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"Maybe you should try something a li'l more age appropriate for the little guy," Peli says as she emerges from under Din's ship, which despite its misadventures has seen worse days. "Gunslingin' ain't for younglings."
They're back on Tatooine, again, after a whirlwind tour of the galaxy that's left Din feeling like he could use some time off from the chaos that's been his life these past few months. Tatooine is as close as they get to a break, it seems, but they've had more than their fair share of turmoil here as well, so maybe Peli has a point.
Sparks fizzle as the mechanic stands up, which she bats away with the casual air of someone who is well accustomed to sparking ships. Standing here, Din isn't quite sure why he came to her for advice, but given his limited social circle, the old woman seems as good a choice as any.
"I tried putting him in school last time we were here," he counters. "You saw how that turned out."
Peli waves a hand at him as she blows a stream of air through her parted lips, her demeanour dismissive but not unkind. "So he wasn't ready for that. School ain't always easy for them, you know. Anyway, I'm not sayin' you need to commit him to full time education, just that you could stand to take him somewhere a bit more child friendly from time to time."
"He's Mandalorian now. Combat is child friendly."
"Yeah, uh huh, you keep telling yourself that. What did your friend say about it?"
Din has to think for a moment, but he's pretty sure the "friend" Peli is talking about is the Jedi he'd entrusted Grogu to for a time. He hasn't told the mechanic much about the kid's time with the Jedi – he'd prefer to keep that chapter to himself – but she has a knack for getting information from him in the most innocuous ways.
"I think they would agree with me," he says, though she knows he's lying. He can't be sure what the Jedi would think because he hasn't spent long enough with one to find out.
"Well if your new friends agree with you, I'm sure you're right. What do I know about raisin' kids, anyway? All I got's a bunch of ungrateful pit droids."
A couple of the droids shrink back as Peli speaks. She rolls her eyes, more at Din than the droids it would appear, as she grabs a wrench from her workbench and begins to wriggle back under the chassis. Din nurses a niggling feeling that he missed something in the exchange; there's so much he has yet to understand about Peli Motto.
—
In the days that follow, Din's thoughts can't help but drift to his conversation with Peli. He shoots a Devaronian in the chest while the kid wriggles in the carrier on his back and his thoughts stray to Peli. He slashes a Trandoshan mercenary from head to hip and the child gurgles. When an encounter on Anantapar ends with the kid trying in earnest to crush the windpipe of a mercenary they've been tracking, Din has to admit this lifestyle is not ideal for younglings.
He's lost as to how he should remedy the situation, however. Peli hadn't been flush with suggestions and most of his friends are scattered across the galaxy, too far to be of any help to him right now.
Perhaps the Jedi would know what to do if they were here.
It's not until about a week later that his question finds an answer in the form of a holodisc on the table in the cantina they're visiting. It's a quiet night, one of the low traffic days on this particular planet, and the advertisements on the holo are easy to hear for once.
Din's only half paying attention, caught between watching his drink and making sure the kid doesn't get into any mischief, but he catches the word "fun" nestled into the warm tones of whoever recorded the voiceover for this thing.
He waits for the message to cycle round again, patiently listening as the voice lists the cantina's special of the day, followed by the current exchange rate for Republic credits to wupiupi, and finally:
"Tired of the hustle and bustle of galactic life? Ready for a fun-filled family getaway? Then look no further! Spreetal Fun Land has everything a family could need, from countless attractions to entertain even the most energetic of younglings, to our adults-only exclusive cantinas. You won't find a better getaway anywhere!"
Din stops listening somewhere around the part about the cantinas, but the words continue to swirl in his mind as he finishes his meal. Spreetal Fun Land. It couldn't hurt to look into it.
—
The N-1 lands gracefully at the wide, open spaceport of Spreetal. If not for the sheer volume of ships clustered around the port, one might be forgiven for assuming the moon was deserted. The pristine white sands seem to stretch out endlessly and the reflection from the bleached sun gives the horizon an all-encompassing feeling, like you could be swallowed whole by the sands without ever leaving a trace on the surface.
They are assured that this is not the case, however, by the marshal who greets them the second they step off the ship. She's shorter than Din by a large margin, but her cheerfulness makes her presence appear much bigger.
"Hi there, and welcome to Spreetal! If you're here for Spreetal Fun Land, please make your way over to Drop Zone Cresh where a shuttle will be along soon to take you to the park. Don't worry about your ship, we'll take good care of it while you're gone."
There seems to be more to the scripted welcome she has prepared, but when she opens her mouth to continue, all that comes out is a soft gasp. Din follows her gaze to his beskar chestplate, only to realise Grogu has apparently chosen the perfect time to awaken from his nap and is blinking with bleary eyes at the harsh glare of the sun.
"Well, hello, little one," the marshal coos. "Aren't you just the cutest little thing? You're gonna have the best day out today, just you wait!"
Din feels the urge to smile at her praise of the kid, his foundling, though the gesture is futile beneath his helmet. He's grown much in the time they've shared together, though physically he remains the same: Din can't help but feel pride at all the child has achieved. Yet, at the same time, he feels a strong urge to get away from the situation, unused to such overt displays of emotion. Aruetyce are strange in that way, wearing their emotions outwardly.
"So, Drop Zone Cresh?" He says, to quiet the discomfort he feels.
The marshal raises her head again to give him a warm smile. Her kind eyes meet his through his visor. "That's the one! The shuttle will take you right to the gates, so you don't need to tire yourself out before you get there."
Din nods, glad to be back on more familiar ground. "Thank you."
He hoists Grogu higher in his arms as they set off, though not without a lingering look behind them.
The journey is quick, as promised. Railspeeders. He's grateful for the speed as they traverse the barren landscape.
He can tell when they near the park before the complex comes into view: the sounds are like nothing he's ever heard before, all fanfare and bustle. Although they still can't see the park, a number of children on the train begin to cheer at the prospect of getting inside. Even the markets of Trask couldn't hope to match it on their busiest day, and it's nothing compared to what awaits them inside the gates.
The inside of the park is an outright assault on the senses. Everywhere Din looks, he's confronted by flashing lights and holodisplays offering the tallest rollercoaster in the Outer Rim, the fastest podracing simulators, the fluffiest Bespin Cloud Drop outside of Cloud City. The screams of delighted park-goers mingle with the mechanical groaning of the attractions and the shouts of the vendors each vying to be the one the tourists flock to. Din opts to dim the sensitivity of his helmet's display and dial back the volume on its audio output. It's not the kind of noise he's used to; truthfully he'd much rather a crowded cantina or a gunfight, but when he looks down to gauge the kid's reaction, he finds Grogu impassive.
"Not impressed yet, huh?"
Grogu babbles something unintelligible that Din interprets as agreement.
They pass a number of vendors as they wander around the entrance. Each pathway is lined with sweet treats and delicacies from across the galaxy. Din frowns. He hadn't thought to pack treats for the kid, but surely all this traipsing around will leave them both with an appetite.
The kid perks up around the tenth vendor they pass. Behind the spectacle, a smiling Besalisk pulls apart strands of colourful fluff – pink, blue, green. Every colour that occurs in the galaxy is replicated in the threads of sugar in the vendor's many hands.
Din feels Grogu tug at Din's grip around his waist and shakes his head. "Maybe later."
Later never comes.
Far from being amazed by the myriad of flashing lights and jubilant sounds as Din expected, the kid turns strangely quiet as they walk. Several paths down and countless stalls later, they've yet to see an attraction that captures the kid's attention.
Unsettled by his silence, Din glances down at the youngling in his arms and is surprised to find him munching his way through a helping of the cotton candy they passed earlier.
"Hey! Where did you get that?"
The kid looks up at Din with a look of pure innocence in his over-large eyes. His mouth is frosted with a thin crust of pink sugar. Very slowly, his tongue pokes out to swipe another tendril of the wispy treat as though in response to Din's protests.
"No!"
Din reaches for the stick of cotton candy in the child's hand, but it's swiped away before he gets anywhere near it. Grogu tilts his head curiously and blinks his owlish eyes. Din sighs. At least it isn't local fauna this time or members of an endangered species. Memories of the frog lady they escorted to Trask still creep up on him to make him cringe when he least expects it.
"Fine, you can keep it. But don't do that again. We don't steal things," he scolds, then, reconsidering, adds, "not unless we have to."
Din's no communication expert, but the sound that accompanies his acquiesce is not exactly what he would call contrite.
Eventually, candy long devoured (as though it stood more than a moment or two with Grogu's endless appetite), they find a couple of rides that earn more than a sidelong glance from the kid. He seems to prefer the taller rides, the wilder the better. Din did try to persuade him to try some of the tamer attractions, to limited success.
"Didn't know you were such a thrill seeker," he says. Grogu just laughs.
One of the rides chuck them upside down, only to swoop back around seconds later. Din feels the absurd urge to hold onto his helmet as it loops around and around, again and again. The kid, who's strapped in tightly on his lap – too small to fit the standard seats designed for more humanoid species – whoops in delight every time the ride lurches forward.
He worries, belatedly, about the kid's stomach. Visions of the child hurling sticky pink candy over everyone in the vicinity flash across his mind. Luckily for them the kid manages to keep it down.
As soon as they disembark, Grogu clammers to go again, straining against Din's arm around his middle.
"Again? Why don't we try one of the others?"
He gestures towards a few nearby rides, each one of a similar height to the one they've just stepped off. Grogu's discerning gaze follows Din's hand, eyes narrowed in deliberation. After a moment, he thrusts his own tiny fist at the middle one, which has not only the honour of being the tallest Din has seen in the park so far but also boasts the largest queue, stretching out well beyond the others.
"That one?" He has to turn his head to take in the full length of the queue. "You sure?"
Grogu nods, an almost saccharine smile on his little face. Figures the kid would pick the least convenient option. Still, Din's doing this for Grogu, not himself, so joins the end of the line and waits. He never thought the patience he'd gained from stakeouts and tracking targets would ever be used in a situation like this.
Well, if he's gonna be stuck waiting he might as well test some of those hard-earned skills. He surveys the park, watching parents argue with tempestuous toddlers and younglings stuff their faces with all manner of sugary sweets. He watches as water splashes a family standing too close to the edge of the Naboo Falls river ride and the children squeal with delight. Most of all, he watches Grogu, whose deep brown eyes watch everything Din's do.
They've almost reached the front of the queue when a flat voice draws Din away from his surveillance.
"Excuse me."
Din turns to find the source of the voice – he doesn't know if it's addressed to him, but the tone is enough to make him look – and is greeted by the dead-eyed stare of a kid who can't be more than a teenager.
"You can't go on this ride," the kid says. They manage to avoid the usual difficulty others have – whether to look into his visor and approximate where his eyes should be, or not – by addressing the air over Din's shoulder.
"What?"
"You can't go on this ride. The youngling isn't tall enough to ride."
In his arms, Grogu begins to get restless. His face scrunches up in apparent displeasure, though Din can never truly be sure whether the child understands the situation they're in or if, like most younglings, he's simply fond of pulling faces.
"But he wants to go on this one," Din says. Grogu, as though to prove his point, reaches out towards the ride, tiny fists making grabby hands at the brightly flashing lights.
"I'm sorry, but company policy says younglings must be this tall to ride," the attendant reiterates, gesturing to a dimly glowing sign. A holo of a small Twi'lek child beams back at Din, while measurements appear beside it. Grogu is, as far as Din can tell, one Twi'lek child too small to ride this attraction.
"But that's not fair. He's–" Older than you. Immensely powerful with untapped potential to rival the heroes of legend. A member of an all but extinct order of magical beings who once helped to hold the galaxy together. "Just a kid."
"And he isn't tall enough to ride this ride. I'm sorry, but if you could move aside, sir, you're holding up the line."
Din glances behind him at the slowly growing queue. He opens his mouth again to argue – the kid's older than the damn attendant – but closes it again quickly. What's the point? Mouthing off is only going to get them kicked out, and as many unsavory jobs as he's taken in his time, he thinks it's perhaps best not to add roughing up underpaid teenagers at an amusement park to that list, not least because he's gotten himself in enough trouble with the New Republic already.
"Fine," he says, stepping back. "We'll find something else."
Contrary to his words, they don't hang around for long after that. The park seems to lose its magic in the face of Grogu's crestfallen expression. Din struggles to justify the credits spent on overpriced theme park goods or low velocity merry-go-rounds when the kid's expression seems barely to shift beyond mild entertainment.
—
"Maybe we're not quite ready for theme parks yet," Din says with a sigh as he sinks into the pilot's seat back at the ship. Grogu, seated in the co-pilot's chair, responds with an inquisitive gurgle.
Din flicks the ignition and the ship whirls into life. It isn't long before they breach the planet's atmosphere, surrounded by a thousand twinkling lights so different from the overwhelming displays on Spreetal. Maybe this is where they belong after all, two outsiders set adrift amongst the stars.
He turns to Grogu, whose eyes have lit up again at the prospect of setting off again.
"Hey, you wanna see something even better than those 'coasters, kid?"
The child burbles in response. His eyes have a gleam to them that could rival even the brightest stars in the galaxy.
"Alright," Din says, his chest filled with an insurmountable warmth. "Hold on tight."
He guides the ship through a series of barrel rolls, each one gaining an even louder peal of laughter from the youngling beside him.
"Again?" He asks, to uproarious giggles.
Taking his cues from the foundling, Din sends them into a spiral dive. Grogu's laughter mixes with the sounds of the engine, until Din can hardly tell where one ends and the other begins.
Maybe, he thinks, parenthood doesn't have to follow a cookie-cutter outline. They seem to be doing just fine as they are.