof milkers for you. For being such pains.”

“Compliment them on their glitter application. Din has such a distaste for glitter and confetti.” Fennec shared a conspiratorial smirk with Cara. “And find out their stage names. I want to milk those moofers until they’re begging for mercy.”

The sound that came out of Krrsantan had to be the Wookiee equivalent to evil laughter. Cara would swear it to her grave.

**

After Bo Katan’s verbal spar with Fett and then her rage fueled challenge, Fenn Rau thought she should think about retirement. It was no secret that she had been kicking around in the Kyr’stad colors for more than half a century. It was beginning to not look or sound good on her. He also did not believe that she would win the challenge. That dinii had rode a dragon for kriff’s sake. Wearing barely anything. To hunt down slavers. Bo Katan was jare’la but this verd was on a whole other level. If he didn’t mind fighting dar’beskar’gam, fighting with beskar’gam was not going to faze him. He was not sure what to make of the verd, but retirement was also sounding pretty good to him.

“Protector Rau.” Countess Wren’s sharp voice cut through his thoughts, and he turned from watching the two jare’la verde speak to Fett and focused on her.

“Yes, Countess Wren?”

“Why are you not in beskar’gam? Ver’alor Conte said that you were on another mission. To save vode or some such.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, he shot the whole Council a beleaguered look. “My mission was to find a fellow verd and help his remaining covert. From intelligence gathered, he was ill, and they might have all been ill.”

“Did you find the verd?”

“Yes.”

“Is that how you found yourself here?” Wren waved away her own question. “You had strict instructions. Protecting the Mand’alor.”

Fenn coughed as the bar fight flashed through his mind. “Considering the Mand’alor was the verd I was looking for? It worked out . And to be honest, Countess Wren. He rode here on a dragon in a metal bikini brandishing the Darksaber. The Protectors aren’t going to be enough if that brand of crazy is going to become the norm after the challenge.”

“Buir! I said no snacks!”

Fenn turned around to watch the krayt not eat a slaver. Then get reprimanded and sulk near the speeders. What in the Manda? At least Woves was on the same page and saying what Fenn was thinking because no one else was speaking up.

The bigger verd cheerfully exclaimed, “We got adopted while we were kidnapped. Buir’s great once you get to know her.”

Even though Fett and his group looked shocked, it was a resigned shock. An apathetic shock that you get when you can’t be shocked more. Like they had just given in and knew that was going to be their default setting when dealing with those two verd. Them treating this as normal made Fenn Rau die a little inside, a foreboding of the insanity spiraling out before him. But on the bright side, now the Council got to suffer with him.

**

Dee hummed a little tune as the group of Mando’ade wandered around. There was an obvious split to the factions but most of them were focused on Din, even if he was ignoring their attentions. It was good practice for him when he officially took up the office. And wasn’t that wonderful news? They could not believe that he finally said yes! All his denials had made them doubt their ability to build him up and talk him into fulfilling his destiny and now here they were! So far from hallucinations and denials of destiny. Din’ika was going to be Mand’alor and no undeserving Kryze was going to change that. They would make sure of it.

Din’ika might have said no late-night excursions to take care of offenses to his honor, but he said nothing about day excursions. And there were many, many hours in a Tatooine day under the blistering, hot suns. Why, they could nip out and nip back in within an hour at most. Who would know? Not the Nite Owls. Not Kryze.

[Dee...you are sparking again.]

Oh, we’re terribly sorry. We were thinking of something else. What were you saying?

[That meatbag there...I am distrustful of his intentions. He is trying to attract our hatchling’s regard through a mystifying mating ritual. Do long sighs and glances work on their kind? How will Paz know that he is interested if there is no direct bid for mating?]

Dee focused their attention on the crowd of Mando’ade and picked out the forlorn Mando’ad that Skriss pointed out. Ah. One of the young di’kute from the bar. Making bantha eyes at Paz’ika.

We have come to realize that the meatbags of the Mando’ade have...some problems regulating emotions. They also have problems admitting feelings to themselves. Or even talking to others about them. They also seem to overcomplicate mating as well and have a lot of miscommunications about the issue. It is very common. That one is also young. Inexperienced. Paz’ika is a strong mandokarla ori’ramikad and he is intimidating. We would not be surprised if more slither out of the sand to make bids. Just look at all their admiring gazes.

[And Din’ika?]

Oh. There have been many. Some very inappropriate. But he is oblivious because he is focused on his ad’ika. Or hatchling in this case.

[Our hatchling has a hatchling? And at so young an age? How wonderful.]

Din’ika’s ik’aad is lovely. He is tiny but so smart! You will love them. He was a surprise for Din’ika, that was for sure. But we are a strange little family, coming from all walks of life.

Dee floated in the shadow of Skriss’s crest, and they watched everyone. Someone had gotten some ugly ponchos from somewhere and made sure that Din and Paz were covered from the dying suns after having their sunburns slathered in bacta. That bossy pirate baar’ur was fierce and extremely useful.

Paz walked over to them as Boba and Raig drew Din into an intense conversation.

“We’re heading back. I don’t think that anyone in that lot will let Din out of their sights, so he is going to be stuffed in a speeder.”

What about you?

Paz rolled his eyes and let out an aggravated breath.

“Goran Oojar and the Armorer have made it clear that I will also be stuffed in the speeder alongside him.”

[They are protective. It is understandable. You both attract trouble to an amazing degree.]

“Goran Oojar is not my aliit.” Paz grit out vehemently, crossing his arms. “I am glad that Din has us now, and possibly others. But Oojar is not my ba’buir and I won’t have him taking liberties. I’d rather catch a ride with you. But...and this is a grudging but, I won’t leave Din alone without backup. So, into the speeder I go.”

[You are the best hatchmate.]

Dee chortled when Paz blushed a little at the praise. That was not sunburn.

With Din’ika’s luck and the ka’ra, he’s going to need you, Boba, Cara, and Greef. Gro’ika is a chaos gremlin and too little to oversee his buir.

A strangled cough made them all focus on Din walking up.

“Do not tell Grogu that. He will take that as a challenge because he assures me that he is the only one up for taking care of me properly. He also told me to give everyone lessons on rescues because everyone is bad at it.”

Paz laughed loudly, attracting more admiring gazes. Well, both were attracting admiring gazes, probably for the fact that they were unafraid to stand in front of a krayt dragon and boss her around. But more than likely the admiring was for all the mandokar that they embodied, fearlessly leading the charge to fight in nothing but silks and meager amounts of beskar. Haat verde. As Boba and Cook headed their way, leaving the others behind to stand cautiously next to the big speeder, Dee thought this was the best development. They came close and seemed just as unafraid as Din and Paz.

“Are you ready to go Treasured Ones? You did promise the little one you would be back this evening.”

“Yeah. We’re ready.” Din looked tired to them. Naps might be in order.

[This many-limbed one? She takes care of your hatchling?]

Cook chuckled making most of them snap their attention to her as she responded.

“No Great One. I feed everyone at the palace. The young ones are taken care of by others.”

Excuse you? Have you been able to...

“Hear you? Most of the time. All of you are unshielded and are very loud. Dha’kad, I wish you would not zoom by my kitchen screaming like a banshee when you are upset with someone.”

Dee felt embarrassment blossom in their kyber and felt a monumental need to bury themselves in the sand at their feet. But Din stepped forward in anger.

“You’re a Jetti? I looked for one of your kind for so long. I...” He his anger cooled significantly when Cook slumped with a weary sadness.

She crooned sadly and put two sets of hands on his shoulders gently. “I was a Jedi. I was in the Explorcorps, not a Knight or a Master, just a Jedi service member mapping out wild space. I was far out in the black when most of my Jedi family were slaughtered overnight as the Empire rose. After that, they hunted the survivors, no matter our rank, with a vengeance beyond imagining. It seemed prudent to leave that life behind and never speak of or admit to, the past. I buried my lightsabers on my home planet and tried to never look back. Mandalorians are a people that would understand that desperation to survive, I think.”

Din nodded miserably and Cook gave him a small smile, chucking him under the chin.

Paz stepped forward and Dee could feel the bond between the two vode pulse, as Paz tried to lend comfort. Cook released Din gently, with a pat on the head.

 You’re here now, though? What changed?

Cook sighed, arms hanging loosely by her sides. “Some of my race have an insatiable thirst for adventure and exploration. I am one of them. It’s why I was very well suited to Explorcorps. I worked some for the Rebels here and there over the years when the longing for adventure called to me, but I mostly stayed home and raised a family until they were grown for my many years in hiding. My planet is deep in the core and the Empire barely touched it since it held little value except to be territory for Imps playing warlord.  After Yavin, I felt a calling to come out again, to follow the will of the Force, and here it has led me. To you and your brothers and your little one. To your family. If you wish it, I will help you with your Force sensitivity as much as I am able. Skywalker is a bit of a nunahead.” She looked at Boba. “If I still have a job here. Mandalorians have never had a good relationship with Jedi in the past. Their meddling and mistakes have caused a great deal of grief, to Mandalorians and to the Fett family especially.”

Boba sighed and ran a hand over his head, rubbing at the scars in thought. “In the past I would have killed a Jedi on sight, no questions asked. But I am older now and have far more serious things to worry about than an ex-Jedi. The Jedi I have a grudge against are all dead. There are many here that have shed their pasts to become who they are now. Besides, who am I going to find that can feed hundreds of us and still partly run a criminal empire when we’re trying to rangle Din’ika? Fennec would complain if she had to run it full time and cook.”

“Boba Fett. You softie.” Cook grinned. “You are the best boss.”

“Just for that, your raise is off the table.”

Dee had the urge to croon at the small uptick of Boba’s mouth. Ack. No crooning. Boba would find a way to throw them into a sarlacc pit or something worse. They knew Din’ika had shared their distaste for dirt and tunnels of a dubious nature and the older man would certainly use it at any opportunity.

[Are all of you going to fit in that small meatbag machine?]

Cook let out a startled laugh. “Do you call all of us meatbags?”

“What?” Boba’s eyebrows had raised in concern.

Do not worry so, Bob’ika. We have discussed this. Aliit and those under aliit protection have been deemed inedible. The others are on a case-by-case basis. As you saw with the slaver and Din’ika being a snack tyrant.

“Excuse you?” Both Din and Boba growled at the same time.

Ah...we may have overstepped again.

Paz shook his head and made a shooing motion. “Let’s go. You can discuss your boundaries later. I want my beskar’gam back on and my skin free of the threat of crisping.”

“You won’t get that in the speeder I’m afraid. There’s no canopy to protect your delicate Mandalorian husk and I left your armor in a secure safe at the palace. I do have some water if you’d like?” Cook rung her hands apologetically, but Dee was too busy laughing at the word husk. They’d have to remember that one.

HUSK! She called your skin...a...a husk. Oh Manda!

“Listen here, plasma blade...” Paz bristled.

Dee was sure everyone in their general vicinity felt their great offense, but it was overshadowed by a small transport landing and Cara strolling down the open ramp with a small green ad who was waving frantically at Din’ika. And there went Din’ika, running toward the transport with his poncho and silks streaming behind him and, no regard for anyone else and their lustful gazes, grabbing his ad’ika up gently to give him a mirshmure’cya. All of them had turned to watch him and Cook sighed in contentment.

“Little Treasure certainly has his father wrapped around his little claw.”

They all murmured agreements and Boba chuckled. “Let’s get a move on. I want dinner before Din beats Kryze into the ground.”

“Oh Manda. Dinner sounds great. And a sonic! Hurry up!” Paz headed off, quickly leaving them behind. He shooed Din up the ramp and into the coolness of the ship.

Dee noticed that there were a lot of fallen shoulders and morose looks from the gathered Mando’ade.

“Where did you get those ponchos?” Boba inquired suddenly.

They are particularly ugly.

“Din has been buying everyone ponchos for Life Day photos. I grabbed a few on my way out of the palace. I had a feeling I was going to need them.”

Boba hummed in amusement. “This is revenge for those sand crickets, isn’t it?”

THAT WAS YOU?!

“Sorry boss. I have been sworn to secrecy.”

“Who do you work for, again?” Boba growled playfully.

There was a pause and the three of them spoke at once.

“Fennec.”

“Fennec”

Fennec.

Another pause and Skriss huffed out a breath.

[This Fennec must be a mighty warrior.]

Cook looked up at the krayt. “She is the mightiest. Even Mandalorians fear her.”

[Will she be mad if we dawdle?]

“She most certainly will be mad if we dawdle.” Cook cocked her head to the side, smirking in Boba’s direction. “What punishment will she give out you think?”

Dee squawked.

Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go. We cannot be barred from daytime holos. Jimen is going to admit to being the buir of Tipo’s ad and we want to watch it all implode when it comes out that it’s his buir’s ad and Tico was never in love with him, just using him for his credits and spice connections. We’ll see you back at the palace. Let’s go Skriss!

**

Din had been very dubious about fitting them all into the speeder. It might have been Krrsantan’s huge luxury speeder but there were still seven of them looking to squish themselves into it, one of them being Paz sized. The ship touching down had been a relief. Grogu waving to him from Cara’s arms was a balm to his ragged soul. The last four days had been...testing. But it had been made better by setting things right with Paz and getting adopted and then Grogu’s first word. Nothing was sweeter than a happy ‘buir!’ to him.

He set Grogu down and shucked off the itchy poncho. Grogu held on to him as he settled into a seat and Cara came up right beside him.

“Fennec was admiring your glitter application techniques.”

“Fennec is a...muja muffin.” Din growled covering Grogu’s ears. “She should mind her own business. I’m on to you though. Stop teaming up with her.”

“That’s not how that works, and you know it.” Paz grunted, as he settled down in the last open seat. “That woman is terrifying and there are no secrets. Even I know that, and I have barely known her for more than eight days.”

Din laid his head back on the head rest, agreeing with Paz with a small hum. Kark, he was tired. Even if it had been less than ten days since he was back here, it felt like months. Everything that they had gone through had happened at such a fast pace it was ridiculous. Din did not even know the whole story since he had been drugged or asleep or knocked unconscious.

Krrsantan called back to them to get ready to take off and Din was so ready to be home. In his own bed, with his pillow and his blanket and Grogu curled up next to him. He called back to Krrsantan with a low warble to let him know they were buckled in, making Cara point at him with triumphant eyes.

“I knew it! You know Shryriiwook!”

He could feel Paz roll his eyes. “Dune, really? He knows like a dozen languages. Probably more if it’s mostly curse words and the phrases ‘I can bring you in warm or I can bring you in cold’ and hands up.”

Din trilled like a Wookiee and barked like a Tusken, making Krrsantan roar in laughter. Grogu slapped his little hands against his chest in delight. The kid had always loved hearing all the languages. It had been fun teaching him hand signs like his buir had taught him at one time.

“What did Kryze say on her com message?” Cara asked after a few moments of comfortable silence.

Din rolled his head toward her and opened one eye.

“She doesn’t have my com number. This is the first time I’ve seen or talked to her since the cruiser.”

The shocked look on Cara’s face made Din sit up straighter and open both eyes in alarms.

“What is that look for?” Grogu grumbled and Din absentmindedly patted him on the back. Cara crossed her arms and Pax leaned forward.

“Are you saying that she did com him?” Paz started unwinding the silk from his vambraces hurriedly, checking his com with a curse and finding several messages waiting for him. He shared a concerned look with Din who looked down at his own. “How did she even get the information? She’s been acting like she couldn’t find or contact him all this time.”

Din snorted at Kryze’s ridiculousness. “She must have paid a lot of credits to get it or sliced someone who knew.  I haven't given it to many. Why is she so obsessed with me? It can’t only be for Dee, can it?”

“I think in the beginning it was just about Dee. On the bridge I thought that she was going to leap on you like a gundark and beat you to death with your own helmet for them. But now, after two years of marinating in rage and then getting trolled by all of us? I think she wants to crush you into dust for defying her and being ridiculously awesome at collecting other Mandalorians. She wants to show the rest of us who’s the big boss.”

“She’s met Boba, right?” Din scoffed as he checked for his messages. Eleven opened and twenty unopened. In four days. Who had opened his messages and turned off his notifications?

Paz groaned after flicking through the list of messages on his vambrace. “What’s the damage for you? I have several from the Tribe, mostly from when we were with Krayt’buir.”

Din hit play on his. Boba. Fennec. Cara. Leia Organa-Solo. Goran Oojar. Fennec again. Cook. Boba again. Greef. Then:

“If this is the Mando’ade that holds the Darksaber, I officially challenge you to combat. I am waiting for you on Tatooine. If you don’t appear in a week, I will make your friends pay and then I will hunt you to the ends of the galaxy if you refuse my challenge. Kryze, out!”

Cara whistled. “Kriff. She sounds like a pile of crazy. Are all the rest from her?”

“No. Most are from a number saved on my vambrace, but I don’t recall who it could be.” Din’s eyebrows scrunched in thought. He hit play on all the unopened ones.

“Verd Fand? Shennec? Uh...it’s Felnor. We met in the market? I was just making sure that this was working and to check up on you. You said you were sick. But...uh...I guess I’ll wait for you to respond back.”

“Su’cuy Shennec. It’s Felnor. Sorry. I’m anxious. Normally, I would wait but I was so excited to meet you in the market and I already told my buire that we met and even though they were a little apprehensive, I’m sure that I was able to convince them that it was jate’kara. So, ah, just...I’ll wait to hear from you.”

“Su’cuy again. Just checking in. I wanted to make sure that the virus wasn’t...(Felnor! What are you doing in there? You’ve been in the vac tube for like twenty minutes!)...Would you leave me alone?! Can’t a mando’ad have some time to himself? (Sure...time to himself. More like...) *CLUNK* You kriffers. I was not doing that in there! I would never...oh kriff. *CLICK*”

“Mando? You okay? I expected you to com me right away after learning Little Green was here. But you might be on a bounty. Take care, okay? And stop getting into dogfights. Carbon scoring is no fun to scrub off.  Peli out.”

“We’re going to need more cheese, vod’ika. Things are getting out of hand here. We just got your first tribute and its almost all gone. Why do you keep sending me Mandalorians? Stop. Just...they are not good gifts, and you can’t even get a good exchange rate for them. Stop sending them! I have a criminal enterprise to run!”

“Shennec. It’s Felnor again. Ni ceta for the last message. I’m worried that you’re not comming me back.  I mean, I don’t think that you should have to call me back immediately, because you don’t really know me...but I am worried about you. You sounded very sick. I guess you might be busy though. I’ll com back.”

“It’s Felnor. Again. Ni ceta for all the coms, but I’ve very, very, very worried and I might have done something you might not like, but we’re entering hyperspace and I might be seeing you...*click*”

“Treasured One. I have a feeling that you are very busy. Are you making new friends? Anyway. The reason I’ve commed is that the palace is being overrun by Mandalorians. I suggest a small gift of apology for Daimyo Fett and Lady Fennec. Maybe a new blaster, explosive, or some type of knife? I know you are not doing this deliberately, but something nice might be needed to offset the stress. I’ll be sure to save some muja tarts for you.”

“Din! These pirates are saying they kidnapped you? Are you injured? Whose spines do I have to relocate? Fennec out.”

“...*scritchSCRATCHshuffleshufflescritchSCRATCHcrunchscreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeescritchshuffle*…"

“We’re coming for you buddy! You’re not that close to the sun. Greef! Punch it!”

“Ba’vod’ad. It’s Felnor. Again. We’re just refueling, but ah...we’regoingtobeatTatooineinafewhours. Pleasedon’tbemad. I’msorryforputtingatrackeronyourvambrace. Uh, ret’...I’ll see you.”

“Okay. Okay...you’ve been taken by a krayt dragon...you stupid kriffer. You better be alive, vod’ika. Com me back if you can. I’ve sent Fennec, Cara, and Cobb out for you.”

“....*screeeeeeeeee* Oh hey, Mando. Just letting you know that I found that information you were looking for. It’s gonna cost you, but I know you’re good for it. Why are you interested in that old place anyway? Give me a buzz and I’ll set up a meet.”

“Uh...hello. This is Luke Skywalker. The Jedi...that took your son for training *whine* and didn’t leave you com information. Ow...Leia that is hardly necessary. (Say it or I will!) I take full responsibility for Grogu running away in my x-wing and hope that you can forgive me for the offense. (Luke!) We’re at Boba Fett’s palace and hopetoseeyousoon.”

“Your wizard baby has escaped the palace! Don’t worry though, the Jedi is here. We’ll find him. Focus on getting back here would you? I can’t hold back the horde for long. Fett out.”

“Hello. Mando, I’ve been trying to reach you about a warranty recall for a part on your Razorcrest. If you would like, there are multiple stations where you can obtain a replacement part under the part warranty. Please get back to me as soon as possible, as the part in question has been known to cause small electrical failures...”

“Uh, Shennec. We’re going to be landing on Tatooine in a moment. I asked someone to help me find you, so please stay safe until I can get to you, okay?”

“*whispering* Shennec. We’re on our way...your tracker is very close. (Who are you talking to?) Please be okay. *click*”

“Din...found Grogu...gotta go fight Kryze...get your butts back here, would you?! Boba’s cranky and is really, really done.”

“End of messages. Replay?”

“Well, well, well.”

Din did not like that smirk blossoming on Cara’s face. He frowned and glared at her.

“So...Felnor is...or thinks you’re his ba’vod’ad?” Paz sounded perplexed. He mouthed cousin to Cara who nodded in understanding. “Is this one of those...Ka’ra things?”

Din shrugged his shoulders slightly, mindful of Grogu who had been patting the beskar harness to hear the beskar tone. “He thinks I’m a Fand. Which, if Alor Fand has her way, I will be. But! Apparently the Fands are cousins to the Reeves? It’s all very complicated. Every alias I have tried has been a Mando’ade clan and it’s very frustrating and inconvenient and traumatizing and...oh Manda, it is the Ka’ra isn’t it?”

“Reeves? As in Koska Reeves? Have you been making friends behind the Nite Owls backs? You really are undermining them! I thought I was joking. This Force stuff is so weird.” Cara sounded exasperated now.

Paz chortled a little and Din collapsed back against the seat. Grogu gave a little coo and he could feel a sense of comfort being pushed at him. A little shakey, but his ad’ika was trying.

“Boo-er?”

“It’s okay. Buir is just tired. Tired of the galaxy, really. Not you though. Buir will never get tired of you.” Din closed his eyes and held Grogu closer. “Can I just name myself Mand’alor the Exhausted and Endlessly Irritated?”

He felt both Paz and Cara settle back in their seats, beside him.

“How about Mand’alor the Impudent?” He could hear Paz’s grin.

“Mand’alor In Need of a Nap?” Cara supplied.

“Mand’alor the Indecent?”

Cara gasped. “Mand’alor the Scandalous?”

“The Tart’alor be Mandayaim?”

“Cheese’alor?”

“Mand’alor the Jatne’buir?”

“I dislike the both of you.” Din said with a sigh as they snickered together.

He opened his eyes and watched Cara and Paz high-fived over his head. He felt a small smile settle on his face and a glow fill his heart. He closed his eyes again. It was good to have aliit. Cara tapped her fingers on his vambrace.

“Soooo…what’s going on with the krayt dragon?”

**

Fennec and Cobb had gathered with the Rebels to meet Din and Paz on their triumphant return. She didn’t know why the Rebels had to be there, but the Senator had spun something about galactic cooperation, her brother being a total moron, and him having to prostrate himself at Din’s feet to apologize for losing the Mand’alor’s son. She wanted to watch. The woman was a true terror and Fennec found herself admiring someone from the New Republic. It was...gross.

“Uh...wooooow. That sure is...something.”

“Eyes above the neck, banthaboy.” Fennec whispered harshly to Cobb as they watched Din and Paz come down the ship’s ramp.  “You too, Solo.”

“Hey! We are looking respectfully.”

“One could hardly call you respectable, Solo. If any of you say anything degrading, I will snap you in half.” Fennec warned. Chewbacca howled out a laugh.

Cobb choked a little as they came closer. Din and Paz were chiming.

“Why would we degrade any of that? Are your eyes seeing what our eyes are seeing? Because that is...that is...” Cobb coughed as they came closer.

“A beautiful image of fatherhood.” The Jedi said in a calm flat voice. “Truly a sight to behold and cherish. For all our days. Oh...now that is interesting. I hadn’t sensed that when I met him before.”

“What?”

“They’re both For-owww.” The Senator elbowed her brother hard, with a sharp look.

“Formidable warriors. Yes. They are formidable Mandalorians and very private, private people. Luke.”

The Jedi wheezed harshly and rubbed his chest. “Yes. Very private.”

Fennec rolled her eyes and stepped toward Din. “Welcome back. Finally.”

“It’s good to be back.” Din’s honest reply was tired and happy. His shoulders drooped. “You think I can sleep for a few days before taking up the challenge?”

“Don’t push your luck vod’ika. Dune’s right, she’s a pile of crazy. Best to nip it in the bud and send them on their way.” Vizsla set a large hand on Din’s shoulder and looked toward Fennec. “She give you a lot of trouble here?”

“Not really. We made her cool her heels in the throne room while we all had lunch...and other crisis.”

Din sighed. “That reminds me. Grogu, what do you say to ba’vodu Fennec for giving her trouble?”

“Sowwy.” His downturned ears and evasive eyes had to be the cutest thing Fennec had seen.

She kept the smile off her face and kept it serious. “I accept your apology Grogu.”

Din turned to the Rebels behind her. “You, Jetii. I accept your recognition of your responsibility for Grogu’s absconding, but he also owes you an apology. Grogu?”

“Sowwy M’ster Ook.”

There was a Wookiee coo behind her, and she turned away to hide her smile. Cara was giving her a knowing look and waggled her eyebrows.

“Mand’alor?” Came the polite question.

“Ah, well. I’m not Mand’alor, yet. There’s still some...details to work out. You must be Senator Organa-Solo? I got your message.” Din held out his free arm to the petite woman and she calmly clasped it firmly.

“That’s quite all right. I am not here in my senatorial capacity, at the moment. We took care of the scandal situation with the Mandalorian Clan Council earlier this afternoon while you were indisposed. But I would like to discuss further relations when you have the time and have had a chance to change and freshen up. I happen to know those metal outfits chafe like the no other.” She smiled knowingly.

Fennec smirked. “Jabba’s version had a lot less glitter.”

Din nodded his head at the Senator and then looked at Fennec. “Is it possible to clear most of the hanger out? We have a guest that is going to need some space.”

He handed Grogu over to Cara with a little pat and a stern finger to stay put.

Fennec frowned. “How much space?”

“Uh...krayt sized maybe?” Vizsla winced at her sharp look, and she grabbed a hold of both of their elbows and dragged them around one of the mining freighters.

“What did you do?”

Din sheepishly rubbed the back of his head, dislodging some glitter. Vizsla looked somewhat hesitant to say anything and looked to Din for an explanation. Fennec tapped her foot impatiently and crossed her arms. Din’s eyes refused to meet hers for a few breaths but then, he took a large breath and let it out.

“Remember when Boba did that test on me? When I told you about Dee the first time?”

“And you were negative for pregnancy but positive for the Force?” Fennec drawled while Vizsla choked on air. “Yes. I distinctly remember.”

“He said that I was mildly Force sensitive.”

“And?”

“Well, to start with. I am highly Force sensitive. Much to my detriment.” Din muttered.

“Din?”

“Right. Okay. Okay.” Din gave a full body shake and continued. “We got kidnapped and uh...I adopted Paz as my brother and we bonded...in the Force...the ka’ra...whatever...and then the krayt came...only we used our sorcerer powers to bamboozle it, but it turned out that she spoke Force speak and...we got adopted again as hatchlings.” Din rambled as his hands knifed through the air frantically. “...then we escaped the nest and then discovered the Fands. But we sent them here while we went to Mos Espa...and went undercover to catch slavers...and on the way to capture the slavers, our speeder was hit and died in the desert. Then Krayt’buir came and her and Dee became best buir friends and then we went after the slavers and then all the Mando’ade showed up and Kryze challenged me and now we’re here...with you and Grogu is here...and...and...I need to sit down.”

Din all but collapsed on a covered duracrate looking overwhelmed and exhausted after his long ramble.

Fennec looked over at Vizsla who shrugged his broad shoulders. “We’re very tired. And we don’t want to be space wizards.”

“Tch. You said you were adopted by a krayt dragon?”

“Skriss’tichlianlisssss.” Din supplied helpfully.

Fennec gaped at him. A krayt dragon with a name. This type of thing was getting to be a little too common in their family.

“I know Fennec. I know. I just...I need time to think and the best thing right now is to keep her close until we get things settled.” Din pleaded from the duracrate. “Because I have decided to be Mand’alor if I beat Kryze and then we’ll make plans from there. But I’m not even caught up on what is going on here and I just need...time.”

“Then I guess we’ll make time for you.” Fennec sat on a duracrate across from him. “What do you need me to do?”

“Just like that?” Vizsla shocked tone made her look over and smirk. She got up and held out her arm.

“Fennec Shand. I’ve also been adopted into Clan Mudhorn, House Crazy.”

The man looked dazed and clasped her arm. “Paz Vizsla. Also Clan Mudhorn, House Crazy.”

“Now that we have that settled, let’s make a quick plan. We'll get you back into your armor and out of your very flattering outfits.”

Din blew out a breath, ruffling his veil. “Cook has our armor. She’s driving Krrsantan’s speeder back with the others. The rest are flying back.”

“Where’s Dee?”

“With Krayt’buir, their new best friend. Probably gossiping all the way from the slaver shack.” Paz was looking annoyed, but also fond.

“Our biggest problem is Kryze.” Fennec sat back down on her crate and watched Paz push Din over to make room on his. They both were now completely focused on her. “She is going to want to fight the minute she gets here. She’d shank you while you were sleeping if she could get away with it honorably.”

“Well, she is going to have to wait to shank me. I need water, food, armor, and weapons. I’d like a nap, but that’s off the table.” Din grumbled and gave her a considering look. “The challenge is unavoidable. So, time wasters?”

Paz held a finger up in thought. “We will have to set up a challenge area. No Mando’ade on this planet is going to miss see this challenge. So that will take time.”

“We’ll have to get everyone settled again, make room for your new buir, and get everyone fed. If we take the strategy session to the private lounge, you can use the fresher there and I can have someone send up some food.”

“Good. Good.” Din stood. “You’ll tell everyone else? I just need...”

“A time out?” Fennec laughed. “Go put yourself in time out. You too, Paz. Shoo.”

They both looked all too happy to gather Grogu and scamper off. Before they got out of her hearing range, she saw Din lean into Paz’s space.

“We have a Clan Council? Since when?”

“I don’t know.” Paz shrugged. “Manda. Let’s hope they’re not di’kute.”

Fennec snorted and Cara raised an eyebrow.

“Come on. We’ve got to clear the hanger and I’ll clue you in on the plan.”

“Why do you need a plan? Isn’t this whole thing over?” The Jedi asked hesitantly.

“Those dummies got adopted by a krayt dragon. I hear she’s nice.”

“Is this normal?” Solo shrieked as he overheard them. “What is wrong with you people?”

“What do you mean by ‘you people’?” Boba growled from the shadows.

“Ahhhhhhhh!”

The beautiful scene of a shell-shocked Han Solo being carried off by a Wookiee and a drastically paling Jedi being ushered out by his sister was going to be fuel for a lot of nefarious smirks in the future. When Boba joined them, he took off his helmet.

“Was it something I said?”

**

“Pass me the flatbread.”

“Want some of this mustard?”

Boba watched as Din and Paz ate an impressive amount of food between them.  After the last few days they’d had, it was a simple thing to give them some comfort. Grogu, surprisingly full, played with the pieces of the costumes the two men had gladly dumped in the corner earlier, as they took their turn with the sonics. The ring of beskar when the little one banged two pieced together made him shake his head.

He still could not get over the fact that the two of them actually wore them, but after the explanation of where they got them, why they donned them, and what they had been doing all this time he understood. Somewhat. Trust those two to find dancing costumes made from beskar. The odds of that were astronomical and yet, with all Din’s luck and mandokar spirit, the fact that he was Mandalorian could not be denied. The chatter in the crowds of Mando’ade downstairs was favorable to Din’s position and he doubted that Kryze was even aware that some of her younger Nite Owls were questioning their mission and their part in it. His spies were doing their jobs, getting him the lay of the land.

“I told everyone, no bets on this. The books are closed on Din versus Kryze. We’d fleece all of them anyway. There’s no way that he’d let her win.” Fennec whispered next to him. “He told me that he has decided to become Mand’alor. Are you worried?”

Boba caught the edge of one of the bandeaus as Grogu ran by. He inspected it with a frown and tossed it back to the waiting ad who took it with a shriek and continued toward the table. Beskar against beskar rang out again as the little one tapped Paz’s greave with relish. He liked the sound, it brought back good memories.  

“We have faced worse odds.” Boba murmured. “He is tired and stretched thin, but he is formidable and one of the best Mandalorians she’ll ever have the chance to face. I’m not worried about him, exactly. I am worried about what she will do after she loses. She comes from a faction that does not care about the casualties it causes in their fights to come out on top. Hell, she even plotted to kill her own sister. You saw the frothing zeal she has about her right to lead. If he wins the role of Mand’alor, she will not concede easily and she will not give up on attaining Dee.”

“You want me to kill her?” Fennec’s question was said seriously. Not a fraction of jest in her tone.  

Boba hummed in thought. “We’ll make that the worst-case scenario backup plan. We’ll watch and wait otherwise. When she makes a move against him, she’ll find that there are worse things than the Empire waiting for her.”

“What plots are you two hatching over there?” Din called from the table. “You aren’t trying to plan revenge for me sending the refugees, are you? I said I was sorry.”

“No. No. Nothing like that.” Boba stood with a grunt. “We were talking about the betting pools. Are you finished stuffing yourselves?”

Paz patted his armored stomach. “Oh yes. Any more and I’d have to loosen my armor. Din’ll be done in a minute.”

“Fennec will take the little one to the minders.”

“Come on Green Bean.” Grogu squawked in protest as Fennec swept him up, making him drop the beskar bandeau. However, as she held him close to Din to say goodbye, the thing floated into his hands.

Din sighed and leaned over, butting his forehead into Grogu’s. “I’ll see you soon buddy. Please mind your ba’vodu. And Fennec. No more sweets or you’re going to have to settle him for sleep.”

“Yes buir.” Fennec smirked and walked out. “Let’s see what trouble Auntie Fennec can get us into.”

As a comfortable silence fell in the room, Paz looked between him and Din and wiped his mouth a final time with his napkin before tossing it down. The chair scraped back, and he donned his buy’ce before standing.

“I’ve got to retrieve something from my room, and I’ll meet you downstairs for final prep?”

“That should be fine.” Din said quietly, sopping up some red sauce with his flatbread. He kept his focus on his plate as Paz left.

After a moment he spoke up. “You’ve been anxious to talk to me. I can feel it.”

Boba sat heavily in the empty chair, leaning forward to brace his elbows on the table.

“I am sorry.”

“I know you lied about the severity of my Force sensitivity to keep me together. I was not in a good place and to put that on top of the pile of kark I had gone through? Protecting me was your top priority. You were being a good vod, so you don’t have to apologize for that. Why lie about Dee though?”

He blew out a gust of air and ran his hands over his face. “I had to be sure.”

“You threw them down a hallway when I told you they were haunted, and you threatened them. You didn’t believe me? I thought…”

Boba held up a hand to interrupt him. “I believed you enough. But I had to be sure and afterwards, it never seemed like the right time to bring it up. My buir…”

Din winced and crossed his arm, waiting patiently.

Boba continued, “When you told me about Dee, I just, I needed time to think. So, I bullshitted. I was shocked, concerned, angry, and a whole host of other things I could not express at that moment. There was a ton of history I had to parse through.”

Din looked sorrowful then and hunched in on himself. “Were you angry with me?”

“Not at all vod’ika. I was worried for you.” Boba came around the table and grasped his shoulder, making him relax. “Believe me, if I was angry with you, you would know.”

A small acknowledging smile appeared on Din’s face as he looked up at him. “What did you have to be sure about?”

“It was my buir all over again, haunted by something you didn’t want. I could not let that stand, but I had to be sure that they would not drive you away, like they had driven my buir. You took it better than he did, and you’d actually bonded to Dee. My buir was as Force sensitive as a rock.”

Din stood abruptly, bumping into him. “Thank you, Boba. For everything.”

“You’re thanking me when I’m apologizing to you?” Boba said perplexed and taken aback. “I don’t…”

Their armor clashed as Din embraced him tightly.

“You’re aliit. When you need to apologize to me, I’ll let you know.”

Boba embraced him back fiercely.

“We’re sentimental di’kute, aren’t we?”

“Shhhh. Don’t tell anyone.” Din’s chest expanded with his small chuffs. “You’re ruining the moment.”

After they broke their embrace, Boba looked at Din fondly.

“I’ll go down and make sure they haven’t started gnawing on the furniture or each other. Take a breather and I’ll see you down there.”

“Yeah. A breather. I’ll be down.” Boba wasn’t sure about Din’s sad tone, but he let it go. He’d talk when he wanted to, and not a second before.

**

Ferah had been dreading and looking forward to this meeting in equal measure since they had started their quest. The Tribe members who had followed her away from the reigning Alor Vizsla believed this to be a journey to find a permanent home away from dar’aliit and recover Din from his way ward travels to protect his ik’aad. When Fett had made her personal mission of apologizing public, it was disarming. But she bore it and while the Tribe had been upset about her secrecy regarding the Dha’kad and Din’s beskar’gam, they understood why she would have kept it secret. Their previous Alor would have hunted Din and killed him. That he let them all go was worrying.

The Alor had been strict and inflexible, using the ancient Way of the Mandalore to control every aspect of the Tribe. Even the gorane, as highly respected and revered as they were, had been forced to maintain the harsh rules that had been interpreted and put upon them. A following passed down from her buire and one she was gladly breaking away from. It had taken a great loss to make her start questioning her Way. Banishing Din had protected him but it had also pushed him so far out of reach. It was the sign she needed that it was time.

Her purpose bolstered her, made her work through everything in a steady manner. Made her lead this part of the Tribe away and toward a new Way, a better one. It had also made her doubt, to worry, to fall to her lowest point. She had been pragmatic all her life, keeping toward her steady and enduring nature, which had made her the best candidate for a goran. But that position took her away from her aliit and put the mantle of impartial judge and watcher on her shoulders, preventing her from making connections. She had been existing outside to protect the vulnerable inside. It had been an easy decision to take on the position in the beginning. But the Purge had changed everything and made the decision harder and harder to accept.

She hardly recognized herself and could not find the Way she had been taught in the Way that they had been living in the last decade. It was unacceptable.

She found herself waiting outside the door for the Private Lounge. All the others had gone ahead except Daimyo Fett. He had stayed behind to talk with Din. When he came out, alone, Ferah stepped forward.

“I would like to talk to him.”

“Go ahead. But if he is injured by Kryze because of you, your life is forfeit. Clear?”

“I would expect no less from a protective ori’vod.”

“Hmph.” He eyed her menacingly for a moment before donning his buy’ce and striding off.

The door slid open, and she stepped in quickly. Her breath caught in her throat as she spied his broad back and shoulders, covered in beskar. Unfamiliar and familiar all the same. He had the same curly brown hair she remembered. He was looking down in deep thought and shook out his shoulders to compose himself and address whoever had entered. As he turned, on his hip plate were two small handprints. One human and one three fingered to match his tiny ad’ika. The helmet sitting on the table beside him had horns. Oh. He had a wary look on his face but did not tell her to leave. It was more than she deserved.

“Armorer.” It was respectful and distant. He had been expecting someone else, the emotions on his face had changed so quickly. His face settled into a passive mask.

She stepped further inside, nearing him until they stood but two feet apart.

“I have done you a great disservice. And a grave dishonor.” She started.

“If you had not, I would not have found my purpose. Your pushing me and making me strive for better, has gotten me through my darkest days. The end justified the means.” He deflected stoically, turning toward her fully.

“Not this time.” She breathed through her nose for two breaths before taking off her gloves and dropping them to the floor. Another breath and she released the seal on her buy’ce and lifted it off of her head, baring her face.

He had started reaching forward in horror but jolted to a stop as her face was revealed. He took a step back, suddenly unsure, his eyes looking down to the floor, avoiding her own. She set her buy’ce on the floor and knelt quickly folding her hands in her lap.

“Ni ceta. N’eparavu takisit.” She bowed her head and waited. It was but a moment before she heard a heavy thump and there were hands grabbing her own. She raised her head, to find Din kneeling before her, warm brown eyes starting to water. (I kneel/I’m sorry. I eat my insult.)

“K’lamot di’dunla.” He gripped her hands hard. “Gedet’ye k’lamot. Gedet’ye.” (Rise forgiven. – Please rise. Please.)

“Nayc. Nayc.” She shook her head. “Gar cuy ner dinui teh kaysh. Ni go’naasir cuun ca’nara tome. Ni ceta.” (No. No. You were my gift from him. I wasted our time together. I’m sorry.)

A tear dripped down his face and with a moan of sorrow he pressed her hands into his forehead.

“Ni payt gar. Ni payt gar bal ni echoy par ner vode. Ni na gana ijaat. Ni trattok’or ner buir!” (I left you. I left you and I mourn for my brothers and sisters. I have no honor. I failed my buir.)

“Nayc.” Tugging her hands from his grip, she cradled his face, making him look at her. “K’uur.”

He started to shake his head and pull away, but she stopped him gently.

“Nayc, Din. Nayc. We failed you. I failed you. He told you I would protect you and I didn’t. Dren would be so proud of you. K'uur, k’uur. Listen to me. You wear ner vod’s beskar’gam with honor. You are his vencuyot, his jate’ka’ra, his dinui, and he would never, not ever forsake you for being who you are.”

“But I forsook the Way...”

She pulled him into a kov’nynir, mindful of her horns. “You walk your own Way now. It suits you well.”

“What about…about you? You can never go back.”

“I will also find my own Way. We all will.”

“But…”

"Mhi cuyir Mando’ade. Foundlings are our future. Even stubborn grown ones.”

His hands covered hers as he closed his eyes, tears still dripping down his face. She was not soft, not known to be gentle, not known for breaking her composure or being upset. But she was in this moment, and she had denied her duty to her vod’s ad for far too long. But no longer. She took him by surprise, she could tell, as she gathered him to her in a fierce hug. He hesitated, but then was hugging her back just as fiercely.

“Ba’vodu.” It was rough, full of despair and hope, and that one word filled her whole being with light and made her hold him tighter.

“Din’ika.”

They were united again. Even if they still had much to talk through and grievances to air, they were together again.

**

Paz felt sorrow and heartache burst across his bond with Din as he secured his blaster canon to its mounts. Grabbing his buy’ce he headed back to the private lounge at a fast clip. Whoever had upset Din was going to answer to him and if it was just Din trying to get through something, he’d help him. He had known, no matter what front Din had been putting up, that something was weighing on him and it wasn’t the choice he made about being Mand’alor. It was something older and deep rooted. Paz had not wanted to break it open so soon after they had reconciled, partly afraid that he was the cause, but more afraid that it would make Din too vulnerable to face Kryze.

As he entered the hall that led to the lounge, Raig Oojar straightened from his slouch on the wall and blocked his path.

“You will move or I will make you.” Paz hissed angrily.

“Ferah is with him.” The soothing rumble only made Paz angrier.

“I do not care. She’s upsetting him. He’s hurting.”

The larger Mando’ad gave out a concerned hum. “How do you know?”

Paz pulled his smaller blaster, easier for close quarters. “I can feel it. Now move.”

“Paz!”

Shouldering his way passed him failed as a giant hand grabbed his vambrace and spun him around. His blaster was knocked from his other hand as he was pushed against the wall. He kicked out and gained some space, but the man was a giant wall. Even as big as Paz was, Oojar still towered over him. And Paz was compromised. The misery coming through the bond was distracting him. He was neutralized easily as Oojar held a forearm against him, trapping him against the wall. He had to lower himself and his buy’ce close to Paz.

“Listen to me. Listen.” The man was breathing heaving keeping his straining body trapped. Good.

“I’m not listening to some aruettii like you! Ni or’parguur gar!” He snarled, throwing his buy’ce forward, cracking the other man a good one. He gained no release though. Oojar barely even reeled. Shabuir. “Let me go.”

“Paz. Your vod’ika is all right. She would never hurt him. She’s his ba’vodu.” He pressed in closer. “I would never hurt him. I would never hurt you.”                                                                               

“I don’t trust you! You show up after all this time, keeping secrets, gaining his trust. For what? Are you going to abandon him too? Like you abandoned buir when she joined Kyr’stad?”

“So, you do remember.” Oojar breathed faintly.

Paz strained harder, reaching for a vibroblade. He was surprised when he was released and Oojar backed to the other side of the hallway, leaning against it. Paz pushed himself up with his shoulders and unsheathed his vibroblade, but all the fight had gone out of the other.

“I did not abandon your buir. She was always welcome at the compound, no matter her affiliation with Kyr’stad. She turned away from the aliit because the Vizslas demanded unwavering loyalty. Pre and your buir especially. Dis was not the only one they tore away from us. They took Dren. They took Kell, and Constanz, and Jora. They took Ferah when they poisoned the sect of Ja’hai’ade that sheltered them. And they took you.” He sounded wretched. His buy’ce lifted and the visor stared at Paz. “We searched for all of you, even under the threat of the Empire. We came close right before the Purge, but your buire turned us away. We mourned you all, hoped you would join us. And years later, a verd’ika with Dren’s beskar’gam shows up, looking for a Goran to refit it. You cannot believe the relief I felt, knowing at least some of you lived.”

“I don’t…I don’t believe you.” Paz refused to entertain what the man said even if he was unsure. Now wasn’t the time to unpack all of this. He turned away and moved forward, intending to ignore the older warrior. “You all lie. The only aliit I have is my vod’ika, and you will not keep him from me.”

Oojar stood fully. “What do you feel now?”

Paz stopped. “What?”

“The Ka’ra. What does it tell you? I know you can tell if I’m lying.”

Paz clenched his teeth. The Ka’ra had not chimed with falsehood when the man had spoken. The bond with Din had also become quiet, with only faint pangs of mourning, sadness, and a muted contentment.

“Does he know? That you’re the Armorer’s aliit? Her ba’buir?”

“No. I was waiting.”

Paz scoffed. “Springing it on him will not endear him to you, shabuir. We are all tired of secrets.”

“I know that. I did not mean to keep this one.”

“It doesn’t make it better. You had plenty of chances.” Paz scowled inside his buy’ce. “I’m telling him. About you.”

“Of course. Does he know about you?”

“Of course.” Paz rolled his eyes but refused to look at the utreekov. “When we were younger, Beroya Jorr explained that we were related. Din was over the moons. It was exciting to be actual ba’vod’ade, even distant. It did not matter that my buire thought it a negligible connection. I thought it counted and Din was allowed to think the same. Dren being one of yours makes sense. I didn’t know he was the Armorer’s brother until now. He always felt too good to be from the Vizsla side.”

Kark. He always shared more than he meant to with this skanah. It was maddening. He could feel the air displace around him as Oojar moved. Having the bastard at his back made the hairs on his neck stand up, but the Ka’ra had been silent about him. He wasn’t a danger physically.

“Paz?”

He focused on the two figures down the hall and headed toward them. He reached out and clasped Din at the shoulders, looking him over. Eyes a little red and puffy, hair a little more out of place than usual, slight slump to his shoulders. The Armorer at his side moved slightly and Paz had the irrational urge to hiss at her. But he refrained, tugging his vod’ika forward and heading back down the hallway. He tucked Din under his arm, and it was a good thing it was his left side. The blaster cannon on his right would have made their walk awkward. As they passed Oojar, he growled lowly in his throat and Din squirmed a little. He tightened his hand on Din’s upper arm and he ceased.

“Is that your blaster? Why did you-”

“Don’t worry about it. I hated that one anyway.” He felt concern at his clipped tone but could not stop for anything until they left the other two far behind him. Ducking into an empty room, he finally stopped and took of his buy’ce, running a hand through his shaggy hair.

“Did you fight with Goran Oojar?”

“Yes. I felt your distress and came to make sure you were okay.”

Din’s pinkening face betrayed his embarrassment. “I’m sorry, ori’vod. I can’t control it.”

“I told you I don’t mind. We'll see what Cook can help with. But...Din. Are you all right to engage Kryze in this challenge? We can stall. We can find a way.” He gripped his upper arm gently.

Din was shaking his head, shrugging out of his concerned grip. He paced a few times before, tipping his head back with a large rush of breath.

“I thought I had let something go that I hadn’t. Speaking with the Armorer scraped a wound open but more in the abrading debris out way than the intentionally opening it to make me suffer way.”

“Ah.”

“Talking about feelings is hard when I didn’t know I was still feeling them.” The small deprecating smile made Paz sad. “I’m still learning to not give things away with my face. Horribly bad at it.”

Paz huffed out a breath and waited a beat. When nothing was forthcoming, he tried again. “Are you okay to face this challenge?”

That second repetition seemed bring Din out of whatever place he had fallen into. Paz could guess, having fallen into quite a few places in the last two years, but now was not the time to get distracted or distract Din further.

“I am okay. I may be a little shaky, but that has never stopped me from doing what has needed to be done.”

Paz shook his head. “See? That right there leads to Imp Med Centers exploding and charging into Concordia mines by yourself. You get destructive when you’re overwhelmed, have the ka’ra, and have no other outlet or sense. So, I am going to ask again. Are you balanced enough to take on this challenge?”

Din fell into stillness, assessing himself the way they were taught in the corps. Deep breaths and release, repetition to balance. Reflection.

Din looked at him in determination. “I am ready to take on this challenge.”

“Jate. We'll talk over everything later.” Paz promised, as they both donned their buy’cese.

“Must we?”

“It’s therapeutic.”

“For whom?”

**

“Where have you been?”

Raig was glad that his buy’ce hid his wince from the speaker of that question. That they stood in the middle of the Clan Council like they had been there this entire time made the question more probing and problematic. Leita Fand would have led the Council instead of Wren if their whole clan had not been in hiding so far from yaim. A chilling prospect.

“I had things to see to.” He said firmly. He could tell by the stubborn tilt of her buy’ce that she was not going to let this go.

“What things?” An impertinent question that shocked the rest of them. They were not used to her forwardness since their respect of him kept them from prying when he knew they wanted to.

“Alor Fand, perhaps Lord Oojar’s business is extremely personal.” Alor Lyst demurred. “We would not want to press him.”

Leita’s buy’ce tilted further in challenge. “Why not? It seems like he is directly involved. He’s got his large sausage fingers in a lot of tiingilar casseroles.”

There were a few indignant gasps at her audacity and insulting tone, but Wren had suddenly focused in on him. Leita had a way of brushing propriety aside to rip the meat out of the problem and peck at it until tenderized. Infernal harpy.

“Lord Oojar?” Wren was being polite, but now it wasn’t just a question.

“It was concerning my aliit. It has been taken care of.”

Leita scoffed. “Which one of your get raised the Mand’alor?”

There were many exclamations of ‘Alor Fand!’ and mutterings of outrage, but even shocked, most of them were still leaning in for an answer. Then there was Kryze, one of her officers, and Protector Rau who had come upon them, and stood stock still.

Raig cleared his throat, but his answer was still laden with sorrow. “Dren Jorr.”

Countess Wren looked horror stricken. “Dren had an ad. All this time. Who...who would...”

“Rull Vizsla.”

Kryze went stock still. But the officer next to her looked conflicted.

“And I suppose the Goran that has been following you around is Ferah Joor.” Leita remarked, watching the woman in question speak to a group of her Tribe members. She tsked in aggravation at his slight nod. “You’re letting him take the challenge?”

Raig sputtered. “Letting him? Are you serious Fand? No one lets him do anything, he just does it. Krayt dragon parent comes to mind right now.”

“Just like you then.” She remarked smoothly. Her buy’ce turned away from him. “What do you want Kryze?”

“I’ve come to request that the Council make him produce the Darksaber as proof of his claim. Some things said by Lord Oojar concern me and I wish to see the weapon with my own eyes.”

“You saw it hours ago when he was riding the dragon across the desert.” Leita pointed out. Kryze frowned.

“It needs to be present during the challenge.”

The way she said that almost made him believe she knew about Dee but her next sentence put a stop to that thought.

“That weapon is the mark of the Mand’alor. It needs to be visible and accessible to the winner of the challenge and wielded by its owner.”

“Granted.” Alor Rook looked at Raig. “Make sure he knows that it’s required Lord Oojar.”

Raig closed his eyes, to gather his patience. Dee was a wild card. This was not going to be good.

**

Peli stuck her head around a stack of equipment, staying well away from their new guest.

“Dee! Your presence has been requested in the training area.”

We were just getting to the juicy bits of Between Love and Power. It can’t wait?

“Nope. I guess the Council is requesting you be there.”

Peli heard the saber scoff as they rolled around the duracrate in a tantrum.

More like that skanah Kryze requested we be there. Ugh.

The krayt dragon tapped a huge claw in admonishment.

Right. Right. Someone must watch over Din’ika and the others. Might as well be us.

Another tap.

You’re sure? It’ll get boring.

There was a small shake of the enormous head and Dee rose, hovering for a moment before zipping off.

Peli sighed. If she could deal with a sentient lightsaber, she could deal with a sentient krayt dragon. The things she did for her Mando and Green Bean. Tossing her grease rag over her shoulder, she approached and settled on the crate.

“You ever play sabacc? I’ll teach you the basics. We’ll have to get bigger cards later.”

Chapter Text

The minute Koska got a chance to see Felnor, her eyes zero in on the darkening bruise on his cheek. Also, the spacer getup. And the companions he hastily said goodbye to, one of which looked to be related to Countess Wren. He also looked oddly cheerful and giddy, which was vastly different from the worried he was this morning. Axe had shoved a large carry bag into his arms with an irritated huff and swanned off with his own into the bowels of Fett’s palace. She’d have to fix things with Axe. He had seemed out of sorts at the desert shack. But now her focus was completely on Felnor.

He was so absorbed in whatever daydream he was having that he startled at her greeting.

“Oh heeeeeeeey Koska.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Oh no. I uh...well, I was just thinking of other things.” A blush settled high on his cheeks.

“Thinking of other things? You’re supposed to be on duty with your squad!” Koska’s annoyance was starting to flare up.

Felnor took a defensive stance as his blush darkened in annoyance. “I haven’t received an assignment and I was with Alor’ad Woves.”

“And Protectors.” Koska hissed with disdain.

“So?” Felnor snapped. “What’s wrong with Protectors? They have real jobs instead of floating around the Rim menacing other Mando’ade and dreaming of the reclamation of our home.”

Koska gasped in shock at Felnor’s outburst, but her brows drew down in anger. “Felnor. You are out of line.”

Felnor who looked shock at his own outburst, squared his shoulders. "I...I guess that I am. Koska. I’m quitting the Nite Owls.”

“What?” Koska started to feel faint.

“I’m twenty-nine years old and I’ve never made a good fit for the ranks. I’ve just been drifting along behind you trying to do something with my life. But now, I know what I want, and I can’t get that if I’m a Nite Owl.”

“Felnor, you can’t. You...”

“I certainly can.” He said proudly and with relish. “I am resigning in the morning. I thought that I should tell you first.”

He walked off with a spring in his step, leaving Koska baffled. What was getting into everyone? First Bo Katan and Axe and now Felnor. This was all that Ja’hai’ad’s fault. She just knew it.

**

Boba surveyed the giant arena that they had uncovered months ago, from his private Jabba sized box. He had a throne in here and everything. Boba had been aware that there was one in the palace, but they had never needed to use it since none of them were into slave orgies, gladiatorial death matches, or beast fights like Jabba had been. The space had its uses though. Like how they were now using it to host hundreds of Mandalorians all biting at the bit to see something happen to Kryze, good or ill. Her own faction thought she had become Mand’alor, the rest of them thought she be beaten into the dirt and sent packing. Being sent packing was what worried Boba the most.

She might have been very vocal about the challenge and her rage at Din and Boba for ‘stymying’ her for two years, but even his best scouts had gained little information on what she’d actually been up to the last two years and the thirty years before that. Her force numbers were a mystery, and her real plans were buried under the polite public plans she tossed to the Council to get them off her back.

Some of what they had gotten was interesting and telling, though.  Kryze had raged for months and told only her closest officers why. The cruiser fight was kept secret, and they continued completing whatever machinations Kryze wanted while also searching for Din discreetly. It was business as usual until six months ago, when someone in the upper echelons let slip that the Darksaber was in play. Apparently, Kryze not being able to produce it hindered their plans. With no one claiming to be Mand’alor or producing the saber, Kryze was frozen out of leadership over the Mandalorians. Not that there were a lot of Mandalorians willing to raise their hands to take on that responsibility. Kryze frothing at the mouth at any mention of the Darksaber was probably a great detractor.

So now Kryze was here to claim her rightful title and claim the saber. Kryze, who had been given the saber, lost it to Gideon or someone else, and was now bent on gaining it the proper way. But in the past seventy years, who could say what the proper way was? Tor took it from the Vizsla family vault to spite Jaster Mereel, Pre took it from wherever his Buir had sent it, and Sabine Wren had stolen it from Maul, lost it to Saxon and then won it back from Saxon, giving it away the next moment to who she thought would be a better leader.

Sad to say that Maul, who was a Sith, and Gideon, who was an aruetii and Mandalorian slaughterer, knew the rules of the saber better than the actual Mandalorians. And then there was Din, his poor clueless vod’ika. Taking on a thousand years of mistakes regarding the saber and turning all this on its head.

There were going to be a lot of Mandalorians besides Kryze who would push back against that. Mostly old school Death Watch aligned. If they could not let go of their feuds and infighting to go against the Empire and keep Mandalore alive when it needed it most, they sure as shit weren’t going to come together with the other clans to take back their home in a combined effort and save their culture. Horrible ol’ Death Watch values, going strong and staying steady and true.

“You look grim.” Raig had joined him in the private box, setting his helmet on one of the seats.

“You look the same.” Boba opined, looking back at the drooping man with crossed arms. “I imagine the reason for our some of our grimness is related.”

Raig let out an inelegant snort. “This is a mess. Clear up one thing and three more take their place. And now Kryze is asking for Dee to be present and in view during the challenge.”

“She’s got to keep her eye on the prize and all that rot. Maybe it will inspire her to win. Not that Dee won’t wield themselves if Din loses and stab her a little or lop her head off. Lightsabers are good for that.” Boba said bitterly.

“Would it make me a horrible ba’buir if I said that I don’t want him to be Mand’alor? I know that there is no way he would lose, but is it so terrible to not want him to be crushed under the idiocy that has been the last several decades?”

“Absolutely not.” Boba tapped his fingers on one of his elbows and turned fully. “He will be a great Mand’alor because he is choosing to be and wants to be. He wants to keep them alive. But the fights that are coming are not going to be easy, or fair, or bloodless, or even turn out the way that we need them to turn out. Din may even die. So no, I don’t think it’s horrible of you to want to keep him safe from Mandalorian foolishness.”

“So what are we going to do?”

“I’m not going to lie to you, old man. Killing her is a contingency plan. We’ll even burn through her ranks if we must.”

Raig looked reproachfully at him, and Boba rolled his eyes.

“Don’t give me your sad, disappointed in you, ba’buir eyes. I am not a saint Raig. I’m not even a particularly good person having done what I’ve done. The sarlacc might have changed my outlook on life but it will never stop me from getting done what needs to be done and protecting what family I have left. Even my foolish vod’ika.”

“I guess I can’t give you those eyes when my one hundred and twenty-nine years are just as bloody and unsaintly. I’m also going to protect what family I have left.” He sounded wounded and mired in the past.

“I had a feeling that you would be saying that. You going to be the warrior grandpa or wise lord?”

Raig chuffed.  “Well. Warrior grandpa does have a strangely charming ring to it.”

“I’ll have Fennec send you the secret meeting times later. Looks like we might be starting soon.”

Raig didn’t have a chance to respond as Mandalorian children started streaming into the private box along with their caretakers. Fennec ambled in well after them, still in possession of Grogu in an outward facing sling. She had a chunk of fried cheese on a stick in one hand and a drink in the other. Grogu had a fried amphibian on a stick. At Raig and Boba’s raised eyebrows, she shrugged.

“Cook set up a concession stand. It's like we’re going to a bolo-ball game instead of a ruling challenge. We are becoming domesticated.” The moue of disgust on her face made Boba laugh as he took his seat on the throne. Raig, Fennec, and Grogu settled close to him. “Cara’s sitting with Paz on Team Buir’s bench. Greef will be along shortly.”

“I’ve saved him a seat.” Raig gestured to the one to his right.

“So you two can gossip.” Fennec rolled her eyes and took a bite of her crunchy snack. It sounded crispy and smelled delicious.

Boba started to reach over. “Let me have a bite.”

“No. Get your own.” Fennec was vehement as she moved her stick farther away from him. Grogu was okay with sharing though and waved his around in glee.

Boba shook his head gently. “That’s okay, ad’ika. You eat it. I’m not big on frogs.”

Grogu didn’t have to be told twice and shoved the whole thing in his mouth. It was a good think Fennec had set her drink on the arm of the throne because she had to grab the stick.

**

“I know you’re not worried about losing. But are you overthinking other things?” Paz inquired, as they headed down to the challenge area.

“Yes. Everything is more difficult and intricate now. Just winning here will not be enough.”

Paz hummed in thought next to him.

Din had never had a complicated worldview. Growing up in the Tribe, he never thought about much else besides being a beroya, keeping the Tribe protected and intact, and keep his corps and beroya training up to snuff. It was straightforward. Wade through the osik that was the Outer rim in his ship, learn new languages and skills while he navigated. Get a puck (or three), hunt, maybe fight, turn in bounty, get payment, start again. Simple. Now though, now, he was thinking about everything. Grogu. Clan Mudhorn. Dee. The fact he said yes to the craziness of being Mand’alor. Mando’ade as a whole. The history of their people, their idiocy, the number of Mando’ade that may be out there, the possible tactics of taking a planet, who was trustworthy. Who wasn’t.

He was under no illusions that Bo Katan would capitulate to his rule. She also would not be above using dirty tactics to make sure that she won the challenge or did considerable damage to him during the fight. Making him suffer for the humiliation and aggravation he had caused her. He knew her type. If working with the scum of the Outer Rim hadn’t taught him that, his buir sure had.

He had not understood it back then, but his buir had skirted the history blackout of the Tribe and gave him lessons on types of people and groups he might meet on his hunts. Without naming names and pointing fingers to Mando’ade, of course. But here they were, in the Mando’ade flesh. But he had more to protect than himself. Dee’s hatred for Bo Katan could cause a panic if they started murdering before Din got to explain, which was why he had wanted them to stay with Krayt’buir. Trust Bo Katan to put herself in the most danger. It was always a certainty that the whole of the Mando’ade were going to freak out about Dee (Din had at first) but the chance of Dee murdering someone, because of their hotheadedness and refusal to have any sort of tact, was going to make all their problems multiply exponentially.

He sighed and looked over at Paz. “I am catapulting us into a stinger’s nest.”

“That was a given and I signed up for it.”

“You did not.” Din protested.

“Ah, ah, ah.” Paz wagged his finger sternly. “You said no take-backs. I’m a krayt hatchling of Clan Mudhorn, House Crazy and I will never be daunted by the prospect of a stinger’s nest. It’s why I carry a plasma canon.”

Seeing Paz pat his canon fondly made Din smile and shake his head.

“Besides, Din. I told you. You are not doing this alone. You might be Mand’alor, but we’re your back up. You think Fett or Shand don’t have twenty contingency plans in the works already? That Dune isn’t counting weapons and ordinance? Haran, Alore Fand and Daber probably have assault plans to steal Kryze’s cruiser and freighter. The pirates are on your side no questions asked. Aaaaand the Gorane will more than likely be ready to fire up some forges and get everyone kitted out in actual beskar beskar’gam as soon as possible. Solus ori’jarela traat’aliit.” (One big crazy team.)

Din stopped and Paz stopped a bit ahead of him and turned back, hands of his hips. He tilted his buy’ce in questioning amusement.

Din let out a whoosh of air. The lingering tension that he’d had even after his meeting with his Ba’vodu fell away. He could always count on his vode to get his head on straight. They’d always have his back.

He straightened determinedly and started forward. “The old way is over. Mudhorns will rule now.”

**

Felnor was on his way to the arena, after getting back into his beskar’gam, when there was a pile up at karking concession stand. As seriously as the Daimyo seemed to treat this challenge, even going as far as to provide a venue for it in his own palace, he also was not above prodding at them all with pointed humorous goings on, like a concession stand selling fried amphibians...and cheese. But he had heard that the betting books for the palace had been shut down to show support for their comrade and solidarity in their derision for the Nite Owls. Not that it was just them showing the derision. He’d been hissed at and jeered by a few Mando’ade in black and red. So, he went around that mess and found himself in an empty hallway that hopefully was going in the right direction.  It was a few moments before he heard two sets of heavy footsteps in cadence with each other. Two distinct figures appeared around the corner. He stopped to let them pass, but they stopped in front of him.

“Uh...” Manda, his palms were sweating in his gloves.

A horned helmet tilted questioningly, but then the Mando’ad took off his buy’ce and Felnor was struck by how kind the older man looked. The bigger Mando’ad at his side crossed his arms and Felnor had to look away to prevent awkward staring. It didn’t look like either of them wanted to skewer him for the incident at the bar.

“Felnor Reeves?”

“Y-yes.” He squeaked. Damn his nerves!

A slow, warm smile spread over the man’s face, and he held out his hand for a greeting clasp. “Su’cuy. Ner gai Din Djarin.”

“Su’cuy.” Felnor’s face fell as he clasped the man’s arm. He felt very foolish now. Koska was right. A hand fell on his shoulder and pauldron causing him to look up.

“Hey now, Felnor. You’re still my ba’vod’ad. Can’t take that back now. Not after you spent so much time worrying about me that you chased me across the sands of Tattoine. So, chin up, yeah?”

The man across from him couldn’t see it, but Felnor had a wobbly smile going on under his buy’ce. Din’s ori’vod huffed in amusement and Felnor felt his face blushing. Was it getting hot in here? Din shook his arm, and he released it quickly in embarrassment. Just like the first time they had met.

A wry smile came up on Din’s face and he looked a little sheepish. “Sorry about before...in the bar. I don’t know what came over me, but I uh...just want to apologize for threatening you.”

A disbelieving scoff from their side made Felnor laugh, even as his face became warmer.

“Don’t worry about it ba’vod’ad.”

“Ahem. As much as I love touching family reunions, we have a beating...er...challenge to see to.” Din’s ori’vod started leading him away as the man gave a jaunty wave and donned his buy’ce.

“Re’turcye mhi!” Din called back and Felnor felt his spirits buoy at the cheerful tone.

“Oh, Reeves! Right, left, right! Better get to your seat.” The bigger man called back with a laugh. “See you after the match.”

Now his face felt like it was on fire, but he still had a stupid grin on his face.

**

Paz left him at the ground entrance to the arena. He and Cara had apparently nominated themselves as Team Buir and were making sure all the med supplies they would ever need would be on hand. Just in case, Din, geez (we might have to patch her up out of the goodness of our hearts). He would say they were being worry warts, but with his experience with the Fighting Corps, the Outer Rim, and homicidal Darksabers, it never hurt to be extra prepared for any eventuality. Huffing in good humor, he leaned his shoulder on the doorway and watched them all flit and dither about.

Ba’vodu was officiating and telling the Council what’s what. They did not look happy about it, but everyone learned sooner or later, no one said no to a Goran. It was the way of things. He smirked as someone set up the pedestal. Dee was going to be on an ego trip for days after this.

Fancy meeting you here.

Din snorted and looked sideways to where Dee floated in a bit of a whimsical pattern.

“I’d say you were drunk, but I know that’s not possible.”

Listen, we need to make this quick. She’s not going to be much of a challenge. You know that, we know that, and most of the Mando’ade know that. She‘s delusional.

“Are you trying to rush this along because there’s a new episode of Between the Sheets?”

Dee spluttered and Din grinned wickedly.

That is a naughty show. We would never.

“Uh-huh. I know you’re invested in that torrid affair, don‘t lie.” Din was unconvinced of their denial, giving them a side eye as Dee gave a disdainful fake sniff. There was a little burst of humor over their bond.

They fell into a companionable and peaceful silence. Then Bo Katan appeared on the other side of the arena, with two familiar Mando’ade at her side, plus a few extras that were not known. Dee gave a disdainful sniff again and hissed, sparking. There was also a spike of rage over their bond.

“You’re sparking a little.”

Okay, fine. Fine. We’re cool. We’re fine. See, no sparking.

The sparks had disappeared, and the rage had turned down to a slow simmer. Dee drifted over and bumped into his shoulder.

Look at her. Fifty-one years she’s been at this and not once has she ever understood the true meaning of the Creed. We were optimistic, once, while in the hands of Kyr’stad, but the horrors and mistakes piled up almost immediately. They continued, hand after hand. Until you. We are so very proud of you Din’ika.

“I’m very proud of you too.”

What for?

“Think about it. You’ll surprise yourself.”

Paz whistled lowly and Din pushed away from the wall. Plucking Dee gently from the air he confidently strode into the arena. The new red cape pressed on him by Boba, making it even more dramatic than it needed to be.

**

Grogu squealed in delight when he was handed another fried frog by Grandpa Greef. Now that Ba’vodu Fennec explained he wasn’t supposed to eat the stick, he wouldn’t. He hoped Buir wouldn’t be upset that he had extras, but they weren’t sweets! He’d understand.

“Grogu. Do you want some water?”

Grogu scrunched his face at Ba’buir and shook his head no. The man sighed, just like Buir. He was glad that the golden-eyed man was his ba’buir, because he was fun and gentle and he would be able to take care of buir too. Buir needed a lot of people to take care of him, but Grogu was the best at it. Buir even said so.

“Leave him be Raig. Stop ba’buiring him.” Ba’vodu Boba was watching him from his big chair with a small smile and Grogu smiled back at him. “Fennec, hand him here. He should have the best seat to watch the spectacle.”

He was glad Ba’vodu knew he liked to sit in seats. The slings were important because Buir said they were but he like being free to jump when he could. He settled next to Ba’vodu and tapped on his metal arm protector. It rang, but not as clear as Buir’s metal protector. It was still satisfying. Looking around from his new vantage point he could see the whole big space and it was filled with more Mandalorians than he had ever seen. He wondered if they were all Buir’s Mandalorians. Ba’vodu Paz had said that Buir was collecting them. Like he collected Ba’buir and Golden Lady!

“Now Grogu. This is a very serious...match. It’s a fight but the fight is for a prize, almost like a game.” Ba’vodu pointed to a few Mandalorians on the floor. “That red headed one? She’s on one side.”

Oh, Grogu loved games. But a fight game? With that woman? That didn’t seem like something fun. He remembered her and she was very mean to Buir. Buir said fighting should only be done as a last resort. The prize must be important if someone agreed to fight Mean Red for it. Were these games like training games? Grogu shuffled near Ba’buir to sign his questions. Sadly, Ba’vodu was just starting to learn sign.

:Ba’buir? Like a training game? What prize?:

Ba'buir leaned over. “Ah...this is not a training game. More like, to see who can defeat the other. And the prize is to lead the Mando’ade.”

:Like Buir and his Mandalorians?:

Ba’buir started coughing but waved off Grandpa Greef and Ba’vodu Fennec who were offering him their drinks.

“What did he say?” Grandpa Greef asked.

“Ahem. Grogu, your buir will be facing off against Lady Bo Katan...” He pointed at the red head that Ba’vodu had earlier and Grogu could not hold in his questions.

:BUIR?? Buir is fighting Mean Red?:

Ba’buir didn’t answer because he was too busy laughing, making a lot of people look over at them. Grogu was getting impatient though. He had to know. Why was Buir fighting? It was hard to wait, but when Ba’buir stopped laughing he questioned him again.

:Why is Buir fighting? He has Mandalorians!:

Ba’buir gave out small chuckles as he spoke. “Your buir is going to fight to lead all Mando’ade, not just the ones...he already has. Manda...Mean Red – Bo Katan...also wants to lead. So...this is a...test.” The sign for Bo Katan was strange, so he refused to try to repeat it.

:For a prize?:

“It used to be Dha’kad--the uh Darksaber.” Ba’buir made another new sign when he said Darksaber. “Now it’s the title of leader to all Mando’ade.”

:Darksaber is a Mandalorian. Why fight for one when the prize is all Mandalorians?:

Ba’buir’s eyes widened, and he rumble hummed. He whispered to Ba’vodu Boba and Fennec for a minute before answering. Adults always took so long to answer his questions.

“A lot of people, including Bo Katan...don’t know that Dha’kad is alive or a Mando’ad, even though they should. Your buir is going to show them, but he has to win.”

:Mean Red and not-Buir’s Mandalorians are dumb. Buir will win and show them about Darksaber and how to be Mandalorians.:

When Ba’buir nodded, Grogu sat down in a huff. Buir would show Mean Red and these dumb Mandalorians what being a Mandalorian was. He was teaching Grogu, he could teach them. Master Luke said one could learn new things even if they were old, so he didn’t see why Mean Red would not be able to. At least Buir’s Mandalorians were smart and knew Darksaber was one of them.

**

Fennec wanted to laugh aloud at Raig’s explanation of what Grogu said.  She had always wondered how much the sprout really understood. It turned out the kid was ahead of his time. She would even say smarter than most sentients, anyway.

Boba leaned over and whispered to her. “I can’t believe that Din’s kid understands personhood and being a Mandalorian better than a thousand years of Mando’ade.”

“Better than Mean Red at least.” Fennec shared a smirk with Boba as their eyes slid to the side to observe the adorably huffy goblin child that had crossed his little arms and pursed his lips.

It was a Din look, down to the put-upon sigh he gave out when Greef tried to entice him with another treat. That cute petulant child dropped the minute Din appeared on the floor. He jumped around with little cheers and hoots. Raig even had to catch him on a particularly exuberant jump and set him gently back on the throne.

“I see you got him to wear the cape.” Fennec sighed and sat back after another rowdy cheer from Grogu. “We’re all wrapped around his claws, aren’t we.”

“We might be, but you’re the one still wearing the baby sling.”

**

The Mando’ad preparing across from Bo Katan was not going to go down easy, no matter what the older ranks of the Nite Owls thought. Axe had to wonder if any of them thought this through after they had learned more about the man and where he had come from. He might have been Ja’hai’ade but he had trained under a branch of the Vizsla clan.

Their alor had been the Vizsla who had run the fighting corps for Pre Vizsla and the Kyr’stad. Rull Vizsla had been a vicious and brutal man who had trained their ori’ramikade forces to be just as brutal and efficient. The man’s buir, Dren Jorr, had been an ori’ramikad that was admired and talked about still. This was his ad. His legacy. He would have trained him as an ori’ramikad and Beroya. He would not have left him untrained or unprepared.

The old guard had seen him in the desert, without beskar’gam, and thought him weak and easy to triumph over, sneered at his easy-going leadership. They didn’t know. They had never seen him plow down a hallway full of blaster fire, keep going after a beating by a Darktrooper, nor had most of them seen the footage of his fight with Moff Gideon. But Bo Katan had, and she had heard every single story they had gathered as they hunted him down. She still treated it as inevitable that he would lose. He could tell some of the younger Nite Owls observing the challenge were intimidated since he calmly discarded the blood red cape and now stood in a full set of pure beskar’gam. His body language was still and watchful, like a predator.

The man was not bothered by the uptick in whispering when the goran in the golden buy’ce handed him a spear. He just exchanged the Darksaber with them and continued to his side of the arena, attaching it to its place on his back. That cape he always wore had hidden a lot of weapon capabilities and Axe was unsure even now of what he carried, even with the sen’tra gone.

The goran placed the Darksaber on a pedestal, situating it so that it looked as if the hilt was watching over the whole match.  The other man was not going to use the saber in the fight? What did that mean? Axe was starting to get a bad feeling as the big ori’ramikade from the alley and a New Republic shock trooper took their places behind the other man as his second and assistant.

“My Lady.”

“Alor’ad Woves, please do not ask me to reconsider. I am tired of your arguments. This fight happens today.” Bo Katan’s formal dismissal was short and pointed, making Axe frown.

He looked at Koska who shrugged and took up her position as assistant. Why did she even ask the two of them to be here when she wouldn’t listen to what they had to say? He was full of such uncertainty and frustration as he took his place as second. Koska had added to his worries by saying that the Lord of House Ferst had intimated that no one was going to be winning the saber ever again and that this challenge was for the leadership of Mando’ade only. That Ja’hai’ad goran had even stressed it when they had all met up in the desert.

The Darksaber was not in play anymore. It made the last two years pointless, if that was the case. Like he had said countless times and pushed countless other options or strategies over the years. The search for the Darksaber had replaced their mission to free Manda’yaim. It had been folly to accept the old guards' excuses and need for an outdated and unneeded tradition.

Under the watchful stares of the Council, the Protectors, Fett’s denizens, and hundreds of other Mando’ade, the Nite Owls were coming to see what the last two years had really been about. If the sentiments of this gathering of Mando’ade swayed the way he thought, their faction was going to be under fire before the day was over.

It was like he said to Koska, earlier. Even if Bo Katan won (but dare he say, very unlikely), only the Nite Owls would still follow her and the others sure as haran would not let her keep the title of Mand’alor. She would have a line out the door of people ready to take it, if the gorane and Council would even acknowledge her right to it. After all the time she spent in pursuit of it, it had never been more out of her grasp than now. She would not even acknowledge the possibility of losing and what would come after.

If the Ja’hai’ad won, well. The changes would be incalculable. Maybe Rau was right. They should retire. Because this was going to be a mess

**

Din started cataloging Bo Katan’s potential the moment he stood across from her, waiting for the challenge to officially start. His skin prickled from the many eyes on him, and he could feel a great deal of hostility in the air. Dee was giving off some, but the majority was from the crowd. Parsing out who it was for would waste too much of his concentration, so he went back to cataloging.

Two blaster pistols. Whipcord. Flame thrower. Possible vambrace blade. A beskad. Now, that was unusual. Possible training to wield Dee. Arrogant. Only one vibroblade visible, but with Mando’ade that was a decoy, there was always more than one. Would have to watch her hands. She could more than likely move like a gundark and climb him like Cara had suggested. Fennec’s moves came to mind. She was smaller, more agile, but she was also twice his age (not that that had stopped a lot of Mando’ade he’d known from wiping the floor with him in training) so stamina might be significantly less.

No thigh guards. Weak point. Buy’ce viewfinder and array. Another weak point. Smaller vambraces. Less weapon capability and less forearm protection.  Chest plate had more coverage than his own, but her back plate was smaller. No coverage over the lower spine and organs.  Shorter flack vest too. No groin coverage. Ori’ramikad or scout beskar’gam rather than heavy or full set. Built for speed and raiding. With sen’trase taken out of the fight, this was all going to be on the ground. Might give him a bit of an advantage since using a sen’tra was not something he was familiar with using in combat until recently. Ground fighting was his expertise.

He’d not seen her fight much, but she seemed to prefer ranged weapons than melee. But, if she was trained like Paz’s dar’buire under the Vizsla house like everyone intimated, melee of any type was not going to be a problem.  If he was going to win, he’d have to outlast her first few salvos, watch for openings, and use brute strength to make it hurt enough that he’d wear her down. His hand tightened into a fist. She would fail this challenge.

“Are you both prepared?” The Armorer called from the sidelines. She stood next to Dee’s pedestal. Behind her was the so-called Council. From what he had heard, they were nosy busybodies. In the coming months, their worth to him was going to have to be proven. But now, their use was negligible.

“I am ready.” Bo Katan yelled angrily. Already frothing at the mouth and wasting energy by letting her obsession get the better of her.

Din wanted to shake his head at her idiocy but did not. He took a deep breath and called out a steady, “I am ready.”

“Step toward the center. This challenge ends at yield, injury that requires the second’s yield, or unconsciousness resulting in the second’s yield. Do you understand and agree?” The Armorer’s tone demanded obedience even when some of the Nite Owls in their section began to hiss and boo.

Her buy’ce turned toward their section slowly and Din grinned. Manda, facing that buy'ce when she was in a mood had always been like walking toward your own funeral. It showed that they had not had a goran in their ranks in a long time, because they would not have dared to make such overtures with one overseeing a challenge, if they had.

“IF there is ANY interference from any Mando’ade not involved in this challenge, you will be declared dar’manda and stripped of your beskar’gam to face me and the disgrace you embody. Do not test me.”

The arena went silent, the discontent Nite Owls shut down with the force of beskar laced words. Ouch.

“Combatants. Do you understand the rules?”

Bo Katan looked like she did not want to agree, but her mouth twisted in a grimace. “I do.”

The Armorer’s buy’ce turned to him for an answer.

“I do.”

“Then begin.”

A hush descended, while Bo Katan and Din took in their opponents. He could always trust Bo Katan to change things up on him, either by being duplicitous or by pulling her beskad instead of the blasters at her hips. Smart. But she still chose a recognizable fighting stance. Shriek-hawk was classic Fighting Corps. He chose Mudhorn as he drew his spear, which was his Mando’ad training plus all his experience, fighting, and learning. Most beroya developed their own over time. Being predictable got you killed, which was why beroya adapted the best if they were smart about it. Once he got the long spear...training with it became imperative and it also gave him an advantage which she would not have. Reach.

Three breaths in and three breaths out. Then it was all movement.

He thrust forward on her left and she reacted with a crossbody parry to sweep it aside, but he had retracted already, stepping back, and slashing upward to her right. She got it another downward parry, making screeching contact, but he was already retracting again. She lunged forward with a straight downward slash, and he countered with a horizontal block, twisting under, and using the butt of the spear to deliver a blow to her chest plate. The blow would hurt but it did not deter her from whirling around and delivering two quick slashes.

He avoided the first with a quick step and blocked the second with the butt of the spear. He was never so glad for his hand guards than that moment, as the beskad’s blade came dangerously close. He disengaged quickly bringing the spear’s tip around and getting a strike to her buy’ce. She stumbled a bit at the resonant clang, and he took the chance to do a backward low sweep, hooking a leg and toppling her. She did a complicated little tumble to pop back up, but now she had her blaster in her left hand, beskad still in her right. That quick draw and fire was a specialty of hers and he ended up with a fiery bolt of pain in his right bicep, right through the flight suit, but it was only a glancing wound.

The four-meter distance he had gotten between them was used quickly by Bo Katan, as she took the offensive this time. Din did not mind. Defense was useful. It helped one outlast an enemy if it was sufficient in protection. Especially in one-on-one fights. She was aiming for his soft spots, but after a lifetime of having bounties do the same, one learned to turn the other cheek, or in this case, shift in stance so that there was less to shoot and what was visible was almost all beskar. He was going to be bruised and burned like a mishandled fruit, but he was not going to have any significant holes. She closed in, wary of the reach of his spear but confident that the cover from the blaster would let her get in hits with the beskad.

Well, that beskad had to go. Digging his boots in the ground, he swept out with a two-handed thrust, pivoting with the swing, putting a lot of force to her blade, closer to the hilt than she was prepared for. A one-handed sword had a lot less leverage and it was proven when her wrist could not handle the parry needed against the strength of his strike. Her hand lost its grip on the hilt, but as he let go of the lower shaft, she recovered enough he got a grazing burn to his flank. Most of that one had hit his chest plate. Even with the searing stripe, his spear did not stop its pivot around his back, bringing the butt around for a forceful jab to her chest plate. She took a few stumbling steps back, shooting all the while. His hit made her shots go wide and useless.

He heard her hiss through her vocoder as she shook out her hand. But it was quick as she drew her second blaster now that the beskad was lost. It had not gone far, but she was not going to risk giving him an opening with a diving roll to get it back. Especially now that he could see some blood from where he had hooked her back leg earlier. He must have caught her with the spear head. She was quick though, getting a shot to his chest plate again, that knocked him back some, but not enough to knock him out of his defensive stance.

She continued to shoot with both blasters, trying to move further out of spear range and circle him. He deflected a few with his vambrace, especially the ones aimed specifically at his head. He got another searing stripe on the side of his thigh. But, eh. His deflection and refusal to draw his own blaster or show his back were irritating her now. Bo Katan fired more rapidly, and Din had to force himself not to roll his eyes. Beskar was made to withstand more than a blaster and unlike Cook who had six arms, he only had two. And the arm holding the spear was the same as the one that would draw the blaster. He hated crossbody draws. They left you vulnerable and there was more of a chance that your blaster would not clear the holster in time for it to do any good.

“You’re a hut’tuunla, dar’manda pretender who doesn’t deserve to lead the Mando’ade.” Bo Katan hissed, finally starting to use her words as weapons.

Din winced but straightened his shoulders. He might have thought that at one point, but he had found his own Way. He swung the spear to his left hand, taking the strain off the blaster wound in his upper arm and drew a vibroblade from the hidden sheath behind his blaster.

“Are you going to actually fight or hide behind your blasters all day?” He taunted back, squaring up as her left blaster let out a whine. Out of charges. He wanted to say he didn’t smirk, but he did.

She tossed the blaster away carelessly, drawing a long vibroblade. “I don’t have to hide behind anything. You’re the one that has been hiding for the last two years, behind whoever or whatever you could charm to shield you. Even Mando’ad that are a hundred times your worth. It’s baffling what they see in the zealot ad of Dren Jorr.  His honor must not have been something you inherited. Din Djarin, a poor little foundling of no discernable merit. Do you only wear that beskar’gam on special occasions when you want to pretend to be someone that he’d be proud of?” She mocked viciously.

Din clenched his teeth in anger. Her words were desperate and distracting. She’d gotten a lot closer than he liked and he knew it when he parried her vibroblade with a screech of vambrace and ducked the blaster that would have come up under his chin. She was good at insulting everything that made you who you were and made it easy to become angry. But not in this fight. There was too much on the line for a piece of deceitful trash to win and lead their scattered people into a war they were unprepared to fight.

The dodge cost him as a blaster shot seared past his neck. He kicked out in retaliation, catching her in the chest again and propelling her back with enough force that she had to tuck and roll. Her lone baster let out a whine, out of shots too. That was also carelessly tossed and another long vibroblade made its way into her hand. This was where the reach of his spear was going to be a problem. As fast and strong as his thrusts were, there was no way he’d be able to keep her at a useable distance. He should have had an energy shield added to his vambrace like Paz as she came close under his guard, slicing forward toward his belly but catching the flack vest.

He parried his vibroblade up quick, catching her in the upper arm and slicing through muscle and flight suit. She danced away quick as a flash, but a parting slash from her other blade sparked down the spear and cut into two of his fingers through his gloves. It wasn’t to the bone, but the blood was welling up enough that his grip was not going to stay firm enough to wield. He hated to do it, but he dropped the spear quickly. This was all going to be close melee from now on.

He reached back on his belt and took out his favorite blade from its hidden sheath. Seven inches long and made from some type of blue metal that had yet to dull. Not as good as beskar, as its twin had died a horrible death during a skirmish with some beskar thieves, but it would do. Gripping it in his bloodied hand, he set his stance. With a goading tilt of his helmet, he chuffed.

“Come Bo Katan. Show me what your buir taught you.”

That was incendiary he was intending as she threw herself forward in a screech of fury. The next few minutes were just exchanges of thrusts, parries, and blocks. Sparks flew off vambraces and pieces of beskar’gam where the blades slide by. Both of them let out a few grunts when they got elbows and knees in soft places. He’d had to bend back from her to prevent a right proper mirshmure’cya which earned him a deep slash to his upper arm right under that annoying blaster burn. She was fast, he had to hand it to her. More blows were exchanged and at some point, each of them had been reduced to one blade in opposite hands. Unfortunately, the one he’d kept was starting to get slick with blood.

As the blade whirlwind ended, they both had wound up with a lot of slices in their flight suits and blood seeping through. Those three hits to the chest, his stronger blows, and the injury to her leg were starting to make Bo Katan slow down, but he was not going to underestimate her. Which was a good thing because she used her flamethrower in the next moment to get some breathing room. They were flamethrower to flamethrower for a minute until their fuel cannisters ran out. Now it was down to whatever they still had on them, and while he knew she would fight dirty against him, he was not about to throw a blast charge at her or release his whistling birds. If they wanted an honorable fight it was going to be won through skill and not explosives.

As they circled each other, with feints on both sides, Din took did an assessment of himself and Bo Katan. He had a lot of superficial burns and cuts. Only three of them semi-serious. His fingers, his bicep, and his neck. No punctures, no broken bones, and thankfully, no concussions. She was in a similar state. Though he hoped there were some bruised ribs under that chest plate. He’d been hoping to break a collar bone with one of the jabs, but she’d had collar plates, which were dead useful. He’d have to ask Ba’vodu about upgrading.

Through all of this, he had blocked out the crowd to focus only on Bo Katan. Now his hearing was picking out a lot of swearing and low cheering. He could also feel anticipation and excitement through his bonds with Dee, Paz, and Grogu. While the bond with Grogu was new and fragile, he could feel his ad’ika’s pure childlike belief that he was the best and there was nothing he couldn’t do. He tuned out the crowd again, watchful of Bo Katan. They were still circling, breathing heavy and sweating. With a reach down, she drew another hidden blade from her boot. Which prompted him to reach for his boot blade too. Always more than one hidden on a Mando’ad.

They went into another fury of blows, although this time Din focused on using his blocks to deliver punishing strikes to her unprotected joints. A nasty blow to her left elbow lost her one of her blades. With that, she ducked under his crooked arm, catching it and tossing him with a great heave and shoulder push. He rolled quickly as her lone blade descended, stabbing into the ground where his neck would have been. She ripped the blade out and pursued him as he got his feet under him.

His right vambrace deflected her crossbody thrust causing her to lose the blade. The high thrust had left her open as he pushed up and away, scoring another long cut as she twisted into her thrust and was back to front with him. This time, the shoulder toss was coupled with a pinch at his wrist, making him drop his right blade. But he rolled with it coming back up with a wild slash backwards. His blade was deflected by her chest plate as she leapt on his back, getting one arm around his throat while the other came around. Her legs came up and squeezed into his sides. He heard a click and realized that she was releasing her whipcord to garrot him since she might not have the strength in her arms to choke him into unconsciousness.

No time like the present to use a move that Fennec was proud of using on him. Dropping his blade, he reached back clasping his hands on her neck, right under her buy’ce. It surprised her, making the grip of her knees slacken. He bent back at the waist and with a grunting yell, used all the strength he could to torque himself forward, pulling her over his shoulders and slamming her into the ground fully on her back. She landed with a cracking whump and her hips and legs bounced back up at the force, flipping her over on shoulder and side. Din had backpedaled to get out of the way of her flailing limbs and did a rolling dive for his spear, coming back up with it defensively. But she was still down, and he could hear gasping breaths through her vocoder. He brought the tip of his spear to her exposed throat, pressing into the jugular enough that the skin turned white with pressure but did not break.

“Do you yield?”

There of course was no response from Bo Katan as he was fairly sure he had knocked her too senseless for her to do anything but breathe. He gripped the spear tighter and asked again.

“Do you yield, Bo Katan Kryze?”

“She yields!” Axe Woves yelled, as he ran forward.

“I accept.”

Din felt relieved. This was finally over. He withdrew his spear and moved back to the farther side of the ring as Axe Woves knelt by Bo Katan’s head and Koska Reeves came forward with a med scanner and medkit.

Din dropped the butt of his spear to the ground and leaned on it as he watched them assess his opponent. Paz came up beside him, followed by Cara with her own medkit.

“Well, that was certainly a flashy finish. Who taught you that move?” Paz inquired, as he gripped Din’s left vambrace to bring his bleeding fingers up for inspection.

“Fennec. Thought she broke my back the first time she did it.”

Cara snickered as she undid the mag fastening on his hand guard. “She’s going to crow about that move for the rest of her days, you realize this, don’t you?”

“And I will let her.” Din replied easily, wincing as his glove came off and the cuts poked and prodded before being slathered in bacta and taped up enough the baar’ure wouldn’t complain. “I learned a lot of new moves from all of you. Helps me adapt.”

Paz chuffed as he inspected Din’s neck. “This can wait until we’re in the medbay. It’s going to be irritating and painful, but it's not bleeding profusely.”

Paz was about to go around and check his bicep, but movement from Bo Katan’s team made them all stop. Bo Katan was sitting up and pushing away the concerned hands of Reeves and Woves. She struggled but she stood defiantly, favoring her right side. Din stood straighter, grunting in pain when new bruises made themselves known. Bo Katan took off her buy’ce shakily, tossing it to the ground in fury.

“You do not deserve to be Mand’alor! Just because you won this fight, does not mean you’re worthy of even being Mando’ad!”

Din grit his teeth but answered her anyway. “The fight is over Bo Katan. This was an honorably fought challenge that ended in a fair yield. Let it go.”

“I will not!”

Din stopped leaning on his spear and stepped forward cautiously. “Why even make the challenge if you weren’t going to accept the outcome?”

“I am the true Mand’alor. This challenge was just for show. That weapon is mine. Your winning of it was a fluke. You are just some beroya that doesn’t even know anything about our history or our people. Why you think you can lead, I cannot guess, but make no mistake. You are an aru’e and not worthy of the beskar that covers you. No matter whose foundling you are.”

Din felt the whole arena tense at her words. He would have responded, but a crackle filled the air.

BO KATAN KRYZE. YOU ARE THE ONE NOT WORTHY OF BEING MAND’ALOR.

The voice was thunderous, and Din winced, flinching back from the fury that he could feel. It was not just one voice, but thousands wound together to make one hissing, angry entity. When he looked to Paz, he could see that their aliit were not the only ones to hear Dee. It was the whole fighting area, looking confused and fearful.

“What are you playing at, Djarin?” Bo Katan looked at him with a calculating glare. She still looked pasty and weak from the fight.

Her remarks and shouted insults had made it clear that she would not let go of her decades long quest for the mantle nor would she concede ownership of the Darksaber. Where Din had been more than willing to ignore her vitriol and talk it out rationally, Dee would not. Din gripped his spear as Dee rose from the pedestal, sparking all the while.

When the blade shot out of the hilt, the gasping shock and fearful murmuring became louder. Because no one was holding the saber, it was floating on its own. To Din, that was commonplace, but to all these other Mando’ade it was frightful. Some of the Council and people closest to the pedestal had scrambled away. Only the Armorer remained, standing placid and still where she stood.

Bo Katan scoffed loudly. “Whatever fake theatrics you cooked up to terrorize us into submission and accept you is over. That saber is mine.”

Din held up a hand in warning, trying to de-escalate the situation. “Bo Katan. This is why we fought for the title of Mand’alor and not for the Darksaber. They are alive and we cannot enslave them any more to do our bidding.”

The arena went silent. He knew that all of them had turned up their audial to hear the conversation between them. What he was saying went against everything they were taught and a thousand years of history. He did not expect them to believe him immediately, but he hoped they would come around quickly. Dee hovered closer, still sparking but quiet in a menacing way.

Bo Katan’s face was full of disbelief and rage. “Aruetyc jehaate! You expect us all to accept that that thing is alive? It is a lightsaber with no more sentience than a breeze. Not truly alive. I have seen more than enough of them to know that they are only weapons. Its only purpose is to be the mark of the Mand’alor and to be wielded by them.”

We are not a possession to be won.

The hostile voice coiled through the arena. Din swung his spear so that he could grip it with both hands.

We have lived for a thousand years and never have we been more disappointed than to be in the hands of those of Kyr’tsad. You, though. We have watched YOU, Bo Katan. You claim to be worthy, but you told no one about how we got into the hands of Moff Gideon. Maybe if they knew...

“Silence! Whoever you are, you know nothing.” Bo Katan had gone paler than before, hands clenching at her sides. A dark mocking chuckle made the hairs on the back of Din’s neck stand up. Dee’s control on their bond had slackened, letting him feel what they were feeling. What they had been hiding. A thousand years of rage, pain, and sorrow. A yearning so deep and vast, yearning to be understood, to be needed, to belong. He unconsciously brought a hand over his heart, sucking in a deep breath. Dee, stop.

WE know nothing? Let us expand the knowledge of the Mando’ade present then. Do they know you ran? During the Purge? Hmmmmm? You made a ba’slan shev’la, even when you had intelligence that the Empire would make a move against Manda’yaim and the surrounding territories. YOU took your followers and their clans into hiding. Let everyone else face the onslaught alone. Brought in new clans and new followers to replace those you lost. They thought it was jate’kara and the battle prowess of Kyr’tsad that protected them when all the other clans and Mando’ade suffered. While they were hunted and driven to ground, to live like womp rats in sewers and caves. But it was just the hut’tuunla actions of Kyr’tsad, as usual. It was a bit of a surprise when Gideon popped up at your secret base, though, wasn’t it?

“Ne’johaa!”

To ensure that your warriors lived, you all relied on his rumored obsession with the Mando’ade. He did not even have to fight you for us. You traded us for their lives. All under the cover of secrecy, planning to get us back in a future attack and act like nothing had happened. Bit of an osik plan, if you ask us.

Dee floated around, sounding patronizing and malicious at the revelation. Din’s arms slackened in shock. He could tell by the way that Woves slumped in horror, and Reeves reeled back that they had not known any of this. Many of the Nite Owls that had taken of their buy’cese, looked betrayed when Bo Katan didn’t refute Dee’s statements. But some of the Nite Owls had stances that seemed unsurprised. Many of them older, with mutinous sets to their shoulders.

And here WE are, more than a decade later, and you still have not achieved anything of note. Manda’yaim and the surrounding territories are still mostly under Remnant control, the Mando’ade are still scattered throughout the galaxy, and you are still piddling around with the old guard, trying to drum up support for a war we can ill afford and one we would not even be in IF YOU HAD NOT ALL CONTINUED THE PROBLEM IN THE FIRST PLACE.

“We fight for all Mando’ade! We always have.” A large Nite Owl yelled from the crowd. Dee twirled and their blade pointed wrathfully toward them.

Would your clan say the same Kit Dewgerd?

The man looked startled, and all the blood drained from his face at being named and pointed out. Din felt Paz stiffen beside him. That name was familiar.

“You think you’re being clever, but you are not. Whoever you are, you would let this Ja’hai’ad use you to cause dissension and sow discord in the Mando’ade by pretending the Darksaber is alive?” Bo Katan spat on the ground and squared her shoulders. “Show yourself and fight, if that is your wish. You sound like you have a score to settle.”

Oh, we have a score to settle with you, certainly. You think you have enough in you after that sound thrashing to face US?

Dee swung around, pointing their blade aggressively toward Bo Katan

After the blight you have been to the Mando’ade, killing you will be enjoyable.

The temperature dropped drastically, and a shiver rippled across Din’s back as a smothering cloud of cold, unforgiving, fury enveloped those gathered on the floor. He heard Cara gasp and drop the medkit. His ba’vodu even looked discomfited with the feelings practically coalescing on the floor of the arena. He took a step forward, calling out to Dee sharply. If they did this, blinded by violent rage and the need for revenge, it would mark them forever in the minds of the Mando’ade and Din did not want that for them.

She wants to face us. Let her.

“I advise strongly against that. Dee, please.” Din held out a hand, beckoning them to him. They drew back, but Din could feel them wavering. DEE!

She does not believe we could be alive. She will not understand unless we make her.

“Don’t do it this way. There is nothing respectable or honorable in this.”

Din breathed deeply and evenly, using the bond to be comforting and rein in the storm of emotions that were battering at their control. Helping them see that they did not need to do this, and they could stand down. They would fix the problems and heal the hurts, but not in this way.

He could feel he was getting through to them and they were starting to drift toward him when Kryze had to go and open her big mouth.

“Djarin, you are mad? Acting like you are negotiating with that thing instead of the person behind it? To stand it down? It is a weapon, and it serves no other purpose than to be used for the power it represents.”

And with that, Dee’s anger spiked and the air crackled. Bo Katan’s ingrained reflexes were the only thing that saved her life as she deflected the charging blade with her vambrace. But that was all she could do as Dee battered her with their crackling blade. Dee let out terrible mournful laughter as they went after the red head again and again.

You know nothing, Bo Katan Kryze. Sixty-six years of life and you have yet to learn anything about true power. We are not just a weapon to be used for your selfish purposes or to redeem you for your past mistakes and follies.

Bo Katan drew back in true fear as Dee rose, a dark finality coming over them. Then they wound up, coming down with true force in a powerful vertical strike

We are a sentient being and we deserve to live our own life!

Instead of cleaving into Bo Katan’s flesh, they met a spear of beskar. Din bringing up a two-handed horizontal block that pushed him back slightly. But he held it, even in the face of their fury and despair to be understood.

“Dee...say it again.” Din grunted.

What?

Their surprise made Din grin even with the strain of holding them back.

“Dee...say it again.”

We...are...

“Say it again.” He held the block, even as the beskar started to heat and redden.

We...are a...sentient being...and we deserve...to live our own life?

“Again.” Din said louder.

We are a sentient being and we deserve to live our own life.

“AGAIN!”

WE ARE A SENTIENT BEING AND WE DESERVE TO LIVE OUR OWN LIFE!

“Dee Djarin of Clan Mudhorn. Say it again.” Din said gently.

We are a sentient being and we deserve to live our own life.

“With our family.” Din added.

With…our family. Oh.

 “Yeah, you di’kut.” Din smiled fondly, pushing them away with the spear as they relented. By that time the middle had started turning from dull red to white hot and Din wasn’t sure how long it would hold against Dee’s blade, beskar or not. Dee’s blade retracted with a hum, and he dropped the spear to the ground to save his hands, which was a mistake. He had disregarded his own training and instincts. Trusting a deceiver to be honorable.

In defending Bo Katan and dropping his only weapon at hand, he had left himself open. She used his turned back and distraction against him. He felt three quick stabs of a long vibroblade, one low in his side where his flack vest and chest plate didn’t cover and two under his arm, again where the flack vest ended. He heard Dee shriek in unbridled rage as his breath hitched and he jerked away from the other Mando’ad, but the damage was already done. The gut wound was bad, but the punctures in his upper chest were worse.

Paz’s hands caught him as he stumbled.

“Kark. Din! Pare!”

The sharp stabbing pain was getting worse as his chest heaved for breath. His breath hitched again as Paz’s arms encircled him, taking his weight as his mind got fuzzy with lightheadedness. Everything was feeling so heavy now. His armor, the feelings around him, the air itself. He should not have gone down this fast, he’d had worse. But maybe that was a lie as his knees gave out and he was lowered to the ground.

“P-paz.” He started coughing, which hurt so badly, and he felt thick wetness on his lips.

“I’m here. I’m here. Kriff.”

He heard his helmet seals disengage and his buy’ce was gone. Everything was so much louder. Blasters were firing. There was so much yelling. He could feel a discordant hum in his bones.

“We’re taking off your beskar’gam. We’re getting you to the medbay. Okay?! Stay with us! Dune, help me get the back plate off. Get that medkit! Baar’ur!” Paz was so loud.

The weight of his beskar’gam rapidly disappeared, helped by many hands. He felt Paz wrench open the magsnaps on his vest and then his flight suit. There were ripping and snipping sounds. Someone’s hand was at his neck, followed by cursing. A searching hand was on his upper side, and he felt something placed over the wound. A breathing mask was put over his mouth and nose. He was laid down fully, softly, carefully, as if he was fragile as glass.

He wasn’t supposed to be fragile, he was Mando’ad. People talked frantically over him. It was getting harder to take in air even with the mask. A crushing pressure that made him feel like he was drowning again. He reached out it panic, and someone caught his hands. So tenderly. They were so warm. Was he cold? He tried calling for Paz or even Ba’vodu to tell them he was cold but no sound came out.

“It’s all right. Shhhhh, shhhh. Din’ika don’t try to talk. You’re going to be all right.” Ba’vodu’s voice calmed him, even if she sounded frantic. She always knew what to do. “His lips are turning blue!”

“He’s going into shock. Racing heart, dangerously low blood pressure.” There was a squealing beep. “The penetrating trauma has caused part of his lung to collapse. His chest cavity is filling with air...and blood. Get that bacta infusion ready and a chest tube. Quickly! We’ve got to treat this here or he will never make it to a bacta tank. Do you understand? Okay? Okay.”  He did not know that person, but they sounded like they knew what they were doing.

He revised that opinion as he felt fingers tickling along his ribs and then they went into his wound, and it was excruciating. Kark. Bandage pads were pressed into his abdomen with bright bursts of pain.

“Get me those forceps. And hold. Here we go.”

A horrible pinching pain made him kick out. Someone caught his leg, firmly and gently. Whatever they had done hurt immensely, but it relieved his breathing. A hypo was pressed into his neck and familiar warmth was injected into him. He lost time.

There was a roar in the distance, he felt his ad’ika calling for him. Dee’s rage crashed over him, and their protective despair was left in its wake. Cara caressed his forehead with a shaking hand as the breathing mask was removed and something hard entered his mouth. She whispered to him. He felt Paz’s frantic worry, stark determination, and steady hands. Ba’vodu gripped his hand. Another hypo hit him with more warmth. He was so tired.

“Lift him on...ehn.”

He felt weightless for a few seconds. In the fading light of his consciousness, he could see them, all the Mando’ade in the ka’ra. It was mesh’la. How could he have ever said no to keeping that alive?

Chapter Text

Dee Djarin had never in all their long life, ever cycled through emotions so fast.

Their bellow of rage had ended, then everything spilled into their empty spaces. Their being may have been made of crystal and beskar, but it still hurt, as if they had taken a mortal blow. Din had stumbled away from them and Kryze, and they could feel. Feel the wounds and the hitching breaths and the hands taking his beskar. They could feel the rapidly fading confusion and worry and fondness and wonder. He was getting further away, in the capable hands of his aliit and the baar’ur. He was fading in the force and leaving them.

It had never felt like this before, the leaving. Many had left them, whether through natural death or through battles and challenges. They were warriors after all, their Mando’ade. Even Tarre’s leaving had never felt like this. It had been a natural progression that Dee had expected would come eventually, just as they had expected the deaths of all the others. All of them, except Din.

Because Din was...was supposed to stay with them. Because they were clan now. He was supposed to be Mand’alor. He was going to go on and do good things and heckle them about their holo habits and make them babysit his ade and go on adventures and pull pranks with his vode and do mandokar, dini’la osik and be bashful and noble and just...he was supposed to be here. They would have to face this alone, and they didn’t know if they could.

The world which they had blocked out was coming back and it sounded like the chaos in them was also outside them.

“Kryze! DON’T!”

Raig?

It hurt to speak. They had been frozen in the feelings subsuming them when a hand closed around them, and it felt like falling into a noxious pit. A space that was filled with greed, obsession, hatred, jealousy, arrogance, and a sense of righteousness that would lead to thousands more dying for a cause that no longer had a purpose. Or an end.  It would never end. She would never let it.

“I am Mand’alor and I order you to stop!”

Kryze had no right. Because she would never understand. The Mando’ade would fracture again, would kill each other, until there was nothing left, and it would be Kryze’s fault. Because she could not let the past go. Because she only saw one Way forward, saw one type of people, and would step on all the rest of them to get there. Even Din’ika, who had saved her life. They felt the distant flicker in the Force diminish until there was almost nothing.

He saved her useless life. He saved her life so that she could take his.

Then the flicker in the Force was gone, like it had never been. Their Din’ika.

YOUR LIFE IS PALTRY PAYMENT FOR WHAT YOU HAVE TAKEN.

**

Raig vaulted over the side of the private box as Din stumbled into Paz’s arm. He landed in a row below, on one of the stair platforms, startling one of the Mando’ad who was frozen in horror at the scene below. Dee’s shriek of fury rang in his ears and prickled across his senses like ice cold sleet. Now that Din had been betrayed by Kryze again and was no longer protecting her, Dee was not going to be denied their vengeance against Bo Katan.

The Mando’ade not stiff in shock were pulling weapons, and while the Nite Owls not currently wallowing in betrayal may put up a good fight, they were vastly outnumbered by Mando’ade that were loyal to Din. Din, who was currently receiving triage on the main floor and that put a spike of fear through Raig’s heart, but he pushed it aside. He had to focus on keeping Dee contained enough to prevent a slaughter.

He jumped down to the next platform as Ferah raced to Din’s side. The pirate’s baar’ur followed closely after. One more platform and he was down on the main floor, almost clipping one of his fellow Council members. Leita had reached the floor too, wielding shock batons and placing herself between Din and whoever approached that presented a threat. Not that there was much of one now, the few blasters that had fired being silenced with prejudice.

The triage team were up now, and on the move, before he even got close. Once they were gone, a strange vibration ran through the arena, and he realized that Dee had not moved. They hung suspended in the middle of the chaos. And Kryze was reaching for them hungrily. Raig yelled for her.

“Kryze! DON’T!”

Raig?

By the time that Raig reached the two of them, it was too late. Dee sounded brittle and Bo Katan had taken Dee in hand and there were Mando’ade from several groups advancing with blasters drawn. But those Mando’ade did not matter because a dark chill swept through and the vibration that filled the arena made his bones ache and his ears pop. There were many winces as Kryze raised Dee and pointed them at the advancing Mando’ade.

“I am Mand’alor and I order you to stop!”

She depressed the button for the blade, and nothing happened. Then there was stillness and a black void of a voice pressing down on them.

YOUR LIFE IS PALTRY PAYMENT FOR WHAT YOU HAVE TAKEN.

The hairs on the back of his neck raised and in the next moment he shielded his eyes in the crook of his arm as searing blue lightning lit up the saber. Bo Katan screamed in agony and her back bowed as she was engulfed in a web of dancing branches of light. Raig squinted his eyes open to see her second and assistant rush toward her. He was able to grab the male by the waist and the female by arm, jerking them back as the lightning lit up again. He could smell burning flesh as Bo Katan dropped to her knees and dropped Dee from her smoking hand. Mid-fall the saber stopped and reversed, hitting her in the face with a loud crack. She landed on her back with a whump, curling to her side defensively.

Get up, hut’tuun.

Bo Katan struggled to orient herself. The woman in his grip struggle to get to her leader. He tightened his hold on her and pulled her away, along with the man. He was docile, looking pained and sorrowful. There was no way that they’d be able to do anything. If they interfered, they’d be signing their death warrants. Same as Bo Katan had, the minute she’d sunk a blade into Din’s side.

We though you wanted to face us. Now’s your chance. It’s great, isn’t it? That there’s no more noble, honorable, self-sacrificing, Mando’ad that you’ll have to stab in the back to get to us.

Everything had come out as a mocking and terrible hiss. Bo Katan was leaning on one elbow and pressing a shaking hand to her rapidly bruising and bloodied cheek. Her eye could barely open. She was frightened.

WE SAID. GET. UP!

The vibrations from that roar rattled his beskar and traveled through his bones. It was full of despair, misery, and anguish. Raig closed his eyes when the realization came over him. Din was gone. His gripped slackened on the Nite Owls and the woman jerked away, but the man stayed close, unmoored, and uncertain. Bo Katan had struggled to her knees, holding out her arm in entreaty. It was a mistake because that hand still clutched a blade covered in blood. She dropped it in horror when sparks surrounded the threatening saber and the dark void of space extended slowly. Its eerily dissonant melody thrummed and crackled with power.

“Please. Please…don’t do this.”

Are you asking us to let you live, Bo Katan Kryze? Are you asking for mercy?

“I…I am. Please.” She sounded terrified and desperate.

A dark chuckle filled Raig’s ears. No one moved in the arena, focused only on this one-sided fight.

You want mercy, dar’manda?

Faster than he had ever seen, the blade swept out, severing her outstretched hand, and then turning back in a flash to plunge through her throat. Dee pulled out it a shower of blood and turned quickly again, beheading her.

Your mercy is that you died faster than you deserved.

Raig watched Boba push someone aside to start stepping up to Dee as they swung around to Bo Katan’s faction.

You’re next, Kyr’tsad.

**

Fennec slipped out of their private box even before the Nite Owl yielded for the incapacitated Bo Katan. With a few taps on the stone arm of the throne, she had indicated her destination as the com room then the medbay. Both of them had been able to tell even before the vibroblades came out that the red-haired Mandalorian was on her way to loosing. Fennec’s main job now was to get the defenses up in case the repurposed Imperial Cruiser decided to unload Nite Owl vitriol on Tatooine. Boba would not put it passed them to be sore losers. With her down for the count, they needed to think about the occupants of the palace.

“All right, kids! Din won. Everyone out!” Boba’s demand caused the minders to shuffle everyone out quickly.

He got a few nods of appreciative acknowledgement from the Mandalorians watching the children. They knew what might be coming and getting the kids out of a potential skirmish area was imperative. It only took a few minutes as the private box emptied.

“I’ll take this little one to the ground floor, so that he can see his dad.” Greef picked up Grogu who let out a concerned meep but let himself be carried away on the promise of seeing his parent.

Raig gave him a hard glance, but at the tip of his helmet went on alert, getting closer to the railing. Din would be sent to the medbay as soon Team Buir let him out of their tender care. But as soon as that thought passed, Bo Katan gained her feet and opened her mouth. He expected Dee’s viscious glee, and he expected Din’s noble stupidity, but even though he expected her to be her to be a dishonorable bitch, he was not prepared for Bo Katan to reveal her traitorous self immediately to the gathered Mandalorians. So ruthlessly and so publicly, too. He should have. He should have expected it. She was desperate to die.