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     Her new room was dimly let and small. Cramped and bare of decorations. A far cry from the spacious bedroom she'd had as a youth. Bo-Katan sat on the end of her bed and glanced back at the cloth covering draped across the entrance to her room. It was shut. Good, the woman thought. It would be poor manners to immediately violate the cult's- the covert's customs so soon. She reached up and unsealed her helmet. The woman turned it over in her hands.

     Could there be a clan of one? Bo didn't know. There'd never been an occasion where a clan's size had fallen so sharply. She'd counted her Nite Owls as her sisters and brothers, yet... They'd made their feelings clear. She was a disgraced failure. Unworthy of loyalty. Bo had known there had been strained relationships between herself and the others. But to see her forces melt away with each passing day. To wake to an empty hall and a clear sky.

     Bo-Katan looked into the painted eyes on her helmet. Better to think of something else. Cold and dark. A massive eye just barely visible through the swirling waters around her. Djarin had insisted that he'd seen nothing. He hadn't been deceitful when dealing with her before. She thought back to his blunt words that they, his rescuers, were not Mandalorians. No, if he had seen the.... creature, he would have said so. Bo had merely been surprised at his disappearance. Caught up in memories of long ago. Her family would have known of anything that lived beneath the surface. There was a knock against the wall beside her door.

     "Bo-Katan? It's Din Djarin." There was a coo. Then, "I have Grogu as well."

     "Come in," she replied.

     "Are you wearing your helmet?" Right. Bo slid it back on.

     "I am." The curtain parted. The man, holding his son in his arms, stepped inside. She turned to face them. "Is something wrong?"

     "No." Din didn't elaborate. He instead plopped the kid down on the thin sheets beside her. The child scrambled up onto her lap. Tiny hands made grabbing motions at her. Bo-Katan looked to the being's father.

     "He wants you to hold him." She sighed. Yes, he would have told her if he'd seen the Mythosaur. The woman gently picked his child up. The baby strained upward to tap his nails against the cheeks of her helmet. "I think he likes you."

     "Is that so."

     "Yes." Bo looked down into large black eyes.

     "You are... pleasing to me as well." The kid gurgled happily. She couldn't help but smile. "How's he doing?"

     "Better." The little one twisted to reach for his father. Din accepted the child back into his arms. "We'll be eating soon. I can show you to the dining room." Bo held back her scoff. Did it count as a dining room if no one ate together there? "Afterwards, there's something I want to discuss." Oh? Bo-Katan cocked her eyebrow before she remembered that he couldn't see her face.

     "If it's about the Darksaber, a life debt doesn't count as victory."

     "No," he answered. "We were redeemed. Before, when one broke the Creed, there was nothing that could be done. They were lost forever." What was he trying to get across? "When I began my mission with the child, our covert had more Mandalorians. Some were forced to break the Creed to survive. If they were redeemed, the covert would be stronger." It was a possibility.

     "Would you be able to convince the armorer?" The woman, whoever she was beneath her helmet, seemed to be the leader of this group.

     "Our people gave up everything for my clan. I must try," the man replied. If only her own people had been as loyal to those they viewed as fallen. "This is the Way." The kid cooed then. She looked from the child's dark eyes up into the black visor of Djarin.

     "This is the Way," she replied. The baby's happy sounds made her begrudgingly smile again. She stood from her bed. "Lead on."

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     Djarin swallowed beneath his helmet. There was every chance the armorer would deny his reasoning. He had removed his helmet of his own free will. He had broken from the Creed. The words of one who had willingly left the Way were to be treated as inconsequential. As if sensing his thoughts, the child gurgled up at him. Tiny fingers picked at the fabric beneath his vambrace. He readjusted his hold on Grogu to lift the foundling higher against his chest. Djarin heard footsteps echo down the rock hallway. Bo-Katan stepped into view. The woman nodded to him as she joined him. Together, they entered the forge room.

     The armorer continued her work at her forge. When Bo-Katan made to step forward, Djarin touched her shoulder. He shook his head when she looked back to him. He then made his way over to the squat table and the low seats around it. Din sat. He placed Grogu at his feet as Bo-Katan joined them. They sat in silence as the armorer finished her work and set it aside. As the fires dimmed to a more manageable heat throughout the room, she replaced her tools and then sat before them.

     "You wished to speak with me."

     "We do," he replied. The armorer waited. "We seek permission to locate the former members of our tribe." When the forge master didn't reply, he continued. "Redemption is possible now. They parted from the Way to help my clan. I would see them returned to the Creed and the covert."

     "Those who survived have scattered like stars to the distant night sky."

     "I understand."

     "It will take time," she said.

     "We do not have any other missions. The tribe is adequately provided for?" Djarin asked.

     "It is," the armorer replied.

     "Then our absences will not be missed. By redeeming our former tribe members, the covert would be made stronger." The man kept his voice low and respectful. He didn't wish to be denied this.

     "You are correct," the forge master stated. Her hidden gaze turned to Bo-Katan. "You would join him in his endeavor?"

     "I would," the other woman agreed.

     "Do you still walk the Way?"

     "I do," Bo-Katan said.

     "While we walk the Way, our word is binding. You will not be welcomed back, even if you bath in the Living Waters once more, should you willingly abandon your task by breaking the Creed," the armorer warned her. Bo-Katan straightened as if insulted.

     "I wouldn't do that."

     "We shall see. You," the armor shifted slightly to address him, "and your tribeswoman will seek out those who were lost to us. You will guide them to the Living Waters so that they may be redeemed. This is the Way," the armorer stated.

     "This is the Way," Djarin echoed. The other woman looked between them.

     "This is the Way," she finally said.

     "Guh." The Grogu's ears twitched. They all three faced him.

     "You stated that the child was returned to his kind," the armor spoke.

     "He was. His teacher offered him a choice to continue with his training or return to my side." The forge master studied the child for a long moment.

     "Your foundling has chosen well. This is the Way."

     "This is the Way." Djarin was grateful that none of them acknowledged the sudden scratchiness in his voice. The armorer stood first, making her way back to the forge. The man scooped his kid up into his arms before he stood. Bo-Katan walked with him out into the hallway.

     "That went well," she said.

     "It did," he agreed.

     "So," her dark visor turned to him, "how do you suggest we go about finding your lost tribe members?"

     "Stealth has been our strength," Djarin informed her. "They  won't be easy to find, but I know someone who can help us." Bo-Katan gestured toward the exit to the cave.

     "You lead. I'll follow."

     "I'll send you coordinates once we reach our ships." The woman nodded to him. They strode out into the fading sunlight.

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     Tatooine. Bo-Katan glared at the planet as she steered her ship after Din's. As far as she remembered, there were only two people on the ball of sand both she and the man knew. The duo hadn't been discreet about their plans before their group had gone their separate ways. Perhaps she was wrong, Bo-katan let herself hope. Perhaps the Mandalorian had already gotten word of one of his tribesmen being here.

     That hope faded with every step they took toward Jabba's former palace. Bo-Katan scowled beneath her helmet as they were welcomed inside. She stayed back a step when they reached the throne room. The clone straightened from his lazy sprawl across his wide seat as Din stepped forward to stand before him. The assassin from before continued to lounge against the massive armrest at the clone's side. Bo could feel her gaze. The wookie by the woman's side sniffed in their direction. Even beneath the thick fur, she could tell the thing's expression was unimpressed.

     "Daimyo-" Din began. Bobba put a hand up.

     "You may call me Boba."

     "Boba Fett," the Mandalorian started again. "I seek your help. A favor," he continued. "For which I swear on the Creed I will pay back."

     "Mm, must be a pretty big job then," the clone observed. "Name it."

     "We seek the lost members of my covert," Din explained. "We have been to the Living Waters on Mandalore. I would see them returned to the Way."

     "You've been to Mandalore's surface?"

     "We have-" Bo-Katan began, only to be interrupted.

     "The Daimyo wasn't speaking to you," the assassin said. Bo glared before remembering again that no one could see her expression. The wookie gave a snorting laugh. How dare-

     "We've been to Mandalore." Din continued. "Redemption is possible, but my people are likely well hidden. The skills of you both would be helpful." The kid peered out of his sling at that. Made an inquisitive sound. One ear tilted upward. The clone chuckled.

     "You don't have to look at me like that, little one. I owe your father." The man looked back to the Mandalorian. "I accept. You'll owe me no favor. We'll help you find your people - you and I will be even then."

     "Thank you." The Mandalorian gave a slight bow. The clone waved him upright.

     "Do you have a starting place?"

     "I might," Din said. "Several who escaped had foundlings. They would have taken them to our sister coverts after the fall of ours."

     "Do you know where those are?" The man shook his head.

     "I only know of one planet," he replied. "Kantra." Bo had never heard of the planet before. Judging by the blank looks the name got the others hadn't either. "It's small. Out of the way."

     "Less area to search," the assassin dryly stated.

     "It'll do us good to stretch our legs." The clone stood from his throne. The assassin smoothly followed. "Krrsantan, tell the former mayor's majordomo that he's in charge until we're gone. Don't let anyone kill him." His partner shot him an amused grin.

     "And here I thought you wanted to keep Mos Espa."

     "We'll learn who's loyal and who's not," he replied with a shrug. "They'll give us good target practice when we get back." Why were they necessary for this mission? Bo-Katan ignored the two and joined the Mandalorian as the man began to head out. Perhaps she could convince him to lose the two of them as time went on. Even with her helmet on, the back of her neck prickled. She glanced back. The assassin's gaze had never left her. Bo-Katan made a noise of disgust as she quickened her steps to keep pace with Din's long strides.

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     It had been more than two years since Djarin had last stepped foot on Kantra. Contact between coverts was discouraged. Movement always meant the risk of being seen and tracked. What would they do if the covert had been moved? He powered down his ship and slid the kid into his sling. Grogu settled in as they exited. Bo-Katan and the others waited by their ships. They joined him as he started toward the town of Ilas. The landing officials didn't approach. Merely stood off at a distance and wearily watched them pass by. A woman among them brought her comm to her mouth. She spoke in quiet tones that he couldn't pick up. Boba and Shand removed their helmets, giving each other knowing looks before they openly watched the landing official in return.

     "Where do we start?" Bo-Katan asked.

     "The Kantra Hunters Guild," he replied.

     "There's a Guild here?"

     "I remember it being small," Djarin answered. "The covert's earner should be easy to find." A woman, if he remembered correctly. He'd never met her. Only seen a few brief holo-recordings of the Mandalorian in action. Like the landing officials, none of the townspeople approached. The group passed several street stalls and run down homes before reaching a squat building more solidly made than the surrounding places. There were no signs, but a man leaving in standard bounty hunter gear confirmed Din's hopes. His group entered.

     The main room was dimly lit. Men and women in worn pieces of mismatched armor briefly fell silent. The barkeep paused in pouring drinks. Eyes of all colors watched them. Conversation gradually returned to what it had been before, but Djarin was under no illusion that the attention around them had drifted away.

     "You're new here." A woman in white cloth stepped up from their right. Her red hair was well done. Her fabric clothing, clean. The Guild Master, he'd assume. "It's always an honor to meet Mandalorians," she said. "Your people are the best in the business. You folks here for a job?""

     "We're looking for more of our kind," Djarin stated. "We have urgent business with them." She paused. Her yellow eyes flickered between them.

     "That so?"

     "Yes."

     "Then come on over." She jerked her chin to the left. There was a secluded room there, bare save for a table and several chairs. "Let's talk." When Fett and Shand made to follow them, the woman shook her head. "Sorry. The Mandalorians only. You know how particular they are about their kind. Sal," she then addressed the man behind the bar, "get us some drinks." Djarin nodded when Boba looked to him.

     "We shouldn't be long." The Daimyo gave a shrug at that and the two split off from them as the woman led him and Bo-Katan into the room. The Guild Master's hand briefly brushed against her hip. He noted the small blaster strapped there. She gestured to the seats before her.

     "Please, sit." They sat. "So," she began as she took the seat opposite of them, "what's this "urgent business" you've got?"

     "I believe that some of the survivors from my covert have taken refuge with the covert here."

     "Someone must be yankin' your leg, then. Ain't no covert here."

     "They've moved on?" Djarin's heart sank. How would he and the others track them down?

     "We haven't ever had any Mandos here." She nodded to his armor. "Pretty sure I'd remember seeing folks in getup like that." Bo-Katan's visor turned toward him. She gave a slight cock of her head.

     "There were-" he began, but there was a light knock against the wall. They all turned. A server peered in.

     "Got your drinks, Guild Master."

     "Good. Bring 'em on in." The Guild Master leaned forward as the man placed the platter before them. He quickly ducked back out. She plucked the cup nearest to her up and then nudged the platter toward them. "You must have traveled a long way to get here. How about a drink, then we can keep talking?"

     "We have a mission," Djarin replied. "We need to know where they are."

     "And you can, after we drink. Come on," the woman encouraged them, "it's on the house. Like I said, you Mandos are the best of the best."

     "We just need you to tell us where they are." Bo-Katan spoke up.

     "I will." The Guild Master's voice went firm. "After we drink. It's not polite to turn down your host's hospitality."

     "We can't drink in front of you," Djarin explained. Slight movement caught his eye. The woman leaned back as her hand slid to her hip. He shifted to glance in Bo-Katan's direction. The other woman's shoulders stiffened before deliberately relaxing. He looked to her waist. Her hand rested on her pistol. Djarin touched his own blaster.

     "You sure about that?" The Guild Master's eyes cut between them, narrow with suspicion.

     "This is the Way," he replied. She eyed them for a moment longer- And gave a shuddering exhale as she covered her face.

     "That's what she always says." The woman sat forward then as she clasped her hands together. "Please, you have to help them!"

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     "What happened?" Djarin asked, fearing the worst.

     "The Imperials took them," the guild master replied. "Kass got some new help recently. Ex-Mandos or something. We think they got ambushed. Didn't come back from what shoulda been an easy task, so I swung by their place to see what had happened." The woman shivered. "Everyone was gone. Even their kids and the forge master." He stopped cold at that.

     "Where?"

     "Wait," Bo-Katan spoke up. "How do you know they didn't leave on their own?"

     "Few days ago, I saw Kass in the cantina. Or, I thought it was her. Right up until she took her helmet off." The other Mandalorian shifted in discomfort. She spoke in a quieter voice then.

     "Then how do we know they're still alive?"

     "Like I said - wasn't nobody there," the Guild Master replied. "I figured," she flashed them both an uncomfortable look, "if the Imps were just after their Beskar, I'd have... found them." Disgust curled Djarin's lips at the thought. "The imperials have a base up north," the woman continued. "Don't know what it's for. They didn't bother us, we didn't bother them. Then they started getting more people." Her hands clenched and unclenched. "And folks here started goin' missing. Last one who got taken was the mayor's son," she told them, "we got word that he'd been sighted out at the mudflats with a few of them, so I sent Kass up to look for him. I figured it'd be quick. Who could take out three Mandos? But they never came back."

     "The imperials who came - could you tell if they were troops?" he asked.

     "Some of them were. But the rest? Couldn't tell you for sure what they did, but not hard work if you get what I mean." That could mean anything, he thought. "Looked like they couldn't hit the broad side of a cantina," she supplied. So possibly non-military. Good, he thought, they'd either surrender or die faster than those who could fight.

     "Can you point us in the direction of the base?"

     "You'll save them?" the woman asked.

     "This is the Way," Djarin replied.

     "Then I can do you one better," she said. "Give me a few and I can get some more folks to join us."

     "Us?" Bo-Katan questioned. The last of the worry faded from the guild master's face as she looked at the other Mandalorian. Fury tightened her features as she gave a tooth filled grin.

     "Those imps should've never touched my town or my hunters. We knew we'd die if we tried attacking by ourselves. Don't have your fancy beskar. But you two and that ex-Mando out there? You're gonna make the best targets we could've ever asked for." Bo-Katan made a sound of disbelieving amusement.

     "Do you know how many troops they have?" Djarin asked.

     "Two dozen, give or take."

     "I like those odds," he told her. The guild master gave a short laugh. Bo-Katan and the others had been efficient while taking down the troops aboard Moff Gideon's light cruiser. He'd seen both Fett and Shand in action against Storm Troopers. "We can take them." The woman stood from her seat.

     "Then I'll gather volunteers." She left first. Djarin and Bo-Katan followed her out, easily finding the Daimyo and the assassin. Both straightened up from their relaxed slouches against the wall at his his approach.

     "Do you know where the others are?" Boba asked him.

     "They were taken by the Empire," Djarin replied. The Daimyo muttered a curse. "But the guild master thinks they may still be planet side. She's going to gather hunters and take us to the Imperial base where the tribe might be held." The older man brightened up at that.

     "Any day where I get to take out more Imps is a good day." The man slid his helmet back on. "Had my weapons worked on before you came. I won't miss now." Bo-Katan scoffed.

     "It took out the other transport instead," Fett told her. "Dead is dead, princess. The other ones just got to live for a little longer."

     "Mandalorians. We're ready." Djarin turned. The guild master made her way over to them. A half dozen other hunters followed behind.

     "That was quick," he noted.

     "We've been wanting to do this for a long time," she replied. "Don't have any problem with us killing them all, do you?" If she was being truthful, the Imperials had laid their hands on the forge master. They'd taken foundlings.

     "No," Djarin replied. She gave him another sharp grin.

     "Good." The woman raised her voice. "Let's go! We've got a base to burn." Djarin let her take the lead, striding out with his group after the hunters.

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     "Wait." The guild master raised a fisted hand high before they reached the end of the forest. "Patrol droid." Djarin crouched low and crept up to her side. He peered out from the shadows of the trees. Ahead were the mudflats. A single black and white recon droid hovered over the mud. He watched as it scanned the patch below it, gliding methodically from left to right. "That's how they tell if people are coming," she quietly explained. "It comes by here every ten minutes. I'd shoot it down, but I figure they've got a dead man switch in the thing. The moment we kill it they'll know we're coming."

     "Then we wait," Djarin told her.

     "It'll take us about fifteen minutes to get to the base. Less if we run." the woman said. "But they'll know we're coming no matter what we do." The Mandalorian looked up to watch the droid continue its scans. There was no way to sneak everyone across by jet pack. Taking the hunters one or two across at a time would take time they didn't have. He thought of it then. If they couldn't get across without being noticed...

     "Sand people." She gave him a confused look. "The tribes of Tatooine move in a single file line. We'll fly over the flats and your people will follow in each other's footprints. The droid will report one person. The Imperials won't expect four of us. We go in through the front and force our way as deep as we can. You and your hunters can enter after us."

     "I'll fill them in," the woman said. She reached out to clap a hand to his shoulder. "Good luck. Stay alive long enough for us to get there."

     "We will." Djarin gestured back for his team to come closer. After they reached him, he explained the plan as the droid continued to scan. They waited only a few minutes after it was out of sight to leave the cover of the forest. Boba Fett carried Shand over first. Djarin and Bo-Katan followed after. As the hunters emerged and headed for the flats, his group headed into the next forest. They moved as quickly and quietly through the underbrush as possible.

     "There." The base was typical Imperial. Squat and dark. Two Storm Troopers stood guard at the front door.

     "I'll deal with them," the assassin volunteered. She dropped to one knee and readied her rifle. Took one breath. Two. Held it and- The shot slammed home into the left trooper's helmet. As the right one startled she shot him in the head as well. Djarin was moving before the second body hit the ground. He unhooked the Dark Saber and activated the blade. The door hinges bubbled and sloughed off in red droplets as he cut through them. The man took a step back and then charged the door. It crashed down beneath him as he continued forward, the others hard on his heels. Shouts of confusion went up. Several Imperials scrambled for their weapons. The few shots they got off reflected off his beskar. A hail of blaster fire from behind him took them down.

     More Imperials poured out into the hallway. More shots pelted him. He braced himself and took one step after another, forcing himself further down the hall. A cord shot out from his left and wrapped around the knees of a marksman in white. The man gave a surprised shout as he was yanked off his feet and dragged toward them. Bo-Katan lunged down at the man as soon as he was close enough. Her wrist blade ended his calls for aid.

     "Step aside!" The Daimyo shouted over the continued blaster fire. Djarin did so. The other man took a single step forward and cocked his knee. The miniature rockets Din has seen before shot out and slammed home into multiple chests. The survivors at the back of the hall began to retreat. He and his group followed.

     More shouts went up from halls to their left. He assumed that the hunters had reached them. Din deactivated the Dark Saber and drew his blaster. He picked off the nearest retreating Imperial before shooting the next woman. The troops fled into the room before them. Din squared his shoulder and slammed the door open as they tried to close it on him. He fired two more shots into the chests of the Imps closest to him. Across the wide room was a communications booth. One of the officers crouched low as she shouted into it.

     "-been compromised! More Mandalorians! Don't come, I repeat, don't-" Djarin shot her. She slumped over the booth as her fellow officer fell beneath the combined blaster fire of his teammates.

     "Stop!" A shrill voice made him turn. His heart pounded in his chest. Holding cells. Several restrained men and women. Four foundlings still with their helmets on, bound together in the next cell. And the fifth child - A crouched Imperial held the foundling close. The officer had his blaster angled up beneath the child's helmet. Coward! "Let me go or the kid dies!"

     "You're gonna die either way," Fett growled out.

     "You wouldn't dare." Confidence and fear mixed on the imperial's pale face. A small coo came from Djarin's left side. He glanced down. Grogu peered out from the safety of his sling.

     "Let the foundling go," Din told the man.

     "No." The terrified man gave a hard shake of his head. "The child stays with me until I'm off planet." Grogu's dark eyes fixed on the man. He reached out one tiny hand.

     "We'll never stop hunting you. Leave the child. I swear on the Creed that none of us will harm you," Djarin tried to bargain.

     "No!" The man tightened his hold on the child. His other hand began to shake then. He looked in confusion down at the trembling blaster. "What-?" The kid's magic pulled it free from his hand. As the blaster clattered to the floor, Djarin shot through the man's chest as energy bolts slammed home against his head. The Imperial dropped. The foundling sprinted for Djarin, his hands outstretched. The Mandalorian dropped to one knee and let the terrified child hug him.

     "It's all right," he tried to reassure the foundling. "You're safe. Your tribe is safe." The others shot out the cells power sources. The shimmering walls deactivated and the captive Mandalorians stepped out. The child let go of Djarin then, turning to run into the arms of a woman with long brown hair. They cried out each other's names as they embraced.

     "We'll cover the doors." Fett stood by one while Shand took the other. Silence eventually fell over the compound as the last of the fighting died down. An older Mandalorian with graying hair limped forward. The other helmetless Mandalorians moved to help him, but he waved them back.

     "We are in your debt," the man declared. "You walk the Way?"

     "I do." Djarin gave a small nod.

     "Is your tribe well enough to accept new members?" Djarin cocked his head at the question. "Our helmets were removed. We are Mandalorians no longer. The foundlings helmets were not taken from them. Will you accept them into your covert?" The Mandalorian could read the terror in the children by the way they stiffened. The child who had hugged him clung harder to the woman when she tried to step away.

     "That won't be necessary," Djarin assured them.

     "We have broken the Creed," the older man began.

     "Redemption is possible," the Mandalorian insisted. "Mandalore is not poisoned. My companion," he gestured to Bo-Katan, "and I have been beneath the mines. The Living Water purified us." The older Mandalorian's mouth silently worked. His voice was a disbelieving whisper.

     "You speak the truth?"

     "I swear by the Creed," Djarin promised him. "Your covert can be returned to the Way." The older man turned to face a pair that had stayed together upon being freed. One was a man with blond hair. The other was a Zabrak woman with bright green eyes.

     "You were part of this one's covert once. You know him. Tell me - does he speak the truth?"

     "He's never lied to us," the woman spoke up. Djarin recognized her voice.

     "Shayna?"

     "Djarin," she greeted him. "I don't understand. Why are you here?"

     "We've come to return you to the Way and our covert." Shock showed on both their faces. "The Living Waters still exist. We have enough ships to transport all of you."

     "Where's your armor?" Bo-Katan spoke up. "You'll need jet packs to reach the mines."

     "The Imperials took everything we had," the older man replied.

     "How did they capture you all?" she asked. "I thought your- I thought our people would rather die than be captives."

     "One of them wore our hunter's armor. She brings sweets for the children after missions. When 'she' returned, they went to her before we realized that the one beneath was a stranger," the man replied.

     "We were ambushed out on the flats," Shayna supplied. "They forced us out into the center so that the mud would slow us and then stunned Jasper and me."

     "Once I was alone, they overwhelmed me," the brown haired woman continued. "They pinned me. Took my armor and then stunned me. We woke up here. The tribe arrived not much longer after that."

     "Heads up," Shand raised her voice to catch their attention. "The hunters are coming." She stepped aside as the subdued group entered. Djarin frowned. He'd expected them to be in higher spirits.

     "We found the townsfolk," the guild master told them. Her shoulders hunched. "They're all-" Her lips quivered.

     "Dank farrick," Djarin muttered.

     "The gutless cowards were doing something to them. There were tanks. Tubes. It was..." The woman shook her head.

     "I'm sorry." The Mandalorian apologized. She looked around.

     "Did your people find anything? Any reason for them to do this to us?"

     "The comms officer was speaking to someone when we breached the room," Bo-Katan said. "We killed them before they could erase anything." Djarin walked with her and the guild master over to the communications booth. She toggled several switches. A small form flickered to life before them. A woman with short hair stood at sharp attention.

     "I have successfully reclaimed the doctor from the Republic," she spoke. "Once he recovers enough to travel, we'll arrive at the station. Our next step will be to retake the primary subject. Our secondary subject is too valuable to be used as a donor. The process leaves it weakened and its loaner disapproves. It's been recalled. Make effective use of the blood you have. Dilute it if you have to. Perhaps weaker applications will have better results during the transfusions. We-" The image wavered as a frantic voice interrupted her.

     "We've been compromised! More Mandalorians! Don't come, I repeat, don't-" The image began to repeat.

     "Transfusions? What was she talking about?" the guild master half asked, half demanded. Djarin was painfully aware of the small weight against his side.

     "We'll alert the New Republic," he told her. She snorted.

     "Don't bother. We all know they won't come this far out," the guild master said.

     "I have a contact. She'll come," Djarin reassured her.

     "I won't say no to you trying," the woman said. She turned the looped recording off. "Let me contact the mayor. He should know what's happened. He... He'll need to bury his son."

     "We'll help your town lay them to rest." The Mandalorian offered their aid.

     "We'd appreciate that."

     "Your covert doesn't object?" Djarin asked the others. He could remember how desperate he'd been to be redeemed.

     "The people here have been kind to us," the older man replied. "We would be unworthy of redemption if we denied them." The guild master thanked him. The covert members safe now, Djarin holstered his blaster. Together, they followed the guild master to her grim discovery.

Chapter Text

     The flickering image of Cara sighed. "It's really what we saw back on Nevarro?" Djarin nodded. "Dank farrik."

     "They need defense from New Republic," he told her. "The Imperials could come back once we're off world."

     "Kantra hasn't joined us yet," the woman replied.

     "Imperials," he repeated. She sat back. Rubbed a hand over her face.

     "The government doesn't exactly want to acknowledge that they never fully left. Or that they're making moves. It'd look bad. And we wouldn't want the New Republic to look bad, would we?" she bitterly asked.

     "Can you check on Doctor Pershing?"

     "I've been banned from going near former Imperials," Cara replied. "My bosses think Mayfeld's 'accident' wasn't an accident."

     "I just want to make sure that he's still wherever they relocated him," Djarin said. She checked something out of view.

     "Says here he's on Coruscant. I'll check in with his handler. Will your comm codes be good for the next few days?"

     "Yes."

     "Then I'll reach out when I have something. Be safe out there, Djarin." Her image blinked out. Djarin slipped his comm unit into his pocket. He left the private room and headed back out into the main hall of the hunters' guild. The guild master stood from her seat as he approached.

     "They're not coming, are they."

     "I'm sorry," Djarin appologized.

     "I knew better than to hope. Besides, your people have already done more for us then they ever have." She looked to him and then the older Mandalorian. "I don't know how long this 'redemption' thing will take, but both of your coverts will always be welcome on Kantra."

     "We will remember your offer," the older man said.

     "Is your covert ready to head out?" Djarin asked.

     "We are," the man replied.

     "We'll head to my covert first. They'd be willing to loan your members our jetpacks so that we can all reach the Living Waters."

     "They would have our gratitude."

     "Then we'll head out. You'll ride with Bo-Katan and me." Distrust crossed the man's face as he looked at Djarin's companion.

     "I knew your voice. I had hoped that I was wrong." Was it because her clan had fallen from the Way?

     "She walks the Way for now."

     "You may come to wish that she hadn't," the older man said. "What do you know of Kryze?"

     "She wielded the Darksaber and lost it to Moff Gideon," Djarin replied.

     "She is a kin traitor." What? "One willing to do and say anything for power."

     "I'm not going to betray him," Bo-Katan promised.

     "Your words mean nothing." He turned away from her, clearly ending the discussion. An awkward silence descended. Djarin cleared his throat.

     "We should go." The two groups left together. The somber townspeople watched them go. Grogu cooed up at him as the other covert members quietly entered Bo-Katan's ship. Once he'd reached his seat, Djarin pulled the child out from his sling and settled the little one on his lap. Bo-Katan didn't speak as she started the ship up. Grogu reached for him, tiny nails waving in the air. Djarin obligingly held his foundling closer. Little hands rested against the cheeks of his helmet as they headed out. As blue and white lights streaked by, Djarin wondered what the other Mandalorian had meant.

     "Tell me," Gideon addressed the small image of his officer, "why are you interrupting me before a council meeting?" Kane grimaced at the undercurrent he let bleed into his tone.

     "The secondary base on Kantra, sir. It was destroyed."

     "What?" He had selected Kantra because of its small, rural inhabitance. No one should have been able to mount a successful attack. "Did they hire New Republic help?" It would be another mark against him if more of his people had been captured.

     "No, Moff. It was Mandalorians."

     "How many?"

     "A technician who escaped said there were four of them. Two of them were Bo-Katan and Boba Fett." He would have to research what clan had taken Kryze in. He'd been certain that she had no one left to turn to. And what had pulled Fett off of Tatooine? "He didn't know who the other two were." The assassin Shand had to be one of them. Something chained her to the Daimyo - Fett would be a fool to give her any length to wriggle out. That left one more.

     "Did he provide a description of the other two?"

     "Yes, sir. One of them was a woman. She wore black and orange. The other one was a man." There was a small hesitation. "He wore only black beskar." A double edged sword. The loss of the station was yet another set back, but the reappearance of Djarin could work in Gideon's favor. The Mandalorian meant the reemergence of his first subject.

     "Now that the station is gone, you and Doctor Pershing will rejoin us here on Mandalore. You're certain that the memory wipe took?"

     "I'm certain, Moff Gideon."

     "Good. I'll send you our coordinates once the meeting has concluded. Dismissed." Kane saluted. Gideon turned his comm off and resumed his walk toward the meeting chamber. And very nearly stopped. A single hologram stood in the center of the room with its back to him. The deeply blue tinted man was surrounded by Shadow Council members standing at respectful attention.

     "You are late, Moff Gideon." Thrawn's voice was ever gentle. The man swallowed.

     "My team encountered an unexpected issue."

      "Yes. I am aware of your Mandalorian issue." Of course he knew. For all the shadows Gideon dealt in, he was painfully aware that the being before him knew all but his closest held secrets. "This is the fourth time that the Mandalorian has interfered with Project Necromancer."

     "The Mandalorians can't possibly know about us," Moff Senya spoke up. "They would've alerted the New Republic if they did."

     "If Lady Kryze still wielded the Darksaber, you would have been correct. Tell me, Moff Gideon," the Grand Admiral finally turned to face him, "what do you know of Din Djarin?" How had the other man learned that name?

     "He's an orphan. Djarin was born on Aq Vetina and then raised on Concordia after the death of his parents. His current tribe are adherents of the Way." Captain Kelborn snorted.

     "They're the cultists, aren't they?"

     "Yet these 'cult' members have troubled our operations more than the entirety of the New Republic combined," Thrawn stated. Kelborn's mouth clicked shut. "Is this all you know of Djarin?" he asked of the Moff.

     "Yes," Gideon replied.

     "One must know one's enemies more completely, Moff Gideon. Only then can you hope to defeat him." Gideon didn't need to know the Mandalorian. He only needed to kill him.

     "I understand, Grand Admiral Thrawn." Better to simply tell the Chiss what he wanted to hear.

     "I'm certain that you do." Gideon ignored the looks from the other Council members. "Now," Thrawn turned back to the others, "we were going to discuss the frequency of our hyperspace lane runs, were we not." The man didn't let his face move an inch. Captain Pellaeon's holo image was across from him. As firmly as the Mandalorian believed in his Way, Pellaeon believed in Thrawn. The captain wouldn't hesitate to report any signs of discontent. So Gideon held his tongue and silently watched. The Chiss before him was a brilliant tactician, but even the best could be blindsided. Gideon merely needed to wait for his opportunity.

Chapter Text

      Bo-Katan brought her ship in for the landing. They waited until it had fully settled to get up and make their way out of the cockpit. The foundlings stayed close to their buirs as the covert left the ship. Djarin recognized the boy that shadowed Shayna's footsteps. Tarq. That he could reunite them as foundling and parent once more was deeply gratifying. Paz and several more of the tribe members waited ahead at the mouth of the caverns. The larger man cocked in his head in blatant curiosity.

     "Who are the people you travel with?" Paz asked.

     "The Kantra covert," he replied. "They were captured by Imperials. The helmets of the adults were removed and their armor was stolen." The other Mandalorian flinched. "We will escort them to the Living Waters so that they may be redeemed, as we were." Paz eyed the limping older man.

     "They're injured."

     "Then they will rest," the armor's voice made everyone turn. The forge master emerge from the cave to join Paz. "And receive care before they leave."

     "Forge master," the older man nodded his head in respect to her. She studied him for a moment, and then...

     "Forge master," she returned the greeting. Djarin looked back at the him. He was-? The way the others had deferred to him made sense now.

     "There is no reason for us to rest," the man told her. "If your tribesman speaks the truth-"

     "The Living Waters have existed long before us," she raised her voice to address his group, "and they will exist long after. You will rest," the forge master repeated, "and leave in the morning." The older man looked back to his tribe. He nodded.

     "We thank you for your hospitality."

     "This is the Way," she replied. "Come," she welcomed the group inside, "we will prepare your rooms." The three groups followed after her.

     Djarin woke slowly to the new morning. He'd barely slept through the night, turning over thoughts instead. The tales were not true. Mandalore was not poisoned. Life lived on the surface. An idea had come to him. Wormed its way inside until all he could do was think of it. He stood from his bed and retrieved his helmet. Djarin uncovered the child's small bed, smiling down at his foundling as the little one expectantly reached for him.

     "Did you sleep well?" Grogu gurgled in response. He'd take that as a yes. "Then you slept better than I did." One long ear quirked. Djarin ran his finger along it, feeling warmth as he looked into large dark eyes. He was grateful that the child had chosen to return. Life without the foundling had been... empty. Having the child back was like breathing fully again. He thought back to Shayna. To the Kantra forge master's plea to accept their foundlings. It was good to prevent that separation. Djarin knew that it happened in other coverts. If he could reunite others... The man shook his head. He was getting ahead of himself. He felt a touch of nervousness as he settled Grogu in the crook of his arm. The forge master had been gracious in blessing his newest mission. What he wished to ask...

     It would require action by the entire covert. He was uncertain how they would react. But he had to try. They had been forced to flee from too many worlds, each new hiding place more dangerous than the last. But a world known to be glass and poison? No one would think to look for them there. They would be safe from the Imperial remnant. Safe from beskar hunters. He made his way through the warm cavern halls. The heat increased the closer he got to the the forge room. As always, the armorer continued with her work as he entered. The man sat at the squat meeting table and placed Grogu on the bench beside him. The child hopped off the seat and toddled about at his feet. The armorer finished her piece and set it aside.

     "You wish to speak." She joined him at the table. He took a moment to consider his wording.

     "This world," Djarin began, " is dangerous."

     "It is," she agreed.

     "Beasts lay in wait beneath the waters. Winged creatures snatch away foundlings." The woman waited. "I propose... that we move the covert."

     "Where would you have us resettle?" the armorer asked.

     "Mandalore." That made her visibly pause.

     "Do you wish to follow in Bo-Katan's footsteps and retake our home world? Even if you succeed in returning our lost tribespeople, we do not have the numbers."

     "Not the entire planet," he told her. She nodded for him to continue. "A section of the capital city. Only enough room for us to live. There are living animals there. Creatures as large as you and I. There must be safe food and water. If we settled there, we could secure safer access to the Living Waters. It would make returning our people to the Way easier."

     "This is not a decision that I alone can make."

     "I understand."

     "Then I shall call a vote," the armorer informed him. "And we will obey the will of the tribe."

     "Thank you." The armorer stood from her seat first. Grogu hopped up into Djarin's waiting arms. The child gurgled up at him, and even through his nerves, the man managed another smile. He had never asked anything like this of the tribe before. Bo-Katan had once wished to reclaim Mandalore. Perhaps she would help him in this. He left the forge room and started for the other woman's room.

Chapter Text

     There was a knock at her door. Bo-Katan reached for her helmet and slid it back on before she responded. "Yes?" A part of her was... nervous. Din's covert had accepted her without question after her 'redemption', but the other covert. Their forge master.

     "It's Din Djarin. With Grogu." Her shoulders relaxed.

     "Come in." The man and his child entered. "What is it?" Did he have another lead so soon?

     "I believe the Convert should move," he told her, "to Mandalore." What?

     "We don't have nearly enough people to start retaking the planet, Din." He shook his head.

     "We don't need the whole planet," the man replied. "We could claim a portion," he continued, "enough to set up a safe parameter around the Living Waters." She'd never thought about starting so small. Everything Bo had planned over the years depended on House support, on Mandalorians of significant numbers to act as support. A smaller group, however...

     "Why?" she asked him.

     "Everyone knows that the planet is glass and poison. No one will ever think to look for us there." Bo-Katan couldn't help herself. She chuckled. Mandalorians hiding on Mandalore. It was a ridiculous thought. But everyone she'd spoken to since the fall of their planet believed the Imperial lies. "You knew what those creatures were," he told her, "you could help us hunt them and keep the foundlings safe." Bo looked away from him. She wasn't sure she could take this so soon. Everything she'd done for the past several years had been devoted toward going home again. She'd finally let that dream die when her brothers and sisters had left her. And now Din wanted it. Was talking about it like it would be so simple.

     "We wouldn't be able to grow our own food," Bo-Katan told him. "Vegetation only grew in the city domes."

     "We won't need to grow our food," he replied. She cocked her head at him. "We can use polystarch bread. Those creatures we ran into, the Alamites. Are they edible? If not, we could try for the winged creatures." The Alamites?

     "The old tales say we hunted them for sport and meat, but-" Nothing in his stance changed. He really meant it?

     "They'd be emergency rations if it came to it."

     "Then how do you suggest we get real food?" she asked.

     "Trade."

     "With who?"

     "Nevarro. I had a working relationship with the High Magistrate there. Once our mission is complete, I would resume working with him. Instead of credits, it would be for supplies." He was acting like he had everything figured out. She'd spent so many nights planning which streets to retake first. How her people would comb the cities and repurpose what structures they could as they expanded outward.

     Small, Bo-Katan reminded herself. He wasn't trying to retake their world, just a portion of it. For something that small, maybe... "I need to convince the covert," Din told her. "Would you be willing to help me?" It wouldn't be what she'd dreamed of. But to have Mandalorians on Mandalore again, she wanted that. Had needed it, and here he was offering her an altered version of that.

     "Yes." To go home after so long. To begin even a small portion of what she'd spent years striving for. "I will." His posture relaxed at that.

     "Thank you," the man said, sounding relieved. The child in his arms turned from him to grin happily up at her. "The forge master is gathering the tribe. We should join them." She walked by his side as they left.

     The feeling of otherness hadn't entirely left as Bo-Katan sat amongst the other Mandalorians. None of them had spared her a second glance when she'd first joined them on the rocks, like everything she'd been before her 'redemption' meant nothing, but Bo felt out of place. The child, from its little seat beside her, stood and made grabbing motions. She couldn't help but smile as she seated the baby in her lap. The youngling, or did the others truly see him as a foundling? sat back against her chestplate.

     "-we know the beasts here," Grogu's father continued from his position in front of the fire, "we've lost several foundlings to them." Discomfort went through the group at that. "The creatures that Bo-Katan and I encountered on Mandalore will be easier to defend against."

     "What do you know of the beasts?" A Mandalorian on her left asked.

     "Bo-Katan?" Din asked of her. She focused on not shifting as she felt the eyes of all turn to her.

     "If we take refuge in the city, we won't need to worry about many of the flying species," Bo-Katan told them. "The Alamites will be our largest worry. They're humanoid in stature. Large. Strong. They work in groups and use ambush tactics. I'll teach you the signs to look out for."

     "Bo-Katan was able to kill several of them by herself," Din Djarin continued. "They're not like the beings here." The forge master shifted slightly and all turned to her.

     "And you have thought about how we will obtain food and water?"

     "I have," the Mandalorian replied. "Greef Karga should be willing to trade with us. Our skills for their supplies. We would work as we did before - I, or other hunters, would leave the planet and sell our abilities. Instead of credits we would obtain goods that we'd need."

     "You seem certain of this," the forge master said.

     "Karga is a good man. He'll help us," Din assured her.

     "And if we arrive on Mandalore and find it uninhabitable? Would you be willing to leave it and return here with us?" The forge master faced Din, but Bo understood what the woman was trying to see. The Mandalorian was following a version of what she herself had initially wished for. If he said no, the other woman would see it as Bo's answer instead.

     "Yes," Din replied. Bo wondered if he even knew the small test they'd both just passed.

     "Then if the rest of the covert agrees, I will join you." Bo breathed easier at that. As far as she could tell the rest of the Mandalorians here viewed the woman's word as final. Her willingness to go along with them made things considerably easier. Each tribe member was called on after that. Each, after consideration, agreed. Bo exhaled as the last of them voted to follow Din's plan.

     "We'll need supplies to start out with," the Mandalorian told them. "Once we finish packing away our things, we'll head to Nevarro. Greef Karga should be willing to loan us what we need."

     "Isn't this the man who tried to kill you and your foundling?" Vizsla spoke up. Bo-Katan could immediately feel the tide shifting into angry protectiveness-

     "He's changed since then." Din advocated for the man. "Not long ago, a droid malfunctioned. It attempted to kill the child. He helped me protect Grogu." And just like that the anger dissipated. They really took foundlings seriously here, didn't they, she thought. Which was odd. Death Watch had never been so overly concerned with children when she had been a member of the group.

     Bo-Katan looked at the other Mandalorians around her. Would they have gone along with Pre Vizsla when the man partnered with criminals? When they besieged Mandalore's capital? She doubted- No. There wasn't any doubt there. Bo-Katan looked down at the little foundling still in her arms. That sort of deception; the risk to citizens and their children that she'd once seen as necessary... Grogu cooed. Those wide black eyes blinked up at her.

     "I can't hide anything around you, can I?" Bo-Katan asked as she picked the kid up. The child gurgled happily as he clapped his hands together. "Thought not." As the other Mandalorians dispersed and moved around with purpose as they began to gather their things, she rose from her seat to walk toward the Mandalorian. Din accepted his child back. "Well done," she admitted. The Mandalorian thanked her. "Do your- Do our people have enough ships to get everyone off planet?"

     "Without yours, we wouldn't have," he replied.

     "Then let's get to work." For the first time in years Bo-Katan felt the beginnings of hope. It was a confused hope though. Mandalorians returning to Mandalore. They weren't even following her simply because she held the Darksaber. No one had even mentioned it or challenged Din for it since the start of her time with them. It was as if he didn't even have it. She eyed the direction the forge master had left. The woman had to know how important it was. "I'll help the forge master pack her things," Bo told Din. The man nodded. She left him and his foundling to head for the forge room.

Chapter Text

     "Why hasn't anyone challenged Din Djarin for the Darksaber?" The question burst from Bo-Katan the moment she entered the forge room. The other woman continued with her work.

     "Paz Vizsla challenged him," she replied as she powered down her forge. "He lost, and so the blade remains with Din Djarin."

     "You have to know what it is," Bo-Katan insisted.

     "I do," the forge master responded. "As do several others of the tribe."

     "Then why haven't you challenged him yet?" It just didn't make sense. Unquestionable power was within arm's length and no one was taking it! She'd had to duel more than a dozen of her own people to keep the blade.

     "I tend the forge. What good is a blade to me?"

     "It's more than that!"

     "Then tell me,  Bo-Katan Kryze, what is the Darksaber?" The forge master asked her.

     "The symbol of leadership over Mandalore. A symbol of victory over the Jedi." The other woman nodded along. "An equal to the lightsaber. It's-" The blade in Pre Vizsla's hands. In Maul's. Sabine's. Her own. The eyes of so many Mandalorians fixed on it as she'd held it above her head. "It's everything."

     "Now tell me: what is it not?" Bo faltered.

     "What?"

     "Tell me - what is the Darksaber not?"

     "It's..." Bo-Katan floundered. She'd never been asked that before. The forge master patiently waited. "I don't know what you want to hear," she finally admitted.

     "Walk with Din Djarin," the armorer told her. "Continue with your task. Return to me when you know what the Darksaber is not." Bo-Katan was reminded forcefully of the forge masters from Mandalore. Always so cryptic when their princess wanted straight answers.

     "Who are you?"

     "I am the forge master for this tribe."

     "You know what I meant."

     "My past does not matter," the other woman replied. "I follow the Creed, tend the forge, and shape armor for our people. This is the Way." Bo-Katan sighed. The forge master clearly meant what she'd said. The only way Bo would learn her identity was if she wrested the helmet off of the woman's head. Bo was tired of fighting her own people.

     "Fine." The forge master didn't give off any satisfaction at her victory. She merely watched Bo-Katan. "What do you want help packing?"

     "We will start with my schematics and tools first," the armorer began.

     Something was wrong. The feeling itched in the back of Koska's mind as she and Woves made their way into the welcoming room. The Duchess and her husband weren't seated with the other guests. Instead, the couple stood at the far side of the room. An older man she'd never seen stood off to their right. Koska followed Woves as the man strode past the partying citizens.

     "Captain Bombardier, we got your message." Which had been strangely short and to the point. Both of the royals continued to stare out at the city below.

     "Good." The former Imperial said. There wasn't a hint of the man's normal lightheartedness in his voice. "How much do you know about the pirate King Gorian Shard?" Woves shrugged.

     "The man's a pirate. What more is there to say?"

     "We have another mission for you." Koska shared a look with Woves. Captain Bombardier liked to use "cute" little euphemisms for words that got a little too close to breaking the charter. What was he doing?

     "Some of our acquaintances in his part of space have complained to us about him," the Duchess told them. What acquaintances could the woman have off world? As far as Koska knew, she'd never even left the planet. "We'd appreciate it if you dealt with him for us."

     "Dealt with him," Woves repeated.

     "What do you mean, Duchess?" Koska asked. The other woman finally turned to face him. If that smile was real, then Koska was the true ruler of Mandalore.

     "Well, we certainly won't have any use for such a man here. He's done horrible things." Captain Bombardier had done horrible things. Koska shared another glance with Woves. "Although, we'd like his ship."

     "Why?" her leader asked.

     "I thought Mandalorians were professionals," the duchess's husband told them. "You don't need to know why."

     "Taking the ship is going to be tough. We're just trying to get a feel for how much damage is acceptable," Woves said. The couple were quiet for a moment.

     "Several planets have seen what we've accomplished here on Plazir," the husband relented as he faced them. "They want to send us their droids for reprogramming. We agreed to send them some of ours too."

     "Why don't you just give out the reprogramming instructions?" Koska asked. Neither of the royals answered. "Captain Bombardier, what's going on?"

     "Nothing." The man's hard tone surprised her. Fear flashed across the his face before it abruptly smoothed out into complete blankness. "Nothing's wrong. We're simply trying to help others."

     "This is a good thing," the duchess said. Her voice wavered slightly. The older man to their right cleared his throat. He offered them a datapad.

     "I've tweaked the reprogramming code," the stranger told them. "It should clear out any of that nasty stuff still lingering in the ship. The code will automatically reprogram any droids aboard as well. Once you've installed the code, bring the ship back. My people will need to start making adjustments as soon as possible."

     "Yes..." Woves trailed off, leaving his sentence open for an introduction.

     "Commissioner Helgait," the older man supplied. "I'm certain with our increased orders that we'll get to know each other very well."

     "Uh huh." Woves pocketed the datapad. "Standard rates, Duchess, Captain?"

     "We're sorry!" the other woman burst out. She clapped her hands to her mouth, her eyes wide. Her husband reached out to rest his hand on her shoulder.

     "What my wife means is, we're having a little trouble with money right now." Oh? "It'll be straightened out soon enough. So yes, you'll have your usual rates. We'll make it happen," he assured them. "We have reliable information that the pirate will be hitting Nevarro soon. If you leave now, you should reach him while he's there."

     "Good," Woves said. "We'll head out then." He nodded to the couple before turning to head for the exit.

     "That wasn't odd at all," Koska dryly muttered as she walked by his side.

     "Maybe they finally woke up of the wrong side of the bed," Woves tried to joke. No, it was more than that. The captain was the most determinedly chipper man Koska had ever met. Fear didn't sit right on his face. What on earth did the pampered royal even have to be afraid of?

     "If that's just marriage problems, I'll disassemble my blaster and eat it."

     "Let's get the job done," the man said. "We'll look into it after we get back." Koska glanced back at the couple. They were talking with the commissioner. It just felt odd. She didn't like that. Still, the woman pushed her unease aside. They had a job to do.

Chapter Text

     "Much has changed since our time here," the armorer noted as Djarin guided the two coverts toward Karga's main office. The townsfolk they passed stopped to watch. More that a few recognized them and waved in greeting.

     "Things are better," he agreed.

     "Maybe you should take notes," Shand told her boss. The older man chuckled. It didn't take long for them to reach Karga's building. The aide who escorted them inside looked beside herself with excitement.

     "You used to live here, didn't you?" She asked as they made their way up the hallways.

     "Some of us did," Djarin replied.

     "Do you think you'll come back?"

     "We've found a new place," he replied. 

     "Oh." Her excitement dimmed a bit. "Well, if your people ever need a new home, Nevarro would be more than willing to host your covert again!"

     "Thank you." Djarin hoped they wouldn't need to take her up on the offer, even as good as it'd be to be among people he knew they could trust. The aide knocked on Karga's door.

     "Come on in," the man called out. Djarin held the door open for the others. "Well," Karga gave them all a wondering look. "You weren't kidding when you said you'd all be coming. I," his expression turned more caution as he eyed Fett and Shand, "didn't know you'd be bringing Daimyo Fett along."

     "He's helping me on a different mission," Djarin explained.

     "Surprised you know about me," the older man said. "Haven't ruled Tatooine for that long, have I, Fennec."

     "No," Shand agreed. "You haven't."

     "It's in Nevarro's best interest to see how other newly independent planets operate. Helps us see which way the wind's blowing, if you get what I mean." Boba nodded. "Now," Karga cleared his throat, "what was it you wanted, Din? You were awful vague over the comms."

     "My covert needs supplies that will last us a good deal of time," Djarin told him. "Polystarch bread, if you have it." Karga gave a short laugh.

     "Who doesn't have that? My storage officials can't get rid of it fast enough. Got a couple of barrels that're taking up space we could use for better goods."

     "My covert has enough funds to pay for it," Djarin began. Karga held a hand out to stop him.

     "Your people really want it?"

     "Yes," he replied.

     "Then it's yours. No charge. Honestly, you're doing us the favor by taking it."

     "We'll need more in the future," Djarin said. "We wanted to set up a barter system. Like what we had before. Our skills-" A frightened shriek from outside cut him off. As more sounds of confusion and fear came in, Djarin shared a look with Karga. As one they strode out onto the balcony behind the Magistrate. Shadows fell over Djarin's visor. He easily recognized the massive, looming corsair above. Shard.

     "High Magistrate! Oh, dear, High Magistrate!" The panicked mechanical voice brought them both back around. A golden colored droid hurriedly strode past the covert. "There's a pirate Corsair violating the population zone airspace! They've refused all efforts to communicate!"

     "Put out an order for our citizens to find shelter," Karga commanded. The droid turned to hurry back the way it had came as the man's comm station trilled. Greef flicked the accept toggle up. Shard's green, moss covered face expanded out before them. Djarin's hand drifted down to his blaster.

     "Greef Karga," the being squat nose wrinkled in disdain, "did you really think you could kill my people and live?"

     "Your men shot first." Karga responded.

     "Then you should have done them the curtesy of dying," Gorian replied. "Just like," beady green eyes fixed on Djarin, "the Mando. My men will sell your armor to the highest bidder. For a full set?" The being's tongue flicked out to trace his lips. "Yes, we'll have credits for a long time thanks to you."

     "Are you sure that's a good idea?" Karga asked the man. "My planet is under the protection of the New Republic. The Rangers pass through here regularly." Shard scoffed.

     "Don't try to bluff me, Karga. Your planet has had no guidance since you forced your Imperial protectors off-world. You're alone, and soon, you'll be dead." His image disappeared. Shrieks of terror and pain came from the streets outside as the building shook.

     "He's bombarding us!" Karga hissed. "I'll send out a directive for the people to retreat to the lava flats-"

     "So they can die faster?" Fett asked. "They'll be waddlng banthas for that ship."

     "The sewers," Djarin thought out loud. "They'll be firmer than any house. More easily defensible. Bo-Katan, Fett, do you think you can make it to your ships?" The building swayed again.

     "'Course we can, Din," the older man replied. "Fennec-"

     "We'll need her here on the ground." Djarin un-slung his phase-pulse rifle and tossed it to the assassin. She caught it and eyed the weapon. Gave a smile when she realized what she was holding. He unclipped his belt of cartridges and tossed it to her as well. When Fett nodded to her, the woman snapped the belt on and without a moment of hesitation sprinted past them toward the balcony. She vaulted from it and dropped out of view.

     "What about your people?" Bo-Katan asked as Fett strode out onto the balcony. His jet pack unleashed a burst of flame as he took to the air.

     "We'll help the people get to the sewers and then form defensive positions. Keep the pirates occupied for as long as you can." She turned and took off at a run, leaping off the balcony. Her jetpack roared to life to lift her into the clouds above. "I'm sorry," Djarin apologized to the two coverts. "This isn't your fight-"

     "They have made their intentions clear," the armorer stated. "Even if we did not fight, they would kill the foundlings and us for our beskar. They are a threat that must be eliminated." He felt relief at the set shoulders of his people. They were behind him in this.

     "Lead the citizens below," he asked of her, of all of them. "I'll follow afterward."

     "What will you do?" she questioned him. He unhooked the Darksaber. The blade hummed as it extended out from the hilt.

     "I'm going to try to take out as many of the downward facing guns as I can. It'll give you all more time." The armorer reached for him then; took hold of his right shoulder.

     "You will not die here, Din Djarin," she commanded. He lowered his head.

     "I will try to follow your words." The child cooed up at him. He looked down into large black eyes. As much as he wanted to keep Grogu with him, if the pirates got lucky in their targeting while Djarin was in the air... With one hand, he carefully tugged his child out of the sling. "Will you watch over my foundling?"

     "I will protect him with my life," the armorer swore as she accepted the child. "This is the Way."

     "This is the Way," he repeated back to her. He looked to Karga as the others exited the room. "You said that the Rangers visit Nevarro frequently?"

     "Cara was demoted to their ranks. They follow her - she'll come," Karga replied as he keyed in new comm codes into his console.

     "Tell them to hurry," Djarin said before he left the man and headed for the balcony. Blade in hand, the Mandalorian fired off his jetpack and took to the skies. He sealed his helmet against the thinning atmosphere and studied the bottom of the corsair. Fourteen lower turrets. Seven on each upward slopping side of the ship's stomach. He breathed faster as shots blew past to decimate the buildings below. The whine of an engine caught his attention - he looked to his left as Kryze and Fett's ships roared past.

     "Din? Is that you?" Bo-Katan's voice came over his comm.

     "Yes," he replied.

     "What're you doing?"

     "Taking out the lower turrets."

     "The pirates will blow you out of the sky!"

     "Not if you both keep them busy," he replied. Fett's laughter sounded in his ears.

     "Creedbound!" The older man called out to him. What did that mean? "Oya!"

     "Vor'e," Djarin replied. Snub fighters poured out from openings on the side of the ship. Boba and Bo-Katan fired on them, taking two out as the rest twisted away into the wider open air. Djarin angled so that he would fly in along the ship's smooth underbelly. Gripped the Darksaber tightly and thrust it into the rounded base of the nearest turret. Dark metal immediately reddened and sloughed off at the blade's heat. The turret went limp. Djarin hefted the Darksaber high as he angled for the next one. Cutting through each was easy. Metal parted like water. Sparks flew. Turret after turret went limp. He started for the other side-

     "Din!" Bo-Katan's voice startled him. "They realized you're down there! There are three snub fighters headed your way! I'm trying to take them out but you need to get out of there!" He'd be an easy target if he tried to fly back down. Djarin considered it as quickly as he could. That would also make them easy targets for Bo-Katan.

     "Kill them before they kill me," he told her as he abandoned the turrets to angle back down toward the city. As the first snub fighter came into view he killed his jetpack and let himself plummet. Shots burned through the sky where he'd been. The heat was close enough to make him sweat. Bo-Katan took out one ship. Another. The debris rained down to ping off his armor. The third snub fighter adjusted to better target him and the Mandalorian lit his jetpack to life again. The shot missed by an uncomfortably small margin. Bo-Katan successfully took the ship out.

     "Get back to the city!" she told him over his comm. He turned midair to dive down toward the buildings below. Several of the pirate's ships had landed on the edges of the town. He saw small figures engaged in combat in the streets. Djarin deactivated the Darksaber and slid it back into place. He drew his blaster. Leveled out several feet above the nearest building top. Aimed. Fired. The pirate below him dropped. The pirate next to the one he'd downed startled and looked up, only to disappear into a burst of dust. Ragged clothes fluttered to the ground. Djarin cast a quick glance around. He couldn't spot where Shand was. Another pirate disappeared in a cloud of dust. Then another just as quickly. The Mandalorian was grateful that she was on their side. He reached the street and landed, firing off another shot into the back of pirate engaged in combat with Paz. The other man waved him toward the opening to the sewer.

     "The corsair's turning," Boba warned them all over the comms. "Go underground until we take the rest of those turrets out." Thundering shots sounded overhead. Djarin sprinted toward his tribesman. He stumbled as the ground shook again. Bits of metal and siding cascaded down against his armor. Paz hauled him along into the safety of the sewer mouth. They descended together. More of their tribe waited below, the bare faces of the other covert greeted him as well. Citizens, their faces splotchy with tears and varying shades of pale in terror, silently looked at him. He felt like they were waiting. Like he should be saying something. His people had three ships. An assassin. Two coverts, one without armor.

     "The pirates will have to kill us to get to you." It was the only thing he could promise them.

     "We'll fight with you," a wavering voice spoke up from the cluster of citizens. They parted for the woman who'd spoken. He recognized her as the aide from before. "This... This is our planet! Not theirs!" An air of uncertainty. The mood shifted. Determination joined the terror in the eyes of those before him. They'd likely all be unskilled fighters, but the Mandalorian knew just how fierce a cornered being could be. He nodded to her as the sewers shook again. And then- Nothing. Stillness. Quiet. Djarin waited. No more earth shuddering shots came. Had Bo-Katan and Boba managed to take out the last of the turrets?

     "Din," Shand's voice sounded in his ear. "You all can come out now." She sounded both relieved and pleased. "I don't know where they're from, but reinforcements came. This should be over soon."

     "The New Republic?" Djarin asked. "Or their Rangers?"

     "Neither. More Mandalorians." Grogu, safely tucked in the armorer's arms, perked up like the child could feel his happiness. Other Mandalorians. Perhaps some were even former members of their tribe. The armorer handed his child back and Djarin felt his heart settle at the familiar weight in his arms.

     "More Mandalorians came," Djarin raised his voice so that his words would reach to the back of the gathered city folk. "Shand believes we'll be safe." The aide staggered over to the wall and leaned against it, relief clear on her face. The other citizens followed his lead back up to the surface. They all watched as the second, large ship loomed over the pirate's corsair. Snub fighter after snub fighter disappeared in sharp explosions. The remaining few fled. After tense minutes where he waited for any more firing, the other citizens began to relax. More minutes ticked by, and then-

     The corsair shifted from its last second attempt to flee. Slowed and drifted upward. Assumed position behind the other ship. The citizens cheered. The work of a boarding party, Djarin assumed, one that had been successful. As the people around him continued to celebrate, he studied the victorious ship. The underbelly had been painted with the symbol of the Mythosaur. A hopeful sign, but one that confused him. The Way encouraged secrecy. Secrecy ensured survival. What tribe would so openly travel while declaring who they were?

     "I recognize that ship." Bo-Katan's voice held no relief. Only bitter weariness. "It was Moff Gideon's. It's ou- It's the Night Owl's ship now." Djarin recalled her words to him before she'd saved him. Her tribespeople who had left her.

     "Did you call on them for aid?"

     "No," came her immediate reply. "I don't know why they're here." Not his people's problem, the man decided. They had come for supplies and only that. But before that... He looked to Karga. The man stared up at the Mandalorian ship, his expression half wondering and half disbelieving.

     "Will your people need help rebuilding before we leave?" Greef looked at him in complete silence for a long moment. And then laughed. Laughed so hard that tears ran down his cheeks. The laughter spread quickly, until Djarin and the tribes were surrounded by cheering, laughing citizens. Grogu gurgled along with them as he waved his little arms about. The Mandalorian couldn't help but smile down at his son. Karga took gasping breaths as he straightened. The man rubbed away his tears.

     "Now that we're not all going to die, your tribe wanted supplies? You can have them. Everything you need. Free of charge. My people would run me out of the city otherwise."

     "We would be willing to stay for clearing things out," Djarin offered again, "we could contact the New Republic. They would send aid." He hoped.

     "No," Karga shook his head. "Your people didn't come here to be roped into this. We're just lucky you all showed up when you did. This planet," he looked at the still cheering aide, "is ours. Not the New Republic's. We'll rebuild it ourselves. Now," he took several more relieved breaths before fully straightening, "let me take you all to the storage district."

Chapter Text

     Boba checked his blaster as the Moff's former ship landed. The city folk around them continued to celebrate, not noticing the weary silence that had descended on the two coverts as the tribespeople continued to move their new goods. Fennec didn't even bother looking up as she checked the Mandalorian's phase-pulse rifle. She hadn't given it back to the man yet. Boba'd have to look into the black markets around Tatooine to see if anyone had another rifle like it. A gift of appreciation. And convenient for them both, if the way some of the citizens looked at her in intimidated admiration was anything to go by.

     "They're the Night Owls, yes? Kryze's people?" Boba asked as he accepted a sack of polystarch flour. He threw it over his shoulder and started along with Din.

     "Not any more," came the reply. Boba knew he wouldn't get elaboration. Odd, though. She and her group had seemed determined to retake Mandalore together. He certainly hadn't expected to then see her without them. They reached Din's ship and lugged the supplies inside. "One more trip should be enough," the Mandalorian said. Boba'd give that to the man's people. When they set their mind to something they made it happen. Maybe if this Mandalore thing didn't work out he'd be able to talk them into living on Tatooine. They made it back to the storage building, both tribes gathering last arm fulls of goods. Boba heard calls of confused yet joyful greetings from the city folk off to his left. The people parted for a group of Mandalorians dressed in the same dark blues as Kryze.

     "Bo-Katan?" Boba recognized the voice of the woman's former follower. Kryze stopped.

     "Keep walking," he murmured as he passed her. He knew the sound of trouble coming. She started after them again-

     "Kryze?" A new man's voice. Kryze slowed as she reluctantly looked back. Boba sighed as Din and his tribe finally had to acknowledge the other Mandalorians. She shoulda kept walking. 

     "Woves." That wasn't the tone of two allies speaking to each other. The new man took his helmet off as he looked from her to the others.

     "What're you doing here? And with him?"

     Bo-Katan cursed herself for having described Din so well to her former clan members. "You found him again," Koska's voice lifted with hope. Bo-Katan knew where her former sister was going.

     "No. I'm not here for the blade." Better to end that hope here and now.

     "So you'd leave it in the hands of this misguided zealot?" Woves asked. Bo-Katan could feel the others shift behind her. Whether they were insulted or waiting to see if she'd be swayed, she couldn't tell.

     "He's not," she replied. She hadn't yet figured out where she stood in regard to the man's faith, but he was far from misguided. Woves's eyes narrowed then. Nervousness prickled up the back of her neck.

     "We've fought together for years. Why are you speaking to me with your helmet on, like I'm a stranger?" Bo-Katan felt her heart beat faster. She'd thought she'd have more time.

     "You are." Bo-Katan didn't have to fake her hurt heat, even though she meant it as a diversion. "You left me."

     "After you failed us," he replied. "As you continue to do so."

     "Take it off." Unease entered Koska's voice as the younger woman took off her own helmet. Bo-Katan kept her hands down by her sides. She tried to ignore the tremor in her fingers. "Bo, take it off." When Bo-Katan made no move to, her former sister approached her.

     She felt like everyone's eyes were on her. The cold and the dark. Din's recitation of his Creed, his voice low and reverent with faith she'd never felt. Koska reached out. The eye, massive and looming. Gloved fingers hooked beneath her helmet. She moved. Grabbed Koska's wrists and yanked the woman's hands down and away from her helmet. They both froze. She let go. Stepped back. Shock showed on both Koska and Woves's features. She was grateful then that no one could see her face.

     "Bo?" She didn't respond to the other woman.

     "You...?" Woves's shock twisted into disbelief. "How could you fall this far?"

     "Seems like you folks pushed her," the clone drawled from behind. Something she couldn't recognize twisted along the undercurrents of his voice. Woves looked between them. Bo-Katan didn't like the flash of realization that crossed his face, there and gone before she could blink.

     "Reeves, we're leaving." The man turned from them without another word to her.

     "But-!"

     "We've got a job to finish up," he said, still not looking back. Koska hesitated before she turned to follow after him. The other Night Owls fell into step behind him and Bo-Katan watched them leave her. It felt no better a second time around. Part of her wished to take her helmet off. To run after the only people she knew well anymore, but...

     "Bo-Katan?" Din slightly cocked his helmet at her. She couldn't tell what he was thinking. Couldn't read his body language.

     "Come on, Princess," Boba jerked his head back toward their ships. "We've got a job to finish." A job. Yes, Bo-Katan thought. Din's lost people. His covert's move the Mandalore. She... The job wasn't done yet. The other covert members shifted their supplies along, walking as if nothing had happened. She caught sight of the armorer's bronze helmet angled toward her. The other woman gave her a single nod before continuing onward. Bo-Katan fell into step behind the group, glad that no one else spoke to her.

Chapter Text

     "Are we seriously going to leave her with them?" Koska asked as she and Woves reached the pirate's ship. Her sisters entered ahead of them. Woves didn't speak until they were aboard. The man surprised her by chuckling. 

     "I've always admired Bo-Katan's will." He noticed her confused look. "I don't know how she managed it, but those zealots think she's one of them."

     "Then... that's why she stopped me from taking her helmet off?" Koska asked.

     "She's staying close to them," Woves explained as they walked through the blaster scorched hallway that led to the bridge. "To him."

     "But she said she wasn't there for the Darksaber." He shoot an easy grin her way.

     "And how many times has she said one thing and done the opposite?" Koska considered that.

     "Why didn't she just challenge him, then?" It'd make their lives both harder and easier. The blade would be back in the hands of a true Mandalorian, but Woves had learned to like leading.

     "When the zealot gave his "foundling" away, it broke him." The woman nodded. They'd all been uncomfortable in the presence of the silently distraught man after the Jedi had come. They both reached the command room. The door smoothly slid open. They ignored the downed bodies of the pirates as they entered.

     "She's thinking ahead. She was given the Darksaber before. How would it look if she won it from a grieving 'father'?" He shook his head. "That wouldn't be a story worthy of uniting the other Clans. Our people'd look down on her for challenging him like that. So," his smile widened, "she's waiting. Once he's recovered enough that we'd consider it a fair fight? She'll leave them behind and return to us. And when she comes?" He rolled his shoulders in anticipation.

     "I'll fight her for leadership of our group. And," he continued, "the Darksaber." Koska stopped. Watched in surprise as he continued onward toward the primary command console.

     "You'd challenge her for it?" Woves was one of the few in their group, besides her, who'd never fought Bo-Katan for the Darksaber. He'd always seemed content to follow alongside their former leader.

     "She lost the blade to an Imperial," he replied, "and that led to it being held by an aruetii. Even when she wins it from him, she won't deserve it. Not anymore." Koska kept quiet at that, uncomfortable at the accusation of Bo-Katan being unworthy. "Now," the man unhooked his datapad from his belt, "let's see how this code works."

     "What do you think it does?" Koska asked, relieved that he was moving on. The man shrugged.

     "So long as we get paid, I don't care. Knowing those royals? They'll probably end up using this ship for leisure. A shame," he said as he began to transfer the data. "We'd put it to better use." Their people having two high combat capable ships? It'd spread word of their reputation. They'd get better commissions. Maybe even have some of the lesser Clans join with them. She considered the thought.

     Without Bo-Katan, they couldn't be a part of Clan Kryze any more. Were the Nite Owls considered as Clan Woves now? The screen before them turned on. She watched as lines of code scrolled downward. The doors behind them slid shut as a live image came into focus. The older man from before, Commissioner Helgait, smiled out at them.

     "I see that you successfully installed the program."

     "We did," Woves confirmed. Still smiling, the commissioner looked down at his own datapad and tapped a button. Koska and Woves swayed as the ship's engines lit off and began to rise. She reached out and put a hand to the nearest console to steady herself.

     "Then welcome, Nite Owls, to your first day of service to the Empire." Koska stared. She had to have misheard him.

     "You have a poor sense of humor, Commissioner," Woves told him. The older man's smile never wavered.

     "I meant every word of it," he assured them. Koska's grip on the console tightened. What was happening? "And before you and the rest of your little group try to bravely free yourselves from our new ship, think of your fellow Clan members. I control every 'reprogrammed' droid on this planet and thanks to you, your people currently don't have any ships capable of surviving a full on assault." Koska could see it play out in her mind's eye - the massacre would be... She moved to heavily sit down, feeling her stomach clench painfully at the thought.

     "What do you want?" her leader asked with a low and strained voice.

     "Relax," the older man replied. "All I want is for us to work together." His lips quirked slightly. "You might even like this."

     "What. Do. You. Want," Woves gritted out.

     "You'll return to our planet to repaint the corsair with Mandalorian colors, much like what you did with the first. And then," his narrow eyes gleamed with joy, "you're going to kill Imperials." 

     Ezra paused at the end of the hallway and glanced around. He couldn't feel anyone nearby through the Force. The young man leaned back against the wall and focused on breathing. He hated this new ship. Eyes watching, murmured whispers, the chill of secret hatred through the Force. Not even his first months aboard Thrawn's ship all that time ago had been this nerve-wracking.

     Some here truly believed in what the Grand Admiral was doing, but the others? No, they just hated the New Republic more. Hatred based comradery was always tricky - it was why Thrawn had committed wholeheartedly back then to convincing him to their cause.

     He shivered in the cold. Being aboard a ship with crew who'd been like he'd been so long ago? It was dangerous. Worse, these people weren't fighting for their survival like he had. No, they were hungry for power, hiding their claws behind professional smiles.

     Ezra rubbed at his arms. His datapad chimed then. Ezra glanced down at the message. Report to Thrawn's quarters? Gladly. He straightened. Took a deep breath before letting his out.

     Showing weakness when surrounded by people like these was a death sentence. They knew who he was, what he was, and that Thrawn claimed him as his own, but to some it wouldn't matter. They'd take any chance they got to kill him. If not out of hatred for his past, than to mildly inconvenience the Grand Admiral. Ezra squared his shoulders. He wouldn't be weak. He wouldn't be a target. The lieutenant continued onward at a forced leisurely pace.

     He heard it then. The Force's soft trill, like the low calls of the Purgills. Ezra reluctantly gave into curiosity as he followed it. The hallway darkened the further he walked until all he could see was pitch black ahead. The man turned and saw only darkness the way he'd come.

     He continued forward several more steps in the darkness until a dim light gradually returned. Stone crunched beneath his boots and he reached out to run a hand along the cold stone wall to his left. Dark, faded paintings lined the walls. Nothing like Sabine's art, her colorful and expressive work, but blocky and flat. He recognized them as warriors - the unmistakable Mandalorian helmets and blades were a dead give away.

     "Fascinating," Thrawn's voice echoed through the darkness.

     "Grand Admiral?" Ezra squinted. There were only more shadows. He took a cold breath and continued onward. A coo sounded ahead. The man cautiously edged forward. His heart leapt into his throat as something jumped out at him from shadows. Ezra flinched as he instinctively caught it.

     Large, inquisitive black eyes blinked up at him. Small nails tapped against his colored gauntlet. Wait, gauntlet? When had he-? A heavy sigh came from directly behind him. Ezra startled and swung around. Nothing. His arms were empty again. The man took several more steps forward. Ducked as blaster bolts whizzed through the air. Blue and red shots flashed by in the darkness. Metal crunched somewhere in the distance. Ezra made himself straighten.

     And regretted it immediately as frigid air locked tight around him. The man struggled in the vice like grip as he was yanked off of his feet and dragged forward through the air. He couldn't move. Couldn't breath to scream. The crushing weight vanished and he fell to his knees then.

     A hand briefly rested on Ezra's shoulder and he caught a glint of metal there. Green light snap hissed into existence to smoothly deflect another hail of bolts. Ezra turned to thank his savior only for darkness to fall again. Silence.

     And then the sound of another lightsaber igniting ahead of him. Blue gleamed in the darkness. In the shadows, Ezra made out the gradually clearing outlines of a fluttering cloak and a near black helmet. The Darksaber extended out, humming as the stranger lifted and leveled it at the black cloaked figure ahead of them. Ezra blinked; felt another hand on his shoulder. He looked up into Thrawn's scarlet eyes.

     "Ezra." Ezra slowly relaxed as he looked around. Thrawn's office. Familiar projections of paintings and sculptures. He breathed easier, hoping that the Force had truly released him. "You did not respond to my questions."

     "I was having a Force vision," Ezra began, knowing the other man would want every detail. He paused though when he caught sight of two open displays - Mandalorian armor? Thrawn followed his gaze.

     "You see why I called you here." The man straightened and offered his hand. Ezra accepted and stood. "Moff Gideon may be content to know little about the Mandalorian, but I am not. Now," the Chiss clasped his hands behind his back, "Tell me of your vision while the base paint dries." Ezra clenched his hands to ground himself more firmly in the present.

     "We were in a hallway," he began, "and it was decorated with what I think were Mandalorian paintings..."

Chapter Text

     The darkness of space and the light of distant stars slid back into place as Djarin's ship exited hyperspace. He angled inward to fly alongside Bo-Katan's ship, Boba's ship above them.

     "We're ready," Bo-Katan announced over their shared channel.

     "Your navigation systems'll be temporarily scrambled when we enter the atmosphere," Djarin told Boba. "Once we get past the storm cover things'll clear up."

     "Understood," the older man told him. Together, all three ships entered the storm. Rain and sleet pelted Djarin's window. He ignored the beeping of his systems signaling errors and continued in his downward glide. Grogu made a small sound of discomfort and Djarin looked down to see the child's ears angled down over his small shoulders.

     "We'll be all right," he assured his foundling. The skies around them cleared upon exiting the darkness. He called up his last entered coordinates on the planet's surface. It took a moment but the point eventually showed in his system. Djarin piloted down to the position and landed. Boba's ship landed on his left and Bo-Katan's ship descended to his right.

     The Mandalorian exited his ship. Grogu scrambled up into his pod and followed after him. Boba and Shand exited the man's ship, their weapons drawn. Or rather, the Daimyo's weapons and his weapon. The assassin still hadn't returned his phase-pulse rifle. Bo-Katan and the armorer led both coverts out of the woman's ship. Their foundlings' helmets turned every which way as they looked about in wonder.

     "We can enter through there," Djarin said as he pointed to the cave ahead. "It leads into the city." The rest drew their weapons as well as he and Bo-Katan took the lead. Grogu stayed close, the child firmly sealing his pod and setting it to automatically follow Djarin. Green glass crunched beneath the Mandalorian's boots as he continued into the shadows of the cave. He cautiously eyed the uneven ceiling.

     "The Alamites we encountered came from above," Bo-Katan raised her voice so that the group could hear her.

     "Through the holes," Djarin said.

     "And further down, they hid above thinner sheets of rock. If I hadn't heard them, they would've come down on top of me. Whenever you move around, keep an eye on the ceilings. Be careful around sections where you can see light showing through."

     "Do they still favor the use of clubs?" the armorer asked. Djarin looked back at the woman and wondered how she knew.

     "Yes," Bo-Katan answered.

     "The creatures have four eyes," the armorer told them all, "but blinding them won't be enough, for they possess a keen sense of smell as well."

     "You know of these creatures?" he asked her.

     "I do," was all she replied. He led them to the end of the ledge. Layers of city ruins stretched out below.

     "I'll be damned," Boba murmured as he looked out at the moss covered buildings. "It really is still here."

     "You should've seen what it looked like before," Bo-Katan said. Djarin turned back to the coverts. They'd only had a couple of spare jetpacks. Not enough for the entire group.

     "You should put your new helmets on," Djarin told those of the Kantra covert and his former covert members. "We'll go down together. If we go two per person and foundling, we should be able to get everyone down in one go.

     "I can carry Ragnar and another foundling," Paz offered. The foundling of the former hunter shyly approached. The hunter gave a nod of appreciation as the larger Mandalorian easily scooped both of the children up into his arms. The rest of them put on their helmets and parred off to begin their descent.

     Boba and Shand reached the ground first. They both eyed their surroundings as Djarin and the others reached them. Together, the group continued onward and downward. "I never thought I'd step foot here again," Paz said as they continued to walk. His son's helmet jerked upward.

     "You've been here before?" his boy asked in astonishment.

     "I can't remember much." Paz told him. "I was younger than you and we visited in secret."

     "The city was grand," the other armorer stated. "So many of our people walked the streets. We worked the Great Forge; crafted the finest of armors and weapons."

     "Perhaps one day we shall do so again," the forge master of his tribe said. The other armorer shook his head.

     "The curse on our people remains unbroken. The only reason that we," he gestured to his tribespeople, "have not died yet is because we walk with you, those protected by the old ways."

      "You will be redeemed." Djarin assured them, "I swear this." No creatures emerged from the darkness to attack. Perhaps their numbers discouraged such things. Djarin hoped that this was true - their foundlings would be safer if so. Grogu reluctantly opened his pod to nervously peer around.

     They continued onward past empty chambers and through musty hallways until they reached the entrance to the Mines. They walked in pairs then, the children in the middle of the group until at last the narrow hallway widened into the chamber that held the Living Waters. Those of the Kantra covert made disbelieving sounds of hope.

     "Who will go first?" the armorer asked of them. The other tribe looked to their former armorer. He stepped forward.

     "Be careful," Djarin warned him, "the bottom steps were broken. If you go too far you'll fall in." The other armorer gave a brief nod before making his way down the stairs.

     "I swear on my name," the older man's voice shook as his foot reached the water, "and the names of the Ancestors, that I shall walk the way of the Mand'alor," the waters reached the man's ankles, his knees, and then his hips. They rose further with each step. "And the words of the Creed shall be forever forged in my heart." The armorer stopped then and turned toward them, disappearing beneath the surface as he knelt. Djarin waited with baited breath. He was certain the man hadn't gone too far, but if he somehow had...

     The armorer's dark helmet broke the surface. He stood, water streaming off of his armor as he paused and stood for a moment in silence. He slowly made his way back up the stairs. A stuttered gasp came from Shayna. His chest warmed as he smiled beneath his helmet. Grogu cooed; reached for him. Djarin scooped the child up into his arms.

     One by one, the former Kantra covert members entered the Living Waters. One by one they spoke the Creed and emerged redeemed. The room was silent save for the sounds of water and their words. Their hunter went last, her voice shaking as she re-swore herself to the Creed. When she emerged, her foundling broke from their group and ran to her. The child leapt into her arms as the hunter went to her knees.

     "Buir!" The child wrapped his arms and legs around her and held tight. She cradled him close. Djarin rapidly blinked as he tried to ignore the warmth behind his eyes. Grogu shifted in his arms, one ear lowering as the other one went raised.

     "I'm fine," he whispered to his foundling. And he was, until his former tribesman and tribeswoman redeemed themselves. Just as the hunter's foundling had, both of their foundlings ran to embrace them.

     The quiet of the room was replaced with the sounds of joyful crying and words of comfort and love. Djarin had to look away then. He swallowed thickly as he looked down at his child. A tiny hand pressed to the cheek of his helmet. He gently stroked Grogu's head, trailing his finger's down the child's ears. They fluttered and raised.

     "Mandalorian." He looked up. The redeemed armorer offered Djarin his hand. The Mandalorian accepted the handshake only to be surprised when he was pulled into a hug. "Thank you," the older man's voice shook his emotion. "Thank you."

     "This is the Way," was the only reply Djarin could think of. The armorer let go of him as the rest of the Kantra tribe embraced each other in reunion. His own covert welcomed their own members back just as they had him and Bo-Katan. He took part as well, feeling gladness and relief as he clapped his hand first to Shayna's shoulder and then to Jasper's. He had been successful - they had been returned to the Way. Yet more of his tribe remained lost in the stars. He would find them, the man swore to himself, and see them redeemed as well. 

     She had never seen her people swear themselves to the old Creed like this. Not even Death Watch initiates had treated their vows with this level of...  What else could she call it but reverence? Their trials had been difficult to pass, meant to push those who wished to join to their limits, but this felt different even from her childhood days of watching Mandalorians honor the rite.

     Bo-Katan had seen some of the older Houses treat it with respect. Honor, even, but not this. This felt hard to look at, like she was intruding on private matters, but she couldn't look away as each of the cultists emerged from the waters and acted as if they truly believed their souls had been returned to them. Bo-Katan had once thought the creedbound idea of a soul as foolish, but...

     Seeing them, seeing their heartfelt relief and joy, it made her have to rapidly blink. She swallowed and then cleared her throat. As Din's covert welcomed their people back, she stepped back to give them more privacy, not feeling like she had the right to participate in their heartfelt congratulations.

     "Sure is something to see," Boba's lowered voice drew her attention. She looked to the bounty hunter. He leaned against the wall behind her. Shand stood by his side.

     "It is," Bo finally agreed with him.

     "There, Princess. Was that so hard?" He gave a short laugh. "Now you just need to work on accepting that I'm a person."

     "You're not," she replied. "You weren't born - you were made."

     "And you were born to rule. Tell me, where'd that get you? Here," he said, "alone, save for the cultists and us."

     "You know nothing, clone."

     "I know why Mandalore fell, Death Watch." Bo-Katan spun. Jammed her elbow under the clone's throat. He let her, staying still as his pet assassin shifted to subtly aim the phase-pulse rifle at her. Bo could practically feel the smirk beneath the man's helmet. "Are you sure you want to get into this here?" he sked. "We'd disappoint the Mandalorian. Neither of us wants that, do we."

     "You don't belong here." Bo-Katan told him. "Neither of you do."

     "And yet here we are. Get used to it, Kryze, we aren't leaving until the job's done." 

     "Bo-Katan?" They all stopped at the Mandalorian's questioning tone. She looked back at the man. He walked to them with his child in his arms. The baby gurgled, dark eyes going between them all as his little mouth twisted downward. The child's ears tucked down and he babbled disapprovingly. "Is something wrong?" She glanced past him to the still joyful coverts. The armorer had turned to watch them as well. The taller woman left her covert members and walked toward them.

     "It's nothing." The woman stepped back from the clone. "I'm going to secure the perimeter."

     "Congratulations are in order." The forge master's voice stopped her. The woman's bronze helmet turned to them one by one. "You have successfully returned our sister covert and two of the tribe to the Way. Well done."

     "We only did what anyone else in the tribe would've done," Din said.

     "Indeed. Yet your task is not yet finished."

     "How many of your people are still out there?" Shand asked. 

     "Twelve," Din replied. He looked back toward his covert. "Shayna, Jasper," he called out. The two broke off from their covert to walk over. Their foundlings closely followed. "Did any of the others tell you where they were going?" The woman rubbed at her chin beneath her helmet.

     "I think Keldriz said he was heading to Hutta."

     "Hutta? Why?" Boba asked. "That place is worse than Tatooine." Bo-Katan hated to agree with the clone but he was right. The planet was a wretched ball of greed and misery.

     "Once you've broken the Creed, jobs are all you have left. Hutta always has jobs," Shayna explained. But still. Hutta. The Mandalorian thanked her.

     "Once we've secured a safe area for the coverts," Din told them, "we'll head out." Bo-Katan wished he and his people were less single-minded and efficient. Just thinking about Hutta made her shudder. This was going to be deeply unpleasant.

Chapter Text

     After some discussion, the group had decided to leave Bo-Katan's ship behind. The room on it would let the two coverts evacuate should anything beyond their skill attack. She'd begrudgingly joined Fett and Shand aboard their ship. The Daimyo had radiated smugness throughout the entire transfer. Djarin was fairly certain that the two wouldn't kill each other before they arrived at Hutta.

     His ship shuddered as it dropped into normal space. He tabbed his communications on. A gruff voice demanded identification and landing payment transfers. Djarin gave both. He was assigned a docking port. The man guided his ship down and landed. He exited, retrieved Grogu, and made his way through spacious hallways. Sentients of all types made their way about. Some were like him, entering Hutta. Others left with bound targets or trophies. The child gave a low sound of discomfort. 

     "It's all right," he murmured as he walked. They reached the main exit. Fett and the others had reached it ahead him. They waited with a healthy distance between them. He sighed. At least they hadn't attacked each other yet. Djarin had no more than reached them when a freshly painted astromech rolled its way over. Wordlessly, the droid flipped it's projector open. A male Twil'lek in finery bowed, his image flickering with static as he spoke.

     "Greetings, Din Djarin, Bobba Fett of Tatooine, Lady Kryze, and the assassin Shand."

     "Word sure travels fast," Bobba muttered under his breath.

     "The mighty Syndel greets you. He welcomes you to his Palace." Empty eyes flickered between them all. "Please do not deny this graciously extended honor."

     "We're here for business," Djarin spoke up. "I thank the mighty Syndel, but we seek a former member of a Mandalorian tribe." There was a moment of silence. The Twi'lek glanced at something to his right.

     "Then perhaps kind Syndel may be of assistance. What is the name of this person?"

     "Keldriz."

     "Ah." The Twil'lek nodded. "We know him well." Djarin felt weary hope. "He serves us in the wilds." Empty eyes again glanced to the right. "He seeks out ancient datacrons scattered across the wastes. Why do you require his presence?" How to phrase it in a way that would best serve them...

     "He's my bounty. I was hired to retrieve him for judgement."

     "Judgement. Curious," the Twi'lek stated in that flat, emotionless tone. "What are his crimes? Virtuous Syndel would never have knowingly hired a criminal."

     "The discarding of his soul by breaking the Way."

     "Ah. You may have him. We only ask that you complete his task before you depart with him." Djarin frowned. That had been too simple. Especially for dealings done with a Hutt.

     "We accept your terms," he replied. "The datacrons for Keldriz."

     "We will forward you his last known location when you reach the city limits. We look forward to your return." The Twil'lek's image disappeared. Just as silent as it had been before, the droid turned and wheeled away.

     "I don't like how smoothly that went," Bo-Katan told him in a low voice.

     "No one ever comes out ahead when dealing with those slugs," Fett agreed.

     "We find Keldriz first," Djarin told them. "Then we'll see what the Hutt really wants." 

     "What if it's more than we're able to pay?" Bo-Katan asked as they started for the distant city limits.

     "We'll find a way," Djarin assured her. Every step she took radiated doubt, but the woman walked by his side as they wove their way into the bustling crowd at the bottom of the port hub ramp.

Chapter Text

     All they'd had to do was follow the corpses. Animals, criminals, thieves - Keldriz had left them a handy trail to follow. That worried Djarin. His fellow Mandalorian had always been careful to leave no traces when he hunted for the tribe. That he would be this visible... Djarin remembered his own dark days after breaking from the Creed and handing his child away. Remaining alive for Grogu's sake had been his only saving grace. Keldriz had no foundling to live for. He breathed deeper and tried to ignore the way his heart beat quicker. The former Mandalorian would be fine.

     "These tracks are fresh," he muttered to himself as he studied the deeper footprints.

     "A recent kill," Shand agreed. She ran her hand across the blood stained grass beneath the nearest carcass. They all heard it then. The sound of metal clashing together. A pained yell. Djarin didn't stop to give the others any looks. He ran. Crested the wet hilltop before them- Keldriz! The former Mandalorian was locked in combat with two white cloaked sentients. Din pulled his blaster out. Shot the first one through the head. Keldriz swept the feet out from the second one and rammed his viroblade home in their chest. The former Mandalorian wrenched his blade free and turned. Stopped when he recognized Djarin.

     "Din?" Keldriz pushed his sweat drenched hair out of his eyes. "What're you doing here?"

     "The tribe has need of you," he replied. The other man shook his head.

     "I broke from the Way-"

     "And you will be redeemed, as I was." Blatant confusion clouded the former Mandalorian's pale eyes.

     "Impossible. The armorer confirmed that you and your foundling made it safely off the planet."

     "Afterward," Djarin explained. "The child was raken from me by Moff Gideon. The removal of my helmet was necessary to find Grogu." Confusion instantly gave way to shock.

     "You-? You said you'd been redeemed? That's impossible. The Living Waters were destroyed!"

     "Are we going to have this conversation every time we find one of his people?" Shand not so quietly asked her boss.

     "Then come with us. See it with your own eyes. Our tribe lives there now, the armorer will vouch for me," Djarin told the man. Those pale eyes darted between the others as if he were trying to tell their sincerity.

     "You swear it? By the bonds you share with your foundling?" The most serious of promises their people could give.

     "I do." Keldriz's knees gave out. His pack flopped into the mud. Djarin rushed to his side, helping steady him. Muddy fingers closed tightly on his arm.

     "Impossible," the man whispered. He looked up at Djarin's helmet with wide eyes. "You swear it? My soul - it's not lost forever?"

     "I swear it," Djarin promised him. "Your soul still be returned to you, as mine was to me." Keldriz crouched low, trembling with emotion. Uncertain how else to help him, Djarin awkwardly patted the man's back. "Come," he encouraged him. "Let us return the Hutt's things and leave this place."

     "Where do you think the second datacron is?" Bo-Katan asked. She'd stood back from them, now studying their surroundings. Djarin shrugged. He didn't know what a datacron was, much less what it looked like.

     "I found it," Keldriz spoke up. "The bandits somehow knew that I had them."

     "Who do we want to bet tipped them off?" Fett dryly asked.

     "It doesn't matter." Djarin replied. "We have Keldriz and the things. We're leaving." He helped his fellow tribesman up. Fett and Shand walked ahead of them, Bo-Katan taking up position at the back as they retraced their steps. Their armor earned them both measuring and nervous looks when they reached the city again. Djarin ignored the other sentients. Vendor keepers called out to them as they walked by, trying to catch their attention with offered wears.

     The Hutt's ugly palace was easy to find - it towered above the other rundown buildings. The guard at the door waved them and nodded in greeting to Keldriz. The still shaken former Mandalorian barely returned the greeting. They made their way up the slopped ramp and into the welcoming center. Music blared as both men and women danced on stages that had been placed through the room. Djarin looked around. A second guard stood at the far doorway - the woman gestured toward them. Patrons made way as his group crossed to her.

     "Master Syndel awaits you," she told them. Fett and Shand strode past without a word and Djarin followed their lead. Together, they passed through a smaller hallway before emerging into a massive room. Silks were draped from expensive looking vases. Women from all manner of species lounged at seemingly random places around the room.

     He couldn't stop his lips from curling at the sight of the massive slug before them. He'd never be able to understand how those creatures had gotten so much influence. The dead eyed Twi'lek from before stepped forward and left his master's side. He held something small in his hands. Djarin frowned down at the device. The Twi'lek turned a knob and light whirled to life in the center of it. The Mandalorian finally recognized what he was holding. Djarin's hand drifted to his blaster as he eyed the Twi'lek. Who were they being broadcast to?

     "Mandalorian." the male spoke, addressing only him. "We see that you have found your former tribesman." Unease snaked it's way through Djarin's chest. He'd made a point of not mentioning their connection before. How did they know Keldriz and his connection? "We will enter into secondary negotiations now."

     "We fulfilled our end of the bargain. Keldriz." The helmetless Mandalorian handed over the datacrons. The Twil'lek took them without so much as a downward glance.

     "You lied about your intentions." Djarin looked past the Twil'lek to address Syndel directly. 

     "You're a Hutt." That was all the explanation needed. The slug gave a hearty laugh and spoke to the Twil'lek in its native tongue. For once, he wished the Armorer had taught him the Hutt language. Yet the tribe had been barred from ever directly working with the things, so there'd been no need.

     "You bring before us a clone that thinks itself worthy of a Hutt's throne. You will leave it with us and go." Fett gave a snort.

     "Over my dead body," the man muttered.

     "We had a deal," Djarin tried.

     "You will give us the pretender, or Master Syndel will keep your tribesman as payment for his mercy."

     "I'm not leaving either of them here," Djarin addressed the Hutt directly. He didn't like how the creature smiled.

     "These are the most generous of terms that the Master will offer."

     "No," he responded. Blank eyes flickered to the Hutt. The massive creature's smile grew.

     "Then Master Syndel proposes a new trade, Din Djarin. Your people for the blade that you carry - the Darksaber." They wanted-? Well, that was easy, then. Djarin unhooked the hilt from his waist and tossed the blade at the Hutt. It smacked against Syndel's stomach and flopped to the ground.

     "Deal," he said. Behind him, Bo-Katan choked.

Chapter Text

     Fett gave a small, disbelieving laugh as Shand sighed. The assassin wordlessly stepped forward and leveled the phase-pulse rifle at the Hutt. She pulled the trigger. Flakes fell where the slug had been.

     "Does anyone else want to alter the deal?" she asked. Djarin felt the tension in the room ratchet up. No one moved.

     "You." Fett nodded to the Twil'lek, his voice thick with building mirth. "Where's that broadcasting to?" Eyes filled with shock, the Twil'lek mouth worked silently before he managed to speak. 

     "It's an open channel... We thought..." To everyone? Even better, Djarin decided. The Twi'lek flinched at his approach.

     "If any former members of my tribe are watching this, stay where you are. Contact me using the old channel. All is not lost," he promised them. "Survive until we reach you."

     "The Darksaber." Bo-Katan's voice came out thin and strangled. "Din, reclaim the Darksaber." He knew she wouldn't drop it. The man sighed, walked over to the empty throne, and picked the hilt up. With shaking fingers, the Twil'lek shut the device off.

     "You could always just take it," he tried again as he offered it to Bo-Katan. The woman made another strangled sound. She abruptly turned away from him. He looked in Fett's direction. The Daimyo's shoulders shook. The man jerked his helmet off and Djarin was surprised to see tears streaking down his cheeks. The man openly and loudly laughed.

     "You're going to kill me, Djarin." The Daimyo took deep, shuddering breaths before he laughed again. "A Hutt!" Djarin felt Grogu shift in his sling. He pulled his child out. The little one's eyes were for Boba alone. When the child grabbed at the other man, the Daimyo accepted him. Large black eyes stared up at the still laughing man. Grogu gave little huffing laughs of his own then. Beside them, Shand cracked a genuine smile. Why were they laughing?

     "The Darksaber." Keldriz's voice was thick with disbelief. Djarin looked to his former tribesman. "You have-? You would've-?" Djarin frowned at the open wonderment on his face.

     "This is the Way," he replied. Why were they all acting so odd?

   "This is the Way," Keldriz faintly repeated back. Djarin glanced at the others around them. They stayed completely still, those many eyes still on Shand.

     "Then our deal is complete," he announced,  raising his voice so that all could hear him. "Keep the datacrons, we don't need them. And," he eyed the small pile of dust that had once been Syndel the Hutt, "good luck on finding a new boss." Feeling awkward at the deathly still silence, he clipped the Darksaber back onto his belt. "Let's go." The once thriving bar was silent. Every sentient they passed avoided their gazes.

     "I don't have room on my ship for you," Djarin told Keldriz. "Join the others. We'll reach the Living Waters together." Still looking unsteady, the other man nodded. This had been far easier than he'd hoped for. And with his message sent, perhaps finding his other covert members would go just as smoothly. Smiling to himself, Djarin cradled his child close. He would soon see another tribesman returned to the Way.

     "Are we sure we didn't hallucinate that?" his friend asked. "Or maybe it's some kind of trap? Like, they found out that you're alive?" He shook his head. No, Bo-Katan would've never set up something that elaborate. Much less pretend that she didn't own the Darksaber just to draw him out. So she was following the new wielder of it like some kind of bloodthirsty hound, just acting more friendly than how she'd acted with-

     He cut himself off from that thought. He should've seen it coming. All the signs had been there but he'd ignored every single one of them out of hope that Bo-Katan had been earnest. Well, he'd learned just how earnest she'd been. It was a lesson he never needed to be taught again.

     "I think we should find him." His friends all turned to stare at him. "Think about it. The Darksaber's finally out of her hands. I want to make sure it stays that way."

     "But-"

     "We've got a chance now. As long as we can keep Bo-Katan from reclaiming it, she can't hide her crimes behind it! We can finally force her to face justice!"

     That got him worried looks. He ignored them in favor of grinning at the paused holoprojection. Din. He'd never heard the name before, but he already knew the most important things. The Mandalorian had the Darksaber. Bo-Katan was with him and without it. "We can do this," he told his friends. No, they'd been running on 'could' for years now. "We will do this." He glared at the image of Bo-Katan. After years of lying and manipulation, she'd finally pay for her betrayal!

     "Fascinating," Thrawn quietly stated as he re-watched the recording. Ezra could think of a lot more words for what they'd seen. Insane. Crazy. Baffling. Seeing the Darksaber in someone else's hands other than Bo-Katan's felt weird.

     Their intelligence had extensively tracked the course of the Darksaber, but he'd met Bo-Katan. He knew her. Kind of. He couldn't help but wonder what Sabine would think of it. Ezra smiled as he winced. He could imagine it.

     "What was he thinking!?" Sabine shouted into her comm unit. "Who was that and how does he have the Darksaber!" Din, Bo-Katan had called him. Sabine didn't know of any House Din! Was he even from Mandalore? And he'd tossed it at a Hutt! Why had Kryze stood back and let that happen? Why hadn't she challenged him for the blade there and then? It didn't make any sense! 

     "Sabine, " Hera responded, her voice equal parts soothing and confused. "I'm sure Bo-Katan has a plan."

     "Yeah? Well it sure doesn't look like that!" A slug! He'd offered it to a slug! "Hera, I'm sorry, but-"

     "You're going to go track them down?"

     "I'm going to go track them down," she swore.

     Cara knew she was freaking out the newbie Rangers. She ignored the ones cautiously looking in, content to instead lean back in her seat and continue laughing. Gods bless Djarin! That ridiculous man! She rewound the recording on her screen. Watched again as Djarin tossed the hilt at the Hutt. Her stomach ached with exhaustion. She put a hand to her chest and gasped for air.

     A knock came at her door. She turned, wiping away tears. Captain Teva stood in her doorway. He gave her a long-suffering look.

     "We've been called before the Senate," he told her. "They'd like to know about our experiences with the Mandalorian." Cara threw her head back and cackled.

Chapter Text

     Bo-Katan felt like her armor was riddled through with needles. Agitation had burned in her chest throughout their trip back to Mandalore. She'd forgone witnessing the return of Din's tribesman, instead secluding herself to the armorer's newly assembled forge room. The other woman's clearly well cared for tools showed still showed signs of age and wear. If the armorer was old enough, and she'd spoken like she was, had the woman forged her tools here on their home planet?

     She reached out. Her hand stopped shy of the heavy tongs. There was a history here. One she didn't know, would likely never fully know, but it existed. Bo-Katan thought back to watching as the Darksaber left Din's hand. Slapped against the Hutt's thick skin before falling to the ground. Like it meant nothing. She took a shuddering breath. Tried to slowly let it out. Growing irritation made her turn. Pace. How could he view it so irreverently? It was a part of Mandalorian tradition! And weren't the Children of the Watch tradition purists? Then why was he going against that? It- It made no sense!

     She turned back and forth. Paced back and forth. In circles. Din had offered the Darksaber to a Hutt. That proved him unworthy of the honor of wielding the blade. Tradition demanded that she challenge him for it, but... The others had given no indication that they viewed those who held the sword as worthy of leadership.

     They hadn't bowed to Din's orders that they return to their home planet. No, there'd been discussion instead. Persuasion. If the armorer had rejected Din's proposal, Bo-Katan held no doubts that his tribe wouldn't have accompanied them here. Shards take it, trying to understand it all made her head throb. It wasn't right. It wasn't the Way! She'd learned their traditions at her father's feet, and this was not it! She turned- Stopped. The forge master entered.

     "What's wrong with you people?" Bo-Katan's confused anger shoved its way out of her. "I thought you were all about tradition!" Unfazed, the armorer walked past her and adjusted the settings on her forge. "Well?" After a moment of silent work, the armorer straightened to face her.

     "Daimyo Fett informed me of what happened," was all the woman said. There wasn't a hint of mutual anger in her voice.

     "And?" The armorer's stance radiated impassivity. Why? "It's a part of our tradition, and he gave it up to a slug! You should all be furious! You should be challenging him for the Darksaber!"

     "As I have told you before," the other woman's voice was tranquil, "I have no use for a sword."

     "He spat on our history! He-!" Bo-Katan remembered the cool air of the Moff's ship. The Imperial's disgustingly smug look as she knelt and offered him the blade. "He risked everything! He would've doomed us!"

     "Then tell me - what is 'everything'?" the armorer asked.

     "What?" Thrown that the other woman wasn't matching her emotions, Bo-Katan felt her anger stumble at the question.

     "Explain to me what Din Djarin risked."

     "Us! Our people! If Shand hadn't killed the Hutt, it could've claimed leadership over us!"

     "Would you have bent your knee to it?" the armorer asked.

     "Of course not!" She'd rejected Maul. She would've rejected the Hutt too if he hadn't been killed.

     "Would Din Djarin have knelt for the creature?"

     "No," Bo replied. He didn't care about the Darksaber, much less respect it.

     "And what of the Daimyo and his assassin?"

     "No, but..." If Din had surrendered it, and Shand had killed the thing he'd surrendered it to, did the Darksaber-? No. Bo slammed a mental foot down on the thought. The assassin wasn't a Mandalorian and hadn't made any attempts to claim it. Besides, the Hutt hadn't engaged Din in combat. The blade hadn't been won from him. So it... She thought through that again. Yes, it still belonged to Din.

     "We would not have left Mandalore to follow the Hutt, just as we left Pre Vizsla." Pre-? No. He wasn't the issue here. She pushed that point of confusion aside. "Would the remnants of the clans have followed him?" Perhaps some of the few surviving loyalists, but the rumors were that a Jedi had slain Maul before disappearing without a trace. Then they'd think that whoever held it now was unworthy, save for the unknown Jedi. And her own people would've killed the Hutt before bowing to him.

     "No one would have," Bo-Katan stated. "But the slug would've been challenged for it. Survivor's would've emerged and fought each other for ownership of the Darksaber. They still will," she warned the armorer. "That broadcast will have been recorded. Word will spread that the Darksaber has resurfaced. After what they saw, our people will think Din isn't worthy." He... She struggled with the thought. Was he? He'd given it up without a care. She should be marching down to the mines to challenge him. Bo loathed the thought. She was so tired of fighting her own people. "Would you even follow me if I won the blade from him?"

     "We follow the Creed," the armorer replied. "Through the Way, the Mand'alor is forged. Not born or made through ownership of the sword." That didn't make sense to her.

     "Why, though? Your cu- covert, your kind, have always been about tradition. The darksaber is a part of our tradition!"

     "Is it? You are redeemed. You walk the Way, yet you do not understand it."

     "I know what your Way is." She'd encountered enough of their cultists in the past to know it.

     "If you truly understood it, then you would not question the actions of Din Djarin. We," there was a slight pause, "have been unfair to you." What? "One cannot fully walk the Way when one does not know it. You were not raised with us. You did not join us purposefully. As such, you do not know our tenets." Bo knew their tenets. You had to wear your armor at all time before others. You had to swear yourself to the Creed. None of that explained their beliefs around a tradition nearly all other Mandalorians followed.

     "Come." The armorer stepped away from her forge. Baffled and unsure if she should be feeling insulted, Bo followed the woman. They left the forge room. Continued on down through the cold hallways until they reached the Living Waters. Both coverts were still gathered there.

     "Din Djarin." The other Mandalorian turned at the sound of forge master's voice.

     "Yes?" he asked as the two women joined his small group. Keldriz, who'd been speaking to the Mandalorian, nodded in respect to the armorer as he backed away and rejoined his other covert members.

     "Bo-Katan Kryze redeemed herself while rescuing you, did she not?"

     "She did," he responded.

     "Normally, I would teach her the Way. Yet she has agreed to aid you, and your mission is a worthy one." Din nodded, though he cocked his head slightly as he did so. "She has given her word, yet one cannot truly walk the Way when one does not know the path. You were the source of her redemption, so you will guide her steps." He would what? She was not some ignorant child! Yet with the way the covert respected the armorer, she'd have better luck arguing a Hutt out of their credits.

     "I... understand," Din hesitantly agreed. "I will do my best."

     "I am confident in your abilities." Without another word, the forge master left them.

     "This'll be interesting," came Fett's dry mutter to their left. Bo-Katan scowled at the clone. Didn't he have anything better to do?

     "Have you heard from any of your other tribespeople?" she asked the Mandalorian. Din nodded.

     "On the way here, I got a short burst transmission. It was Talera. But she wasn't making sense."

     "How so?" Shand asked.

     "She said to stay away," the man replied.

     "Why?" Bo-Katan asked.

     "Something about rogue sorcerers," he said. "Jedi," the man corrected himself. "I thought Skywalker was the last one?"

     "They must be surviving Inquisitors." It was the only option that made sense, Bo-Katan thought to herself. Even though Din didn't move an inch, she could feel the blankness radiating from him. She sighed. "They're former Jedi who hunt other Jedi." What would Inquisitors want with a Mandalorian? "Did she say where she was?"

     "I'll have to trace the transmission," the Mandalorian said. That'd take time. "I'll start," he continued, moving past them, "and comm you all when I have a lock." Bo looked from the clone to the two coverts. Still feeling ill at ease, she turned and made her way out of the mines. Surely Din's covert had rooms set up. She'd find one and wait there.

Chapter Text

     Dantooine. A planet of farmers, if he remembered correctly. Half rural, half wilderness. Had the people of Dantooine hired Talera? Had she chased a target there? And how did the rogue sorcerers factor in? Djarin frowned as he exited his craft and returned to the shadowy entrance to the cave system. Bo-Katan and the others waited for him.

     "Dantooine," he told them.

     "The farmers?" Fett asked. Djarin nodded. "Huh." Fett and Shand started for their ship.

     "We should take Bo-Katan's," he spoke up. They all looked at him. "Her's is larger. If I'm to honor the armorer's request, we'll need the space." Shand glanced at Fett. The other man openly smirked over at Bo-Katan.

     "Of course," Fett responded. Together, he and the assassin turned to start for the other woman's ship.

     "That won't be necessary," Djarin's clanmate quickly said. "I already know enough about your- the tribe."

     "I cannot turn from a task given to me by our forge master," Djarin responded. The woman sighed.

     "I don't know what she expects you to teach me. Your tenets are obvious. But-" she raised a hand to stop his objection, "I'll do it if it'll satisfy her."

     "Thank you." A thought occurred to him then. He looked down at his foundling. Grogu blinked large eyes up at him. The torgruta Jedi had been able to communicate with the child, even though it had been through their magic. She'd mentioned many lessons by others... If the child could understand what his past mentors had taught, perhaps he could understand the beginnings of the Way. "The child. He rejected the Way of the Jedi. I have yet to teach him ours. If you're willing," he began, and Bo-Katan nodded before he could finish.

     "This is already embarrassing enough," she muttered partly to herself and to him. "Sure, the kid can join us. It won't take long, after all." Djarin thanked her again. The woman waved it away and strode past him to board her ship. Grogu made a small coo. He looked down again at his child.

     "Are you okay with this?" he asked. The child responded by leaping up into his arms. "I'll take that as a yes." Grogu's long ears fluttered as the child smiled. Djarin couldn't help but smile in response, warmth pushing his nervousness back. To pass down their faith to another - it was both an honor and a worry.

     He'd been a boy of few words and was now a man of even fewer. Yet he'd been entrusted with that honor, and he intended to fulfill it. The Armorer's teachings would guide him in this.  Holding his child close, feeling Grogu's small warmth even though the thickness of his armor, Djarin moved to join the others.

     With the clone and the assassin thankfully tucked away in the cockpit to pilot her ship, Bo-Katan had only two to witness her embarrassment. The Mandalorian gestured to the floor. Bo-Katan begrudgingly sat. Beside her, his foundling sat as well.

     "We are a people scattered to the stars," Din began, standing before them. "Once, we were united and our strength lay in numbers. Yet our people strayed from the Way. We were weakened, and attacked - the skies across Mandalore burned bright as its surface became glass." Bo-Katan recognized the Armorer's cadence in his words. "Yet we're more than a single planet; more than a single race. We're a Creed." Bo-Katan carefully pushed down her internal prickling at that. She'd chosen to stay with the covert and keep her helmet on. She would.... consider... their strangely liberal viewpoints.

     "The Creed is in every aspect of us," he continued. "We both hunt and are hunted. We train our bodies to better protect ourselves. We wear beskar to honor our ancestors and help house our souls. The most important part of us, however, are our foundlings." The Mandalorian's helmet tilted down toward his child. "Foundlings are the future. This is the Way." The child cooed, clicking his fingernails together. The Mandalorian looked to her then. "We protect our foundlings. If a foundling is in need, we help them. When I first rescued the child, my covert broke from their secrecy to aid us. Many were forced to give up the Way afterwards. Their actions were the greatest sacrifices Mandalorians can make."

     Bo-Katan shifted in discomfort as she thought back to their own past together. He'd taken a chance on someone he viewed as soulless for the sake of his child. And how had she repaid him? By placing her own goals above his. He and his foundling had just been stepping stones on her path to reunification. Would he have done the same in her position? No, she doubted it. He would've easily put aside their planet to aid her if their situations had been reversed. An emotion she refused to acknowledge made itself known in her chest. 

    "How-" she began to ask, but a shudder interrupted her. She recognized the feel of her ship coming out of hyperspace. A few seconds later, another shudder came. Harder; unexpected. Bo-Katan frowned at the hard shaking that went through her ship. That nerf herding clone, what was he doing? Another hard shake sent Bo rolling across the floor. She smacked into the wall. Struggled to regain her footing. The child leapt into his parent's arms, his tiny voice warbling in uncertainty.

     "Hang onto something!" Fett's voice came over the comm system. "Came out into a storm, we-" The ship gave a hard jerk. Bo-Katan flinched back at the roar of thunder. Paneling peeled away easy as paint, wiring shorting out as it tore. Metal screeched open and she plummeted out into the storm. Dark shapes flashed by. Beings or debris, she couldn't tell. Heart hammering in her throat, Bo-Katan seized her jetpack controls. Flames coughed to life behind her as she tried to stabilize her fall. Rain pelted her helmet as winds buffeted her. Bo-Katan struggled to stay upright and even. Everything was happening too quickly! She angled to the left, the roar of her jetpack barely audible over the storm.

     "Djarin!" She called out. "Boba! Fennec!" Where were they? Unable to tell anything in the chaos of the storm, Bo-Katan continued leftward and hoped that her course would take her out of the storm.

     Djarin wrapped himself as tightly as he could around Grogu. Lightning flashed just above, followed by thunder that shook his beskar. The Mandalorian struggled to put a hand to his jetpack controls. The child cried out, terrified. Fire burst to life behind him, but it wasn't enough. They tumbled together through the air. Far above came a flash of fire. Another burst of flames came from his distant right. He and Grogu fell further, faster. The dark clouds around them gave way to gray skies. Between flashes of sky, the ground came closer and closer. He tried his jetpack again-

Chapter Text

     Djarin's head throbbed as he gradually woke. Rain pelted his helmet. Small sounds of distress made Djarin hurriedly look- Grogu sat huddled by his side, slender ears tucked down to frame the child's tiny face. "Grogu." Those small ears instantly lifted as his foundling turned to face him. Small arms smacked against his helmet as his child hugged him. The man groaned, slowly sitting up so that he could pick Grogu up as well. Every muscle ached. He felt as if he'd been battered by three mudhorns. The man tried his comm unit and only got static in response. He'd seen two flames in the darkness. If he had survived, surely the others had as well.

     Mud squelched beneath knees as he leaned forward and pushed himself up. He looked around. Drenched grass and empty hills stretched out as far as he could see. Djarin needed to find somewhere they could take shelter. The storm wouldn't last forever - he'd try to comm the others again once the weather had finally cleared. The Mandalorian tugged the side of his cloak forward so it'd shield his child from the rain. He took a moment to breath, to feel his aching bones as proof that he'd survived, and then he set out.

     Djarin couldn't tell how long he'd walked, the sunless sky remained dark and rainy, but ahead he finally spotted rocks that jutted out above the hills and plains. The Mandalorian trudged toward the deep gray walls of stone. Rock that large usually came with caves. All he'd have to do was clear out whatever animals lived there before taking shelter. Mud splashed up his boots with every step. He peered beneath his cloak. The child blinked sleepily up at him. Djarin continued onward.

     He slowed as he reached the entrance of the nearest cave system. The man toggled through his visor options - every scan came up with no life forms. Djarin breathed a little easier as he made his way inside. Walking on solid ground had never felt better. He felt Grogu stir in his grasp. The man let his cloak drop back into place so that his child could look around. The little one made an inquisitive sound then, and before Djarin could react, leapt out of the crook of his arm and onto the cave floor. The Mandalorian cursed as Grogu agilely leapt ahead and ignored his calls to come back. He unhooked his blaster as he struggled to keep pace with the child.

     "Grogu!" The child disappeared around the twisting cavern bend. "Kid!" Djarin turned the corner- And stopped. Stared. The cave walls before him were studded with smaller, bright rocks. Green, blue, yellow, and more. The kid had stopped at the foot of the left wall and was looking up with wide eyes at the rocks. If the kid had sensed them with his magic, then were these rocks magic? Djarin reached out and poked the nearest one. Nothing happened. He didn't have the kid's magic, so maybe that was Jedi only stuff. Weird, though, that it'd be rocks of all things. He hadn't seen the kid's teacher carrying one around. Maybe the other man had kept it stored somewhere?

     Grogu waddled onward, his ears twitching with excitement as he studied the colored stones. No, not stones. Djarin peered closer at the nearest blue ones. Crystals. Were they some kind of ancient Jedi currency then? Or maybe it was to Jedi what Beskar was to Mandalorians? Djarin hadn't really bothered with looking around the Jedi's living place. Maybe he had rows of them back on his planet.

     "Do you like this stuff?" he asked the kid. The child gleefully clapped his hands together. So, Djarin would take that as a yes. The kid stopped. Went oddly quiet. "Grogu?" The little one's face lit up with a look of pure joy that Djarin didn't see often. His kid turned, opened his arms wide, and waddle sprinted down the far crystal studded cavern. Djarin turned to follow after him. What had Grogu sensed this time? For having such short legs the kid sure could move fast when he wanted to.

     Grogu rounded the next corner, leaving Djarin to pick up his pace once again. Was it more crystals? Was this really some kind of Jedi specialty? Maybe he should pull some out then before they left. Pack them up, send them to Grogu's former magic man as an apology of sorts. The child had made his decision, Djarin would never offer the kid up again, but maybe Luke would be happy with the crystals. He heard lighthearted squeals echo past, and then-

     "Yes, little one," a stranger's calm voice came, "I'm glad to see you as well." Djarin's hand immediately went to his blaster. He sharply turned the corner, ready to deal with whoever his child had found. A man sat only a few feet away, dressed in gray robes. He was as bulky as Paz - square shouldered and muscularly broad. Even though he was sitting down, Djarin could tell the man would easily stand taller than him if he got up.

     "Grogu." The kid turned large eyes on him. Babbled baby speak as he stretched out across the man's arm in a full body embrace. Djarin cocked his head. Slowly tucked his blaster away.

     "Forgive me," the man gave a slight bow of his head, "it wasn't my intention to startle you." The kid continued to cling to him like a squid to prey. "I never thought I'd see this little one again. There are so few Jedi left, after all." Jedi. Djarin took a step closer. Eyed his dark clothing and matching robe. So the kid's former teacher had found another magic user, then. Good. The Mandalorian wouldn't have to send crystals after all. He glanced around but there was no sign of the other Jedi.

     "Is Luke here?" Could they use their magic to find non-magic users? That'd make tracking down Bo-Katan and the others easier. The stranger paused as Grogu continued to cuddle him.

     "No. Master Skywalker isn't here." Djarin's child looked up then and warbled. "You've met him?" the man asked the kid. "And left him? You surprise me, young one. Then what shall I call you? Ah," he nodded as they wordlessly spoke to one another, "then 'just Grogu' it is." The kid cooed. Djarin tried not to feel left out. The man looked up at him with pale eyes. "He says you are his father."

     "I am," Djarin replied, trying to ignore the way his chest warmed at the acknowledgement. "And you are?" 

     "Baylan Skoll," the man answered. "A former Jedi." Those pale eyes carefully watched him. Djarin didn't know what the man was looking for. "I knew your son when he was still a padawan." Well. Now Djarin regretted pulling his blaster on the man.

     "I'm sorry," he apologized.

     "Our fall was inevitable," the man responded. There was a moment of silence, and then he spoke again. "I'm attempting to reach my apprentice," he explained. "She and I encountered difficulties and were separated."

     "Our ship broke apart," Djarin commiserated with him, "we're looking for our tribespeople as well."

     "Then perhaps we can help each other," Baylan suggested. Djarin looked down at his child. Who was still sprawled across the man's arm like a happy Lothcat. The Mandalorian sighed. He'd bet the Darksaber that he wasn't getting Grogu back any time soon. "Although I believe it'd be wisest if we waited until the storm died down. It shouldn't be long now." Djarin thought back to the flames he'd seen in the sky. It'd take more than some rain and a hard landing to take Bo-Katan and the others out of the fight. He reluctantly sat down before the man.

     "Is that another," he raised his hand and wiggled his fingers in a mimicry of his child, "Jedi thing?"

     "From a certain point of view."

     "You remind me of the Armorer," Djarin deadpanned. Grogu finally crawled off the other man's arm. The child went back to looking around again instead of returning to him. Well, since Djarin now had a magic user who could speak... "The crystals. Do your kind like them?" Maybe he'd pluck some for Grogu.

     "We do," Baylan replied. The man looked at Grogu in consideration. "Does he have a kyber crystal of his own yet?"

     "A what?" Djarin asked. Pale blue eyes turned back to him.

     "Then perhaps it was the will of the Force that you both arrived here. Some things," the man continued as he reached out to run a hand across the crystals nearest to him, "transcend Temple doctrine." Djarin had no idea what that meant. Instead of asking and likely getting even more confusing answers as a result, he sat back and settled in to watch as Grogu wandered around the cavern. If the storm was troubling them then it was probably causing problems for the Inquisitors hunting his tribeswoman. Patience, he told himself, and they'd all be reunited.

Chapter Text

     The kid waddled back in as Djarin and the former Jedi continued to sit in silence. In his hands, Grogu held a small purple crystal. The child held it up like he would a fresh catch.

     "Good job?" Djarin couldn't help but tilt his head slightly toward Skoll for confirmation.

     "Well done, young one," the former Jedi agreed. Now that Djarin thought about it, he'd never gotten around to asking what the kyber crystals were for.

     "How does he use it?"

     "Should he decide to, when he comes of age, Grogu will gather the parts necessary to make his lightsaber." What? The crystals were a part of what?

     "That makes a laser sword?" The Mandalorian had seen Luke's impressive fight in the hallway. He looked again at the crystal Grogu held. Something that small could be so deadly?

     "Yes," Skoll replied. The man paused, pale eyes going to the ceiling. "The rains are subsiding. We can safely leave." Djarin looked around at the glittering cave. He made a mental note to log his coordinates here and send them on to Luke. He'd only seen the man with one laser sword. What if it broke? With this, the Jedi would have a lifetime of replacements.

     Grogu hopped up onto his shoulder. Djarin pushed himself up. He'd been right. Skoll stood a full head taller than him. He could easily picture the man in Mandalorian armor - Paz would finally have someone who could match him in wrestling. He shook the thought away and started out the way he'd come.

     "Your foun- Your apprentice. What does she look like?" Djarin asked.

     "You'll know," the former Jedi replied. Yes, Djarin thought. He really did make the Mandalorian think of the armorer. They emerged into the dim light of a rising sun.

     Of course she'd found the one person she didn't want to. Bo-Katan scowled at the back of the clone's head as they walked onward. When would they reach a Hutt damned city on this planet? Surely there had to be one soon. She could start looking for Din then. Was he all right? Was his foundling all right? They had to be fine.

     "You know," the assassin began as she glanced back at her, "you could just fight him. It'd be faster."

     "I won't-!"

     "She wasn't talking about the Mandalorian, princess." The clone didn't even bother looking back at her. Bo-Katan bristled. She couldn't even openly glare at him! This, this stupid helmet! But the eye. Massive and looming. The Mandalorian casually tossing the Darksaber at the Hutt. The looks on her Nite Owls' faces as they realized she wasn't taking her helmet off. Bo-Katan buried her helmet in her hands and screamed as she stomped along after the two. The clone chuckled.

     "I know the feeling," he commiserated with her.

     "I don't." Shand stated. "Just fight each other already. The Mandalorian isn't around to stop you."

     "Wouldn't be fair," he responded. "I'll fight her once she's found her Way."

     "I-!" She-! She walked the Mandalorian's Way! Uncertainty pulled at the back of her mind. Didn't she? She hadn't removed her helmet yet. "I have!" He chuckled.

     "You walk their Way because they accepted you," Fett said. "You don't walk it for yourself."

     "What would a clone know of religion? You have no soul," she spat the accusation, "you never have!" He turned faster than she expected. His hand closed tight on her neck as he hauled her close.

     "I earned my soul in the sands of Tatooine," Fett growled at her. "I honor my tribe's Way!" He let her go then. Moved back. Bo-Katan straightened. Refused to rub at her throat.

     "You have a tribe?" She sneered. "What Mandalorians fell far enough to follow you?"

     "They weren't Mandalorians," he gritted out. The man stood stock still, rigid with emotion before he closed his eyes. Took a breath. Turned and continued walking. For once the man's assassin didn't speak as she followed in the clone's footsteps. Unsettled and angry both at him and herself, Bo-Katan stalked after them. He truly thought he had a soul? Was that why Din let him and the woman accompany them? It made no sense. Everyone knew that... Everyone... She paused at the thought. Djarin hadn't even known what the Darksaber was. Why had she assumed he knew what a clone was?

     "Stop." The assassin snapped her hand up. Both Bo-Katan and the clone obeyed. "Do you hear that?" The Mandalorian tilted her head and listened. She heard it then. Fighting. The familiar thrum of a lightsaber. They all three shared looks. Bo-Katan cursed as the two before her took off at a sprint. She ran after them as she drew her blaster.

     They topped the slopped hill before them and clambered over the jagged rocks ahead. At the bottom of the slope, three weaponless Mandalorians fought a single Inquisitor. The youngest of the three tried to break from the group as the adults threw themselves without hesitation into slashes that blackened their armor.

     "Go!" She heard the taller of the two shout. The- Teen? Young adult? She couldn't tell, but the younger Mandalorian sprinted as hard as he could away from them.

     "Here!" Bo-Katan yelled to the boy. The Inquisitor sharply jammed her arms out. The two adults were thrown back. The white haired Force user reached out toward the boy then. His boots left the ground as he was yanked up into the air. He clawed at his throat.

     "Fennec!" Fett snapped her name out as he drew his weapons. The Inquisitor pivoted. Dropped the boy as she moved with unnatural grace to dodge the shots aimed at her. The two Mandalorians below recovered. The man made for the boy, helping him up as the woman sprinted back into close combat with the Inquisitor.

     "Talera!" Djarin, his foundling, and a stranger crested the hill opposite of them. The Mandalorian yanked his blaster free and aimed as he started down the slope. The shot he fired curved unnaturally to the left and went wide. Bo-Katan looked at the outstretched hand of the man behind him and felt a chill. Inquisitors.     

     "Now," the former Jedi said as Din spun to look at him, "you've met my apprentice."

     "Your apprentice is trying to kill my people!" Those pale eyes briefly rested on Grogu.

     "Very well. Shin," the man raised his voice over the thrum of his apprentice's laser sword, "withdraw." The younger woman froze. Her crackling orange blade stopped inches from Talera's scorch marked helmet. Din glanced beyond them and was relieved that Bo-Katan and the others looked to be all right as they neared. If it came down to it, it'd be seven against two.

     "Master?" the younger woman asked in a soft yet heated voice.

     "I've met an old friend. I'd rather not spoil that reunion by killing his father." Grogu's ears went down as the child made a sound of confusion.

     "But Master-" the woman started.

     "There are more Force sensitive beings in the galaxy. Moff Gideon won't miss this one for long." Blue eyes briefly flickered to the boy who cowered behind the Mandalorian man's back. "We'll find another replacement for him soon enough."

     "You work for that demagolka? He hurt the child!" Din raised his voice.

     "You assume we do so willingly," Skoll calmly replied. Din cocked his head. "He made an offer I dared not refuse. I find a Force user to replace Grogu, or he takes from Shin. She finds a spare, or he takes from me." The man's lips mirthlessly quirked. "For all our strength in the Force, we are still two again the Remnant." Din thought quickly. If those words could be trusted...

     "We-" he began but was interrupted.

     "No," Skoll firmly stopped him. "Four Force users together? He would stop at nothing to take us alive." The man's apprentice deactivated her lightsaber. Silently, she moved to his side. "We will part ways here and hope that the Force never bring us back together." The former Jedi turned and wordlessly walked away. His apprentice followed closely in his footsteps.

     "That Republic woman arrested Gideon," Bo-Katan murmured in the silence that followed. "We all saw it."

     "You think he stayed behind bars?" The Mandalorian man who'd shielded the boy straightened out of his defensive crouch. The stranger chuckled bitterly. "The quacta slipped out before he even reached New Republic space."

     "Dank farrik," Din muttered under his breath. Of course the man had escaped. Din looked between his people. Without a ship, they wouldn't be able to get off planet. He wouldn't risk trying to contact the Armorer even if it were possible. "I know someone," he said as he punched his friend's last comm code in. He hoped it would still work.

     Cara hated paperwork. What has she been thinking by trying to go straight? All these files. Seals. Approvals. What she wouldn't give to have the wind in her hair and a blaster in her hands again. And dead Imperials. Her daydream was never complete without those sly bastards beneath her boots. But here she was now, gathering the last of every paper trail she could track down on herself and Djarin throughout their travels. So much reading. The Mandalorian never even talked that much - how had the New Republic's intelligence even managed to gather more than two pages on him? She got to the end of the pile.

     Her own report on their capture of Moff Gideon was here. She smirked down at it. Some intelligence agent had recently circled her casual mention that Djarin now had the Darksaber in bright red. She could almost feel the exclamation points through it. Honestly, though, this was just further proof that no one had actually bothered to fully read her reports.

     If they had, they'd be surrounding the Mandalorian with every defense system they could throw at him. A Mandalorian who, no matter how hard he tried to hide it behind his dramatic cape and all dark armor, just wanted to shoot bad guys and cuddle his adorable kid? Not fight the Republic or start another civil war? Kark, they should've been thanking him, not whatever this 'emergency hearing' was starting to smell like it'd be. Cara wrinkled her nose at the thought. Her pad chimed then. She hit the accept button.

     "Cara," Djarin, his shiny helmet caked with drying mud, began, "we need-"

     "Yes!"

Chapter Text

     Instead of trying to find a town, Djarin and his people settled out in the open to wait. It was strange to see Talera without her helmet. He'd never known that she had blue skin. Her short purple hair framed her sharp cheekbones. It felt odd to know that she looked like how she sounded.

     "-then I finished the job," Talera continued, "and went to get paid. Ran into those two," she cocked her thumb toward the helmeted man and boy. "Saw that they were sneaking around. Thought I'd follow them to see if they were really Mandalorians. Next thing I know," the woman said, "that tall man and the girl were chasing them. Didn't matter if the beskar was stolen, then. They kept going for the boy. I had to help. Foundlings are the future."

     "Foundlings are the future," Djarin agreed with her. Her shoulders slumped in relief. Had she thought he'd disagree with her actions? Was it because she'd given up the Way?

     "Those people. What were they? They looked human, but they could..." She paused. Stretched out her hand in mimicry of the white haired girl. "And those swords." Talera looked down at her heavily scorched armor. "How'd the Imperials make those? I've never seen weapons like that."

     "The Imperials don't make lightsabers," Bo-Katan spoke up. "Jedi and Sith do." Talera cocked her head and gave the other woman a blank look. Djarin could sympathize.

     "They were magic users," he explained. "Like the kid."

     "Your foundling can do that too?" she asked in disbelief. Grogu's dark eyes went to his as the child paused chewing on his crystal. Could crystals be scratched by teeth? Would that break them? He'd have to message Luke and Ahsoka. And, Djarin thought with a downward twist of his stomach, warn them. They deserved to know that their kind were being hunted. Speaking of their kind...

     "What're your names?" He asked of the two other Mandalorians.

     "Odo," the man replied. Djarin studied his blackened armor. What remained of his paint was deep green. A few white circles had survived the girl's lightsaber. The Mandalorian wondered what the full design had once been. "This is Emar." The boy didn't say a word. Merely tilted his helmeted head up to convey that he was looking at Djarin.

     "Where's the rest of your tribe?" Neither of the beings had removed their helmets since being rescued.  If they walked the Way, surely the man would have contacted his covert by now.

     "Dead," came the short reply. Djarin's hands tightened in his lap. "The Imperials killed them. Took their beskar. Their leader spared me. Took me to their ships. They already had the boy." The man gave a small shrug. "Maybe they thought putting me with him would make him cooperate. We played along," Djarin could hear his angry grin, "until they let their guards down. Escaped. Should've known they'd send their other test subjects after us."

     The Mandalorian didn't like those words. He glanced down at Grogu. It was all too easy to picture Gideon hooking up others like he'd done to the child. He remembered what he'd seen on Kantra. Was that what the former Jedi and his apprentice were returning to? The thought of it made goosebumps break out on his arms.

     "Don't know the kid's tribe," Odo continued, "but they're probably dead too." Emar stayed silent. Could he speak? Or had shock silenced him? Djarin eyed the man's blackened armor. How much longer would it have held up before breaking? He'd seen what Ahsoka's weapons could do to things.

     "I'm sorry for your losses. You're welcome to come with us." Anyone who went to such lengths to protect a child could be trusted. And to leave behind an orphaned foundling would be unimaginable. "Our forge master can look over your armor. We have food and safety in numbers. If your helmets were removed, we can return your souls to you."

     "What?" Talera leaned forward. Her eyes went wide. "Djarin, that's impossible!"

     "No." He shook his head. "That's why we came here to find you. The Living Waters survived."

     "But the armorer said-"

     "I've bathed in them myself. So did Bo-Katan." Talera's yellow eyes went from him, to Bo-Katan, and back again.

     "You mean it?" she asked in a rough voice. Djarin nodded. The woman slowly folded in on herself. She hugged her knees to her chest and hid her face against them. Her fingers trembled against her legs as her shoulders shook. He knew how she felt. To be lost and have salvation offered. They sat in silence after that. Djarin considered the former Jedi's words.

     They'd been sent to hunt down the boy. The boy had magic, just like Grogu. What lengths would Gideon go to to get the child back? Something cold wormed its way into his heart. He'd lost Grogu once. Never again. The Imperial was a threat that couldn't be ignored. But Djarin had sworn to find his people. Then he had to find them faster. Save the rest of his tribespeople and then track down Gideon before the man could strike. This time, Djarin didn't intend to hand him over to the New Republic.

     "There." Fennec got to her feet and pointed skyward. He looked up. A refitted New Republic transport fully emerged from the clouds. It swooped down toward them and landed just feet away. Djarin stood and then stooped to pick up Grogu. The others got up and started toward the ship. Before they reached it, the side door extended up to open. Cara emerged to grin at him.

     "Mando!"

     "Cara," he greeted her.

     "I leave you alone for a week," she said as she looked at the others, "and you've already got more Mandalorians." The woman laughed. "So, what're we doing? Storming another Imperial hideout? Taking down another ship?"

     "We're saving my people." He told her, "and killing Moff Gideon." The woman swept him up into a hug and tried her hardest to lift him off his feet. The weight of his armor kept the tips of his toes on the ground.

     "Gods, I missed you!" He couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm. She released him and then did a hard double take at the sight of Grogu in the crook of his arm. "Your kid came back?"

     "He did." The woman reached out to lightly tap the child's nose.

     "Good. Your dad was so sad. It almost made me cry." Cara grinned at the others. She jerked her thumb at the transport. "Let's go!"

Chapter Text

     Curious, Thrawn thought. Their cover stories had not been questioned by a single being in the Mandalorian's group. Seated beside Ezra, the man could freely study Din and those with him. Fennec Shand, an assassin and bounty hunter renowned for her sharpshooting and hand-to-hand combat proficiency. The woman leisurely reclined beside Boba Fett. Son of Jango Fett, bounty hunter, and recent Daimyo of Tatooine. Din Djarin had done well in forming an alliance with the two. Thrawn's research had turned up only two points of connection between the Mandalorian and the bounty hunters. That he would need only twice to earn enough influence with them that they would agree to leave Tatooine for him - it was a connection Thrawn would need to uncover more about.

     Third and the most expected of the group - Carasynthia Dune. Rebel soldier, shock trooper, mercenary, marshal, and now a Ranger. Connected to the New Republic, but a connection that was not fully formed. Complaints and friction littered her service record. His people embedded on Coruscant had not yet reported on her leaving the planet. If she had gone through official channels, they would have noted her movements. Another action taken that would be looked upon poorly by her superiors. Yet she showed no thought toward it as she had left them to pilot the ship.

     Fourth. Thrawn leaned back in his seat and crossed his legs. The most mysterious addition to Din's group. Bo-Katan Kryze. The last updates that he had received on the former leader of Mandalore placed her at her now lost home. He had expected her to return to her Night Owls on Plazir-15 after that. Thrawn's research into her connection with the Mandalorian had only turned up three past points of contact. It was a curious thing that she had not challenged Din for the Darksaber yet. Was she simply masking her ambition or was there something more here at play?

     He eyed the Mandalorian. The man's armor was free of any paint. No colors to catalogue. No imagery or symbols to decipher. A blank slate. Thrawn's study into the man's records had turned up little information. Brief mentions of a childhood on Aq Vetina where he'd been rescued from battle droids. A relocation to Concordia. Then, after years of nothing, the man had resurfaced as a bounty hunter on various planets. Word of mouth labeled the man a cultist. Creedbound - one of several Mandalorian splinter groups devoted to following the Way.

     His words to his tribeswoman had solidified which sect they belonged to. A focus on children. The Way of the Mandalore. It now explained his actions on Hutta. Even more so, his words revealed why he had not yet been challenged by other Mandalorians. The Living Waters. Had his tribe braved their ruined world to live on it, or were they hiding on a nearby planet? He would soon find out. With that, he could begin to unravel the mystery that was Din Djarin.

     Hinderance after hinderance. Gideon pinched the bridge of his nose. Bo-Katan hadn't acted as he'd expected. He'd hoped that Din's possession of the blade would cause tension that'd tear the two apart. Yet she followed along in his shadow like some kind of annoyed lothcat. He hadn't been able to locate the pair after they'd left Hutta. How inconspicuous could two Mandalorians and two bounty hunters be? He'd need to swap out those in his search department for fresher recruits. Worse still - Thrawn had taken his test subject back and was denying Gideon any chance to speak with either of them. Captain Pellaeon dismissed all attempts at contact. He had the mercenaries to use, but Skoll and Hati were too independent for his liking. Ensign Bridger had been more useful. Thrawn never let the boy stray far from his orbit - Gideon had made ample use of that proximity. Now Skoll and Hati had been dispatched on a mission. He was without Bridger. No one on Grand Admiral Thrawn's side would speak with him.

     The man gritted his teeth. They were all treating him like he was inconvenient. He held their future in his hands! His work would lead the Imperial Remnant to victory! Gideon made his way around his desk. He called up Kane's tracker. She'd gotten off Coruscant and was nearing the first waypoint. From then, it'd only be two more jumps before she reached the fleet. Doctor Pershing would be theirs once more. Once the two were safely with him, he'd dispatch assassins to retake the child. He had to possess a subject he could control completely. The only obstacle in his way would be the Mandalorian. Once he killed the man, there'd be nothing binding his little ragtag group together. Perhaps he'd even let Kryze take the Darksaber. She'd return to reclaiming Mandalore while the bounty hunters slunk back to Tatooine. Gideon would finish his research.

     And once he was done? The man smirked down at his display. There'd be no more reason for the Remnant to hide in the shadows. They'd kill the hostage Mandalorians on Plazir-15, activate the droids Commissioner Helgait was repurposing, and strike the first blow to an ungrateful universe. He and his clones would wield the combined advantages of both beskar and the Force. No one would be able to stand against him and those loyal to him. Not Grand Admiral Thrawn. Not Kryze. Not the New Republic. He'd crush them all.

     Gideon sat down and leaned back. All he needed was time. Time, patience, and the child.

Chapter Text

     Wrong. As they touched down on Mandalore and were greeted with silence, Djarin's skin prickled. The others were just as quiet as they joined him at the cave entrance. Cara's smile had faded, replaced by weariness.

     "Djarin?" she asked, having picked up on his tension.

     "There should've been someone here," he said in a low voice. Two guards to watch the entrance - just like things had been back on Nevarro. No one waited for them. His hand drifted to his blaster as he stepped inside. Dripping water echoed through the passage as they continued onward. He reached the ledge and looked down below. Nothing moved.

     "Din." Bo-Katan's voice held masked apprehension. They all paired off in increasingly tense silence. Djarin tucked Grogu into the crook of his arm as he wrapped his other arm tightly around Odo. They went first, Bo-Katan and the foundling following after, with Fett bringing Cara down before he lit off to help Shand down as well. Djarin listened. There was only the sound of more dripping water. His unease built. Where were the watchers? Where was the laughter of the coverts' foundlings? Why was there only silence? The Mandalorian stepped forward to take the lead as his and Odo's foundlings moved to the protected middle of their group. Quiet and watchful, they continued onward. The ancient hallways were dim and silent. No echoes of discussion or the hammering of metal reached them. Where had everyone gone? From behind, the child made a sound of distress.

     "Kid?" He wished that Grogu were old enough to speak. Even just a few words would be helpful in the situation they were in.

     "He must sense something," Bo-Katan told them. Djarin kept his grip light but ready on his blaster as he nodded and then continued on through the empty hallways. He turned the corner and entered their shared dining room. A splintered table lay heaped against the far wall. No chair had been left standing, strewn about the room at random. Djarin gripped the fear in his heart and forced it downward. His tribe wouldn't be helped with panic.

     "What happened?" Cara asked. The woman looked with discomfort at the scene before them. "Was there an attack? Was it the Imperials?"

     "No scorch marks," Odo said as he knelt and picked up a broken chair leg to study it. Boba stepped around them and made his way to the table. The man reached out to run his hand down the heavily dented middle.

     "This was a blunt weapon," he said. "Whoever did this - they were strong."

     "Strong enough to make two tribes disappear," Fennec noted.

     "We should comm the armorer-" Bo-Katan began, but Djarin held his hand up to stop her.

     "We might give her away if she's hiding," he said. Bo nodded.

     "Then what do we do?" she asked.

     "The armory." It was the most heavily protected part of their new living spaces. If anyone had had time to flee whatever had attacked them, they would have gone there. "Come on." The rest of the group followed after him as Djarin again took the lead. As they walked, they found more evidence of destruction. Shattered plates. Overturned weapon racks. Broken clay and smashed comm pads. Who or what had done this? Djarin wearily eyed the last turn to the armorer's forge. He feared what he'd find. Djarin took the turn sharply, his weapon at the ready. The forge door had been firmly shut. He focused on controlling his breathing as he slowly advanced. The Mandalorian raised his hand and tapped his fist in tribe code against the metal. He stopped. For a moment, there was only more silence. The door slid open then and the armorer, bearing twin hammers, gestured for them to enter from her place within. Relief flooded Djarin's body as he saw several more Mandalorians behind her. Keldriz and Shayna, along with the Kantra covert's armorer. On the far side of the room, a group of foundlings huddled beside the armorer's forge. But where were the others?

     "The Alamites have grown strong and bold in our people's absence," the armorer explained before he could ask. "They watched us and struck when we were stretched thinnest."

     "Alamites did this?" Bo-Katan asked, disbelief and surprise strong in her voice.

     "They did not attack alone. Massive droids of the likes I've never seen before wrapped around Jasper and several of the Kantra tribespeople. One of them took the foundling of Paz Vizsla as well. There were other attempts," she gestured toward the huddled children. "The rest have gone to seek them." Djarin cursed himself. He'd assumed that the droid that had caught him was one of a kind. His assumption had lead to this.

     "We'll join the search," he told her, "and find our people."

     "You will leave your foundling here," the armorer instructed him. "We have lost one - we cannot lose another." Djarin turned and knelt before Grogu. His child looked up at him with large eyes. He would be safest here. If they were somehow overwhelmed, the Mandalorians here would fight to the death for the lives the children.

     "Stay here," he told his child. Djarin reached out and stroked the child's small cheek with his finger. "I'll come back. I promise." The child chirruped and reluctantly started toward the other children. The armorer studied Emar.

     "The other child will stay as well." The boy looked to Odo, who nodded. When Emar joined the others, Djarin turned to his group.

     "Bo-Katan, you know this place better than us. Is there any place you could think of where the droids would've taken our people?" he asked her. The woman shifted as she thought about it.

     "Maybe," she replied. "But it's been so long - I don't know if those rooms are still accessible."

     "We'll find out," he told her.

     "The Alamites have thick skin that can take several hits from a blaster," Bo-Katan began. "The droids are large, but the one that I saw only had enough room for one person inside it. Two people per group should be enough for one person to free the other if they're captured."

     "Give us the first coordinates," Boba said as Fennec stepped up to his side. Bo-Katan entered the info into her data pad and tapped it. Once he'd gotten the link, the Daimyo and the assassin headed out without another word. Djarin hoped that they'd be able to find the place without any trouble.

     "I don't know anything about this city, Djarin," Cara spoke up.

     "I'll go with you." Djarin decided. He also didn't know much about the city, but together they'd figure it out. His comm pinged with a transmission and Djarin toggled open the layout that Bo-Katan had sent him. A red line snaked through several marked halls before ending in a large room. It'd have to do. After one last look to his foundling, Djarin strode from the room as Cara matched his stride.

     "We'll find your people," Cara assured him. Behind them, Bo-Katan and Odo disappeared down the hallway to their left. Djarin checked his weapons as he walked. This was his fault, he thought. If he'd told his people about the droid, they could've avoided this. If any died at the hands of the machines, if they lost the foundling, he didn't know what he'd do. They'd trusted him - he'd failed them in turn. He'd make this right, Djarin swore to himself as he walked faster. Cara kept pace as his walk turned to a run. Together, they sprinted down the dark hallways.

     He'd save his people. He had to.

Chapter Text

     Boba studied the wide footprints whatever these Amalites were had left behind. Mm. Large. Strong, if the destruction they'd seen was anything to go by. Beneath his helmet, Boba smiled. He'd made the right choice accepting Djarin's bargain. Hunting something new made his old heart beat a bit faster.

     "What do you think they look like?" Shand quietly asked as she shadowed his footsteps.

     "Big. Probably ugly," he replied.

     "Think we should send some back to Mos Espa? Krrsantan could string some up to warn people that while we're gone, they shouldn't play."

     "No." Boba shook his head. That's what a Hutt would've done. He would never act like one of those soulless slugs. The assassin sighed.

     "One day you'll take my advice. It'll make everything so much easier. You'll think that you were a fool for saying no before."

     "Maybe I should get a second throne, then," he said. "Or we could get Djarin to cut mine in half. I'll take the right half." Shand walked in silence behind him for several more steps before she spoke up.

     "I'm a bit surprised." An undercurrent of something Boba couldn't recognize slipped into her voice. He paused and turned back to her. "We both know what that sword is. With him holding it... Have you ever thought about taking the dip?" She meant-? He shook his head. If all this had happened before he'd met his tribe, maybe, but now? No.

     "I won't leave Tatooine. I walk my tribe's way, not the Mandalorian's." The waiting tightness in Shand's shoulders relaxed at his words.

     "Good. I would've dragged you back otherwise."

     "I would've liked to see you try," Boba said with a laugh. "My armor weighs two of you."

     "I've carried heavier targets. Remember the Ithorian?" He had to nod in acknowledgement at that.

     "Let's get back to the hunt," Boba told her. He could tell from the way Shand straightened that she'd locked back onto task. Boba couldn't help but hope that Mos Espa would be even half as entertaining as this had been so far when they returned. He'd been convinced that she'd been two weeks away from cooking and eating her rifle out of pure boredom before the Mandalorian had come. The man kept his hand on his blaster as they walked further into the darkness.

     "What exactly are Alamites?" Cara asked as they moved together around jutting rock structures.

     "Shorter, less hairy, less aggressive Wookies," he replied.

     "... uh-huh," Cara murmured. "That was both really descriptive and not."

     "You'll know when we see one," he assured her. He kept his eyes peeled to the ceiling above their heads as they walked further along-

Movement.

     Djarin raised a hand to stop Cara. He pointed at the faint shadow visible through the pale green stone above. He pulled out his blaster and aimed just below the shadow. A single shot shattered the thin stone and surprised roars filled the tunnel as three Alamites plummeted to the floor below. Djarin surged forward. He activated the Darksaber and sliced through the head of the first Alamite. Its sizzling blood splashed across the stone as he whirled and plunged his black blade through the second creature's chest. The third pushed itself up and grunted as Cara fired several shots into its broad chest. She fired several more before the creature finally fell. The woman stepped forward to examine it.

     "And uglier," she finally added. Djarin shrugged and then moved onward. He spotted it then - deep groves in the layer of wet mud ahead of them. The Mandalorian squatted down to study the tracks. He remembered his own unpleasant experience. These had to be tracks made by a droid like the one that had tried to kill him.

     "See?" He gestures down at the grooves. Cara nodded. She followed after him in tense silence as they followed the tracks. The droid had turned up ahead and gone into a smaller tunnel. Djarin wearily crouched to enter it. If they were attacked here it'd be hard to fight back. They continued on as quietly as possible. Together, the two of them emerged into a dark cavern. Djarin dimmed his light as he snuck forward. The cavern floor dipped further to the left - his breath quickened when he peered down it and caught sight of metal. One of the cages was ahead. He couldn't tell from their armor which Mandalorian was trapped inside. Cara shuddered at the wet, sucking sound that echoed to them.

     "What's it doing?" she whispered as quietly as possible.

     "Removing their blood," he replied. She gave him a look of utter disgust. Djarin peered out again to look for- Yes, there, just beyond the cage. Another of the cursed humanoid droids crouched at the side of the cage. "There," he whispered to her. "We need to take out the eye. That's what controls it."

     "Got it. Stealth or-" Djarin raised his blaster and fired a shot through the droid's back. It rocked forward at the blow and then spun to face them. Cara whooped as she charged past Djarin. She aimed precise shots into the thick glass that covered the orange eye. After several, the glass splintered. Under the force of several more shots, the glass shattered. Liquid poured out from between the shards as the eye slid shut. Djarin eyed the droid for several more moment before he turned to the trapped Mandalorian. Unfamiliar dark green and purple patterns had been painted across their dark armor. A Mandalorian from Kantra tribe.

     "Hey," he crouched and began to undo the latches on the cage. "Can you hear me? Can you move?" A weak grunt was the only response he got. Still, that lifted his heart. The Mandalorian was still alive. They'd gotten there in time. Cara joined him in undoing the latches. Together they heaved the bars open. He reached in and took the Mandalorian by her arm. Cara took the other arm and as one, they pulled the warrior out.

     "Din..." The woman's voice was weak with exhaustion. Din wondered how much of the her blood had been taken. "The others..."

     "We know," he assured her. "Those who came with me are looking for them."

     "Good," she whispered.

     "I don't think she can make it back on her own." Djarin nodded at Cara's assessment. Together, they helped the Mandalorian out of the cage. They supported her on both sides as they started back the way they'd come. At least one route was cleared, he told himself. Once they'd gotten the woman to the safety of the Armorer's forge, they could continue onto a new path.

     Bo-Katan was grateful that Odo was turning out to be a quiet companion. At least she hadn't been stuck with the clone. She kept her eyes peeled above as they walked together in silence. No tell-tale shadows or movement so far. Bo-Katan cautiously continued onward. Sound echoed from the tunnel to their left. She stopped and cocked her head to listen. A young, terrified voice called out unintelligible words. Bo-Katan's blood chilled at the sharp crack and silence that followed.

     "Follow me," she ordered, taking off at a run down the shadow filled tunnel. She rounded the last downward slope and emerged into a wide cavern. Bo-Katan cursed - six Amalites spun at the sound of her approach. The two at the front carried a limp foundling between them. Club in hand, the last Amalite lumbered toward her. She ducked the blow and extended her wrist blade to slash up the right side of the creature's neck. As it clapped a thick hand to its bloody neck and sank to its knees, the one just ahead of it swung its club. Heavy stone smashed into her left arm and Bo-Katan grunted as she smacked into the side on the tunnel. It swung lower then and caught her left knee, forcing her to drop to her knees. She didn't try to rise and instead rolled forward beneath the next blow to straighten into-

     Another club slammed into her chest and she wheezed a curse out as it dropped her. She curled onto her right side, bringing her arm up to shield her head as more heavy blows screeched off of her upper arm. Bo-Katan heard something crack and clink free. The next blow sent real pain through the top of her left shoulder. Her pauldron! Bo-Katan shifted as well as she could to free her right arm from under herself. She angled her clenched fist upward, intending on unleashing a torrent of flame, when Odo entered the fray.

     He moved fast as a viper, knives glinting in his hands as he cut the throats of the Amalites over her. As the two toppled dead onto her, he moved toward the third remaining Amalite. A twitch of her wrist changed her weapon loadout and she instead shot her cord out. It tangled around the ankles of the third Amalite and she yanked as hard as she could. The creature roared as it collapsed. Odo swiftly jammed his knife into the back of the animal's neck. He snapped his hold forward and the creature went limp and silent. The last two Amalites dropped the foundling as they fully turned toward him and readied their clubs. Bo-Katan shoved the fallen creatures off her so that she could pull her blaster free. She fired shots into the second to last Amalite's face. Odo took the advantage and slammed his knife home into the creature's neck. He grabbed the massive beast and managed to angle it in time to take the club blow meant for him.

     The last creature roared in frustration, all of its eyes fixed on the man. Just as she had with the one before, Bo-Katan fired into the creature's face. It fell swiftly to to Odo's knives through its neck. The man gave her single nod before he knelt beside the foundling. Bo-Katan joined him. She tugged her glove off as she went to her knees. Careful not to accidentally move the foundling's head, she slipped her fingers beneath the child's helmet. Her fingertips brushed against his lips. She breathed a sigh of relief when she felt his slight inhales and exhales.

     "He's still alive," she told Odo. The man nodded. Bo-Katan slipped her hand out from under the foundling's helmet. She put her glove back on. The woman leaned forward to gently cradle the boy's neck. She leaned further down so that she could work her arm under his back. Odo reached out to support the boy's head. "One, two, three." They lifted the boy together. Bo-Katan held him to her chest, keeping her right hand lightly against his neck so that his head couldn't slip down. She didn't know how much bacta the two tribes had. Odo stepped away, and with his knives still out, took the lead as they began to retrace their steps.

Chapter Text

     Exhilaration pounded in Boba's veins as he just barely stepped back in time to dodge the creature's club swing. He'd been right - the Amalites were big and ugly. The beast put too much weight into it's swing, leaving itself exposed as it stumbled to the side. The man sank his knife into its tough, pale skin. Ahead of him, Fennec leapt onto the back of the creature she'd wounded and pressed her blaster to its neck. The woman fired repeatedly. The Amalite slumped to the cold stone. Boba pressed his hand to the Amalite's neck and jerked his knife free. Dark blood spurted out and the creature wordlessly collapsed. Further ahead, the two wounded Mandalorians they'd found finished off the third beast. The man in deep blue and orange armor sagged to his knees in exhaustion. The woman at his side fared only a little better - she leaned heavily against his shoulder as she gasped for air. Boba stood over the dead creature as he caught his own breath. There was a certain thrill in getting to wholeheartedly kill other beings.

     Back on Tattooine it was always a balancing act of deciding who was worth the trouble. Who'd bring more issues if they were alive versus if they died. That, and their majordomo always looked like he was one violent twitch away from keeling over. Boba couldn't have that. Peli thought he was cute - if he died, she'd blow up Boba's palace and then launch a one woman war against everyone. Which would be a real waste, he thought, he liked his palace. And Peli. That woman could mount weapons on a durasteel trashcan and supercharge it. She was his crazy genius. Just like the twitchy majordomo was his. And Shand, his blaster tongued assassin. Like Djarin, his ally.  The man had been willing to lay down his life for his word and his Way.

     When you came across people like that, you kept them. That sentiment extended to his people, who'd come to a gods forsaken dead planet, following a man who'd tossed the darksaber like an empty tankard at a Hutt. They couldn't be bought, bribed, or swayed. Sentients like that were rare and Boba needed that, especially as ruler of his Sarlaac pit of a planet. When things inevitably went down the chute, and things always went down, he wanted to be able to call on them for aid. If anyone could bring peace between the tribes and the off-worlders, it'd be their special brand of crazy. Besides, he thought, he did owe Djarin. And the man's kid was criminally cute.

     So he caught his breath and helped drag-walk the female Mandalorian along as Shand helped the man. They wound their way back to the armorer's forge just in time to witness Bo-Katan and Odo round the corner ahead of them with a foundling carefully held between them. Both of the Mandalorians he and Shand were helping made matching sounds of distress. The man Shand was supporting tried to straighten and move toward the other three, but Shand seamlessly pressed her knee to the back of his, making him stumble. The woman caught him and continued to pull-walk him toward the forge master's door.

     "The kid still alive?" Boba asked after he knocked on the door. It hissed open and a cluster of concerned Mandalorians poured out to shuffle everyone safely inside. The armorer retrieved several packs of bacta as Bo-Katan and Odo carefully lowered the child down. The largest Mandalorian in the bunch made a sound of pure horror as he dropped to his knees beside the kid.

     "The Amalites knocked him out. We weren't sure if they'd..." Bo-Katan cut herself off as the large, kneeling Mandalorian shuffled forward to be even closer to the child.

     "Ragnar!" Large hands fretfully hovered over the boy's still body. The armorer passed him the bacta packets before she made her way to back to her storage units. The woman searched through the one nearest to her before she pulled out a small device. Boba helped the woman he was holding lean back against the wall and sit down. Shand did the same with her man. They all watched as the armorer approached the child and crouched at his other side. She gently worked the device between his helmet and the back of his neck. After a moment of silence, the device gave a small beep. The armorer pulled back and studied the information showing on its small screen.

     "His neck is not broken," she informed them. "He will be concussed, but the bacta will help him heal." The large Mandalorian did touch the boy then, carefully drawing the child into a close hug. Boba looked away and pretended that he didn't hear the large man sniffling exactly like a parent who'd gotten their child back from the brink of death. 

     "How many more of your people are out there?" he asked the armorer.

     "Five," she replied. "Four from the Kantra tribe, one from our own. We-" There was another knock at the door. The armorer stood from the child's side and made her way to it. She opened it and stepped aside as Djarin and Dune helped a limping woman inside. "Three from Kantra tribe," the armorer adjusted her statement. Boba looked to Shand. The woman checked her knives and then nodded to him. Boba took the lead and made his way past Djarin and the others. He unhooked his blaster as they stepped back out into the hallway. With Shand at his side, he set out back the way they had come.

     Blaster at the ready, Bo-Katan followed the set of Amalite track back up into the main city. Walking through the burnt out, rotting husk of what had once been her home clawed at her heart with nails made of Beskar. She was glad to have a mission to keep her dismay at bay, and glad for Odo's continued silence. The large footprints and drag marks wound their way through ruined streets, and then- Bo-Katan cocked her head in confusion. More footprints. Large Amalite ones but also humanoid ones. The site of a struggle. Scorch marks on shattered walls. Had the others of Din's tribe found their captive tribe person? If so, why hadn't they come back to the forge room?

     She followed the trail to three dead Amalites. Blaster marks darkened their faces and necks. Bo-Katan crouched and studied the corpses. Along with the blaster marks, she noted deep cuts along the animals' ankles and wrists. That would have slowed the creatures down and forced them to drop anything they had been holding. Odo tapped her shoulder and pointed past her. She looked up just in time to see the back of a Mandalorian retreating into another ruined home. For a moment she caught sight of a ragged cloak and dusty cloth along with smooth Beskar. She frowned at that. When Odo moved past her, she held a hand up to stop him.

     "Wait." Odo's helmet turned back toward her. Bo-Katan wasn't yet familiar with Din's tribe, and she knew the Kantra tribespeople even less, but something about the ragged appearance of the armor they had seen tightened her alertness. These Mandalorians cared deeply for their armor and their clothing. None of them wore rags like that. "We go slow," she murmured. He nodded and joined her silent approach through the street. Careful to sidestep the old broken glass and bits of ruined housing that littered the cracked ground beneath her feet, Bo-Katan snuck toward the house she had seen the Mandalorian enter. Slowly, silently, she stepped up to the open door and leaned to peer inside. In the center of the room, three men in Beskar stood before a kneeling man with blonde hair. Bo-Katan recognized him as the other Mandalorian of Din's tribe they had found on Kantra.

     "-should've let the Amalites kill you, spy," the Mandalorian who wore a faded red scarf around his neck hissed. "It would've been a fitting death!"

     "I'm no Imperial spy, you-" The scarf wearing Mandalorian struck the helmetless man across the face.

     "Liar! We know how your kind act! You're their first wave! You're meant to trick us into showing ourselves topside! We won't fall for it." The stranger unhooked his blaster and pressed it the kneeling Mandalorian's temple. "Die."

     "Coward," the helmetless Mandalorian snarled. "You bear your faces, hide in the ruins of our planet; steal my soul! You're the Imperial spies! Mand'alor Din will cut you limb from limb!" The man standing before him went cold eyed at that. The stranger took a breath and steadied his aim. No!

     "Stop!" Bo-Katan stepped into the room. She kept her blaster out but pointed toward the floor. "Stop this!" Everyone went still. Please, she silently begged her ancestors, please don't make me fight more of my people. Not on her planet; in her home. The stranger stared at her for a long moment. A mess of emotions rapidly crossed his face, his expression changing too quickly with each for her to track what he thought. The man lowered his blaster. He spoke to her with a voice that shook.

     "Lady Bo-Katan Kryze." He lifted his clenched fist and pressed it to his chest. "You've returned to us!" The other two ruggedly dressed Mandalorians stepped up to the man's side and removed their helmets as well. Each gave her matching signs of respect. Bo-Katan stared at them. She could both see, in regards to the blonde Mandalorian's suspicious gaze, and Odo's silent head tilt, and feel that they were wondering what she would do. Bo-Katan didn't want to deal with this! New Mandalorians who had been here for who knew how long, a Mandalorian now without his soul again, the kriffing Amalites and the mess she just knew this was going to be! Lady Kryze, they'd called her. Dank farrik! Dank farrik!