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Chapter Text

Darkness engulfed me as I quietly made my way through the abandoned hallways. The only ray of light guiding me through the shadows came from my helmet. I had to be utterly cautious now. The remains of Mandalorian warriors littering the floor were all the warning I needed. Whatever I did, I must not underestimate the monster lurking in the dark.

I could not say how long I had crept through the shadows, my weapons ready and my eyes and ears alert. I only knew I had to hurry. The longer I took, the more opportunity for the creature to hurt someone who, despite being a royal nuisance, I could not imagine the galaxy without.

I turned another corner and suddenly I stood in a dark room. Only Concordia up in the sky let some light fall through the windows, turning the shadows even deeper. Its beams fell on a person, suspended in the air and barely stirring. Despite the darkness I knew who it was. I would have known her anywhere. I had found Satine, my sister. Her face was twisted in pain and I felt my throat constrict. She was hurt.

Quickly I dashed to her side and took off my helmet. I simply dropped it right where I stood and took my sister’s face in my hands.

“Satine? Are you okay?” My lips trembled but I kept speaking. I had had my share of badly injured people. They needed to stay awake until I could provide them with proper medical care. “Can you hear me? It’s Bo-Katan. I’m gonna get you out of here, alright?”

Painfully slowly my sister opened her eyes and looked at me. Tears ran down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Bo”, she croaked. “I’m so sorry I put this burden on you…”

“No, no!” Frantically I shook my head. Where was the blasted switch to turn off her restraining force field? “It was my fault. I should never have joined Death Watch. I should have worked with you…”

“Would have, should have, could have”, a male voice drawled in the shadows, and I almost jumped out of my skin. Satine was not alone. I let her go swiftly and reached for my weapons.

Something was moving in the shadows. I heard a clanking noise, and instinctively my hand grabbed my blaster more tightly. Every Clone War veteran recognized this sound. The walking noises of a droid, and it was stepping towards my sister. In his hand he held a shiny cylinder.

“Stay away from her!” I spat and pointed my blaster at him.

It turned towards me, away from the motionless figure. A face covered in black and red patterns. A bare skull with horns. Humanoid yellow eyes, glittering with malice, fixed their gaze on me.

Maul.

Pure hatred exploded within me like an activated thermal detonator. With a snarl I charged towards the disgusting cyborg, firing a volley of shots at him.

His lips curled mockingly. My shots did not seem to do him any harm. He stretched out his hand holding the cylinder and pushed a button. With a hum the Darksaber sprung to life, its black blade, surrounded by white light, shimmering in the dark. In a swift, harsh movement he ran Satine through.

My horrified scream echoed through the room like through a canyon on Kalevala, stretching on as if trying to cover several years of anguish and regret. There was no escape from Satine’s murder. It would happen over and over again, and I was powerless to prevent it.

Because I had caused it to happen already, all these years ago.

“You really don’t know when to stop, do you, Bo-Katan?”

Suddenly everything was different. It was no longer Maul holding the Darksaber and towering over my mortally wounded sister. It was me. I held the blade that had killed Satine, dripping with her blood.

Impossible, I thought in a daze. Burn wounds don’t bleed…

“You killed her”, the voice purred in satisfaction, and I shuddered as I recognized it. The smooth, evil voice filling my ears with poison during the Night of a Thousand Tears. “You brought in the scum that took her life. You always have to rebel against the legitimate order, don’t you?”

My lips moved, but no sound escaped them. There was nothing I could say in my defense. I had indeed joined Death Watch out of rebellion as a teenager. My fanatically pacifistic sister had outlawed the warriors. Being a warrior myself, I had refused to let her take that part of myself, the part I shared with our father, away from me. And eventually, when Satine used her friendship with a Jedi to score a few victories against us, Death Watch had joined forces with Maul.

I had distrusted him, even more than I distrusted Satine’s Jedi. Yet I had been only too willing to believe our leader, Pre Viszla, that he had everything under control. I should have realized we had bitten off more than we could chew, only I was too eager to end Satine’s frustrating rule.

But I had not meant her to die. I would never have consented to that, even though other Death Watch members made attempts on her life. Misguided fanatics, Viszla had assured me. A regrettable mistake to let them join our noble cause, but no reason to doubt our goal. Again, I was more than willing to believe him.

Until, after his death, I learned he too had tried to kill her. I had joined an organization ready to murder my family, and by the time I finally realized it, my sister was dead. Killed by the monster Death Watch had given power over Mandalore. Too busy with our personal squabbles and grudges to realize who the real enemy was, we had unleashed a catastrophe.

Satine’s blood was dripping from the Darksaber’s blade. The drops fell on Mandalore and set the planet on fire. Echos of explosions roared in my ears, mingled with the screams of billions.

“Your doing”, the hated voice continued. “So many unnecessary deaths just because you were selfish.”

Bombs rained down on Mandalore. Terrible flowers of fire bloomed on the surface, rising mile-high into the sky and devouring everything in their way. Before my eyes my planet was consumed by flames.

My people were burning like living torches.

With a scream I awoke and found myself on the throne in Kryze Castle on Kalevala.

Chapter Text

With a scream I awoke and found myself on the throne in Kryze Castle on Kalevala.

Still gasping I looked around. Pale moonlight flooded through the windows, changing the sober gray of the castle walls in silver and shadows, similar to unpainted beskar. Everything was quiet, it was the middle of the night. I was completely alone.

Evidently I had fallen asleep on the throne. Again. It was becoming a habit fast, and even I could tell it was not a good sign. But I could not go to bed. Once inside, I knew I would not be able to get up again. Staying on the throne, fighting the urge to just roll over and fade into non-existence was my only chance to keep up at least a semblance of life.

The clothes I wore under my armor were drenched with sweat. My head throbbed so badly my entire face hurt. Automatically I touched it with my fingertips, yet apart from the sweat it was dry. I had not been able to cry since the Purge, as if I had forfeited my right to some relief. I did not even cry in my sleep anymore, not even when dreaming of Satine, my elder sister. The most prominent in a long line of people my stupidity had helped to kill.

Her death by the hands of Maul would never have happened if Death Watch had not helped this disgusting cyborg rise to power on Mandalore. Night after night I tried to save her in my dreams, hoping this time I would be fast enough, only to fail over and over again. If it was a particularly bad night, I relived the bombs during the Night of a Thousand Tears. I would hear the explosions and screams and see Moff Gideon smile as he took everything from me and made me watch my people’s genocide.

My two worst defeats were joining forces to drive me out of my mind.

How many failures could one person take, how many losses could she bear before her spirit broke and her very soul was ground into dust? Sitting in the grey rooms of the castle I felt as if I too was slowly fading into grey, drained of color, drained of life, until I became just one more ghost to haunt the castle. Fading into nothingness. Ceasing to exist, like life on Mandalore.

I rubbed my eyes. This was more than just shadows of a bad night. As a warrior you got used to lack of sleep. You learned to identify the symptoms and you learned how to handle them. Even when completely fatigued, I had never succumbed to such dark thoughts. This was a full-blown crisis. Having lived through the Purge I was no stranger to this either. Nobody needed to tell us Mandalorians about survivor’s guilt, we lived and breathed it. I had managed to keep it at bay by focusing on my task of finding the Darksaber and stealing a fleet to reclaim our planet. This task had melted away together with my fleet. Once I no longer had a purpose, darkness was free to consume me.

Night passed on, the hallways grew a little brighter, yet without any sunlight. Kryze Castle was situated at the coast where the skies were constantly overcast, grey clouds over a grey castle. Dark grey turned to light grey, light grey became dark grey again, only occasionally mingling with the grey of fog. Minutes became hours, hours became days without me even realizing the difference.

Maybe I should not have come back to Kalevala. It was the ancestral seat of House Kryze, yet had never really been my home. Only Satine had spent her childhood here while I had been born on Mandalore. The tall, imposing walls had been home to my ancestors, and I had realized too late that the place merely served to stir up the ghosts of my past. Now I was trapped among them, their voices whispering in the grand hallways of an empty castle, their haunting shadows weighing me down.

Yet where else could I have gone? There was no place left for me. Clan Kryze and the Nite Owls had deserted me for Axe Woves, my former second-in-command. The fleet meant to reclaim Mandalore was now a mercenary unit, the formerly proud warriors reduced to mere guns for hire. All because they would not accept me without the Darksaber, as if my achievements meant nothing at all.

While paling in comparison to the Purge, I could not ignore the hurt this new betrayal had caused. I had trusted Axe with my life, and he had stabbed me in the back. He would have had me kill a fellow Mandalorian, a single father even, to claim the Darksaber. When I refused to do so, they refused to follow me any longer, and their hostile voices joined the chorus of accusations in my mind.

We followed you on a promise, Axe spat. You failed to deliver.

We are no closer to reclaiming Mandalore than before, Koska stated, less heated but angry nevertheless. We can’t live on visions, Bo-Katan.

“Bo-Katan?”

The memories faded into the ever-present mists of Kalevala. The voice did not, though. It took me a moment to notice it was real, and it belonged to a man in Mandalorian armor. He was walking along the hallway leading up to my throne, his unpainted beskar armor a silver glint among the grey that passed as daylight.

Had I had any doubts who it was, his next words would have removed them.

“It’s Din Djarin.”

Of all the people in the galaxy with a reason to bother me it had to be him. My guts clenched at his sight, curling up inside me like a spiky ball of anger. Had I slept better and felt more energetic, I would have dragged him out of my castle. As it was, I could merely glower at him.

Go away.

Din Djarin seemed completely oblivious to my state. “I’m here to join you”, he announced, as if it was only yesterday since we last met instead of months. Or was it years? It was hard to keep track on time with the days melting into each other.

The adorable child I had helped to save was with him again, accompanying him in a hovering pram. For a brief moment I wondered why Grogu was no longer with the Jedi, then decided I was too tired to care. Even he lost his cuteness in the fog of depression.

“There is nothing left to join”, I informed Din Djarin listlessly.

“What of your plans to retake Mandalore?” he asked in disbelief.

He had not heard the happy news, then. His cult must be living under a rock.

“When I returned without the Darksaber, my forces melted away”, I told him without any emotion. There was no way I was going to get into more detail. It was hard enough to have it in my head. No need to say it out aloud.

“Where is the stolen fleet?”

Trust Din Djarin to not let it go.

“Making their way through the galaxy as mercenaries”, I said flatly. “Do you still have the saber?”

For a brief moment he hesitated before replying: “I do.”

Of course he did.

“Then you lead them”, I stated bitterly. “Wave that thing around and they’ll do whatever you say.”

Or not, considering how they hated his cult.

With his helmet on it was hard to tell, but I was fairly certain Din’s eyes were boring into mine. Finally the message seemed to be getting through.

“So you gave up your designs to retake Mandalore?”

My face hardened at the accusation in his voice. I was heartily sick of constantly justifying myself, especially to a More-Mandalorian-Than-Thou zealot.

“Your cult gave up on Mandalore long before the purge”, I said quietly, my voice heavy with suppressed emotions. “Where were you then, Din? The Children of the Watch and all the factions who came before fractured and shattered our people.”

I remembered it well. Once I had belonged to one of these factions myself. I remembered what I had done in Death Watch and what others had done. I also remembered how several factions, including his cult, had given me hell for accepting the Darksaber as a gift instead of winning it in combat. They would have preferred me to murder a young girl for the blade. When I refused, I was accused of bringing a curse to our planet. Go figure.

It was all I could do to not bare my teeth at him. “Go home! There is nothing left.”

He did not move. “I’m going to Mandalore, so I may bathe in the Living Waters and be forgiven for my transgressions.”

Oh, right. The unforgivable crime of showing his face when saying goodbye to his child. The one moment where he seemed to be not quite as moronic as the rest of his cult was but an act of shame to him. He was as stupidly devoted to the Children of the Watch as I had been to their origin, Death Watch. I hated myself for what I had done then, and to watch another one acting just as brainwashed as my younger self was more than I could bear.

“You are a fool”, I hissed. “There is nothing magic about the mines of Mandalore. They supplied beskar ore to our ancestors, and the rest is superstition. That planet has been ravaged, plundered and poisoned.”

I could swear behind his helmet Din was cocking a sardonic eyebrow at me. “You said the curse was a lie. Make up your mind.”

Grogu made worried noises, looking back and forth between us. The sight reminded me of our nephew Korkie as a little boy when he witnessed my sister and me quarreling. My anger subsided as quickly as it had come. I did not care for another fight. I just wanted to be left alone.

“If you want to go to the mines, be my guest. They are beneath the civic center in the city of Sundari.”

Or rather, in the ruins of what had once been Mandalore’s capital.

I expected another snide remark, but he merely replied: “Thank you. And I will find out if the planet is really poisoned.”

With these parting words he turned away and left, walking through the long aisle towards the gates.

I merely snorted. By now I knew a fool’s errand when I saw one. I had done plenty of them myself.

“Goodbye, Din Djarin.”

Just stay away.

*              *              *

Another nightmare, another day to stare at the wall and to regard my life as a series of failures rolled into one. The dark thoughts restrained and chained me more effectively than any imperial cuffs. Lately I could give any mind flayer a run for its money. I was imprisoned in my own mind, and there was no way out.

I could not have said which day it was, or how much time had passed since I had last seen another creature than my droid. I sat on the throne, slumped forwards, my head in my hands, when I heard his familiar voice.

“Your Majesty. An unscheduled visitor.”

Wearily I lifted my head and looked out of the window. It was still raining outside, yet there was no mistaking the elegant, shiny N-1 starfighter.

Din Djarin was back. Why would he not kriffing leave me in peace? The anger gave me a rare surge of energy, and I stood up.

“Let’s get rid of him once and for all”, I growled and marched out of the throne room, taking my helmet with me. Old habits die hard.

I made it down the stairs towards the landing platform at around the same time as the N-1 landed and came to a standstill.

“Maybe I didn’t make myself clear the last time”, I started angrily as the cockpit opened with a hiss. “I want to be left alone…”

The words died in my throat as the pilot rose from the seat. It was not Din Djarin.

It was Grogu, and he looked terrified. There was no sign of his father. The only other being in the N-1 was an R5 astromech droid.

I felt my mouth dry out. Something was terribly wrong.

“What happened to him?”

The toddler just made whimpering noises and I felt my heart sink. What had I been thinking, letting his father go to this ruined planet all by himself? Of course it was a stupid idea to stake his self-respect on a random pool of water, which probably did not even exist anymore. But I could have minimized the risk. I could have guided Din. He had never been on Mandalore before. He might well have gotten lost in the unfamiliar streets and got stuck somewhere. He might have been poisoned or injured by imperial leftovers. The mines might have collapsed on top of him.

If he had died down there, I had no one to blame but myself. Again.

Grogu looked at me helplessly, unable to communicate his father’s plight. I longed for Ahsoka’s Jedi powers. If only I could read his thoughts to find out what had happened! There was no way Din Djarin would have sent the kid off on his own. He loved the little guy more than anything else, even more than his stupid cult.

I well remembered our first meeting when the Quarren had tried to drown father and child. I remembered how I had pulled Din out of their death trap, and how his first words to me had been about Grogu. Even half drowned and spluttering, he had no thought to spare for his own well-being. Even after seeing Koska dive straight into the water to rescue the little one, he kept pleading with me.

The Child… help the Child!

And now, just as then, there was only one right answer to his plea.

Don’t worry, brother. We got this.

I gazed at the R5 unit and the first sketch of a plan formed in my mind. At least someone’s thoughts here could be read.

“Download the astromech, find out where they were”, I told my droid in a tense voice, already plotting a course to Mandalore. Kriff, I hoped he was on Mandalore and still within reach.

My helmet tucked under one arm and Grogu under the other, I walked to my ship as fast as I could. Now I regretted having moped on my throne for so long and neglecting my affairs. I did not even know if the Gauntlet starfighter was fueled and ready to take off. Had an enemy fleet landed here instead of Grogu, I would have been a sitting duck. Still, there was no time to beat myself up. Right now I had a task, and speed was of the essence.

Grogu did what he could to help. Once placed in the copilot’s seat he stayed there, giving me space to get the systems online and force-pushing tools and old pog soup bags out of my way. As I went through the pre-flight configurations and impatiently waited for the astromech to download his data into my navigational system, the kid’s big, dark eyes followed me as if I was his guiding star in the depth of night. I could see both his fear for his father and his tentative hopefulness to save him, now that he had enlisted my help. Despite the seriousness of the situation, I felt a weak smile light up my gloomy face.

Smart move, Din. Send the cute one to get me on board.

When I finally started the engines and headed towards the atmosphere, I felt a strange calm descend on me. Despite my inner turmoil, despite everything that had happened, I realized I did not hate Din Djarin. He annoyed me with his stubborn adherence to his cult and yes, it still galled me that he had taken the Darksaber from Moff Gideon when it should have been me. But it was Gideon I was mad at. Din had merely tried to save the child, and even I could not blame him for that. It was the right thing to do.

Truth be told, it was just like Moff Gideon to set up a situation where one of my comrades would end up with the Darksaber instead of me. He loved his twisted little mind-games, especially when it came to tormenting me. No doubt he had hoped I would take Din’s head right there on the bridge in order to claim the Darksaber for myself. I’m not going to lie, I did think about it for a second. But then Gideon’s victory would have been complete. I would have slain a fellow Mandalorian, violating everything I was fighting for. I refused to give the scum this final satisfaction. He had succeeded in keeping the Darksaber from me, thus depriving me of my fleet, but at least I had preserved what little honor I still possessed.

I should not have lashed out at Din. He was the only Mandalorian still willing to follow me. The one Mandalorian who did not tie my worth to the Darksaber, and I had sneered at him. I had pushed him away with all my might. Now that the fogs of Kalevala disappeared behind me and space surrounded us, my mind was clearing up as well. I could see what had driven me, and it was not hatred. It was fear. Driving Din Djarin away was the only possibility to remove both the painful reminder of my failure and the luring temptation that he was carrying on his belt.

I had not trusted myself with the Darksaber within reach.

Once I had accepted the weapon as a gift, resulting in everyone blaming me to bring a curse on Mandalore. After the Purge I became obsessed with reclaiming it, in order to make amends for the past, to unite our scattered people and to take back our planet, ravaged and devastated as it was. The only reason I had not challenged Din for it was to thwart Gideon. I had no idea if I could stay strong without an evil Moff around, so it was better for all involved to keep the blade away from me.

Yet here I was, travelling to the very place where the Darksaber was. I only hoped my resolve would not weaken once it was within my grasp again. I would not have another Mandalorian’s blood on my hands.

I will merely protect it, I vowed to myself. If Din is alive, I will extract him and leave it in his care. If he is dead…

My stomach clenched at the thought, probably for Grogu’s sake. But I forced myself to reason on.

If he died in an accident, I will try to find it and keep it safe, so no Imperial scum can touch it again. My face hardened. And if he got killed, the murderer will rue the day.

Chapter Text

According to the astromech’s data, Din and Grogu had taken the route to Sundari. I followed in their tracks, entering the Mandalorian atmosphere for the first time in years and descending through the heavy rainclouds. Out of habit I tried to scan the surface but my instruments registered nothing. No surprise there. The fusion bombs had messed up the magnetic field of Mandalore, making scanning from above and any transmission from below impossible.

Din could not have picked a better place to disappear if he had done it on purpose.

Along with my anxiety for him I felt a mounting dread as we went deeper, anticipating the moment when we would break through the clouds. I had stayed away from here as long as I could, to avoid seeing the amount of destruction the Imperials had wreaked on my home planet. This time there was no escape from the awful reality.

I was right to brace myself.

As the clouds remained behind us, Grogu and I were treated to the full view of what was left of the formerly lively city of Sundari. Blackened ruins were surrounded by circles, the last remnants of the glassed domes that had once protected the city from the wastelands. The domes themselves were long gone, leaving the remains open to the hostile wastelands which devoured all plant life. Cracked, weathered pillars reached towards the sky, like the skeletal fingers of a hand which had once desperately grasped for help before falling still forever.

Failure, they seemed to whisper. Failure.

I stared at what had once been Mandalore’s capital and felt something inside me break with grief.

“It didn’t always look like this”, I muttered, trying to mask my sorrow for the sake of the child.

It did not work. The little fellow’s ears went down. With his Jedi powers he could probably sense my true feelings better than I. I forced my gaze away from the ruins and kept a tight leash on my emotions. It would not do to overwhelm Grogu and pass my nightmares on to him.

Focusing my attention on the navigational systems instead, I steered down towards the coordinates where Grogu and Din had landed before, a spot within bizarre formations of green, crystallized sand. One last time I double-checked the astromech’s data and cross-referenced it with the data my sensors were collecting. The air better had be breathable or Grogu, who had no helmet, would not be able to lead me to his father. But the results confirmed the R5’s first analysis. Contrary to rumors, the atmosphere was not poisoned.

Once we got closer to the position I spotted Grogu’s hovering pram there. The kid must have left it behind as he hauled himself into the N-1. A few minutes later the Gauntlet was safe on the ground and I turned to Grogu.

“Okay, kid”, I sighed. “I’m gonna need you to guide me to him. Can you do that?”

Grogu baby-talked in return and I hoped it meant yes. Without him there was no chance I could find Din Djarin. I put on my helmet, opened the hatch, and the two of us set foot on the planet. R5 stayed behind, guarding the ship and keeping tabs on us as long as possible.

Once he was out of the Gauntlet, Grogu force-jumped into his pram and steered it towards a cave between the rocks. I followed him, and every step brought new sensations I had never experienced on Mandalore. Boba Fett had not exaggerated when he said the Imperials had glassed the planet. The sands from the wasteland had turned into glass indeed. They cracked under my feet with every step I took, making me wonder if at some point the ground had broken under Din and swallowed him. So far there was no trace of him though. He must have made his way at least under the rocks.

They had not been here when Sundari was still alive. The bombings had ripped the ground apart and heated it up like lava. When it cooled down again, it formed the strange crystalline structures, like shards of a gigantic green bottle.

Together Grogu and I followed the path leading into the artificial rocks, walking through a tunnel of greenish crystal. In a way the surreal surroundings made it easier for me. I could pretend this was just a strange planet I was exploring, too foreign to bear any resemblance to my lost home. We were merely looking for a missing brother on a desolate world...

Suddenly the tunnel ended and I stood on a cliff hanging over the remains of Sundari’s civic center. Automatically I reached for my helmet and took it off, the Mandalorian gesture of greeting and respect I had been brought up with. Without the protection of my helmet I saw the burned ruins up close, the dark, empty windows. I smelled the dust and decay, still mingled with a hint of ashes, and felt my stomach clench painfully. It was like seeing the charred corpse of a dearly beloved friend.

“This was once a beautiful civilization”, I told Grogu eventually, looking over the ruins as if to bear witness for everything that had changed. “My family ruled it all.”

Satine, Korkie and my father came to my mind, but merely for a moment, like passing shadows. To me Sundari was irrevocably linked to the Nite Owls. With them I had experienced the closest thing to family life after my father’s and Satine’s death. I remembered how we Nite Owls, especially Ursa and I, knew every available spot for landing or hiding. How we used to fly between the buildings in a city teeming with life.

“Now it’s a tomb”, I stated bleakly.

How could we ever rise from a defeat like this again? So long I had tried to reclaim Mandalore, yet now that I was here I realized what a momentous task it was. Cleaning up the rubble and repairing the city alone would take years, seeing there was only a handful of Mandalorians left. Yet what would we live of? Without the domed cities there was no hope our planet could sustain plant life. The wastelands were barren.

The ruins of Sundari might well have been the ruins of my own hopes. I had well and truly failed.

The child looked at me full of sympathy and I forced my thoughts away from my misery. There would be time for regrets later. I put on my helmet and pressurized it for the drop-off.

“Let’s go”, I agreed, fired up my jetpack and stepped over the cliff, into the corpse of my former home. Grogu followed in his pram.

Even before the bombings Sundari had had many levels. The sky-high city had reached down to the planet surface, almost as deeply as the buildings on Coruscant. With our devices we made it to the low level rather quickly. It was darker down here and the ruins made me feel like I had entered an eerie shadow world. It was still Sundari, only gloomy, burned out and hostile. I recognized the remnants of my old haunts, the streets I had roamed so often. You could take a Nite Owl out of Sundari, but you could not take Sundari out of a Nite Owl.

I looked at Grogu to gauge from his behavior if his father had gotten lost here. The little fellow seemed quite unperturbed yet. He steered his pram down a path and I walked side by side with him, trying to peer through the rubble and broken pipes all around us. I could not help the faint hope that I might still find some traces of my people here. It was foolish, of course. Nobody could have survived in the collapsing city, especially not with the Imperial death commandos hunting survivors. All I could hope to find was bones and tattered armors.

Yet strangely enough, there was still life here. I saw eyes glow in the dark and heard snarls. Maybe creatures from the wastelands had made their home here after their lairs had been turned to glass. As we walked on, I realized the ground was moist, at times even forming puddles and small runlets. It explained what had drawn the animals here. Where there was water, there was life.

As my eyes grew more accustomed to the shades, I saw winged reptiles as long as my arms peering out of the pipes and hissing at us. Whenever they showed themselves, I made a point of glaring in their direction and walking tall and upright. With wild creatures you had to make it absolutely clear who was bigger and who was the huntress here. Grogu though did not have this advantage. He made himself smaller and smaller and finally stopped his pram, staying behind. I paused and looked back to him. His ears were down and he made tiny, distressed noises.

Had he been a fellow Mandalorian I would have shamed him back on track with a cutting remark or two. But since he was a small child I had to try a different approach, and I was badly out of practice.

“I know that you are frightened.” I tried to keep the impatience out of my voice. “But I need you to guide me to him.”

He looked at me uncertainly. I looked back through my helmet, not bothering to take it off. The kid was used to looking into a visor instead of eyes. He might not see my face, but I was sure he could feel what I was trying to convey.

Be brave, for your father’s sake.

This mantra had sustained me for years. Unlike me, Grogu still had a chance of getting his dad back.

The child straightened up a little, making a more determined sound. He started his pram again and I followed him into the dark, switching on the light on my helmet. Our nephew Korkie had been afraid of the dark too when he was little, even without losing his father on an abandoned planet. Satine and I had often calmed him down by lighting a lamp and talking to him. Maybe it would help Grogu too.

“I knew quite a few Jedi, you know”, I told him. Thinking of Ahsoka made me feel rather wistful. “I don’t know what they taught you about us, but there was a time we actually got along quite well. Fought side by side.”

It was hard to tell how much he understood, yet Grogu listened intently. He babbled eagerly, encouraging me to continue.

“How good are you with the Force?” I wondered aloud. Ahsoka had told me Jedi were differently skilled, and so far the kid had held his own remarkably well for one so small. “You must be quite good at it if you got back to me all alone.”

While I talked, I kept my eyes trained on the path ahead. In my helmet’s light the rocks threw strange shades, and I made sure to check every single one of them. Any small crack could be an indicator for a looming catastrophe, and only one of us was wearing armor.

By now we started to reach real rock formations. It gave me an idea how deep down we were, and despite the rubble and destruction I began to recognize patterns. Comparing them to my inner maps helped me to get a sense of direction and provided me with an idea where we were.

As we walked on, I spotted a lighter patch on the rock ahead of us and stopped in my tracks. In the light I saw a crystalline patch on the ceiling, reminding me of a window. Something was moving behind it.

What do we have here…

I paused. My senses sharpened and my muscles tensed as memories came back. Quietly I gave Grogu’s pram a shove, so he would be out of harm’s way. It floated aside, towards the tunnel wall where he would be safe.

Then I drew my blasters and fired straight at the patch. A few shots later the crystal crumbled and three hairy, growling creatures fell out. As they scrambled back to their legs, I got a clear view. Four eyes, tusks, dirty fur, about my size.

Alamites. Long time, no see.

I greeted them in the only Mandalorian language they understood and fired. Then the first one leapt at me and clubbed the blasters out of my hand.

Fine. Hand-to-hand combat it was.

I fired my fibercord whip and pulled the creature of its legs. The next who came too close got a blade in this throat. His friend got a few kicks and a vibroblade in the neck. When the first fellow got the fibercord whip off his legs and attacked, my shield blocked his advance and my blade finished him off.

Despite my long stretch of inactivity, I still knew how to hold my own in battle. Taking the Alamites down was a matter of moments, and I was not even out of breath. In fact, I felt good. Nothing like a little exercise to lift my spirits. I had often fought these man-eating pests before the Purge. Talk about nostalgia and happy childhood memories.

I looked over to Grogu to make sure he was alright. The little guy still sat in his hovering pram, unharmed and well. His eyes were as big as usual, yet this time they shone with respect and admiration. Under my helmet I allowed myself a smug smile.

“Did you think your dad was the only Mandalorian?”

The thought of Din sobered me again. Even if he did not recognize the tell-tale signs of Alamites in the neighborhood, they should have been no match for him. Somehow I no longer believed he had had an accident.

“Those were Alamites”, I explained to Grogu as I picked up my blasters and put them back in their holsters, “and we were their next meal. They used to live in the surface wastelands beyond our cities. If they survived... I wonder what else might have, too.”

Something strong enough to take out a fully trained Mandalorian and seasoned bounty hunter was nothing to be trifled with. With even greater care than before I ventured forwards, Grogu by my side.

Darkness engulfed me as I quietly made my way through the abandoned hallways. The only ray of light guiding me through the shadows came from my helmet. I had to be utterly cautious now. The remains of Mandalorian armor littering the floor were all the warnings I needed. Whatever I did, I must not underestimate the monster lurking in the dark.

I could not say how long I had crept through the shadows, my weapon ready and all my senses sharpened. I only knew I had to hurry. The longer I took, the more opportunity for the creature to hurt someone who, despite being a royal nuisance, I could not imagine the galaxy without.

Right next to me Grogu stopped. His ears were lowered in distress, and he seemed to try to disappear into his pram. We must be close to Din’s location. Briefly I wondered if the little one could sense his father’s death when push came to shove. Then I gritted my teeth in determination. Din Djarin had to be alive. I could not let another Mandalorian die on my watch.

There was a yellow light in the cave just ahead of us. From the distance I distinguished some metallic noises, too regular to be natural. My eyes narrowed. We had arrived. I signaled Grogu to stay behind and continued on my own, as silently as the eponymous nite owl closing in on her prey.

The yellow light grew brighter as I crept closer. From my perspective it almost looked like a furnace, though the light was steady, not flickering like flames. Above it someone had installed a rack, giving the whole construction an uncanny resemblance to a rotisserie spit. On top of it lay a cage, just big enough to enclose a human being.

As my eyes got used to the lighting, I recognized the cage as a live trap. Mandalorian biologists had used them to catch Alamites for studying, though during the civil war they were also very popular for capturing enemy warriors. The traps snapped shut once you touched the mechanism in the middle and enclosed you so tightly it was impossible to use or even draw a weapon. That was, if you were still armed, for sometimes the closing trap just plain snapped the weapons off your armor.

Had there been any doubt who was caught in there, the gleam of unpainted beskar in the light from below would have given it away. I had found Din Djarin.

And he was not alone.

Something was moving in the shadows. I heard a clanking noise, and instinctively my hand grabbed my blaster more tightly. Every Clone War veteran recognized this sound. The walking noises of a droid, and it was stepping into the light.

Just Din’s luck to be bested by a droid, and by a particularly ugly specimen as well. I counted six limbs, two legs and four arms. On its back were some quill-like things, looking strangely organic on the metallic, skeletal body. Yellowish hoses, probably taken from a bacta tank, were interwoven with the metal, connecting limbs and head. Its face was turned away from me as the strange creature hooked up some clear tubes to a smaller droid. The other ends of the tubes disappeared into the cage.

While I still took in the scene, the small droid started pumping. Red fluid began to flow through the tubes and I heard Din groan in pain and horror.

The tubes were stuck in his body. That thing was bleeding him out.

I abandoned my cover and fired from both blasters. My first shots took out the pumping droid, my next went for the perpetrator. It turned its head of metal and glass towards me, away from the motionless figure. A humanoid yellow eye, glittering with malice, fixed its gaze on me.

Yellow eyes. Killing a helpless Mandalorian.

Maul.

Pure hatred exploded within me like an activated thermal detonator. With a snarl I charged towards the disgusting cyborg, firing a volley of shots at him.

Unfortunately it was armed too.

Completely ignoring my shots it pointed a staff at me and fired. Too late I recognized it as a static pike built from scratch. The charge hit me straight in the chest and I doubled over. With a gasp I tried to get back on my feet, only to be electrocuted all over again. This thing knew how to render Mandalorians helpless.

Must deflect it...

Another bolt, and I hit the floor once more. Dazed I looked around, and suddenly there it was on the ground, just a few paces away from me.

The Darksaber, next to Din’s blaster. The trap must have snapped them off his belt.

For once I might have given Ahsoka with her force-pull a run for her money. I fired my fibercord whip, caught the hilt and at the blink of an eye I had the weapon in my hand. The Darksaber sprung to life, and when the cyborg fired the next charge I was ready. I easily deflected it with the blade, got on my feet and activated my shield. Taking a defensive stance, I watched the thing closely, waiting for it to make the next move.

Bring it on, Ugly.

Now that it could not shoot me from a distance anymore, the cyborg was forced to get closer to me. A mistake many enemies of Mandalore had made. A slash with the Darksaber cut off his static pike, and when it leapt towards me, eager to secure the next blood donor, I stabbed it in the chest. With some satisfaction I watched it emitting sparks and breaking down.

Not this time, Maul. Not this time.

I did not even wait until it hit the floor. As quickly as I could, I went over to the rotisserie spit, to my fellow Mandalorian. He was still trapped in the cage and hooked up to the tubes. Luckily the blood had stopped flowing the moment I shot the pumping droid.

“Din? Are you okay?” My lips trembled but I kept speaking. I had had my share of badly injured people. They needed to stay awake until I could provide them with proper medical care. “Can you hear me? It’s Bo-Katan. I’m gonna get you out of here, alright?”

Din barely stirred. He seemed too weak to even talk. My stomach fluttered anxiously. Just how much blood had the creature taken from him?

Now that I was within its lair, I saw more pieces of Mandalorian armor scattered in the dust. Scratched pauldrons, weathered cuirasses, empty helmets. Judging by their age, the cyborg must have been in business for several years. Doing my best not to gag, I focused on the task at hand. One thing at a time.

“Can you move at all?” I asked Din urgently. If not, this was getting complicated. How was I supposed to drag him all the way back to my ship?

He moaned something. At least he was still with me.

“Din, I can’t hear you”, I said softly. “Are you trying to say something?”

With some effort he managed to croak two words. “Behind you!”

I spun around. A giant, crab-like droid slammed its metal claw at me. Without Din’s warning it would have crushed my skull. I jumped out of its way, trying to seize this new enemy up. In its head I spotted the familiar yellow eye and cursed under my breath. The thing had survived the destruction of its body and kriffing attached itself to a new one!

Not Maul, after all. Grievous.

Shield and Darksaber were out again, and I sliced off its limbs like a Sith Lord on a rampage. I did a knee-slide underneath the thing and cut its belly open. In return it reared and brought down the ceiling on me. Gasping with pain I rolled back unto my feet, cut off a few more limbs and finally brought it down on its belly. A quick stab separated the head, and I cut into it once more just for good measure.

A strange noise came from the being, then the yellow eye dimmed and closed. The lights went off.

For a moment I retained my watchful stance, ready to strike again if this thing so much as stirred. I would not be caught unawares again. But there was nothing. Not even the faintest whiz. Cautiously I lowered the Darksaber and deactivated it again, this time hopefully for good. Then I made my way over to Din.

Grogu arrived almost at the same time as me, cooing nervously. There was no response from his father. He was out cold.

“Right”, I stated, trying to calm myself down as much as the child. “Let’s get your dad out of here.”

Removing the tube was the first step. I tried to be careful, but the cyborg had slammed it in pretty deeply. Eventually I just pulled it out and hoped for the best. The moment I did, the little one extended its green, three-fingered hand and scrunched up his face in concentration. With interest I watched the puncture wound close up.

“Nice work”, I commented with some new respect. “I’ll get that cage open.”

It took some fiddling and some generous use of the Darksaber before the trap finally opened up. With more force than gentleness I pulled Din from its jaws, but he was in no state to complain. His head was lolling and he was unresponsive even to Grogu’s affectionate noises. With some irritation I realized I had not even grabbed a medpac on Kalevala. The Gauntlet had been as unprepared for this trip as myself. Before my next wave of depression kicked in, I’d better stock up.

The primitive methods it was, then. Briefly I removed my glove, reached under Din’s helmet to touch his neck and felt for the pulse. There was a heartbeat, weak but regular.

“Must be sedatives”, I told Grogu. It explained his difficulties to speak and move while still in the cage. “He’ll just have to sleep it off.”

Until then we would have to make camp down here. Well, not right here. The sight of the empty Mandalorian helmets haunted me. How many of my people had survived the bombings just to be bled dry down here?

“Let’s find a more comfortable place, shall we? How about I take your dad and you his weapons?”

Grogu squealed in agreement, jumped out of his pram and collected Din’s blasters. Meanwhile I grabbed a drugged, heavy Mandalorian under his arms and started to drag him out of the cyborg’s cave, away from the empty pieces of armor.

“Come on, kid, let’s go. I’m starting to get hungry. Bet you could do with a snack as well.”

I might have come without extra supplies, but I always carried some water and rations in my belt pouches. I was no stranger to being stuck in inhospitable regions without food. Most of my life had been spent this way. I should have enough to fix us a hot meal and get his father back on his legs. Grogu’s eyes lit up in excitement at the possibility of food and he quickly scrambled back into his pram.

Together we left the gruesome place behind us.

Chapter Text

When we left the cave behind us, we found ourselves on an overhanging cliff with a spectacular view on the ruins of the lower levels. I looked around closely, making sure there were neither Alamites nor nightmarish cyborgs around.

“I’m gonna put him down and secure the perimeter, alright?” I told Grogu while maneuvering Din to a rock and leaning him against it. “I’ll be close by. You stay with him. If you see anything, just call me.”

I was about to leave when I realized I still wore the deactivated Darksaber on my belt.

I took it in my hand and looked at it thoughtfully. I had wielded it as easily as if it was an extension of me. It had served me well in battle. While its symbolic value was its most important asset, I had also mourned its loss because I liked as a weapon. The blade and I seemed to be made for each other.

But keeping it after Din simply lost it thanks to a trap was akin to stealing. No matter what people said about me, I did have standards. I was no thief, and it was time to return the Darksaber to its rightful owner. Carefully and deliberately I set it down among Din’s other weapons. I still respected the blade for what it represented, but I was no longer under its thrall. The choice had been made and temptation was gone. This battle for my soul was won.

I went off the cliff to see if any danger lurked below and flew around our camp in a few circles. As far as I could see, there were no signs of Alamites, reptiles or cyborgs. We were actually close to the former main street. Broad and spacious, it had been surrounded by smooth, tall buildings. While you never knew what might hide in their ruins, it would take some time for any creature to get down from there without being seen. There was no way to hide on the street, and they still would have to make it up to our ledge. We should be reasonably safe up there.

Satisfied with my recon mission I started to look for equipment needed for a fireside. With all the rubble around it was not difficult at all to find suitable parts. All we needed was within reach: stones from the crumbling buildings, grates from former sewers, wood from destroyed gardens, blasters to get the fire going, lots of sand to keep it in check.

I felt almost nostalgic as I brought all that rubble back to Grogu and started to turn it into a fireplace for cooking. The Nite Owls and I had often made camp like this, using all available resources to sustain ourselves. With Din and Grogu around it almost felt like a camping trip, I thought in amusement. Your typical family outing with the reckless father insisting on exploring a ghost town, only to first get lost and then get mugged by an organ harvester. Luckily the son had known where to find Auntie.

With my blaster I kindled the wood, and soon we had a merry fire going under the grate. From my belt pouches I produced what I needed to fix us a meal: my ration mug, water and dehydrated pog soup. I poured the water in the mug and put it on the grate.

“Now we heat it up. When it cooks, I add the powder, we let it simmer for a bit, add some seasoning, and then we can have lunch”, I told Grogu. “Have you had pog soup before?”

Grogu made a questioning noise, making me smile.

“Yeah, your dad doesn’t strike me as the cooking type. Lots of ration bars and eating out, huh?”

Now that my worry for Din was gone, I felt more at ease, despite the gloomy surroundings. Slaying monsters and saving Mandalorians was a much better pastime than haunting the empty halls of my castle. Passivity had never sat well with me. I needed to be in the throng of action and do something meaningful. In a way I was grateful Din’s misfortune had given me a reason to get back in the fray. I would not have had the strength to do it for myself.

I made myself more comfortable at the fireside. The dancing flames always had a soothing effect on me, and Grogu seemed to feel it as well. He left his pram and came to my side as trustingly as a nite owl chick hops besides its mother.

“Truth be told, I haven’t cooked in a long time either”, I confided in him. “On Kalevala I mostly lived on instant meals.” All by myself, eating had been a necessity, not a pleasure. To me, cooking was part of living in a community where you prepared and ate meals together.

“This is only powdered pog soup, but at least home-made”, I assured Grogu. “With the Nite Owls we would try to get fresh ingredients. You need peppers for the soup, carrots, shallots and garlic. Things that grew in our gardens here in Sundari, but you can get them elsewhere too.”

Grogu made appreciative noises and I laughed softly at his keen interest in Mandalorian cooking. It was strangely soothing to talk to him.

“If you want your dad to make it for you, I can tell you my family recipe”, I offered. Grogu smiled eagerly, encouraging me to continue. “He would need to first torch the peppers until the skin is all black and blistered. Mandalorian field cooks can do it with their blasters.”

The child looked at my weapons with big eyes and made eager gurgling sounds. Feeling mischievous I leaned down towards him. “You can also use the Darksaber”, I informed him in a conspirative whisper. “Just don’t tell anyone I said that.”

Grogu giggled happily. It felt so good to do something normal for once. Talking to a child about our culture currently beat being on the run, fighting for my life and dealing with past failures.

“You cook the other vegetables in oil, season them with spices and then you add the peppers and some broth. Then you boil it all up and let it simmer. It takes a while, but it’s worth the effort. In the end you stir in some milk. Careful with Bantha milk, though. It’s really rich. I once made pog soup with Bantha milk, and then I ate the usual amount. Afterwards my belly felt like I had swallowed a stone.”

Grogu did not seem overly worried. He was still growing, after all, and needed as much energy as he could get.

“Once you purree it, it’s done”, I finished my description. “I usually make a big batch. When you dehydrate it, it’s easy to carry around for rations.”

I handed him the powder bag for inspection. “Mandalorians always have to be prepared and carry provisions with them. This way, you’ll never go hungry.”

Curiously Grogu turned the bag around in his hands, squeezing it to feel the powder on the inside. To my relief he made no attempt to bite it. I had no idea what stuff his species could stomach but wrappers could not be good for anyone.

There was a sizzling noise from the mug and I checked it.

“Here we go, the water is boiling. Want to help me?”

The child nodded eagerly and looked at me expectantly. While I needed to huddle down to the fireplace, for him it was right on eye level.

“Take this.” I handed him my spoon. “I’ll pour in the powder and you stir.”

Carefully I opened the bag and added the powder to the boiling water. My tiny assistant grabbed the spoon with his three fingers and started to mix the water and the powder. I was rather impressed with his fine motor skills. While he was as enthusiastic as any child, he managed not to spill, and slowly the ingredients mingled.

“Good work!” I cheered him on. “Who knows, maybe when we are back on Kalevala we can make a fresh one.”

Grogu cooed happily. The thought of him in a white apron and holding a big cooking spoon almost made me giggle.

“You brighten every room, don’t you? I can see why he couldn’t let you go.”

I kept a close eye on the soup. It was thickening, the bubbles forming and bursting much more slowly than before. Just a few minutes later it was as viscid as I liked it best.

“Here we go”, I told Grogu and took the mug off the grate.

Curiously the little fellow shuffled closer, peeped into the mug and tried to have a sip.

“Whoa, slowly there!” I admonished him, holding the hot soup out of his reach. “Let it cool down first, alright? If you scald yourself, your dad will give me an earful.”

With the spoon I stirred the soup to cool it down more quickly. Grogu followed every movement I made, like a pet counting every tasty bite it would not get to eat.

“Patience, little one. The first sip is mine anyway”, I told him with a grin. Cute he might be, yet I was not enchanted enough to tolerate baby spittle in my food.

Cautiously I tried our meal and nodded in satisfaction. It was just as warm and thick as I liked it. A few sips of the rich soup were enough to satisfy my rumbling stomach.

“There, you can have the rest.”

I handed Grogu the half-empty mug along with my spoon. With a happy babble he took both and started to dig in. He seemed to really enjoy the soup, for he gobbled it up in no time. Unlike other babies he managed to eat without messing his clothes up.

“You were hungry, alright”, I acknowledged once he presented me with an empty mug and cooed questioningly. “We better start a new batch for your dad.”

We had just prepared a second portion of pog soup when the person for who it was intended began to stir. I smiled slightly, seasoning the soup with some salt. Sounded like sleepyhead was coming back to life.

There was a groan from Din, and then he sat up. “What happened?”

“I saved your life”, I answered smugly, my usual sardonic smirk firmly back in place.

Din rearranged himself, groaning again. He must be exhausted from his ordeal. “How did you find me?”

“Your kid.” I pointed at Grogu while stirring the soup. “He is tougher than he looks. And he is quite the navigator.”

He exhaled deeply. “Thank you for rescuing me.”

I just nodded, my hair shielding my face from him. Had I accompanied him here in the first place, he probably would not have needed rescue. Mandalorians were stronger together.

Slowly he seemed to regain his bearings, rubbing his wrists and scanning our surroundings. “You were right. Mandalore is not cursed.”

“Was I?” I asked quietly, gesturing at the ruins. “Look around. There’s nothing left. A great society is now a memory.”

There was an old saying that every people was just one generation away from extinction. In the 10,000 years of their existence the Mandalorians had often been on the brink of annihilation, but only the Imperials had managed to well and truly wipe our people out. The memory of what our planet had once been only lived with a handful of survivors, in splinters and fractures colored by our respective ideologies. It would not live much longer than us.

“I once ruled here for a brief time.” I grimaced, remembering how I had craved to rule just to prove myself, and how it all had turned out. “Now, it’s destroyed. Nothing to cling to but ashes.”

On this cheerful thought I handed Din the mug with the soup. He looked at it curiously.

“What is this?”

I cocked an eyebrow. This man was simply unbelievable. “You’ve never eaten pog soup?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Can you appreciate the irony?” I rolled my eyes.

Despite spouting the Mandalorian tenets at every opportunity, Din Djarin was as clueless about everyday Mandalorian life as his child. Slowly our little camp began to resemble a field trip in Mandalorian culture studies for beginners. Beginners who thought they knew better.

“Any Mandalorian worth their armor was raised on this since they were his size.”

I pointed at Grogu. Carefully Din lifted his helmet, just enough to pour the soup in his mouth. Satisfied that he was getting his strength back, I returned to the fire.

While Grogu tried to decide whether he should eat his father’s leftovers too, Din fought to get on his feet. I frowned. With the drugs still in his body it would be wiser to take it easy. The stuff the cyborg had injected him with was probably outlawed on several planets. At the same time I could well understand he did not want to stay here any longer than necessary.

“You should rest”, I said more gently. “I’ll get you back to my ship soon enough.”

“I’m not going with you.” He picked up Grogu and put him back in his pram.

“What are you talking about?” I asked sharply. He was not seriously thinking…?

“I must continue to the Mines of Mandalore”, he confirmed my suspicion. “So that I may be redeemed.”

I sighed in exasperation but decided to cut him some slack. At least the Children of the Watch kept a little part of Mandalorian culture alive, even though it hailed straight from the fiction section.

“I honestly think that it’s adorable that you actually believe these children’s stories”, I told him in as kind a voice as I could muster while packing my supplies. “But there is nothing magic about the waters.”

“Without the Creed, what are we?” he countered, putting his weapons back in place and clipping the Darksaber to his belt. “What do we stand for? Our people are scattered like stars in the galaxy. The Creed is how we survived.”

That shut me up. Well and truly.

“You rescued me and I’ll always be in your debt”, he acknowledged, shouldering his belongings again. “But I can’t go with you until I fulfill my obligation.”

I knew when I was beaten. Letting him go by himself was out of the question. In his condition a falling rock could knock him out, and unlike me he did not know his way around here. Might as well tag along and make sure he did not get himself killed in the mines.

“I will take you”, I stated, getting up as well.

“To the Living Waters?” he inquired, sounding surprised.

“Yes”, I replied impatiently. “You’d never find them on your own. Not in all this wreckage.”

A field trip to the Living Waters it was, then. Why ever not. I had not been there in a while. Besides, if he really was going for a whole Creed ceremony, tradition demanded a witness.

“Thank you”, Din said softly. He sounded so honestly grateful that it gave me a stab.

“Don’t thank me until you see them”, I said quietly. For all that I knew, they might have dried out years ago.

The three of us broke camp and started our walk through the ruins of the city. For a while none of us spoke. Din and Grogu kept busy looking around and taking in the remains of the city. It gave me time to orientate myself and compare my knowledge of the former streets and buildings with what was still standing. To my relief, I could still navigate through the rubble as easily as through the past paths. This was my city. I knew it like the back of my hand, burned and scarred as it might be.

It was Din who broke the silence first. “It’s hard to believe that this all was once filled with our kind.”

“It wasn’t that long ago”, I said quietly. Unlike him I had been here, lived here. “You’d never know it looking at all this destruction.”

“It looks like it’s been centuries”, Din agreed gravely.

“The Empire set out to punish us. To wipe away our memory.”

My throat constricted. The topic was quite the conversation killer. Thankfully Grogu filled the silence following my words with his soft babble. It could not take away the sight of the razed city, but at least he filled the deafeningly quiet air with some life.

Din watched me carefully for a few moments before he spoke again. “It must pain you to see it like this after witnessing its beauty.”

I let out a sigh. He was not wrong, but I could not mourn buildings as much as the people who had lived in them.

“What pains me is seeing our own kind fight one another time and time again. Killing each other for reasons too confusing to explain.”

On this point I could finally agree with Satine, though years too late. Mandalorians should not fight each other, especially not now, seeing how few of us were left. Satine’s methods to stop the fights had been radical but I had come to understand how difficult it was to constantly keep warring parties apart. The Clan Wars had decimated us and fostered unnecessary feuds.

Come to think of it, the story of Satine and me was the story of Mandalore. Caught up in a squabble about who was right, we failed to see the dark clouds moving in. We had kept up our private warfare until the storm swallowed us up and left nothing but destruction in its wake. No winners, just losers.

“It made us weak”, I said quietly. “We had no hope to resist being smashed by the fist of the Empire.”

Maybe this was the true reason I was helping Din Djarin, I realized. If a Nite Owl and a Child of the Watch could work together, there was yet hope for our people to join in a common cause.

Before Din could reply, I recognized a tall, familiar gate in the wreckage, leading into solid rock.

“There”, I pointed it out to him. “The entrance to the Mines of Mandalore.”

When we stepped to the gate, darkness reached a new level. I took a light sphere out of my pocket and activated it. Hovering above us it shone on our path while we still had our hands free to fight, should needs be. Its beams illuminated the ancient rocks and made them sparkle, as if littered with tiny stars.

Din looked around in fascination. “This area looks much older.”

“The mines have been here for thousands of years”, I explained to him. By now it really started to feel like a field trip. “The Living Waters are in the chambers below.”

“Have you been there?” Din asked with some interest.

“Yes, when I was a child.”

Taking the Creed was a traditional rite of passage for Mandalorian children, and I had been no exception. Though, admittedly, Satine had done away with the Creed ceremony as soon as she ascended the throne. For a pacifist there was no reason to continue a tradition turning young people into warriors. She had tried to install an alternative rite though I could not even recall it. There might well have been a generation of children without a Creed ceremony.

“Really?”

Din’s obvious surprise made me smile in amusement. The Children of the Watch seemed to think they invented Mandalorian customs instead of merely following them in a strange way.

“I was part of the royal family”, I pointed out. “I took the Creed and was showered with gifts.”

Even to myself I sounded more wistful than cynical. For a long time these had been good memories. Only later I realized how every idealism, every belief could be twisted and manipulated to serve a darker purpose. By now I had stopped believing in any ideology, making sure I would never be anyone’s puppet again. If that meant letting go of childhood illusions, so be it.

“But the rituals were all just theater for our subjects”, I continued, my face hardening. “They loved watching the princess recite the Mandalorian tenets as her father looked on proudly. Such a heart-warming spectacle.”

“Maybe he was proud”, Din volunteered.

I appreciated the gesture but kept my mask firmly in place. “I know he was. I didn’t embarrass him in front of everyone.”

According to his next words, I could have saved myself the trouble.

“Your father sounds like an interesting man. I would’ve liked to have known him.”

Din’s unexpected kindness started to erode my defenses. I hardly ever spoke about my father these days. Every Mandalorian had lost beloved people, some more than others. After the billions of lives lost in the Purge, we survivors refrained from sharing sob stories in order to stay sane. In the rare case that we did, the deaths before the imperial times felt far away and less important. It usually kept me silent.

Not this time, though.

“He was a great man.” I spoke harshly to prevent my voice from breaking. “He died defending Mandalore.”

And I had failed to preserve our planet. Its destruction had rendered my father’s sacrifice meaningless.

Din Djarin stopped in his tracks and looked at me. He lowered his head and when he spoke again, his voice was hoarse with emotion.

“This is the Way.”

I stopped as well as I realized what was happening. For once he did not use the phrase to show me he was more Mandalorian than me. Instead he offered a respectful salute to a fallen warrior who had died in the line of duty. Despite their different beliefs Din Djarin was acknowledging Adonai Kryze as an equal and a man of valor, worthy to walk the Way of the Mand’alore even from his point of view. From a zealot, who had accused me of not being Mandalorian at our first meeting, it was the highest honor possible, and at the same time a heartfelt condolence.

Earlier I might have felt offended that he was lumping my father in with his cult. This time, though, I accepted the praise in the spirit it was given. To have my father’s sacrifice acknowledged and understood, even though he had not died in the Purge, meant a lot to me.

Perhaps Din Djarin and I could get along after all.

As Din continued his walk, Grogu lingered behind him, watching me with open curiosity. With a pang I realized I must be radiating emotions towards the Jedi child like a beacon emits light for a moth. Stung, I retreated behind my defenses.

“What are you looking at?” I snorted, turned on my heel and followed his father.

It was not much further now. Without incident we reached the caverns where I remembered the Living Waters to be. Already before we reached the area, we could hear the water slosh and gurgle. The sound was encouraging. Even if the pool and the stairs leading to it had fallen prey to the Empire, there seemed to be enough water left to give Din his desired baptism.

“Here you go”, I commented as we entered the cave, feeling rather proud of myself. “The Living Waters.”

To my own surprise the place had not changed that much. It had fallen in disrepair and looked as desolate as the rest of the city. But the pool was still intact, along with the stairs leading into the waters. I could even spot the plaque on the wall, and my eyes lit up. Since he enjoyed children’s stories so much, I might as well provide him with this gem.

“Hold on. I want you to get the full tour.”

Quickly I made my way over to the plaque. It was undamaged as well, and this small act of Mandalorian defiance towards the Empire gave me a pleasure that rendered me almost giddy. For the miracle of its survival alone I felt myself warming towards the place. With much more enthusiasm than before, though still hidden behind my sarcastic mask, I started to read out the words.

“These mines date back to the age of the first Mand’alore. According to ancient folklore, the mines were once a Mythosaur lair. Mand’alore the Great is said to have tamed the mythical beast. It is from these legends that the skull signet was adopted and became the symbol of our planet. This is it”, I finished and turned back towards the two.

Only Grogu was responding in his usual babble. His father did not seem to heed me. He was looking at the waters as if thunderstruck.

“Din?” I ventured cautiously, wondering if his injuries were finally catching up with him. “Are you all right?”

“I swear on my name…”, he started, and I recognized the first line of the Creed I had taken myself years ago in this very place.

Slowly, like in a trance, he removed his cloak and jetpack together with his weapons and put them on the stairs. Grogu cooed in excitement, and I smiled at him. I was surprised to realize I was getting into the spirit of things and actually looking forward to this impromptu Creed ceremony. We both stayed and watched as Din Djarin walked down the stairs leading up to the pool, as I had done back then. I could almost hear the excited voice of the child I had been, doing her best not to stumble over the words.

I swear on my name and the names of the Ancestors...

“… and the names of the Ancestors...”

Almost reverently Din descended into the waters, and suddenly it was like no time had passed at all since my own special day. I remembered my ceremony, my sheer joy at making my father proud. Despite everything, it was a good memory. This place had provided Mandalorian children with their rite of passage since the dawn of our culture. Even dismissing the old superstitions, it had meant gifts and a feast thrown in the honor of the new warrior. Billions of children had been bereft of this simple pleasure by the Empire. Yet the place still stood, now providing another Mandalorian with a happy memory. I found myself reciting the Creed along with him in my thoughts, silently prompting the lines for him like the Armorers had done for the young for about 10,000 years.

… that I shall walk the way of the Mand’alor...

“… that I shall walk the way of the Mand’alor…”

With every step he immersed himself deeper in the waters. Somehow a grown-up taking the Creed felt more meaningful than bright-eyed children spouting it to please their parents. Din did not do it to put on a good show for his audience. This was how it had once been, I realized, an adult willingly committing himself to a difficult, yet honorable life. Our ancestors must have been very similar to Din Djarin, performing a sacred ritual out of a deep spirituality and dedication.

… and the words of the Creed...

“… and the words of the Creed…”

Slowly I felt a smile bloom on my face seeing how much the old ritual meant to him. It would have taken a heart of stone not to feel pleased for his sake. For better or worse, Din Djarin sincerely believed in the redeeming qualities of the Living Waters. To him this was a religious experience, setting foot on holy ground. His voice, still reciting the Creed, was filled with awe and devotion.

… shall be forever forged in my heart.

“… shall be forever forged in my heart.”

Din took his final step into the pool, the water being up to his chest now.

This is the way.

There was a loud splash. The waters closed, and Din Djarin vanished from sight.

For a moment I just stared at the spot where he had been a moment ago. Then I saw his jetpack on the stairs, and realization hit me. He had just gone under without it. In full armor.

Kriff!

With one swift movement my helmet was on and pressurized. Activating my jetpack, I jumped into the water and dove for Din.

Only under water I understood what had happened. In my helmet’s light I saw the bottom of the pool had cracked and broken away. Where it had been, there was only the blackness of a gaping chasm, too deep for my light to reach the bottom. Din must have gone down like a stone.

Propelled forwards by my jetpack I went down into the chasm to search for him. How often could this man get himself in trouble within just one day? First he got bled by a cyborg, then managed to drown in the Living Waters, turning me, formerly Death Watch, into a Life Guard. It was a miracle he had survived to adulthood.

The seconds passed and I grew increasingly anxious. There was only so much time I could stay under water even with my helmet on. Din was even worse off. His helmet had not been pressurized. He might well be out, rendered completely helpless. If I did not find him quickly, we would both meet our end down here.

Something gleamed in the dark beneath me. I breathed a sigh of relief as I spotted Din’s form at the bottom of the chasm. Thank the Force he had never painted his beskar! Its shiny silver reflected the light and made him an easy target.

By now I was getting short of breath myself. I dove towards him and grabbed him under the arms. He was heavy, and I groaned with the effort. Hopefully my jetpack would be able to pull us both out.

It was moving us upwards, but painfully slowly. Jetpacks were fast and strong in the air. In the water they felt sluggish in comparison, especially if one pack had to carry two people.

Around me there was nothing but rocks. I recognized them as cooled lava. That explained why the chasm was so deep. There must have been an earthquake or an underwater eruption. With no one around any more to celebrate Creed ceremonies the danger had not been recognized.

When we take Mandalore back, I’ll have that pool fixed first thing!

And then one of the rocks opened its eyes.

In the flickering light of my helmet I spotted a gigantic, scaled head, longer than my entire body, with enormous, white tusks. The creature blinked at me with deep brown eyes, as if disturbed by the light of my helmet. My blood ran cold and I let out a gasp that seemed to echo through the deep caverns.

It was a Mythosaur.

For a moment that felt like eternity I was on eye level with the very being that had spawned our folklore and our entire culture. It looked back at us calmly, almost friendly, not even attempting to attack. Then my jetpack propelled us up, and the Mythosaur disappeared in the shadow of the chasm.

Time turned back to normal. One moment I was eye to eye with a Mythosaur, the next we broke through the surface of the Living Waters. Unceremoniously we slammed into the stairs and just dropped down on them. I was gasping for breath, Din was coughing and spitting water. Grogu made happy noises at seeing us, but I could barely spare a thought for him.

A Mythosaur. A living, breathing, eye-opening Mythosaur. In the Living Waters.

For once in my life I was beaten by a plaque. In the light of my sphere, it glittered at me from its pillar a few steps away, as if gleefully blinking Morse code for Told you so.

I remained on hands and knees for a moment, almost hyperventilating with shock. I had never been an overly imaginative type, quite the contrary. I prided myself on my no-nonsense approach to life. If this was a hallucination, by all rights it should have been Din’s. He was the one who believed in the old stories. He was the one who had been drugged and almost drowned. Not me.

I was shivering and not just from the cold. Had it been just me, I would have left the mines this very instance. Yet, as it happened, Din Djarin was out cold. Again, I thought with a mixture of resignation and wry amusement. This man had the worst luck ever. At least he had stopped coughing and was breathing normally. Grogu got comfortable beside his father, perhaps even using his Jedi powers to heal him. I could not say and was too absent-minded to care.

Waiting for Din to wake up, I sat on the stairs and watched the waters. They were completely calm, apart from the occasional small wave. My thoughts, in contrast, were a wild jumble, my world turned upside down. My heartbeat thundered in my ears and I was fairly certain that if I took off my helmet now, my wild expression would make Grogu cry. So I kept it on, hiding my astonishment and vulnerability behind the cool mask of the Nite Owl, and waited.

In basic training I had learned the different instinctive responses to stressful situation. My instructor had put them in a phrase I had never forgotten: Fight, flight, pretend you died. Flight was not an option as long as Din was out of commission. Fight, usually my preferred response, needed an opponent, and for once they were off the menu. Playing dead, or rather sitting things out, was what I had done on Kalevala, and ironically enough right now it was my only option.

The minutes ticked by, each one of them feeling as long as an hour. Still, even as my heartbeat slowly calmed down, my perception did not change. I had not imagined the Mythosaur. My very history of disbelief testified to my sanity. My way of creativity was devising battle and extraction strategies. It was certainly not my style to visualize creatures from ancient folklore. There was a Mythosaur down there in the Living Waters, and if it was real, then so was the Way of the Mand’alore. These two were inextricably linked. One could not exist without the other.

I looked over to the sleeping Din Djarin. He had insisted from the beginning on that the old stories were true and that the Creed meant something. His faith had dragged me straight into the Living Waters, and now I had to admit he had been right all along. The Child of the Watch might have lost a battle, yet the Nite Owl had lost the war, just like she had lost the Way years ago. I felt ashamed at the memory of me arrogantly dismissing both the Way and the Creed while still calling myself a Mandalorian warrior. What made me Mandalorian? Just the armor? Even Boba Fett had one, and he scoffed at the very thought of being one of us.

Without the Creed, what are we?

Pathetic figures in empty castles, wallowing in self-pity and pining for past glories.

What do we stand for?

Terrorism. Selfishness. Treachery.

Din Djarin was Mandalorian like me. He too had suffered losses, yet his spirituality had kept him on track. I was no one to be told what to believe in, yet I knew from experience I needed a purpose to keep me going. My years as a Death Watch terrorist had hollowed me from the inside. I had stopped believing in anything, first because it got in the way of our ideology, then so as not to fall prey to manipulation again. Relying on nothing and no one but myself, I had cut myself off from our roots.

I had hardly ever shown the kind of deep conviction Din had. So far I had always relied on exterior motivations. I had joined Death Watch to get rid of the pacifist leadership of Mandalore. When this happened, though differently than I had imagined, I no longer had a reason to stay. Small wonder people accused me of being a turncoat without principles. Too often I had been the last one to realize I was doing the wrong thing. The same went for the retake of Mandalore. I had set my sights on outer trappings like forces, ships and the Darksaber. When I lost them, I broke down and could not get up again by myself.

Din Djarin too had been cast out by his people, yet he had his beliefs to keep him going. Instead of being crushed by defeat like me, he had rolled up his sleeves and taken his fate into his own hands, sustained by his connection to our roots. Now, thanks to him, our roots had touched me as well when I least expected it, and their power shook me to the core.

Resting my elbows on my thighs, I stared out at the silvery water. It filled the entire cave as far as our lights could reach, and even in the shadows it did not recede. It was everywhere, lapping at the stairs I was sitting on. I did not dare to disturb it though, not wanting to summon the Mythosaur and maybe bring the place down on us.

While not nearly as vast as the seas of Kalevala, the Living Waters made me feel very small and insignificant. My fears and worries were but a tiny spark in their depths, my life merely a heartbeat in their ancient pulse. The waters did not care if I believed in their powers or not. They had been here for eons and would still be here when nobody remembered my name any longer. They had provided me with new information, yet what I made of it and which path I would walk was my choice alone.

From my sorely tried brother-in-arms came a cough, and I looked up. Din Djarin was waking up again. He looked at Grogu fondly hovering over him and pulled himself up, taking deep breaths. This time I did not point out the obvious that I had saved his life. Getting credit for a good deed was one thing, embarrassing someone for having an accident quite another. Instead I greeted him with a silent nod, and he acknowledged my presence as well.

“I am redeemed.”

Trust Din Djarin to give a near-death experience a positive spin.

“I witnessed it”, I confirmed quietly. “You bathed in the Living Waters. You are Mandalorian again.” I got back on my feet. “Can we leave now?”

From his belt pouch Din produced a little cylinder and stooped to fill it in the pool. I cast a furtive glance at the calm water.

“Can I ask you something?” I ventured while he pocketed the water sample.

“What is it?” he asked back, picking up Grogu and putting him back in his pram.

I fidgeted with my wrist, hoping I did not sound as crazy as I felt. “You see anything down there?”

Din merely shrugged and started to collect his belongings. “I saw the chasm passing me as I fell. I didn’t realize it was so deep.”

“It wasn’t. The bombings from the Purge must have triggered seismic activities.”

Suddenly I froze as I realized what might have happened. I had seen evidence for underwater eruptions during my dive. What if they had woken up primordial creatures? Many animals had been been extinct on Mandalore before our ancestors even knew how to spell “biology”. Scientists had often theorized there might be frozen eggs from extinct species at the bottoms of our waters.

What if bombs and volcanic activities were enough to revive a Mythosaur egg?

And what else might be lurking beneath the surface of our planet now?

“Did you see anything alive?” I asked tentatively.

“Alive?” Din did not even look up from his task. “Like what?”

I thought about it for a moment, then decided to let it go. I would get no validation from him. I would have to draw my own conclusions. Besides, he had gotten the redemption he wanted. It should not be spoiled by the revelation that he had just missed out on the Mythosaur, even if I had known how to put it in words.

“Nothing. Let’s get out of here.”

Chapter Text

Once we left the mines behind us, I grew much calmer. With no imminent danger of being buried alive anymore, I could take deeper breaths and let the experience settle down in my memory. Now I could appreciate the miracle I had witnessed.

A Mythosaur.

I walked through the rubble in a sense of wonder. The old legends were true. The mines were indeed a Mythosaur lair, and having seen the creature’s gentle eyes I had no trouble believing anymore that Mand’alore the Great had tamed the beast. He had indeed ridden the Mythosaur. Now, millenia later, the Mythosaur had returned to Mandalore at a time where everything seemed lost.

Mandalore was not lost. It was merely asleep.

Despite my lack of sleep and my exhaustion I felt revived. Suddenly I saw beauty even in the sad ruins of Sundari. They were still here, bearing witness to our culture and civilization. Scarred and burnt they might be, but they were still standing, and I remembered them in all their glory. No Empire could take this away from me. The treasures in my mind were mine alone.

I was willing to share though. As Din, Grogu and I walked through the ruins to get back to the surface, I started to talk. Not of the Mythosaur, this particular treasure still needed to be meditated about in silence before I could find the right words. Instead I told my two companions stories about our city, pointed out former landmarks and tried to paint a picture of what Sundari had looked like in my youth.

“One of our greatest achievement in architecture was our translucent style”, I explained while Din listened in fascination. “Entire floors or bridges were transparent, the walls decorated with translucent panels and windows. No matter where you went in the city, there was light from above.”

“I wish I could have seen it.” He sounded wistful. “There was nothing like this on Concordia.”

“No”, I agreed, being quite familiar with Concordia. It had been the main Death Watch stronghold until we got exiled by the Jedi. “Just the old mines. But at least there were forests there, once they finally grew back. Here you would only have parks.”

I pointed to several buildings ahead of us. “On the roofs of these, there was the Peace Park. It was a garden terrace. You could walk from one roof to the other and feel like on an island chain. They used crystal on the floor to create the illusion of water. Its heart was the Memorial Shrine. There we honored all those who lost their lives during the Clan Wars.”

Death Watch had bombed the park, and it had been one of the few instances where I disagreed with them. Damaging a place where, among others, my father’s sacrifice was honored left me with a bad taste in my mouth. It suffered another beating during my and Ahsoka’s final fight against Maul. Once this scum was expelled from Mandalore I had worked hard to restore the park to its former beauty. It was the least I could do to honor my family, though of course it had not made it through the imperial times.

“During the occupation the Memorial Shrine was removed”, I continued the tale. “They preferred to let the dead disappear rather than remember them.”

Apart from the inevitable sadness of my memories it felt good to share them with Din Djarin, and he clearly appreciated to hear about our world’s past. What we did not do was bickering. Somehow our competition about who was more Mandalorian had been laid to rest in the Mines of Mandalore. My knowledge of our everyday culture was on par with his knowledge of our spiritual history. Down by the Living Waters, at the very cradle of our culture, a Child of the Watch and a Nite Owl had finally formed an understanding of each other. The symbolism was not lost on me. We both were Mandalorians, equals, comrades in arms. Two branches of the same tree.

“This Memorial Shrine…” Din looked at me thoughtfully. “Was your father honored there?”

“He was”, I confirmed, wondering why he was asking.

“I know it’s gone, but – you want to go up there for a moment?”

Once more I was glad I was wearing my helmet still. How did he know I had often come here in the past to feel close to Dad? It suddenly struck me that Din knew what it was like to lose parents, and that this was the reason for him being so considerate. I felt a warm rush of affection for him. Despite our notorious quarrels, Mandalorians were capable of forming deep bonds of trust and respect, especially on the battle field. It was impossible to fight side by side without relying on your brothers and sisters to have your back. Often these bonds between warriors turned into friendships. With all that had happened in the Mines, Din and I had obviously reached this stage. It felt good. Lately I had been depressingly short on friends.

“If… if you don’t mind”, I finally managed to say, struggling to keep it together. At this rate my helmet would not come off any time soon.

He shook his head. “Not at all.”

I nodded slowly. “Over there.”

I pointed up to the building hosting the top floor of Peace Park. We both fired up our jetpacks and flew up. Grogu followed us in his pram, babbling eagerly.

Like the rest of the city, the remains of the park were blackened with soot and ashes, as well as covered with chunks of concrete. Even Death Watch had not messed it up as badly as the Imps, and strangely enough it made me feel a little better. The crystal floor was broken and the shards scattered all over the place. We had to navigate carefully among the rubble, especially with the gaping holes the bombs and falling buildings had ripped in the roofs. Despite the destruction you could still get an idea of the park’s former beauty though. I heard Din exhale softly in admiration when seeing a surprisingly undamaged part of the crystal lake.

While he and Grogu lingered behind, no doubt to give me some space, I climbed up the partially shattered stairs that had once led up to the Memorial Shrine. As soon as Clan Saxon had removed me from power, they had also removed the shrine, as if trying to extinguish every memory of Clan Kryze in Sundari. Knowing where it had stood, I could nevertheless still distinguish a faint outline of the Memorial Shrine on the ground, though Din and Grogu probably would have seen nothing in the rubble. Without even having to think about it, I walked into the outline and to the place where my father’s name had been. I knew the spot by heart, although the walls were gone.

As I reached the place formerly dedicated to Adonai Kryze, I stopped in my tracks. A crystal lay on the floor, which should not have been surprising with all the scattered shards and fragments here. But this one was not a mere broken piece. It had been carefully carved into a roughly spherical shape about the size of a plum, and while covered with dust, it was not blackened by soot but polished and shiny. It must have come here after the bombing.

When I picked it up and shone my helmet’s light on it, I spotted delicate lines on it, engraved into the surface. A triangle standing on its tip in front of a circle, similar to the painting on my helmet.

House Kryze’s coat of arms.

My hand holding the crystal began to shake. Someone had been here after the bombing. Someone had cared enough about my house to engrave a crystal with our coat of arms and leave it in the very spot where Adonai Kryze had been remembered.

I recalled the empty helmets down in the cyborg’s cave and had to bite the insides of my cheek to keep myself from cursing helplessly. It must have been one of them, one of these unfortunate souls bled to death at the hands of the monster. If only I had returned here earlier! Now I would never know who it had been. Maybe a Nite Owl. A member of Clan Kryze. Or Korkie…

Painfully tightly I closed my right fist around the crystal. This was not the right time to break down.

“Hey Dad”, I whispered into the air, my voice hoarse. “It’s been a while and I can’t stay long. I have messed up. Badly. If you could see me now… I’m not sure you’d even recognize me.”

I had come a long way from the bright-eyed little girl he had known. She and I were not merely separated by decades but also by worlds.

“But I want you to know that I’m doing better”, I continued softly. “Would you believe it, I saw a Mythosaur! I have no idea what to do about it yet, but – I feel it is something good. If the Mythosaur is still here, then our world isn’t lost completely. At least… I don’t feel lost anymore.”

Carefully I listened to noises behind me, worried Din and Grogu might hear me. I was notoriously bad at talking about my feelings and felt awkward even when doing it with the dead. Had the living come closer, I was sure I would have died of embarrassment. But they still kept their distance.

“I don’t know yet how to get Mandalore back”, I admitted. “I’ll have to make do without the Darksaber. Without a fleet, actually.” I snorted grimly. Axe Woves would have a lot to answer for once I got my hands on him. “But I promise you I will find a way. A world with a Mythosaur on it is worth fighting for.”

I could not think of anything else to say, so I stepped back and offered the empty air the warrior salute with my right fist before my heart. Steps sounded behind me, and then Din Djarin joined me. Stopping by my side, he put his right fist to his heart as well and lowered his head in respect. He whispered something under his breath, and I recognized the traditional words of the Aay’han.

Motir ca’tra nau tracinya.

Gra’tua cuun hett su dralshy’a.

Cuun hett su...¹

It was a fitting tribute to a fallen warrior on our burned planet, and its familiarity soothed my sorrow for the unknown brother or sister who had left the crystal here. We stood right next to each other, reminiscing the brave ones who had come before us. Then, having paid our respects and said our goodbyes, we descended and returned back to the path leading us out of the city.

I did not show the crystal to Din, not wanting to burden him with my grief. Instead, I pocketed it in one of my pouches.

With me as a guide and with Grogu having taking this way several times today already, we had no trouble getting back. Also, word seemed to have gotten around among Alamites, lizards and cyborgs that we were a force to be reckoned with, for everyone left us in peace. Without further stops, we reached the cliffs overhanging the civic center and flew back up to the green crystal caves. A short walk later we emerged close to the Gauntlet. It was still there, and to my relief it was not surrounded by Alamites. Only R5 was present and greeted us with tweets and whistling.

“I think he missed you”, I teased Din, who just snorted in return. His dislike of droids was as deeply rooted as mine of Imps.

I took my seat at the helm, and Grogu took his place in the copilot’s seat as naturally as if it was his birthright. I grinned behind my helmet. I would miss this little fellow. Hopefully he and his father would come back for visits.

The engines powered up, and the Gauntlet lifted from the ground, making for the atmosphere.

“So what now?” I asked Din playfully. The trip to Mandalore had been strangely cartharic. I had not been in such good spirits for months. “Any more Mandalorian sightseeing you would like to do?”

“Not today”, he replied with a hint of amusement in his voice as Mandalore disappeared behind and the stars of space surrounded us. “Bring me to my ship and I’ll be on my way. You will forever have my gratitude.”

I smiled softly. Too bad I could not throw him a full party after his memorable Creed ceremony. It had certainly been spectacular enough to merit one, and the empty castle needed to be filled with life.

“I would invite you in for a feast, but I’m guessing that helmet isn’t coming off again.”

“This is the Way”, he agreed.

“This is the Way”, I concurred without my usual mocking undertone.

I no longer felt threatened or belittled by Din’s way of life. Thanks to his beliefs I had seen a Mythosaur, something I had never believed to be possible. It had healed something in me. All the malice of the Empire had not been able to eradicate something so fundamentally Mandalorian. If the Living Waters could host a real, living Mythosaur, anything was possible, even me returning to the Way. At the bottom of an abyss created by the Empire I had found new hope and faith, and I knew I owed it to Din Djarin. He too would forever have my gratitude.

Grogu babbled something and I could have sworn he was trying to say “This is the Way.” Din and I both looked at him in astonishment and then exchanged a meaningful look. I nodded softly as if to assure him that I had noticed it too. The little one was a chip off the old beskar block.

Suddenly we were thrown off course. Something exploded outside right before the cockpit. We both fell forward and barely managed to stay in our seats.

“We took a hit”, Din stated in alarm.

Through the cockpit window I saw a rain of green laser beams and gritted my teeth under my helmet. “Something’s coming up on us fast.” I glanced at my instruments. “It looks like a squadron of TIE interceptors.”

I had barely finished as I saw them. Six TIEs were sticking to our tail.

“How close are we to Kalevala?” Din asked tersely.

“Not far.”

I could already see the planet filling a part of the cockpit window. It could only be a matter of minutes until we landed. Only we might not have these minutes.

Din nodded grimly. “Get us back there and I’ll reinforce from the N-1. Can you evade them?”

“Our shields aren’t gonna hold”, I informed him, knowing very well how much fire power TIE interceptors had and what my ship could stomach. “I need you to back them off.”

Without hesitation Din manned the cannons and started to give the Imps a taste of their own medicine. In the meantime I flew evasive maneuvers to keep out of their line of fire, while at the same time bringing us closer to Kalevala.

“Where did they come from?” Din wondered aloud while firing the cannon at them.

“I’ve scugged off a lot of Imperial warlords”, I ventured an educated guess.

By now Koska, Axe and I must have obscenely high bounties on our heads for our pirate activities against the Imperial remnants. Maybe they had collected donations in order to avenge their non-existent honor.

I could hear Din’s wry grin in his voice. “They tend to get mad when you hijack their ships.”

“Now you tell me?” I quipped. I had missed bantering with a friend.

We entered the atmosphere of Kalevala with the TIEs still in hot pursuit. I did my utmost to keep a distance from them and evade their shots. Unfortunately this would make Din’s ejection more dangerous but there was nothing I could do about it.

“Get ready, we’re comin’ in hot”, I warned him as I aimed for Kryze Castle where Din’s N-1 stood. “I won't be able to slow down for the drop.”

Din managed to blast one of the interceptors out of the sky. One down, five more to go.

“Interceptors are a lot tougher than TIE fighters”, he growled and I could only agree with him. With a fighter, one well-aimed shot could be enough. The interceptors had much better shields.

“Are you still up for the transfer?” I had a really bad feeling about letting him jump out with interceptors flying in his face.

“I don’t see any other choice”, he stated simply.

Grogu gulped and sealed himself in his pram. Smart one.

Din left the cockpit and went to the dropping area. I had already opened the hatches for him, and a moment later I spotted a silver gleam diving under the interceptors and making straight for the N-1.

I pulled the Gauntlet up again and made for the cliffs, hoping to draw the TIEs on me and give Din a head start. With nothing but his beskar armor between himself and the interceptors, he was a sitting duck.

My maneuver worked, mostly at least. Four interceptors followed me. The fifth, however, fell back and I just hoped Din would be faster than the Imp. I was too busy evading my own hunters and simply could not give him a hand.

Several tense moments passed without any communication. Then, to my utter relief, I heard Din’s voice in the comm channel.

“I made it to the N-1. Heading to you.”

In the meantime I led the Imps a merry goose chase through the cliffs. I rolled between rocks, flew sharp curves and did my best to obscure their view of the area. Grogu was still sealed inside his pram, R5 though started screeching in panic.

“Don’t worry, I grew up flying these cliffs”, I assured him and went straight for a canyon. I took the curve rather tightly, causing the Imp behind me to crash into it and explode. Unfortunately his fireball was not the only flame. In fact, I had taken the curve tightly enough to scratch along the cliffs myself.

“Of course, it’s been a while”, I muttered, feeling ever so slightly anxious as I realized the damage to the shields. I really should have made better use of my last months on Kalevala.

Three more to go.

I flew across the sea and into a firth. The remaining three behind me obviously had graduated on top of their class, for I simply could not shake them off. They maneuvered the firth with ease and would not get near enough to the Gauntlet to be blinded by splash water. Things were getting tight here, and I could feel the adrenaline race through my body.

An explosion behind me. For a moment I thought I had taken a direct hit, but then one of the interceptors faded from my instruments. Instead a shiny N-1 showed up behind me, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thanks for the backup.”

“Two more to go”, Din announced as calmly as if we were taking a hike in the Peace Park.

Before us the coastline parted again into several firths. I knew them almost as well as the streets of Sundari. If I went left and Din went right, we would meet up again in a few moments.

“Go right”, I told him. “I’ll meet you on the other side.”

He followed my instructions and swerved to the right firth. I went left, drawing the interceptors behind me towards the seaside. Just as I had anticipated, Din showed up behind them and took another one out. Had we been in the same cockpit, I would have high-fived him. We made a really good team.

“One down, one more to go”, he reported.

“On it”, I said softly, feeling victory drawing near.

This time I flew out towards the open sea. Luring the interceptor nearer to me, I suddenly extended one of the Gauntlet’s wings, turning the ship around sharply and coming face to face with the Imp. A well-aimed shot, and he too was out of the game.

Exhaling, I stabilized the ship again, knocking poor R5 over in the process. Finally Grogu dared to peep out of his pram again, cooing softly. Hovering closely to the water, I flew back to the coast to rendezvous with the N-1.

“Not bad for an antique”, I commended Din Djarin with a grin.

“You take any damage?” he asked.

“Just shields. You?”

“Not a scratch.” He sounded rather smug about it.

I nodded. “Let’s take ‘em in just to be sure.” I had experienced battles where an old scratch on a ship had suddenly torn open, almost killing everyone. Better safe than sorry.

The two of us flew side by side, towards Kryze Castle. It felt like going home after a long, trying day. I was actually looking forward to a relaxed evening in company. With the ships needing inspection, Din and Grogu would have to stay over night. It would be nice to have guests again.

“Nice shooting”, I told Din warmly.

He gave me a nod from his cockpit, then tensed suddenly. “Hang on. I’m seeing something on the scope.”

Almost at the same time I spotted the smoke across the cliffs. From Kryze Castle.

Bombs. Fiery explosions.

“No!”

I gasped in horror as we flew closer. TIE bombers were dropping shells on my family’s castle. Flames roared up into the sky, tearing apart the ancient walls and the crystal windows.

“Those mudscuffers bombed my home!”

I could feel my blood freeze in my veins. I had seen it before. On Mandalore.

The bombs were falling. The royal palace of Sundari burned.

From far away I heard myself scream in horror. The palace was the last place where I had seen my nephew. In panic I opened House Kryze’s private channel.

“Korkie! Korkie, come in! Answer me! Korkie, please, come in! KORKIE!”

Nothing but static noise. The sounds of explosions, and the merciless noise of TIE bombers passing by.

I had given up everything, and they had still murdered Korkie.

Something inside me froze. I could not help him anymore. What I could do was taking the murderers down before more of my people died at their hands.

I fired up the engines, an icy determination filling my heart, and went after them. Three I saw straight ahead of me, and with cold precision I fired a heat-seeking missile into one of them.

Two more murderers to go.

“Bo, we’ve got company!”

Bo.

Who was calling me Bo? It was my family’s nickname for me, yet with Korkie’s loss my family was gone for good. I was the last one left.

It must be one of my Nite Owls, my other family. Maybe loyal Koska Reeves, defending me as she always did. Or brave Sabrina Eldar, heroically making a final stand so we could evacuate the wounded.

No, hold on. It was a man’s voice.

Axe?

It could not be him. He had betrayed me…

“Bo, listen to me”, the speaker urged.

I blinked, trying to recognize the voice calling out to me. It did not come from my vambrace. Was it my father? Was I about to join him?

“You have to get out of there!”

The memories faded, throwing me back into a world full of confusion, fury and grief. I was not on burning Mandalore. I was on Kalevala, in my Gauntlet, in hot pursuit of the two remaining TIE bombers. My throat burned from screaming Korkie’s name. The comlink in my vambrace was still sending on House Kryze’s private channel that was as dead as my family. Mechanically I switched it off.

Something threw itself between me and the Imps. It was Din Djarin’s N-1. He was flying around me in a big curve to catch my attention, to try and shake me out of my frenzy.

“There’s too many of them, we’ve got to get out of here!”

So it was Din who had called out to me. With a start I realized why his voice reminded me of my father’s. He worried for me. He feared for my life.

I looked back to the Imps and swallowed hard. About a dozen TIE interceptors fell out of the clouds, making a beeline for the Gauntlet. Even vengeful me felt cowed at this sight, though I would rather have bitten off my tongue than admitting it.

Had I been by myself, I might have disregarded the odds and flown into a hopeless battle, trying to take as many Imps down with me as possible. But with a start I remembered I still had Grogu on board. That decided it. I had not been able to save Korkie, but I could still save Grogu.

Letting out a frustrated hiss, I abandoned my pursuit and turned the ship around. Fleeing from a superior force, Din and I made for the atmosphere, the interceptors still hot on our heels.

“That’s a lot of ships for an Imperial warlord…”

Something was deeply wrong here. I felt the same sense of alarm as during the Night of a Thousand tears. This was more than just a random imperial attack. Someone powerful had marked me as a target and would stop at nothing to get me.

Under different circumstances I would have felt rather smug about having become such a nuisance to the Imps that they saw it fit to send a squadron after me. Unfortunately just a few weeks ago Ahsoka had given me a holocall to report she had found clues pointing to the return of Grand Admiral Thrawn. With these news in mind, this kind of imperial attention filled me with a dreadful sense of foreboding. I was no match for Thrawn. Neither of the two of us was.

New data flashed across the screen as Din’s voice sounded again. “I’m sending jump coordinates.”

“To where?”

My list of hide-outs had just been drastically shortened. Besides, if we were really hunted by Thrawn, the galaxy would not be big enough to hide from him.

“Someplace they won’t find us”, Din promised.

I had no choice but to trust him. As soon as we were in orbit I confirmed the coordinates he sent, and our two ships made the jump into hyperspace, finally losing the TIE interceptors.

Chapter Text

We came out of hyperspace over an unfamiliar world in the Outer Rim. Almost immediately Din hailed me from the N-1.

“How are you two doing over there?”

I looked at Grogu. He seemed rather tired and kept rubbing his eyes. After this exhausting day the kid was probably only still awake thanks to adrenaline. As for me, I could not even put my condition in words. If I had felt bad after losing my fleet, my current state could only be described as devastated. As unpleasant as my stay there had turned out, Kryze Castle had been the last place I could still call home. After Mandalore’s destruction Kalevala had been my retreat, occasionally serving as headquarters for Clan Kryze and the Nite Owls. It was crushing to lose it to the Imps as well, even without attaching maudlin symbolism to it about the fall of House Kryze.

None of these thoughts passed my lips, though. I had been a leader for years now, and the leader had to set an example. I was not used to baring my heart, and besides there was no point in burdening Din with my grief. He could do nothing about it.

“Surviving”, I finally replied, and the answer seemed to satisfy him.

With a frown I read the data my sensors were picking up from the planet. I could find no settlements or any signs of civilization, but there was a lot of life forms down there. I sincerely hoped the Gauntlet’s systems were damaged and therefore sending me error messages. If not, the place was crawling with very big creatures, and not all of them could be as friendly as the Mythosaur.

“Where exactly are we going?” I finally asked cautiously as we descended through the atmosphere and flew side by side. The surface of the planet was covered with rocks, occasionally separated by large lakes and rivers.

“I’m bringing you to a Mandalorian covert”, Din told me. “This is how we have survived in exile.”

“I’m familiar”, I reminded him dryly. Trust Din Djarin to explain Mandalorian survival strategies to me.

“It’s a secret location and you are my guest.”

Uh-oh. I could feel my stomach clench. If he had the right to bring a guest, then it was not just any Mandalorian covert. It was a stronghold of the Children of the Watch, which meant I was entering enemy territory. While I was not interested in fighting other Mandalorians, there was no guarantee they would do me the same courtesy.

“They still live by the old ways”, I stated as diplomatically as possible.

Now I really wished I knew more about the Way and the Creed. I might have felt better prepared. As it was, I had no clue what to expect of them except for strange ideas about Mandalorian headgear.

“Yes”, he affirmed. “It will go smoother if you keep your helmet on. Trust me.”

I just sighed, too exhausted to argue. “Of course.”

So we were about to visit a few cultists who happened to be descended from the very terrorist organization I had once been second-in-command of. Looked like I was coming full circle. Once more homeless, once more dangerously close to Death Watch.

Din was piloting the N-1 towards the shores of a big lake, and I followed him in the Gauntlet. At first I could see merely sand-colored rocks but as we came closer I spotted a huge cave leading to the insides of the rock. This must be the secret location where Din’s people were hiding.

Disturbing a lot of sand, I parked the Gauntlet at the lake shore and left it with Grogu in tow. Even before I saw anyone, I could feel my warrior instincts kicking in and tensed slightly. We were being watched.

I stopped when I reached the N-1 and threw Din an uncertain glance. This was unfamiliar territory for me in more than one way. The Children of the Watch and the Nite Owls had nothing in common apart from wearing Mandalorian armor. I would have to let Din do the talking here. He nodded encouragingly at me and Grogu. The child looked as anxious as I felt, which did not bode well. With a deep breath I followed Din towards the cave.

When the three of us moved closer I saw the first warrior in dark blue armor stepping out. He was huge, much bigger than me, and I was by no means a slip of a girl. He looked menacing, and I made a point of moving as slowly and non-threateningly as possible. Behind him, more Mandalorians came out, all of them in full armor. None of them wore distinctive clan colors, instead their armors felt thrown together. I spotted a woman in a white helmet and a sea-green cuirass, another one with red helmet and lime-green cuirass, as well as a man combining a yellow helmet with red armor, to name just a few. There was no mistaking their swift movements though. These were trained warriors like Din and me, and they were ready for battle.

I stiffened slightly as they came to a standstill. It was one thing to know the Children of the Watch never removed their helmets, but quite another to not interpret it as a sign of hostility. I had been taught to take off my helmet for greeting others. Showing your face was both a matter of politeness, so people knew who they were dealing with, and a sign that you came in peace. It showed willingness to open up, to be read by others and to assure them you had nothing to hide. Enemies who planned to fight would not remove their armor, and with their faces they covered their intentions. A clan receiving me with their helmets on – and with weapons drawn as well, just for luck – made me feel edgy and apprehensive. I started to get an idea what Ahsoka must have felt like when she infiltrated Death Watch.

“Come no further”, Big Guy growled by way of greeting. “You are an apostate, Din Djarin.”

I felt a surge of annoyance on behalf of my friend. He was more dedicated to the Way and the Creed than any other Mandalorian I had met. Calling him an apostate was as ridiculous as calling me a pacifist.

“No longer”, Din returned calmly. “I have been to the mines of Mandalore.”

“Impossible”, Big Guy stated with the conviction of the self-righteous. “The mines were collapsed in the Purge. The planet is cursed.”

Thanks to my helmet, he missed out on me rolling my eyes. Not this stupid curse again! I found it increasingly harder to believe this superstitious bunch was descended from Death Watch. We had never had much time for esoteric nonsense.

To my relief Din stood his ground. “These are lies meant to keep us in exile.”

The other Mandalorian’s voice became low and dangerous. “How do we know it is not you who is lying?”

I did not like his tone of voice at all. This was more than just brushing off a fallen brother in faith. Big Guy oozed hostility towards Din Djarin. This was personal.

“He speaks the truth”, I cut in. It had been a long, hard day. My patience with pig-headed zealots was wearing thin fast. If they insisted on these outdated rules, they should at least have the decency to follow them. “I was witness.”

The huge Mandalorian looked at me closely. “And who are you, Nite Owl?” he drawled suspiciously.

My eyes narrowed behind my helmet. Unlike Din, he had immediately recognized the crests on my armor. He had to be Mandalorian by birth. Probably the descendant of a clan I knew.

With my luck, the descendant of a hostile clan.

Slowly I walked up towards him, refusing to be ashamed or intimidated, and tilted my head in a challenging gesture.

“I am Bo-Katan of Clan Kryze.”

Come on, bucket face. Do your worst.

Despite his helmet I could practically see his sneer. “Your house has fallen from the Way. You are both apostates.”

I snorted into my helmet. Really now? Compared to the names I had already been called, this was almost a term of endearment.

“We’ve been to the Living Waters!” There was a sharp edge to Din’s voice now. Obviously not a term of endearment for him.

Low murmurs ran among the cultists behind Big Guy. They looked ready for battle, but there was also an undercurrent of excitement. The news of the Living Waters and Mandalore electrified them. They were eager to hear more. Yet like well-trained soldiers they stuck to their hierarchy, and since Big Guy seemed to be in charge here, they waited for his orders.

Slowly, so as not to alert any trigger-happy cultist, Din pulled the cylinder with the water sample out of his belt and offered it to Big Guy. “I bring proof.”

This was the moment of truth. Now the cult would show their true colors. Would they accept their own, old-fashioned rites or persist in personal dislikes and start a fight with Din? I braced myself, ready for the worst as usual. Grogu too seemed tense, and I briefly wondered what kind of emotions he was sensing.

To my utter relief, Big Guy finally stepped back and nodded. “We shall see”, he announced and made room for Din and me to enter the cave.

I did not like having him in my back, yet there was little I could do about it. Now that we came closer to the cave, I spotted more warriors on the rocks above the entrance, their gazes fixed on us, their hands on their weapons. The ones in front of the caves let us pass before they followed us in, but I could feel their shielded eyes burning into my neck. Being unable to read their expressions was unnerving. It felt like being followed by a bunch of statues, and I could not shake off the thought they were regarding us as prisoners.

I kept my hands close to my blasters. Just in case.

The caves were connected by a set of tunnels, and I tried to memorize the directions we took. The ground was covered with sand, the walls looked bare. I looked around out of habit and noticed Big Guy was watching me closely. My suspicion about him grew. He must know me from the past, though I was fairly sure I had never met him at Death Watch.

While we walked, I discretely checked signets on pauldrons. As I had expected, there were several warriors wearing Death Watch insignia. I spotted the tell-tale shriek-hawk crests and felt my insides curl into a ball of anxiety. If they should get it in their heads to punish me for breaking my Death Watch oaths, I was toast. There was no way I could take them all down and make it back to the Gauntlet in one piece.

Eventually Din slowed down and I found we had entered a cave with a Mandalorian forge, burning in blue flames. Despite its small size, it reminded me of the Great Forge on Mandalore, and for a moment I felt a homesickness beyond comparison.

A woman in brown clothes worked there. Her face was hidden behind a golden helmet which, to my unease, was decorated with small horns. They brought back bad memories from Maul’s commandos, who wore horns on their helmets to suck up to their evil Zabrak lord. We had derogatorily called them “Mauldalorians”. Or simply “traitors”. Her horns were in a different pattern though and also smaller than those I remembered. Around her shoulders she wore a cape of brown fur.

“Din Djarin claims to have bathed in the Living Waters”, Big Guy told her without any preface.

“Is this true?” she asked coolly, still with her back to us.

Her voice reminded me of a deep, resounding bell with a music of its own. It seemed to reach into the deepest core of my soul and strike a chord there.

“It is”, Din insisted and held out the cylinder. “I have proof.”

Finally she turned towards us and held out her hand. Instinctively I inched closer to get a better look at her and realized she was studying me as well. Her visor was similar to my Nite Owl style, only the eyes were bigger and more pronounced. Although her face was covered, I was struck by the force of her personality. The air around her seemed to vibrate with power.

Then I spotted her heatproof tunic, boots and gloves and barely managed to suppress a gasp of surprise. She was an Armorer.

Of course. For our ancestors the Armorers not only served as smiths but also as spiritual heads. They were the closest thing to priests we had. Since the Children of the Watch believed in the old ways it was only logical they were headed by an Armorer.

I had not seen any since the Purge.

Din handed her the cylinder and she took it, looking at him intently. I wondered if she would grill us on the details now. Who knew, maybe in their strange beliefs the degree of redemption depended on the depth of water. Ankle-deep for minor transgressions like, say, wearing your pauldron upside down, complete immersion for taking your helmet off. Or it only counted if every inch of your armor had gotten wet and your helmet was washed out three times. I was too tired for this kind of crazy talk and decided to forestall any discussions on the subject. This way nobody could doubt he had immersed himself fully.

“I was witness”, I confirmed his story. “He fell into the depths and I pulled him out.”

Opening the cylinder, the Armorer stepped up to the cooling water of her forge and poured the sample in. Whatever she saw, the result seemed to please her.

“He speaks the truth”, she announced calmly. “These are indeed the Living Waters.”

There was an almost audible sigh from the other Mandalorians as the tensions finally diffused and the warriors relaxed their watchful stances. The Armorer was a born leader, I thought with some respect. With a few words she could set her entire tribe at ease. She was the sun around which the Children of the Watch revolved, their honored matriarch.

She turned back to us and nodded at Din. “Din Djarin, you are redeemed. This is the way.”

“This is the way”, the others echoed.

Once more I was enthralled by the power of her voice and presence. This woman could rule by the sheer force of her personality. Even without wielding the Darksaber.

For a moment I wished I could be like her.

Din’s shoulders slumped in relief as his tribe affirmed his return and once more acknowledged him as one of their own. For his sake, I was glad. He had suffered so much to be accepted back into their fold. It was heart-warming to see him being rewarded for his toils, yet at the same time it made me feel the absence of my Nite Owls more keenly. They had loyally followed me when I joined Death Watch and most of them had followed me when I came to my senses and broke away. They had followed me when I formed a resistance cell against the Empire, filling the ranks of Clan Kryze. They had followed me when I fought in the Purge, and they had followed me afterwards during our raids. Had it not been for the Darksaber…

I looked away, willing myself not to crumble. Not in front of the cult.

“And Bo-Katan Kryze…”

I resisted the urge to jump to attention as the Armorer addressed me. I was not one of her minions, I reminded myself. To them, I was an apostate at best and an enemy at worst. Then an alarming thought occurred to me. How did she know my name? She had not been part of the welcome party outside, and Big Guy had not told her either.

She knew me. She must have seen me at some point back on Mandalore and now recognized my armor. Warily I faced her. Those who knew my past were usually the first to give me long lectures about my share in the civil war and the Purge.

“By Creed, you too are redeemed.”

Only my helmet prevented my jaw from hitting the ground. A quick glance to the side told me that Din had not expected this turn of events either. He was listening just as intently as I was.

“But I do not walk the Way”, I pointed out.

She could hardly apply the same rules to me as to Din, who had always done his utmost to follow the Creed. He had not wasted his years like me, chasing personal glory. Big Guy had a point saying my house had fallen from the Way. It had not just been Satine with her pacifist ideals. It had been me as well, seeing how little respect I had shown to the Creed or the Way.

So many wasted years.

The Armorer stepped closer, gazing at me intently.

“Did you bathe in the waters?” she asked calmly. I could swear I detected a hint of smugness in her beautiful voice.

“I did”, I admitted cautiously. Obviously jumping in to save a friend was a mere technicality in the Armorer’s book.

She was still walking towards me, slowly and deliberately. Her demeanor betrayed nothing, yet instinct told me she was moving in for the kill. When she spoke again, every single word seemed to ring with meaning.

“And have you removed your helmet since?”

I moistened my suddenly dry lips as the realization dawned on me.

“No”, I admitted slowly and with increasing disbelief. “I have not.”

How had this happened? Frantically I searched my mind but the results were the same. I had jumped into the water with my pressurized helmet on, so I would not drown alongside Din. I had returned to the ship wearing my helmet, to be prepared for ambushes by Alamites and blood-harvesting cyborgs. But why had I kept it on in the Gauntlet all the time? I usually only wore it on board when preparing for ejection.

It was because of the Mythosaur, I realized with a sinking feeling. After seeing it I had kept my helmet on so Din could not see and question my bewildered expression. And then in hyperspace, when I was alone with Grogu, I had remembered the old legend that beskar prevented Jedi from reading our thoughts. I had worn it to at least attempt to protect myself from Grogu’s powers. The helmet was my shield between myself and the world. When my world was turned upside down and my last home destroyed, I had instinctively dodged behind my shield.

The Armorer’s magnificent voice sounded again, like a bronze bell calling me to attention.

“Then you may join our covert and live as your ancestors once did.”

Oh kriff, I’ve just joined a cult!

My palms grew sweaty in my gloves. What had I gotten myself into? One might think Death Watch had taught me a lesson, yet here I was, being roped in by their successors. Just because I had not let a fellow Mandalorian die and had afterwards forgotten to remove a piece of armor. Honestly, what kind of initiation ritual was this? My entrance at Death Watch had been a complicated affair with a lot of proving myself and swearing my loyalty to Pre Vizsla. There was no way they would have let me join by accident. What kind of cult made you a member because of an unplanned swim?!

Din Djarin caught my gaze. While not seeing my terrified face, he must have realized how I felt because he gave me an encouraging nod. My panic subsided a little. Cult or not, at least I had one friend here. I had survived all by myself in more hostile environments. I would find a way to deal with the situation.

“You are free to leave whenever you want”, the Armorer continued.

I exhaled quietly, only now realizing I had held my breath. This was definitely an improvement to Death Watch. I was allowed to leave. Not the usual way of cults.

“Until then, you are one of us. Welcome, Bo-Katan of Clan Kryze.”

Slowly my heartbeat returned back to normal. I was neither a prisoner nor a newly anointed cultist. I was a guest. Relief washed over me, cleansing me of more anguish than the Living Waters ever would. I could handle being a guest.

Under the current circumstances this was actually the best I could ask for. Being a homeless loner now, it meant a lot to find shelter from a vengeful Empire. Especially among people who spoke our language and honored our traditions, even if they overdid it at points. For a few weeks I should be able to stomach a clan of hardcore Mandalorians. Heck, I might even consent to keeping my helmet on for the time being.

For a last time the Armorer spoke. I believed to hear a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. If she was only half the woman I suspected her to be, she could read me as easily as the water sample.

“This is the Way.”

“This is the Way”, her tribe echoed.

The Mandalorians who had accompanied me and Din into the caves moved towards us. Gloved hands patted our shoulders. Greetings were uttered, their warmth not dampened by the helmets.

“Good to have you here”, one warrior told me quietly.

“So brave of you to go to Mandalore”, a gentle, female voice behind me said. It belonged to the woman in the white helmet and sea-green cuirass, who now briefly placed an arm around my shoulders. I just mutely looked at her hand, unable to believe I was not under attack.

Many said nothing, but their nods and pats on my back greeted me just as cordially. Nobody uttered a single syllable of reproach. As far as they were concerned I was one of them now, a long-lost sister returning to the Way, and they welcomed me with open arms.

I had not experienced this sense of belonging in a long, long time. A lump of ice, frozen to my heart since the Purge, started to melt. If the Children of the Watch kept this up, they would reduce me to tears before my first day as their guest was even over.

Big Guy saved me from losing it. He made no move whatsoever to welcome Din back to the tribe, much less me. He just stood in the background like a strong statue, watching us closely. Even without seeing his face I could feel the silent anger radiating from him. It immediately put a stop to any urges to just be carried away by warm emotions and instead set me on my guard again. I would not have survived this long if I had not learned to read my counterpart’s feelings towards me, and my guts spoke a clear language concerning Big Guy.

He was my enemy.

As if realizing I was watching him back, he straightened up. Through his visor I felt his final glare before he turned his back on me and walked out, not participating in the brief, friendly talk between his comrades and Din.

This is going to cause trouble…

While I watched him leave, a black shape on the wall caught my attention. I pushed away my emotions and focused on it. When I saw what it was, my heart stopped still for a moment.

The skull of the Mythosaur.

I should not have been surprised to see it here. It was one of our oldest symbols, even older than the Darksaber. But now, after I had seen a living Mythosaur, it almost felt like a sign. Only because of the Mythosaur I had kept my helmet on, making me an equal to the Tribe. I had believed it to be a legend, on par with the fairy tales about our history. How many more truths were hidden in the old stories? Did I know anything reliable about our culture at all?

I would have a lot to think about during the next days.

Someone else approached me and I looked up. By now all the other Mandalorians had left the forge. Din, Grogu and I were the only ones left. Fatigue hit me like a gravity hammer. My hand went up to my forehead, only to touch solid beskar.

“Are you okay?” Din asked softly.

“My head hurts”, I admitted, my voice hoarser than usual.

He nodded sympathetically. “It’s been a long day. You should get some sleep.”

I winced slightly under my helmet. The last nights on Kalevala I had not slept well. I was not yet ready to face my haunting nightmares once more, especially after seeing another home being bombed by Imps.

Then again, running away from my problems had never solved anything.

“I will”, I assured him. “Once I know where.”

“Come with me.”

After speaking to some Mandalorians I had trouble to tell apart thanks to their similar armors, Din took Grogu and me to the living quarters in the caves.

“They said we can have empty clan quarters”, he told me as I once again tried to memorize the turns we took in the tunnels. “With a nursery for Grogu.”

“I thought he would sleep in your room.” In his N-1 Din had the child on his lap when steering. So far I had believed the two were joined at the hip.

“At times I like to sleep without my helmet.”

“Oh”, I said lamely as I remembered. “Right.”

This helmet business was more complicated than I had expected. If I did not learn the rules quickly, I would turn apostate again without even planning to. I was beginning to get an idea how Din Djarin felt whenever I pointed out his shortcomings in Mandalorian culture.

Then another unsettling thought crossed my mind.

“But if the three of us share quarters, how do we even do that without sleeping in our helmets?”

Going back to the Living Waters was not an option at the moment. And sleeping in my helmet was a last resort. The neck pains the next day were usually excruciating.

“I’ll show you”, he promised.

After a few more turns we stood in a natural hallway. Caves on the walls led to the insides of the respective quarters. I could not see any doors, but several cave mouths were covered with tightly fitting screens made of thick cloth.

“This means the owners want privacy”, Din explained as we passed the first screens. “If you want to eat or sleep, you close the screen to your cave. When the screen is closed, nobody will come in.”

“Because I might be without my helmet.” I nodded in understanding. “Aren’t you worried an enemy in the tribe might sneak in, to see your face and declare you apostate again?”

I was not going to point fingers, but I would not put it past Big Guy to try something. He had been the only one openly hostile towards Din. Also he had been the only one in the forge who did not welcome him back. I wondered if more had happened between them than just a helmet out of place. And his animosity towards me… well, let’s just say I would have felt safer with a door between me and him rather than a mere screen.

“You can only open the screens from the inside”, Din assured me. “He would have to cut his way through, bringing shame on himself.”

“Good to know”, I muttered to myself, hoping everyone here was as honorable as Din Djarin.

While we walked past the caves, I realized they were marked. Above their respective entrances there was always a drawing or an engraving. I spotted the shriek-hawk signet and realized these must be the signs of the respective inhabitants. Now I was more attentive while we passed the caves, trying to figure out the signets. Unfortunately the quality of the drawings was very different and more often than not I could make neither head nor tail of them.

Eventually we reached an unmarked, open cave. Curiously I stepped inside with Din and Grogu and looked around for a first impression.

The cave must have been washed out by water ages ago. My guess was the lake in front of the main entrance had once covered the rock formations and withdrew as it became more shallow. The walls were smooth, the floor covered with soft sand. Judging from the traces, Din’s people had removed big boulders to turn the cave into inhabitable quarters.

Our predecessors had even left us some basic furniture. There were two bunks, one on each side of the room, covered with worn but clean blankets. A rustic bench carved out of stone was placed exactly in the middle of the room. While I still questioned the point of this arrangement, Din looked at the walls.

“There we are.”

From a niche he pulled out a long curtain, running on a wire. As he drew it, it split the room in half, to my surprise even parting the bench horizontally.

“You take one half of the cave, I the other”, Din explained to me. “When you want to eat or just take your helmet off, you close the screen. This way we can still be in the same room without turning apostate.”

“Clever”, I had to admit, relieved there would be a reasonable amount of privacy for me. “Are these your typical family quarters?”

“Yes. I heard there was a married couple living in here before us.”

So even they were not allowed to take off their helmets in front of each other. It sounded rather sad to me to hide your face even from your significant other.

“Too bad they can’t even sit with each other once the curtain is drawn.”

“Oh, but you can”, Din assured me and sat down on the bench. “The partner sits on the other side, just one curtain away.”

I scanned the arrangement critically. “This way you can only sit back to back.”

“Like comrades in arms should”, Din reminded me with a smile in his voice.

There was no faulting this logic, though I had plenty of more questions. For the time being I kept them to myself, though. It would be bad manners to grill him on the mating habits of his tribe. Small wonder they took in so many foundlings, I thought in amusement. The helmet rules must make courting a rather awkward affair.

“Alright”, I said briskly. “Which side do you want?”

“The one closer to the nursery, so I’m near Grogu.”

I nodded my assent and together we looked around. Eventually we rounded a ledge on the right side, and there we found the nursery cave. It was just a small cavern with a bunk for one foundling. Like the main entrance it could be covered with a screen. Grogu peeped around the corner with some interest.

“See? This is your room”, Din told him and I had to grin. For a kid who had lived in a cockpit so far, having your own room must be a luxury beyond comparison.

With the nursery being on the right side, Din took the corresponding bunk. Mine would be on the left side, and that was fine by me. I had no idea how often Grogu woke up at night. Having to deal with a child on top of my nightmares would plain kill me. I was glad to be able to leave the night watch duty to Din.

My stomach let out a loud grumble. The last thing I had eaten was the pog soup in Sundari. By now it seemed a lifetime away.

“I’m starving”, I admitted.

The contrast to Kalevala was striking. There I had barely managed to muster an appetite, much less hunger. At times I had completely forgotten to eat. A few hours back in the fray, and my body returned to healthier habits.

The discovery only strengthened my resolve. I must not walk back into the trap of depression. No matter how long I stayed with the Children of the Watch, I would need an occupation. I had to keep myself busy, so I would not fall prey to the darkness of my mind again.

“Has Grogu eaten?” Din asked, always the concerned father.

“Pog soup down in the mines, and a few snacks in hyperspace”, I assured him, my hands already feeling my pouches for food. So far I had only found ration bars, and the thought of eating them was rather glum. My time with Death Watch, especially our exile from Mandalore, had left me with a lasting dislike for this ultra-processed food. If there was an opportunity, I preferred cooking rations myself and dehydrating them.

With some regret I noticed there was no air shaft or fireplace within the cave. For cooking we would have to find the kitchen or build a fire outside. I would look for it in the morning, I decided. Tonight I would have to be satisfied with the emergency ration bar. I was too exhausted to even contemplate cooking.

I was still rummaging through my pouches when Grogu let out a big yawn and rubbed his eyes.

“All right, buddy, time to go to bed”, Din told him. He picked his kid up and carried him to the small nursery cave. Briefly he stopped and looked at me. “If you need anything, I’ll be right over there.”

Then he disappeared behind the rock and I was alone in our quarters.

First of all I made sure our entrance was covered by the screen, so no Child of the Watch would walk in on us. Then, hearing my stomach growl again, I went through the screen in the middle of the room and withdraw into my own half. When Din came back, he would probably appreciate some privacy as well. Not knowing if he still had food, I left him a ration bar on his side of the bench.

With a sigh of relief I sat down on my side and took off my helmet. It was a pleasure to feel the air on my face again and smell it through my own nose instead of the helmet’s filters. Hungrily I reached for the ration bar, tore off the wrapper and started to eat.

While I chewed, the events of the day passed before my inner eye, in no particular order. Briefly I remembered the bombing, but I refused to dwell on it. Wallowing in self-pity would only bring the nightmares back. I had to find a way to keep them at bay.

Instead I thought of our trip to Mandalore, and immediately the Mythosaur sprung to my mind. I tried to remember it as clearly as possible, so its majesty would never fade from my memories. I had no idea yet what to do with the knowledge of its existence, but I treasured it nevertheless. I was still awed at its sight, and while I had dismissed them for a long time, I remembered bits and pieces of the old songs. The sighting of the Mythosaur was never random. It always meant something. I needed to find out what it was, and with the Children’s knowledge of the old ways I might be in the right place to learn more.

Next came the memories of cooking with Grogu. I remembered the lightness of my heart, the pure enjoyment of his company. He had made me laugh for the first time in months.

You brighten every room, don’t you?

The memories came faster now, almost like laser beams fired from a blaster.

Din acknowledging my father’s sacrifice and honoring him by my side.

Your father sounds like an interesting man. I would have liked to have known him.

Someone leaving a crystal dedicated to House Kryze in the rubble of the Memorial Shrine.

Mandalorians accepting me as one of their own, sincerely glad to see me.

So brave of you to go to Mandalore.

Good to have you here.

A remarkable woman with a beautiful voice offering me shelter without hesitation. It was something Satine would have done as well.

Welcome, Bo-Katan of Clan Kryze.

Something wet splashed on my ration bar. I looked at it in confusion, then another drop fell on it. And another.

Only then I realized I was crying. My eyes were brimming over with tears. I watched almost in astonishment as they ran down my chin and dripped on my lap and my food.

I had not cried since the Night of a Thousand Tears. The horror had frozen something in me and dried my eyes completely. Even losing friends and later my fleet could not stir me. It needed unexpected kindness to tear down my inner walls. I had learned to endure loss and cruelty. To warmth and cordiality, on the other hand, I was no longer used.

It felt like a dam had broken. The despair and grief of several years burst forward and would not be contained. I sobbed in agony, pulling my knees up on the bench and close to my chest. I could not care any longer if someone heard me and thought me a whiny wimp. I was no longer the leader. I owed no one composure.

Steps sounded behind me and my back stiffened. Din had left the nursery and was back in his half of our quarters again. I could not have stopped crying on pain of death, and there was no way he did not hear me. Only cloth separated us, not nearly enough to muffle my noises.

The steps faltered. Din had stopped in his tracks, probably uncertain what to do. I was glad I had closed the screen. He really did not need to see me like this, even though he could hear everything, the sobs, the desperate gasps for breath.

Then I heard him move again. The steps came closer and I froze as I realized he was nearing the bench on his side of the screen.

Please don’t talk to me, please don’t talk to me, please don’t talk to me…

He did not.

Instead he let out a deep sigh and sat down on his part of the bench. His shoulder gently brushed mine through the cloth, but he said nothing, and I was grateful for it. It was hard enough to let him know I was aching. I could not have talked about it to save my life. After all, it was a lesson I had learned early in Death Watch – if I made myself vulnerable, I would get hurt. Simple as that.

The cloth beside me rustled softly. As I looked to the side, Din’s hand appeared under the screen, for once out of its glove, and offered me a tissue.

The kind gesture was enough to tear me up again. There was no danger of him using my vulnerability against me. He was on my side, and he had my back. My eyes brimming over, I reached for the tissue and blew my nose. Still shaking, I moved on the bench until my back touched his. Once I felt his reassuring warmth, I slumped against him, feeling like a distressed child looking for comfort.

Din did not even flinch, much less talk. He was just there, keeping me company in his unobtrusive way, back to back, as comrades in arms should be. Providing me with a safe space, he allowed me to lean on him while I got it all out of my system. It was such a relief. The burden I carried seemed to get lighter with him helping me carry it. Mandalorians were stronger together.

I could not say how long we had sat there, he in silence, me sobbing my heart out. It must have been at least several minutes, but it might well have been an hour. I merely remember that at some point I no longer felt like my soul was breaking into pieces. Little by little I calmed down. I was completely spent and still sniffing, but the storm seemed to be over.

Behind me Din cleared his throat. “I’m really sorry for your home, Bo.”

I allowed myself a wet smile and wiped my face. If this was his explanation for my current state, I was not going to elaborate. Things were far too complicated to be explained quickly, and I was tired.

“It wasn’t your fault.” The loss of my last retreat hurt, but it was not him who had thrown the bombs. “On the contrary. You saved me.”

In more than one way.

“I’m glad you got out of the battle”, he replied simply.

He apparently thought I was referring to him talking sense into me when I pursued the Imps. Truth be told, I would not even have made it this far without him.

“That’s not what I mean”, I told him. “If you hadn’t dragged me out of the castle and down to Mandalore, I would have died during the attack. You prevented me from getting bombed into oblivion.”

By the movement of the curtain I could tell Din tilted his head, as if in confusion. “I didn’t drag you. You chose to come after me.”

I snorted in amusement. “Not really a choice when you send Cutie to ask for my help.” Really, refusing the big-eyed kid would have been akin to kicking a puppy.

He shook his head. “I thought I was going to die down there. So I told Grogu to go find you. I knew you would keep him safe.”

My vision clouded again at this undeserved proof of his faith in me. Despite my dismissive behavior towards him, he would had entrusted me with his beloved child. It humbled me and at the same time made me immensely grateful. I had disappointed many people in my life, but I had not let down Din Djarin. For some reason it mattered. A lot.

I cleared my voice, trying to regain my bearings. “So you didn’t ask me to come after you...”

“No”, he replied as honestly as ever. “Though I’m glad you did.”

“So am I.”

He had proven himself a true friend. I did not want him to die, not just for Grogu’s sake. Now that I could trust myself with the Darksaber, Din’s presence was a huge comfort. I had too few comforts left in my life to spare even one of them.

“What changed your mind?” he asked, as if he had heard my thoughts.

“I don’t just let one of us die if I can help it. Also…” I hesitated briefly.

“Also?” he repeated curiously.

“I know what it’s like to lose a father.” I swallowed, grateful for the screen hiding my face. “Couldn’t let that happen to Grogu.”

Beside me, Din shifted slightly. As I turned towards the screen, I saw him slip his hand under the cloth until his fingers found and squeezed mine.

“Thank you”, he said simply.

I found myself smiling almost shyly. “This is the Way.”

“This is the Way”, he affirmed. “Will you be alright with the Tribe?”

“I think so.” The Armorer’s surprising acceptance of me and the Tribe’s warm welcome had done a lot to soothe my worries. “Just need time to settle in.”

He gave my hand an encouraging squeeze. “I’ll be there for you.”

I hoped he could hear the warmth in my smile even if he could not see it. “I know.”

Chapter Text

To my surprise the horrible dreams gave me a break this night. I slept deeply and soundly, sufficiently exhausted from our trip to Mandalore, the fight with the Imps and my unexpected breakdown. I awoke more refreshed and hopeful than I had been for months. It was a miracle what a night of uninterrupted sleep could do for me. The world seemed much brighter this morning, and not just because the sun was shining in through some small holes close to the ceiling. No comparison at all to the constant grey of Kalevala.

Grogu was up first, cooing from his cavern and pulling on his screen, until Din finally set him free. Still feeling sleepy I heard the toddler waddling around in the cave, until I heard his father call out rather sharply: “No! Leave that alone!”

My eyes flew open, half expecting to hear the hum of the Darksaber and see it protrude from Grogu’s hand. Instead the curtain was shaking, as if Grogu had climbed on the bench in Din’s half and tried to pull the cloth away.

“Grogu, no!” I heard Din come over and concluded from the motion of the screen and the squealed protest that he had picked the child up.

“You can’t just walk in there when the screen is closed”, he told Grogu sternly. I could well picture him holding his kid up so they were on eye level. “You have to wait until Bo comes out.”

There he went again, calling me by my family nickname. In the past I had gotten quite angry at anyone outside Clan Kryze or the Nite Owls calling me that. Saying this name was a privilege that needed to be earned. Small wonder I had been confused when Din called me Bo in the middle of a battle.

Still, I had not gotten angry. Somehow him calling me that felt natural. Should Big Guy do it, though, I might just forget my manners.

More babbling ensued. Even I could tell the little one was not a happy camper.

“You want to be with her, I get it”, Din said more gently. “So do I. She is a good friend.”

I listened with interest, fully awake now. It was not often I was greeted with compliments in the morning. Especially not with compliments I was not supposed to hear.

Grogu gave a sound of agreement, followed by more complaining.

“But you have to wait until she pulls the curtain away. She has to wear her helmet here. If she shows her face, the Tribe will throw her out.”

Grogu’s complaining abruptly stopped.

“We want her to stay, right?” Din continued patiently. Grogu cooed in agreement. “The next days might be difficult for her. She will need our help to settle in.”

The kid squealed enthusiastically, no doubt volunteering his help in cheering me up. I had to bite the insides of my cheeks to suppress a chuckle.

“So let’s just be patient until she is ready”, Din concluded, and this time his son did not protest.

I could not reasonably stay in bed much longer. I was awake, and my Nite Owl training demanded to get to know the place I was going to stay in for the next weeks. Apart from that, I was still hesitant to become sluggish, fearing my dark thoughts might come back. Besides, a cute child and his kind father were waiting for me. It made a nice change to waking up in an empty castle under a grey sky.

To conceal my eavesdropping, I made a point of moving in my bed and let the blanket rustle. Immediately Grogu babbled hopefully. I stretched a couple of times, yawning deeply and then got up.

“Morning”, I called over to the other side behind the curtain.

“Good morning”, came Din’s reply. “Do you need some water to freshen up?”

“That would be great”, I admitted. Before I found a ‘fresher here, washing would have to do.

A moment later a bowl was pushed through under the curtain, and I splashed the cold water on my face and neck. In the depths of my pouches I found the travel comb, got some knots out of my hair and then put my headband in place. I was not hungry yet since I rarely ate something straight after getting up. Maybe in an hour or two. Instead I reached for my helmet and put it on.

Once I was decent even in the eyes of the Tribe, I pulled the curtain aside, and there they were, father and son, waiting for me. Grogu let out a happy chortle once he saw me and force-jumped into my arms. I had to laugh in delight. The contrast to the terrified toddler whimpering at me from the N-1 cockpit could not have been sharper.

“You are in a good mood. Much better with Daddy around, isn’t it?” I smiled at him though he could not see it.

Grogu nodded eagerly and I looked up to meet his father’s gaze. He was watching the two of us, his face as usually hidden behind his helmet.

“So, what are the plans for today?” I asked briskly, to avoid potentially awkward conversations about my breakdown last night.

“The ships”, Din immediately replied eagerly, as if he too had tried to find an innocuous subject. “We need to park them elsewhere. The covert has to remain secret.”

“Right.” I nodded in understanding. “Let’s get to it.”

There was no trace of civilization on this entire planet. Leaving a Naboo starfighter and a Mandalorian troop transporter in plain view next to the cave was akin to putting up a neon sign with blinking arrows. Together with Grogu we marched out and scouted for a better parking lot in the middle of nowhere.

Luckily we found several more washed-out rocks with protruding ledges and put the ships there. Under the ledges they were hidden from above, but still within our reach. I seized the opportunity to rummage through my supplies still stored on board. To my relief I still found a batch of my dehydrated pog soup, so at least I would not have to munch ration bars again tonight.

The first aid section, on the other hand, looked dire, but I could dig up at least an open medpack with several intact bacta sprays and clean dressings. When I thought of all the supplies I had had on Kalevala, now burned to cinders, I wished with all my heart I had stocked the Gauntlet up properly. Instead I would have to make do with what little I had. At least the Gauntlet still was well fueled. If worst came to worst, I could probably risk a shopping trip to another system.

“Does your R5 take cleaning jobs?”, I asked Din once we met up again outside our improvised garage. “The first aid section has seen better days, I’m afraid.”

Din snorted in amusement. “He’ll do anything as long as he can stay on board and doesn’t have to come out.”

“I like him”, I stated cheerfully. “Now what?”

He made an inviting gesture towards the cave. “How about I show you around?”

I nodded, immediately seizing the opportunity to scout out my new abode. “Lead the way.”

During the next hours I tentatively took my first steps among the Children of the Watch. Despite their hospitality, I had been on my guard for too long to not be careful. They might yet give me a nasty surprise and turn out to be worthy successors of Death Watch. So I held my tongue and made sure not to violate any of their rules and beliefs until I knew more about them.

Din’s help was invaluable. There were so many things to consider, things I had never even thought of before. Taking my helmet off among allies, for example, was hard to unlearn. Simple acts like blowing my nose or scratching my face suddenly required both logistic and strategic thinking.

My patient friend guided me through my first day, taught me the ropes and showed me the secluded areas. It was a set of small caves still filled with water, making them ideally suited for bathing and cleaning up. Some thoughtful Children of the Watch had put up screens there too, so during a bath I was actually allowed to get some air on my face. It was a huge relief to know there were possibilities to take off my helmet without causing offense.

Also Din explained the Tribe’s most important customs to me, so I would not accidentally get married to someone. My ignorance of the ancient rites was embarrassing. In my youth I had merely studied selected parts of history supporting the Death Watch ideals. Later, during the resistance, I had had more pressing things on my mind, though as a member of the royal family I should have made an effort to learn our lore. I felt it reflected badly on me, but Din merely shrugged it off.

“The foundlings don’t know our rites either. That’s why we teach them. This is the Way.”

Good to know I was on par with the foundlings.

My top priority was to memorize the names of the other warriors and to tell them apart without seeing their faces. Several of them wore similar armors and colors and were hard to distinguish from afar. The only Mandalorians I could tell apart immediately were the Armorer and Big Guy. Nobody seemed to know her by any other name and as for his, I learned it in a rather spectacular manner.

During the day, the Tribe met for sparring sessions at the lake shore. After the tour Din and I ended up there, watching the others practicing. I recognized a lot of Death Watch elements in their maneuvers, but they were watered down, like songs once heard and just partially passed on. Whoever had taught them these styles was clearly no longer here to observe and correct his students. They had to rely on memories.

Within sight of the adults, the elder foundlings practiced as well. Though I was slowly getting used to everyone hiding their faces, I was spooked to see even young children wearing helmets. They gave them the appearance of miniature warriors, and it felt completely wrong. It made me wonder if seeing me in full Nite Owl armor had given Satine the creeps in a similar fashion, though I had at least been a teenager.

While I still looked at them, my gape mercifully hidden behind my helmet, Grogu waddled over to the younger children. To my relief they were playing harmless games, flipping stones and building towers with them. Din and I exchanged a proud look as Grogu picked up a stone and offered it to a child with a red helmet, who immediately took it and incorporated it in a stone wall. Encouraged Grogu joined the kid and started to build a castle behind the walls. I smiled in appreciation.

“Good thinking. Walls should only be built if there is something worth protecting behind.”

Din watched his child’s play, then turned to me. “Wanna go do some sparring?”

“Sure”, I replied with some enthusiasm. Physical activity seemed the best course of action to keep the shadows of my mind at bay.

Din nodded in agreement and looked around. The children’s supervising adult was a slender woman in a sea-green cuirass and white helmet with matching pauldrons. I remembered her from the forge, complimenting me for going to Mandalore. She had already spotted Grogu among her charges and moved in our direction.

“Can he stay?” Din asked her.

“Of course.” Her voice was unexpectedly soft for a warrior. “We will be here until sparring practice is over.”

“Great. Thank you.”

We left Grogu with the foundlings and moved towards the adults. The closest sparring partners to us were two women, one in red helmet and lime-green cuirass, the other in yellow armor and a white helmet with yellow highlights. I vaguely remembered them as our welcome committee from yesterday, when Big Guy told us to go scud.

When they realized we watched them, they stopped their exercise. They exchanged looks and whispers, making me feel somewhat anxious. Who knew what kind of tales they had heard about me. As I had found out during the last decades, a reputation once forged was hard to live down.

Before my worries could reach their peak, the woman with the white and yellow helmet turned to me. “Bo-Katan Kryze, I challenge you for sparring practice. Do you accept?”

At her first words I was aghast, then grinned in relief when realizing it was just for practice. I could do with some exercise.

“How far are you allowed to go in sparring?” I muttered to Din, so only he could hear.

“First blood at most”, he whispered back, and I nodded with satisfaction. The same rules as among the Nite Owls then.

“What’s your name?” I asked the woman.

“Ellis Tindale”, she replied, trying hard to hide her excitement. Judging by her voice, she must be in her early twenties, if at all.

I lowered my head in assent. “Ellis Tindale, I accept your challenge.”

I stepped into the designated area, Din and the other warrior moving to the side to give us room. Ellis and I took defensive stances, then slowly started to move, trying to gain a first impression of each other. Then she broke the stalemate with a blow, and our sparring began in earnest.

Wallowing in self-pity for months had done me no good, in more than one way. I was out of shape. While armed combat was no problem at all, unarmed I quickly got in trouble. I would have to make an effort to get back on track. Luckily there would be no shortage of sparring partners in the Tribe, and even when not on top of her game, a Nite Owl was still a worthy opponent.

I was surprised to realize Ellis was quite good at blocking my moves. It took me several minutes to finally realize what was going on. The Children of the Watch could not rely on facial expressions to gauge their opponent’s reactions and responses. Instead they had grown surprisingly astute in reading body language. I quickly adapted by watching how I moved, just to keep my cards close to my chest.

Slowly I got the hang of things. I managed to hold my own against Ellis, and once I paid attention I even began to foresee her moves. When I feigned a blow, her entire body told me in which direction she would try to evade. Without hesitation I aimed a strike right there. As I expected, she jumped right into my fist, which got her in the lower abdomen. Coughing and gasping, she doubled over.

I walked to Ellis and extended my hand to help her up. “You are too obvious”, I told her. “If you want to sidestep, keep your head and torso in my line of attack until the very last moment.”

I demonstrated the necessary footwork to her. It was rather simple. All she needed to do was to keep her weight on the front leg while moving the rear leg’s foot sideways. Once the right moment came, she merely had to shift her weight to the other foot, turn her hip along, and then she would be well out of my reach.

“Let’s try again”, I suggested. “Slowly.”

Step by step I guided Ellis through the motions. At first she was insecure, but once she got what I meant, she was twirling all over the place. I nodded in satisfaction as she successfully evaded several of my attacks.

“Very good”, I complimented her. “Just keep practicing.”

“I will.” Despite the helmet I could sense her enthusiasm. “Thank you, Bo-Katan Kryze.”

It felt rather strange to be called by my full name, but it was by no means limited to me. Din, too, was frequently called Din Djarin by his people. It was probably a way of the Children of the Watch to keep a certain formality despite not having titles.

“My pleasure, Ellis Tindale.” I implied a slight bow and watched her join her former sparring partner again, no doubt eager to try out her new abilities.

As I looked up, I realized quite a crowd had assembled. Word seemed to have gotten around that the Nite Owl was participating in sparring practice. Like most warriors, the Children of the Watch were always eager to learn new moves and test their strength against each other. By realizing the number of spectators, I just hoped I would not have to fight every single one of them. Much as I could use the exercise, my stamina would fail me very quickly.

Din slightly tilted his head, his way of looking at me questioningly. If I was not imagining things, he was silently asking me for a sparring match and I had to admit I was interested. While the Nite Owls were known as an elite among warriors, he was a skilled bounty hunter. With my long break, we might match quite well.

I raised my chin in a nod when suddenly a big, bulgy shadow fell on me. As I looked up, I spotted Big Guy, towering over most of the Mandalorians, his helmeted gaze fixed on me. For some reason my warrior instincts kicked in, warning me of imminent danger. Something was wrong.

“Bo-Katan Kryze”, he announced loud enough for everyone to hear, his voice laced with anger, “I demand Blood for Blood.”

The Children of the Watch stopped their exercises. All eyes turned to us. The air grew thick with foreboding.

A shiver ran down my spine. Blood for Blood was called for when a clan wanted to avenge a fallen member and formally challenged the killer’s clan. It was an ancient custom and had claimed countless lives during the Clan Wars. Unlike other challenges, Blood for Blood always meant the loser’s death and made no difference between the actual killer and his innocent clan members. The challenger might end up killing an uninvolved person, thus kick-starting a new Blood for Blood challenge from the bereft. It had caused never-ending chains of violence, and my guess was it had been a main reason for Satine to do away with savage traditions.

But truth be told, I did not even know which clan Big Guy belonged to, much less who Clan Kryze was supposed to have killed. It might all have happened before I was even born.

“For what?” I heard myself ask tersely.

“For Clan Kryze’s murder of my kinsman, Pre Vizsla.”

Din’s head jerked towards me. I froze with shock, standing still as if struck by lighting. Even my breath stopped for several moments. Icy claws of fear and disbelief dug into my stomach. This could not be happening. Not this old story.

The dreadful memories flashed up before my inner eye. I saw the Darksaber come down, heard myself scream, refusing to leave Mandalore to a monster and calling my former comrades traitors. And I heard the monster’s smug, drawling voice in reply to my outrage.

Unfortunately for you, history will not see it that way.

The rest was a jumble of impressions as I made my escape from Death Watch, shooting, throwing bombs and flying through Sundari, my loyal Nite Owls Ursa Wren and Sabrina Eldar by my side. I had thought I had left it all behind, and now this blasted prediction had come true when I least expected it.

Among the Children of the Watch, there was a slight commotion as they made room for the Armorer. She walked between them, making a beeline towards us. I was not sure if this was good or bad. She adhered to the old ways, yet on the other hand she faced the same problem with her tribe as I did with Clan Kryze and the Nite Owls. There were just too few of us left. We could not really afford decimating each other in so-called honor killings. I had to stall Vizsla in front of me, avoid being trapped in a duel, until the Armorer was within reach.

“You accuse Clan Kryze of murdering your kin?” I countered, to buy the Armorer time to join us.

“I do”, he spat, towering over me. He must be itching for a fight.

Inwardly I cursed in several languages. If I accepted this blasted challenge, only one of us would walk away. Blood for Blood explicitly forbade the victor to spare the loser. If I refused the challenge, though, not only would Clan Kryze be held in contempt as murderers, but also I would lose the Tribe’s respect. Among the Nite Owls we had honorable ways to bow out of unnecessary fights. But here they believed in the old ways. Here every challenge had to be accepted if you did not want to lose face. It was quite a fix.

From the corner of my eyes I saw Din’s hand moving towards his vibroblade. He clearly expected a fight and seemed to get ready to help me. I appreciated the gesture, but what did he think he could do? No one was allowed to interfere in a challenge or a duel, especially not during Blood for Blood. So unless he planned on throwing a superior challenge at Vizsla, his hands were tied. Besides, I would not have him fight my battles. Discretely I shook my head in his direction. This was my business.

And could anyone but me appreciate the irony of a Child of the Watch challenging me for the sake of an apostate? It was not like Pre Vizsla had never taken his helmet off, quite the contrary. He had not even worn it in battle with Maul. Also I knew for a fact that Pre had not believed in the Creed. He was actually the first one who taught me it was nothing but outdated drivel.

The Armorer stepped between us, interrupting my thoughts. Sunlight glinted on her golden helmet as she tilted her head. “One does not speak unless one knows, Paz Vizsla”, she reminded him sternly.

Her words made me feel a little more hopeful. She apparently doubted his claim, and she could not have given me a better opening.

“Then it is my turn to speak”, I managed to say over the thunder of my pounding heart. “I know what happened. I was there.”

“Of course you were!” Paz Vizsla barked. “You probably killed him yourself! On your sister’s orders!”

“My sister had no part in Pre Vizsla’s death”, I snarled into Paz’ helmeted face, furious on Satine’s behalf. “Though he was her sworn enemy!”

He knew nothing of Satine if he believed this nonsense. Determined to avoid violence, she had rather surrendered to Death Watch than letting her protectors fight for her sake. There was no way she would have ordered me to execute anyone.

“She was a coward who fell from the Way!”

I gritted my teeth. You could say a lot about Satine, but she had never lacked courage.

“She refused to spill Mandalorian blood.”

Or anyone else’s, but that would be way beyond him. I had to find an argument he could actually grasp, use words he was familiar with.

Paz Vizsla made an impatient gesture, getting straight to business. “Do you accept my challenge?”

So much for that.

I forced myself to not answer immediately but to take a deep breath and think. Jumping to Satine’s defense had become a knee-jerk reaction since her death. But Satine was in no danger of dying anymore. I was. It was not my sister who had just gotten challenged. Analyzing her character in order to defeat his claim was a waste of time. It was my own defense I needed to focus on now.

If the plan doesn’t work, make another one.

Paz Vizsla demanded Blood for Blood from me. This was the only point of interest for him. Everything else was trifles. He was of the same single-minded determination as Axe Woves. Considering how Axe and I had parted ways, this was by no means a compliment. But it gave me an idea of how his mind worked.

Even extremists can be reasoned with, Satine’s voice seemed to whisper in my mind. I was still very doubtful how many of her pacifistic stances had been tried against actual extremists, but truth be told, I was running out of options.

“Do you accept my challenge?” Vizsla bellowed, clearly furious at my lack of response.

Din shifted his weight, looking increasingly worried. The Armorer too kept a close watch on us, yet so far did not interfere. The challenge had been uttered, twice, and now it was my turn to reply.

“Your challenge is misplaced”, I growled. “I’m not the one who killed Pre Vizsla.”

I hope you are with me now, Satine.

“I was his foundling.”

In the silence that followed you could have heard a pine needle drop. The Children of the Watch had frozen. Paz Vizsla flinched as if I had stabbed him with the Darksaber. Din gave a start, and I would have bet the Gauntlet that under the helmet his jaw had dropped. The Armorer slightly raised her chin like someone having an epiphany, but otherwise stayed calm. She was watching me, waiting to see what I would do.

Compared to the silence my voice was so loud I half expected it to echo from the rocks. “I loved him like a father. For better or for worse.”

I had not revealed myself as Pre Vizsla’s foster daughter in decades. After breaking away from Death Watch, I had preferred to be known as Duchess Satine’s sister rather than the foundling of the very man who had schemed to kill her all along. I was ashamed of ever having looked up to him, and while I could not deny my involvement with Death Watch, I had stayed silent on my relationship to Pre Vizsla. It had given rise to all kinds of rumors, like me having been his mistress, or worse, his slave. I found them less painful than the truth: that my foster father had twisted my love for him into a weapon against innocent people and, ultimately, against my own sister.

Low, surprised whispers started among the warriors, but I sensed the shift. My revelation was quite a game-changer. The foundling argument seemed to resonate with them. It was a concept all Children of the Watch understood. They took in orphans all the time, and the bonds between these families of choice were as strong as those of birth families. I needed to look no further than Din and Grogu.

I was no longer solely a representative of Clan Kryze. As Pre Vizsla’s foundling I had the same status within Clan Vizsla as a family member by birth. I had a rightful claim to the clan’s protection, and the meaning was not lost on Paz. His challenge towards the member of a perceived enemy clan had just gotten unexpectedly complicated.

I saw him raise his chin in a defiant gesture. “Pre Vizsla was your sister’s enemy. Why would he take you in as a foundling?”

“He and my late father, Duke Adonai Kryze, were brothers-in-arms. They fought side by side in the clan wars.” Again I felt the lump in my throat but forced myself to continue speaking. “When my father died and my sister… forsook the Way, Pre Vizsla took me in to raise me as a warrior, in honor of our traditions.”

Inwardly I winced at this oversimplification. Once more my sister looked like the villain of the piece of whom poor, upright me had to be protected. Unfortunately nobody here seemed interested in a lesson in politics, and Satine’s character was difficult to grasp even for people who knew her. I had to keep things on a level everyone could understand, not just those who had majored in Recent Mandalorian History.

Forgive me, Satine. I have to adjust to my audience.

“I was loyal to Pre Vizsla until the end”, I finished, with no small amount of bitterness in my voice. I might not have done Clan Vizsla any wrong, but my blind loyalty to their head had cost other people dearly. “When he was the leader of Death Watch, I was his second-in-command. When he got killed, I refused to follow his killer and broke away.”

“Who was it?” Paz’ voice was quiet now but resonating with anger.

“The same man who murdered my sister.” I looked him straight in the face. “His name was Maul. He used the Darksaber to kill both your and my kin.”

I saw Din looking down on the Darksaber at his belt, his fingers lightly touching it. Had I not been so focused on Paz Vizsla, I would have offered him a credit for his thoughts.

“I never heard of this man”, Vizsla stated grimly, oozing disbelief.

“Because he stayed in the background and put his crony Almec in charge”, I retorted. “It was him who framed Clan Kryze for Pre’s murder.”

The mere memory was enough to bring back the bitter rage at hearing Almec’s hypocritical drivel after Pre Vizsla’s death.

Duchess Satine, the so-called pacifist who could not protect you when your lives were at stake, has murdered Pre Vizsla, the true hero of Mandalore. Satine is now under arrest, and it was Pre Vizsla’s last command that I be reinstated as Prime Minister.

It was a miracle I had gotten through that day without putting a rocket through a screen.

“She speaks the truth”, a gentle female voice chimed in. Everyone, including me, turned around.

The warrior who had spoken was the woman in white helmet and sea-green cuirass who supervised the foundlings. I could see her hands disappearing behind her back at the sudden attention she was getting. I often used this gesture when I wanted to keep myself from fidgeting.

“My sister was a Nite Owl”, she stated. “She told me the same story. Pre Vizsla and Satine Kryze were both killed by a Zabrak from Dathomir.”

I could see several warriors flinch. The stories of the witches of Dathomir were still very much alive in our minds, even though the witches themselves were gone.

“Bo-Katan Kryze tracked him down”, the woman continued, “and eventually had him captured and deported from Mandalore.”

Hearing it like this from someone else made it sound rather heroic, I thought wryly. In truth it had been but damage control, trying to clean up the mess Death Watch – and consequently me – had caused. Not to mention the fact that the Republican intervention on Mandalore had brought in the Empire. But it was pointless to dwell on the past.

I looked at the woman with new interest. If her sister had been a Nite Owl, she too must be Mandalorian by birth. I needed to find out who the sister was. But first things first.

Paz Vizsla coiled his hand into a fist, tight enough for me to hear his knuckles crack. The amount of menace he could convey with a single gesture was remarkable. Instinct told me, though, I was not the target of his anger this time. He might not have believed me but he believed his sister-in-arms. She had no reason to lie for my sake.

Behind my helmet I breathed a little easier. Nothing like a common enemy to bring Mandalorians together, and I had one more of those in store.

“When the Empire occupied our planet, Clan Vizsla and Clan Kryze fought side by side to get rid of them. Would they have joined me if I had slayed the head of their house?”

It was a rhetorical question. Clans had started feuds for much less than killings.

I looked over to Din and saw he had taken his hand away from his weapons again. He gave me a slight nod, appreciating how I handled the situation. The Armorer too relaxed her watchful stance. I wondered what she would have done, had things escalated further.

“Paz Vizsla.” Her voice was as clear and cool as the Living Waters. “Do you stand by your demand of Blood for Blood or do you withdraw?”

Two heartbeats passed, and they felt very long to me.

“I withdraw”, he finally stated, his deep voice betraying nothing.

I would have loved to slump in relief, but decided to wait a little longer. I did not want everyone to see how much I had dreaded fighting a fellow Mandalorian. They might mistake it for cowardice.

“Bo-Katan Kryze.” She turned to face me. “Do you demand Blood for Insult or do you waive your right?”

Oh, great. Another Mandalorian fossil to justify killing each other, this time for a perceived insult. Satine must be spinning in her grave by now. I sincerely hoped the Armorer was merely doing it for formality’s sake. I had not ended one fight in order to start another.

“I waive it”, I replied stiffly. If everyone ever deceived by lies was killed, nobody would be standing here anymore. “I will not spill Clan Vizsla’s blood for an enemy’s lie. Mandalorians are stronger together.”

I would say it again and again, write it in song if necessary, until even the tiniest foundlings and the most pigheaded brawlers had gotten the message. This needless infighting between our people had to stop.

The Armorer looked from me to Paz, then nodded. “This is the Way.”

“This is the Way”, the Tribe echoed.

It seemed to be the signal a discussion was ended. Maybe I should introduce it with the Nite Owls. I indulged myself in the fantasy of dismissing Axe Woves with it, just long enough to pass the time until people started to move again. To my relief Din Djarin had shaken off his shock and came walking towards me. Paz Vizsla once more looked at me, his stance now more gruff than threatening, before turning around and walking away. Something inside me started to relax a little. At least this extremist could be reasoned with.

Still, the members of the Tribe lingered around, as curious as children who had heard one half of a story and now hoped for a continuation. Their attention was unnerving. I had to find a way to get rid of them, and since Din had almost reached me, I decided to make him my excuse.

“Unarmed sparring”, I hissed at him, hoping he would stuff the questions for later. “Now!”

It was the quickest way to make things go back to normal. Luckily he understood my purpose.

“I accept your challenge”, he replied loud enough for the others to hear. Immediately they moved back to give us space. We both took off our jetpacks, and once we took our defensive stances I could see most of them melting away to get back to their own practice. Thank the Force!

Of course, as soon as we no longer had an audience, my sparring partner seized the opportunity. Hand-to-hand combat was a good excuse for getting close to each other and having quiet conversations.

“What just happened?” Din whispered and struck a blow that I evaded.

“I got challenged”, I hissed back, accompanying each word with a punch.

Din blocked them without even breaking a sweat. “I got that part!” He aimed a kick at me.

“I don’t!” I retorted, dodging sideways. “Why challenge me now and not yesterday?”

“The Armorer offered you hospitality.” Din followed my move, forcing me to stay in motion. “It grants you one night of resting in peace.”

Well, that explained many of the old stories where the Mandalorian heroes secretly left at the break of dawn without bidding their hosts goodbye. Clan animosities or hunger for glory in battle could only be stalled for so long.

“I see.”

I attempted to trip Din, but he was on his guard.

“So… are you a Vizsla then?” He evaded my attack and got out of my reach.

“Not officially. But yes, I was raised by his clan.”

I lunged forward, trying to tackle him. Without my jetpack, though, I did not nearly have enough thrust to throw Din off his feet. He stood his ground and slammed his armored elbow into my face. The helmet protected me, but the noise of beskar on beskar close to my ears was far from pleasant.

“I don’t understand.”

“Long story.” I shook my head, trying to stop the ringing in my ears. ”Not for sparring.”

He retreated a few steps. “Want to take a hike up the rocks?”

I hesitated only for a moment. While I rarely enjoyed speaking of my past, Paz Vizsla’s challenge had reminded me how many lies my enemies had spread about me. Sooner or later they would find their way into the Tribe, and I had no intention to get a repeat performance of today. Worse, they might poison Din’s mind against me. I simply could not bear the thought of losing his friendship. The only way to counter these lies was telling him the truth. I had to share my story with him before the next descendant of a clan who had beef with me showed up and bleated a bunch of poodoo.

“Sure”, I agreed with a heavy heart.

Briefly Din looked to Grogu. The woman who had helped me out was just showing him how to flip pebbles over the surface of the lake, and he happily followed her example. I could not shake the suspicion that he occasionally used the Force to make them flip a little further. By the looks of it, he was not interested in joining us, so his father and I set out by ourselves.

We climbed up the rocks, passing the guards standing watch over the entrance of the cave and finally reached the top. There we walked a little bit further until we had a spectacular view both on the lake and on Grogu. From up here everything looked quiet and peaceful. The sunlight glittered on the lake’s surface, and we could hear the children laugh, play and brawl from below.

It was as good a place as any, so I looked for a sunny, smooth spot on the rocky surface and sat down there. Immediately Din squatted down beside me. It was remarkable how expectant he managed to look despite wearing a helmet. I pulled my knees close to my chest and wrapped my arms around them, wondering what he would think of me once he knew the whole story.

“As I said earlier”, I finally began, staring out at the glittering lake. “I had an elder sister, Satine. After our father’s death she was next in line to the throne. Hostile clans targeted us. To keep us safe, we were separated.”

Despite my fears, opening up to Din Djarin was rather easy. Somehow I felt the need to let him see the real me, despite the helmets.

“I was hidden away with Clan Vizsla. My origins were kept secret. Nobody but Pre Vizsla, head of his house, knew I was a Kryze. I was simply Bo-Katan, his foundling.”

Which was the main reason the members of Death Watch had felt free to insult Satine within my earshot. They simply had no clue we were related. As the second-born princess, much younger than the heiress, I had not been as public a figure as Satine. Apart from my Creed ceremony I had led a rather sheltered life, making it less likely strangers would recognize me as a Kryze.

“Meanwhile Satine went on the run with two Jedi protectors.”

“Jedi?” Din echoed in disbelief. Briefly he looked down at Grogu, who had just discovered some crabs in the sand by the lake shore.

“We Mandalorians were at war”, I reminded him. “The Jedi were the only protectors neither money nor clan loyalty could corrupt.”

Din looked at me thoughtfully. “Did you ever see her again?”

“Not for years.” When I turned to look at him I wondered if he could sense how forlorn I felt. “I was a child, orphaned and alone. Pre Vizsla became like a second father to me.” I lowered my head. “Turned out he was the leader of Death Watch.”

Gently Din placed a hand on my shoulder. “I was a child too when I lost my parents. Death Watch took me in as well.”

“Really?” I lifted my head in surprise at this unexpected similarity. “When was that? And where?”

“On Aq Vetina. We were attacked by battle droids, and my parents were killed. Death Watch saved me and brought me to Concordia.” He thought about it for a moment. “Must have been some time before the rise of the Empire. I don’t really remember the date.”

Small wonder. Orphans had other things on their minds than keeping track of time, as I knew from experience. The When and Where did not really matter, though. Our shared experience was the more important part.

“Then you know what it’s like, wanting to please your foster family”, I stated dejectedly.

“Yes.” Din nodded softly. “You try to fit in. To show your gratitude.”

“Exactly.” I almost slumped with relief at finding him so understanding. “They are all you have left. If they are angry at someone, you try to be as different from this person as possible. Just so they won’t be angry with you as well.”

I would never forget Pre Vizsla’s anger at Satine’s turn to pacifism. After a rousing speech of her had been transmitted over the holonet, he would look at me, right after his outburst of fury. I still remembered his eyes, burning with rage, and his deceptively calm voice.

I’m so glad you are not like this, Bo-Katan.

It was the beginning of my split loyalty. His anger, directed at my sister, frightened me, yet at the same time I was glad I was not its target. Part of me felt pleased he realized I was different, the other was anxious to keep it that way. The uncomfortable feeling about Satine remained, though I was too young to put my finger on it. If I tried to identify it at all, I passed it off as me being annoyed at her for causing my foster father so much pain.

With hindsight my feelings were much easier to identify. I had realized he hated my sister. I, however, still loved her and therefore felt like I was betraying him. He would have been disappointed in me, perhaps even furious, if he had found out my true feelings. Too scared of being rejected and cast out, I hid it as well as I could. I acted as tough and callously as he wanted me to, so he would never realize my shameful secret: the natural love for my sister. I had learned to wear a mask, and I wore it for years. Only Pre’s death managed to rip it off, and hardly anyone recognized me without it anymore.

Satine did, though. She recognized and forgave me the very moment I sprang her from prison.

“Getting on their bad side could mean being abandoned again”, Din agreed quietly. “Or exiled.”

Right. He had had a recent brush with that. It was unexpected but comforting to find we had made similar experiences as orphans. It made me feel closer to him. Safer.

“It caused me to do bad things,” I admitted in a voice so low Din had to lean forward to still hear me. “I hurt innocent people when Pre Vizsla told me to. I killed at his command. Just to stay in his good graces.”

Our raid on Carlac was one of the most shameful episodes during my time with Death Watch. I still was at a loss how I could have been so casually cruel back then. All because I went along with everything Pre said and did, never questioning him, never thinking for myself.

It was almost impossible to describe to outsiders how much I had yearned to make Pre Vizsla proud. Often these people would lecture me I should have realized I was becoming a ruthless terrorist. They seemed to think I woke up some day and decided to be a villain from now on. In real life it did not happen like this. It was a road taken in small steps.

With Din it felt safe to share, though. He understood the dynamics in a Death Watch foster family, though his apparently had not encouraged him to do nasty things, like abduct and kill helpless villagers. Nowadays I would not permit any Nite Owl to behave the way I had.

“You were young”, Din reminded me gently. “It’s easy to lead young people astray.”

“Youth is no excuse”, I retorted harshly. “Even Grogu knows right from wrong.”

“Because he was taught”, he replied with irrefutable logic. “You apparently were not. Did they not raise you on the Creed?”

I shook my head. “Too much honor would have gotten in the way while I was growing up. As for later – guess those who still followed the Creed all switched to your camp.”

Death Watch’s original goal had been to restore the old ways, but, as it was so often the case with Mandalorians, they had difficulties to agree which old ways they meant. As for me, I had wanted to preserve my identity as a warrior. Other Death Watch members had been more interested in the ancient Way of the Mand’alore. People deserted all the time, so I had no idea when this specific branch of Death Watch broke away. I only knew that at some point before the Purge they had built their own community, did the honorable thing like rescuing children from battle droids and tried to live like our ancestors.

As far as I remembered, Pre Vizsla had not meant to go back this far. I doubted he had thought further than removing Satine from power and taking over himself.

“And the worst part… I still loved him. Until the end he remained like a father for me. Even when he started to lose it and made it clear he would kill my sister.”

It was around this time, when he made his pact with Maul and the criminal families, that I realized things were getting out of hand. While not an innocent myself, it rattled me to join forces with known crime syndicates. It had made me question what we actually stood for, though not enough to go against Pre’s orders. My alarm had grown when he casually mentioned his plan to kill Satine along with the Zabraks during a conversation with me, as if he had completely forgotten she was my clan. Still I did nothing, years of obedience rendering me distrustful of my own feelings.

“Like some idiot I stayed by his side”, I concluded miserably, “and mourned him when he got killed. Despite all the horrible things he had done himself and got me to do.”

Only moments before his death, when he accepted the Sith’s rule over Mandalore, I had woken up to the facts, though I was unable to put them in words until much later: that his hatred for my sister had twisted him so much he would even sacrifice our planet just to spite her. That I had followed in his footsteps and that my beloved world would suffer for it. It was the moment I left Death Watch and organized the rescue of my sister.

She still did not survive. I lost both my foster father and my sister by the hands of Maul within hours. Korkie and the Nite Owls were all I had left.

Now I did not even have them any more.

Din’s hand on my shoulder tightened. “You still mourn him.”

It was a statement, not a question. I just nodded mutely, unable to speak. He really did understand, but it did not make me feel less ashamed. There was no excuse for me still mourning Pre Vizsla’s death despite knowing he had manipulated me, killed innocents and brought crime syndicates to Mandalore. Moreover, he would have killed my sister as well. I knew the grief originated from the young girl inside me who had been robbed of another father figure, yet I despised her for being so delusional. I wished I could throw the brainwashed youngster I had been out of my mind and start all over again.

“It’s natural to be loyal to those who raised you.” Din actually managed to make it sound like a compliment. “And he was your leader.”

“The wielder of the Darksaber”, I agreed heavily. “By ancient right, he could claim the title of the Mand’alore.”

“You were following orders, then.”

I sighed. It was a typically Mandalorian take on things, but it did not sit well with me. It was too apologetic, too easy.

“If orders are dishonorable, they should not be followed. If the leaders are bad, they should be replaced.”

Perhaps I should have challenged Pre Vizsla instead of Maul. I could have won the Darksaber in combat, kick the criminal scum back into space and keep my sister safe. Maul could have stuffed his challenge to where the AT-ATs don’t go. I would never have accepted an outsider’s challenge for the rule of Mandalore.

Of course there was no guarantee he would not have stabbed me in the back and taken the Darksaber anyway. As I had found out the hard way, I was lousy at predicting the outcomes of my choices.

“You are really harsh on yourself”, Din observed.

I snorted. “I have seen what I become when I’m not.”

“We all make mistakes”, he stated calmly. “You have learned from yours.”

“For every lesson I learned, people lost their lives. Including my sister.”

The shadows of the past were always there, like the scars of a badly healed battle wound. On some days I could bear the pain, on others it was excruciating. I turned away from him, looking over the rocks and towards the lake. This planet was a far cry from Kalevala, but the lake’s glittering surface had the same soothing effects as the waters on the home planet of Clan Kryze. I was not sure yet if it was possible to take a swim there, but at least I would be able to take walks at the waterside.

“You are trying to make amends”, Din pointed out gently and squeezed my shoulder. “To us, you are redeemed.”

I smiled sadly, braiding my fingers into his. “Because of the Living Waters?”

I still had difficulties wrapping my head around the Children’s ideas about the Living Waters. While by now I was willing to concede they were special, mostly because of the Mythosaur, I could not quite fathom how a bath in there could wash away your sins of the past. It felt too easy, and not nearly as fulfilling as putting the imperial butchers in their place. Still, the Children’s belief in redemption did more for me than months of gloom and doom. I was not ready yet to forgive myself, but at least it seemed possible I could do so one day.

“This is the Way”, he said simply.

“This is the Way”, I repeated pensively.

My gaze returned to the lake. Something dark seemed to be swimming on the surface. Must be really big if I could see it from here. Maybe I should think again about taking a dip in there.

Din cleared his throat. “So… why did Pre Vizsla hate your sister?”

I chuckled wryly. Trust Din Djarin to always have one more question. At this rate we would sit here until nightfall.

“How much time do you want to spend up here?”

He nodded in understanding. “Later then? At dinner?”

Strangely enough, for once I did not feel reluctance at the thought of talking about Satine. Din Djarin had seen more of the galaxy than most Mandalorians. He had been willing to work with me, officially an apostate, as well as with a ranger of the New Republic and a clone well past his expiry date. He knew by now the galaxy was not just black and white. There was a chance he would understand my complicated relationship with my beloved yet infuriating sister.

“You’re on.”

Chapter Text

Down at the foot of the rocks the foundlings were gathering their belongings, making me think of an outdoor Mandalorian daycare cleaning up before the parents came. While I would never stop mourning the loss of Mandalore, it was comforting to see our people still had a future, even though it was hidden behind helmets.

Din made a beeline for Grogu, still busy finishing his sand fortress, while I lingered behind. Much as I liked the little one, right now his nanny was more interesting to me. She had just finished speaking to one of the mothers picking up her foundling, and as she turned around, our eyes met. Instinctively I smiled, just to realize a moment later she could not see it. Sighing inwardly, I walked over to her, hoping the smile would at least translate into my voice.

“Hello”, I greeted her softly. She had sounded a little shy earlier and I did not want to frighten her away. “Thank you for your help earlier. I don’t think Paz Vizsla would have believed me without you.”

She cocked her white-helmeted head as she looked at me, then relaxed her stance. “You are welcome, Bo-Katan Kryze.”

“Bo-Katan will do”, I assured her. No need to stand on formalities here. Curiously I looked at her armor for any insignia, and when I saw the lioness signet on her white pauldrons my eyes grew wide with surprise. “That’s the crest of Clan Eldar!”

They had been among my supporters when Clan Wren presented me with the Darksaber. We had allied against the Empire and its Clan Saxon toadies, fighting side by side until the end of our planet.

She nodded cautiously. “I’m Laurana Eldar. We have met before.”

I breathed in sharply. Of course we had, just without helmets.

“You are Sabrina’s sister.”

Sabrina Eldar’s laughing face flashed up before my inner eye. Clear bronze skin, dark brown eyes, a twinkling jewel in her right nostril, jet-black hair with a blueish hue, worn in an undercut. Compared to my feisty friend, her younger sister was a gentle, quiet woman who worked as a pediatrician. When I last saw her, Laurana strongly resembled Sabrina, only she had worn her black hair in long waves, giving her a very soft look compared to her military sister.

“We met when…” I blushed under my helmet and bit my lip.

“… when your sister had mine imprisoned, yes”, she acknowledged, shifting from one foot to the other.

Talk about awkward reunions.

I cast a furtive glance over Laurana’s shoulder. To my relief Din was still busy, squatting right next to Grogu and praising his child’s good work on the sand castle’s defences. Was I imagining things or had Grogu modelled it after Kryze Castle? How had he even done that?

I called my thoughts back to the woman in front of me, trying to find an answer to her words. Technically it had not been Satine who had Sabrina imprisoned, but since she signed the warrant without looking deeper, she was at least partially responsible for the injustice. It was me who voiced doubts and demanded to know more while everyone tried to fob me off with lame excuses. In the end I did what I always did and took matters into my own hands.

“I broke her out of prison”, I informed Laurana quietly. “We were friends ever since. She supported me in becoming commander of the Nite Owls.”

I missed Sabrina. Since her extraction from prison, she had shown me nothing but friendship and steadfast loyalty. She became part of my new family away from home, though she herself still stayed in touch with her relatives on Mandalore. Similar to my sister, hers was not a warrior either but unlike mine, she supported Sabrina in her way of life. During the years I had rarely asked about Laurana, though. I was too torn between missing Satine and feeling jealous of sisters who got along despite their differences.

“She praised you whenever we spoke”, Laurana assured me, and I felt somewhat relieved. At least I would not have to convince a member of Clan Eldar that I had not harmed her kin. “She would have taken a laser bolt for you.”

“She did.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself not to tear up now. My loss was not nearly as heartbreaking as Laurana’s.

She took several deep breaths before speaking again. “Does that mean… you know what happened to her during the Purge?”

Of course I did.

“She sacrificed herself for her brothers and sisters”, I whispered. “Bought us time to get the wounded to safety. Many surviving Nite Owls owe their lives to her.”

A shiver ran through Laurana’s body, but she merely lowered her head in a sign of respect. “This is the Way”, she whispered.

“This is the Way”, I agreed softly, sincerely grateful she did not launch a volley of accusations why I was still alive while her sister had perished. The Children of the Watch were more acceptant of death in battle than other Mandalorians, as Din Djarin had already proven. To them it was the natural outcome of walking the Way of the Mand’alore.

“Are there… well… more members of your clan here?” I asked awkwardly. There simply was no easy way to find out how someone had survived the Purge.

“Ayk and Boan, Sabrina’s children”, she replied softly. “A day before the Night of a Thousand Tears I took them to Concordia, to visit friends.”

I felt a little flutter in my chest at the realization that my friend’s children were still alive. Boan, or little Bo, as Sabrina fondly called her, had been named in honor of me. I had often visited the family of three before the Purge.

“And then you stayed with the Tribe.”

“Yes, we did”, Laurana confirmed. “I was no warrior, but suddenly I had two kids to protect.”

Her words were quiet, yet the horror they masked sent shivers down my spine. I could not even imagine what Laurana Eldar had been through. I had always been a warrior. The Purge had been horrible for all of us, but at least I had known exactly what to do to stay alive and to shield survivors. Laurana had been a civilian, unarmed and defenseless, and had faced an Empire hell-bent on murdering her sister’s children. Dank farrik, what a nightmare!

“So you trained with the Tribe and took the Creed?” I asked.

Briefly I wondered whether the woman hidden under the helmet had changed much by our world’s tragedy, the soft features hardened, the long tresses cut short.

“I did, in the Tribe’s version”, she whispered. “When I realized what had happened… I didn’t wish to ever remove my helmet again.”

I looked away, feeling the familiar, crushing sadness weigh me down. I could well understand her reasoning and her desire to shield herself from the agony of our loss. With a helmet on, it was easier to keep a distance. To cry without anyone seeing it. To present a serene surface to two frightened, traumatized children.

Not everyone keeping their helmet on was a fanatic offended by the sight of a face, I realized. There were various reasons to choose this way of life.

For a moment we stood in silence, each of us itching to find a safer topic. Laurana eventually beat me to it. Civilians were better trained at small talk than warriors.

“This is probably not what you are used to.” She fidgeted a little, as if feeling embarrassed. “Living in a cave, no running water or electricity…”

“I’m not a spoiled princess, don’t worry.” I laughed a little awkwardly. “On my missions with the Nite Owls I have stayed in all kinds of places. We are not stuck on an ice world, there is food and I have a roof over my head. And I only have to share with two… one and a half people. That counts as luxury.”

“If this is how you see it, all the better.” Laurana laughed softly, sounding at ease again. “I was surprised Din Djarin agreed to share with you.”

“Why?” I tilted my head questioningly.

“Usually he is quite the loner”, she replied easily. “Keeps to himself. He must trust you a lot.”

“I suppose he does”, I muttered, noncommittal, in order to hide my confusion.

I knew I had won Din’s trust. I had saved his life several times, and we had formed a bond during our adventures on Mandalore and Kalevala. Still, I also knew a thing or two about loners. Even if they trusted me and enjoyed my company, they still needed alone time to balance out the stress of being among people. They usually preferred to have their own space, so they could withdraw.

So either Laurana’s estimation of Din as a loner was wrong, and he merely had not found a suitable member of the tribe to share quarters with. Or he was going out of his way to make sure I felt safe with his people, even putting back his own needs to set me at ease.

My heart throbbed a little faster, and a slight heat spread in my cheeks. It was hard to decide which version was more endearing.

“Oh, Grogu, no!” I heard Din groan behind Laurana, and instinctively we both turned around. “Don’t eat that!”

The child held something round in his hand, close to the mouth. But since he was already chewing, his lips stained with greenish juice, his father’s warning had definitely come too late.

“Not the crabs again!” Laurana shook her head helplessly. “This is the third time already.”

“He must be starving”, I stated the obvious. “I’d better fix him dinner before he makes himself sick. Can you tell me if there is a cooking area around?”

“Yes, of course. Come with me.”

I followed Laurana Eldar to the cave entrance. Once inside, she led me into a tunnel I had seen but not explored earlier. After several minutes of walking on sand, surrounded by the ever-present rocks, we entered a round area under the open sky, accessible by several cave openings. A fireplace had been built in the middle with a bucket of water right next to it, and there was fuel piled up at the walls. Two shelves, hewn into the rocks, held pots, pans, dishes and cooking spoons, some of them clearly hand-made.

“Take whatever you need”, Laurana told me while pointing at the equipment. “Just make sure to clean up after yourself.”

“I will, thank you.” Already I was taking in the pots to choose one for pog soup.

“See you around, then.” Laurana nodded at me and left me to my work.

Eventually I found a fitting pot, filled it with water and kindled a fire. The routine was so familiar I could have done it by muscle memory. I only fully snapped to attention when the water boiled and it was time to add the soup powder. I checked the bag and tried to do the maths. Well, it should be enough for three, as long as Grogu really had a kid’s stomach. If his species went through a caterpillar stage, we would be sorely stretched.

The dehydrated powder melted into the water. Mechanically I stirred the pot, my thoughts wandering. The confrontation with Paz Vizsla had brought back memories of Satine. After yesterday’s breakdown, the shields were officially down. I was more sensitive and thin-skinned than usual.

In a way I felt closer to my sister after the Vizsla incident. I knew she would be proud of me, wherever she was now. I had prevented needless bloodshed by reasoning, by employing the very tactics she herself had embraced. At the same time I missed her so badly it ached physically. With my defenses knocked down, I felt like the little, orphaned girl all over again, frightened, lost and alone.

I had no idea how long I could sidestep the mud my enemies threw at me without breaking my resolve to never spill Mandalorian blood again. It was Satine who had experience in this area, not me. Once more I had been thrown in at the deep end, and there was no one I could ask for advice. Right now I would have given anything to have Satine back, to talk to her and to find out how she had borne it for years. To compare notes on how to carry on without betraying yourself.

To have a mentor.

“I thought I was imagining the scent.”

The beautiful voice pulled me out of my sad thoughts. As I looked up from the pot, I saw the Armorer. She stood in one of the entrances of the kitchen cave, looking at me and the soup.

“I told myself it was just a memory. The longing for something from home.”

I felt my throat constrict and barely managed to nod. The first cooking of pog soup after the Night of a Thousand Tears had rendered me nearly catatonic. The smell brought back so many memories of my lost home world I got completely overwhelmed. Only the limited amount of fuel had prevented the soup from burning while I sat there as still as a statue.

“Then I saw the fire and knew it must be real. Once the flame is lit, everything is possible.”

I shook myself out of my memories, realizing how rude it was to let her stand there instead of inviting her over to the fire.

“Would you… would you like to join me?” I asked awkwardly. I was still having trouble reading and understanding the Armorer, not just because of her helmet. She was a mystery to me, one that so far seemed benevolent but simply would not reveal herself.

Slightly inclining her head, she walked over to me and sat down beside me. “Where did you get it?”

“Made it myself and dehydrated it for rations”, I explained shyly. “I still have my sister’s recipe.”

“Duchess Satine Kryze”, she stated in a dispassionate voice that was worse than any accusation. “I saw her, many years ago.”

I did not dare to ask where and when. The elder generation of Children of the Watch were mostly descended from Death Watch warriors. None of them had had any reason to like Satine. It was far more likely they too had made attempts on her life. I simply did not want to know if the woman who had taken me in had once tried to kill my sister. I was not sure how to respond to such knowledge. After all, I had been part of Death Watch too. I was in no position to blame anyone for their choices. Still, it would infuriate me.

“She meant well”, I finally said monotonously, feeling the usual need to defend Satine. I could not muster the passionate defense I had thrown at Paz Vizsla though. It seemed inappropriate to raise my voice at the Armorer.

“Everyone does”, she agreed. “And yet they might choose the wrong way.”

“If so, she was not the only one”, I retorted stubbornly. Show me one Mandalorian who never made a mistake, and I will show you a statue. “Whatever mistakes she made, she paid for them with her life.”

My defiant look was covered by the helmet, yet the Armorer seemed to get the message. If her posture was anything to go by, she did not take offense though. A leader could not afford to act on impulses.

“Mandalorians always believed in redemption through death”, the Armorer said, as if to herself. “It grants absolution for everything. Helps the living to forgive the dead.”

I frowned slightly, trying to take in her words. I was on the edge, ready to jump in the fray for my sister, yet try as I might, I could not find an insult to her in the Armorer’s words. If at all, they conveyed understanding, though in a very strange way.

In fact, when I thought about it, there was a certain truth in them. I could not deny I had become a staunch defender of Satine only after she died. I had felt so terribly guilty about her death that defending her seemed to be the only way to make amends. I had focused on her good traits, on her commitment to Mandalore and her successes in rebuilding at least parts of our planet.

But if I was being honest, even in comparison to me she had not been perfect. She had been human, with faults and flaws. Laurana had reminded me of them just a little earlier. Satine had not always been fair. She could be very judgemental, and there was her strong prejudice against warriors. Sabrina had felt it and to a certain extent, so had I. There had been reasons why I left Sundari. While joining Death Watch had definitely been a mistake, staying with Satine had not been an option either. I had been caught between a rock and a hard place, and the results haunted me still.

The Armorer looked at me pensively. “Redemption for the living is not nearly as easy.”

I wondered if she had Jedi powers and could read my mind. With her it was as if our helmets did not exist. She seemed to be looking right into my soul, seeing me like no one else could, with all my flaws and failures.

“I know”, I managed to say, struggling against the tightness in my stomach. I knew what I had done, and so did she. There was no hiding from her piercing gaze, no escape from my past.

The Armorer looked into the flames, her hands resting on her knees. “Do you know how the Living Waters got their name?”

I blinked, momentarily thrown off course by her unexpected question. “I… I think they were part of the song about Mandalore’s daughter.”

My father had told me the story when I was a child, but I had forgotten most of it. When I grew older, I simply no longer believed in the old legends and was too disinterested to look them up again.

“They were”, she agreed calmly, “and she was the first to be redeemed by them.”

Despite my wariness I perked up my ears. “It’s been a long time since I last heard the story. I don’t remember it very well.”

Under the helmet I felt my cheeks flush, begging for a story like a little child. But if I wanted to get in touch with my roots again, I needed to start somewhere. The Armorers had been the keepers of our songs for ages, and were consequently the best to turn to. Besides, having this woman tell me a story in her magnificent voice sounded like an extraordinary treat.

She straightened up a little and took a stick from the flames to push the embers closer together.

“After Mandalore the Great died, the Mythosaur vanished. By claim of blood, not by prowess as a warrior, Mandalore’s son took the throne. Mandalore’s daughter, though, a fierce warrior, felt the rule over our people should have been hers. She gathered her forces and waged war on her brother.”

Despite the beautiful voice I felt a pounding headache behind my temples. Even in the ancient times our people had nothing better to do than kill each other. While I still did not believe in pacifism, I understood all the better why Satine had tried to turn a new leaf and change the course of our history.

“Warriors on both sides perished”, the Armorer continued, “leaving our people weakened. It was at this time that the Alamites descended upon them. One of the first slain and devoured was Mandalore’s son. The rule now belonged to Mandalore’s daughter, but it was an empty victory. Her people were scattered, their homes ravaged. There was nothing left to rule over.”

Story of my life, I thought wearily. We Mandalorians just kept making the same mistakes over and over again.

“Weary and discouraged she withdrew into the Mines of Mandalore. And it was there, at the shore of the Living Waters, that she cast off all selfishness and vowed to lead a new life, dedicated to serving her people without any reward for herself. Stepping into the Waters, the last known lair of her father’s Mythosaur, she took a sacred oath.”

My lips parted almost without my own doing. Like in a trance I spoke the words along with the Armorer, our voices joining together in the lines of the Creed.

“I swear on my name and the names of the ancestors that I shall walk the Way of the Mand’alor, and the words of the Creed shall forever be forged in my heart. This is the Way.”

The Armorer gave me a nod and continued her story.

“And as she recited the Creed and stepped into the waters, the waves parted. The Mythosaur, lost since her father’s death, came forth to testify she was redeemed and worthy to walk the Way. Mandalore’s daughter rode the Mythosaur into battle as her father had done, collected her scattered people and freed those taken by the Alamites. And they followed her willingly, for she had achieved redemption and proven herself worthy. Since then, the Living Waters have been known as the place where the living can be redeemed.”

Living Waters. Redemption for the living. It was a nice concept, I had to admit.

The Armorer put her stick aside and folded her hands in her lap. “Legend tells us whenever a worthy one took the Creed and bathed in the waters, the Mythosaur would come forth, as it had done with Mandalore’s daughter.”

My spoon stopped mid-stirring.

Giant tusks. Brown scales. Calm eyes.

It was just a story, of course. It had been handed down for millennia and doubtlessly been changed a thousand times to adapt to the current circumstances. But the Mythosaur showing itself to a worthy one struck a cord with me. There had been a worthy one in the Living Waters, reciting the Creed and seeking redemption.

Din Djarin.

Under the helmet I heard the blood roar in my ears. Din was the legitimate wielder of the Darksaber. His faith and his dedication to the Way had called forth the Mythosaur. He must have seen it as well, then. He must have kept it secret for the same reasons as I, lacking words and not knowing how to even broach the subject.

He was a worthy one, just like Mandalore’s daughter in the story.

My discovery nearly made me miss the Armorer’s finishing words. “And from this day forth, Mandalore’s daughter wore her father’s helmet, never to take it off again for the rest of her life.”

Abruptly I sat up straight. “Is that why your people never remove their helmets?”

“This is the Way”, the Armorer replied serenely.

“The translations of the end vary”, I carefully ventured. “Some say she literally never took her helmet off again. Others translate it as a metaphor. In some regions of the Mandalore sector the phrase to wear the helmet means to be the leader. Those versions state that she was the leader for the rest of her life.”

The latter was the translation I had grown up with. Before hearing the story again, I had not remembered much about Mandalore’s daughter, but I clearly remembered my father telling me she remained the leader until her death. As a child I had rejoiced at a fellow princess finally winning the throne and keeping it for the rest of her life. Nowadays I was more aware of the hardships and struggles a leader faced.

For several unnerving moments the Armorer remained silent. My palms got sweaty with anxiety. Behind the helmet I moistened my lips, hoping I had not insulted her religious sensibilities.

“An interesting interpretation”, she said finally, her voice betraying nothing.

My thoughts were racing. Could this be the core of the enmity between her and my people? A different reading of the same words? Kriff, what a waste of time and resources! Both interpretations were perfectly valid and not even mutually exclusive.

Then again, we were Mandalorians. When had we ever needed a sound reason to squabble?

“I always wondered why the people followed Mandalore’s daughter in the end”, I said pensively. “One might think they didn’t trust her anymore after her failed attempt to lead.”

“Leaders are not born”, the Armorer stated calmly. “They need time to grow into their role. Before her redemption she was not ready.”

This sounded so kriffing familiar that my head came down again. I stared into the simmering soup, finally admitting the painful truth. “Neither was I.”

“Against the Empire, no one was ready”, she replied simply.

“I keep thinking my sister would have kept our people alive.” My voice nearly broke at my words. “She was a skilled negotiator. I was not nearly as good at it as her.”

The golden helmet turned towards me, the dark visor studying me several moments.

“Your negotiations failed.”

There was no accusation in her words, merely a slight raise of her voice at the end, as if she had realized something new. The Force knew what was so unexpected about my failure, seeing what the Empire had done to our people. I turned away from her, fearing I would burst into tears once more.

“Yes,” I whispered, barely audible.

The Armorer did not even stir. She kept studying me while I was staring into the flames, trying to keep it together.

“Your sister would have failed as well.”

Despite the damning words she did not sound hostile or gleeful. Her voice was kind, as if she was actually trying to comfort me.

“What makes you think so?” I asked helplessly. “She was a trained politician…”

“Duchess Satine was notorious for underestimating her enemies”, the Armorer stated coolly. “She would have been no match for the Empire.”

Under the helmet I bit my lip. Her assessment of my sister was not wrong. Satine had been so determined to see Mandalore at peace that she simply did not realize threats from inside and outside. She did not recognize her prime minister Almec as a bad egg until he imprisoned her and threatened to torture Korkie. She had dismissed Death Watch until the movement became too powerful to ignore, and she had never even prepared for the possibility of a coup. After she was removed from power, she was completely helpless. I too had been removed from power by Clan Saxon, but I had broken free again in no time. I had been ready, with a strategy under my belt and my Nite Owls knowing what to do.

Against the Empire, Satine would have been even worse prepared than me.

“They might not have regarded her as a threat, though”, I pointed out. “Mandalore would have looked harmless. It might have saved our world.”

“Being harmless did not save Alderaan.”

I lowered my head, acknowledging the truth in her words. Alderaan’s leaders had been experienced, shrewd politicians, serving in the Republic as well as the Empire. Many people on Alderaan had been pacifists like Satine. All their experience and desire for peace had been of no use against the sheer brutality of a Death Star.

Satine’s standing with Palpatine had been even worse than Alderaan’s. He would never have forgiven her for the insolence to refuse the Republic access to the Mandalore Sector during the Clone Wars. Even more, she was a known friend of the Jedi and would not have stood for Order 66. She would have fought Palpatine every step on the way, just without weapons.

The Empire would have killed her.

“We should have worked together. We were in a perfect position to reconcile both sides”, I said wistfully. “Had we met in the middle, we could have bridged the gap and united our people. Peaceful on the inside, strong against threats from the outside.”

We might have saved our people together.

“Would she have been willing to meet you in the middle?” the Armorer asked calmly.

“Maybe”, I said hesitantly. “If I had not antagonized her. If I had tried to bond with her again. Focus on what we had in common instead of what separated us.”

She tilted her head slightly. “Like you did with Paz Vizsla.”

I nodded while stirring the soup. Her answers made me wonder if she was trying to figure me out, occasionally guessing correctly while at other times being baffled by the results.

If so, we were even.

“You did well there”, she said simply.

For the umpteenth time I was grateful for the helmet hiding my feelings behind stoic beskar. The woman beside me was not Satine, but being praised by her felt almost as good. It made me want to repay her kindness, and when the thickening soup bubbled audibly I knew just how.

“Have some pog soup.”

I offered her the little pot. Steam curled up, carrying the delicious smell. Despite her helmet I could tell the Armorer inhaled deeply, savoring every little molecule that brought back precious memories from home. In this, all Mandalorian survivors were the same. The smell of pog soup took them right back into their childhood, with all its joys and sorrows, followed by mourning for the loss of our world.

If she felt the grief, her demeanor did not show it. “Thank you.”

She produced a mug from her belt, and I spooned soup into it until she withdrew it of her own accord. With a nod she stepped back and I realized she would leave now. There was no way she could take off her helmet in front of me to eat.

“Have a good night, Bo-Katan Kryze”, she told me calmly. “May you find peace in your sleep.”

It was a common Mandalorian way to bid someone good night. After our talk though I could not help asking myself if she sensed my inner struggles and tried to calm me down.

“You too”, I replied somewhat awkwardly.

I wished I knew what to call her, but the years after the Purge had taught me to move carefully there. Many Mandalorians had given up their names out of grief, to somehow symbolize the loss they had suffered. I had offended several of them out of ignorance and had no wish to do so with the Armorer.

She walked away from me, her gloved hand carefully holding the soup like a precious treasure. When she reached the entrance she had used before, she turned around to face me one last time.

“It is a good thought you have there. Sisters of different persuasions might yet unite our people.”

I swallowed hard. “But Satine won’t be one of them.”

Neither would I. I could see that now. I was too much of a polarizing figure to ever unite our people, just as Satine had been. Only together we could have done it. If only I had understood her earlier. If only she had not been so hell-bent on changing me.

“No.” The Armorer’s voice was almost gentle, acknowledging my loss and sorrow. “She won’t.”

“How do you know it’s going to happen then?” I asked helplessly, still holding the pot with steaming soup.

Her golden helmet twinkled in the light of the fire. “Once the flame is lit, everything is possible.”

She disappeared into the shadows of the tunnel, leaving me to ponder her words.

Chapter Text

Something soft touched my leg, cooing fondly. When I looked down, I spotted a pair of dark, round eyes in a little green face, framed by big green ears. Grogu beamed up at me, and I felt the sadness subside somewhat. It was pointless to dwell in the past and stir up the dead. This little fellow was the future.

“Hello there.” I squatted down to him and smiled behind my helmet. “Did you also follow the scent?”

He nodded eagerly.

“The mighty soup that saved a thousand crabs”, Din’s dry voice sounded from behind me. “Let it be remembered in the Song of Grogu.”

I laughed out heartily, my sadness finally dissipating. There was no room for doom and gloom with these two.

The kid really seemed to be hungry. He eyed the pot and ventured to grab it. Quickly I moved it out of his reach by getting up. Unlike me he was not wearing gloves.

“Too hot to touch”, I told him. “Let me fill it into a dish, alright?”

I was moving towards the shelf, when Grogu simply stretched out his hand and force-pulled a bowl from the shelf. Holding it before his chest with both hands, he waddled over to me and cooed expectantly.

His father stepped in and picked Grogu up. “How about we eat in our quarters, so others can use the kitchen?”

He was right. Tribe members might want to taste their food to season it properly. We should not be around then, so they could take off their helmets.

“Let’s go”, I agreed.

Together we made our way back to our own cave, me carrying the soup, Din Grogu. We only met a few people on the way. The sun had set while I prepared the soup, and most members of the tribe had withdrawn in their respective quarters. Without a city or village to go to, there simply was nothing you could do outside once darkness fell. I did not mind much though, being used to camp life. The only thing I missed was gathering around the fire, eating and drinking together and seeing the laughing faces of my brothers and sisters, without having to worry about helmets. Maybe this was the reason I was getting so fond of Grogu, the only one around to show his face.

Back in our quarters it occurred to me for the first time we did not have a table. It was unexpected but I saw the logic. When people did not eat together, tables and chairs were a waste of space. The foundling probably ate in the nursery and the adults on the bench, with the screen drawn between them.

I used the bench as a makeshift table to finally give Grogu his share, then filled up Din’s mug as well, scratching out the pot with my spoon to make sure they got as much soup as possible. As soon as the kid had his portion, he sat down right where he was and dug in with a vengeance, only occasionally uttering sighs of happiness.

Din looked from his mug to Grogu’s bowl, then to me. “What about you?”

“The Armorer came by while I cooked”, I explained to him while cleaning the pot with some sand and water. “I gave her my portion. I figured she had not had pog soup in a long time.”

“No, probably not”, he agreed gravely.

We both sat in silence for a moment, watching Grogu devour his soup. While he could finally satisfy his hunger, he kept yawning, looking rather sleepy.

“Spacelag?” I suggested as he yawned once more.

“That’s what I thought”, Din agreed. “We have done quite some planet hopping during the last days. He never had time to adjust to the local time.”

Grogu was blinking heavily when he finished his meal. By the time his father picked him up, his lids were drooping.

“Be right back”, Din muttered in my direction and disappeared into the nursery cave with Grogu. He was back within minutes. “Out cold”, he told me with a fond smile in his voice. “Let’s have dinner.”

“Yeah, your soup won’t stay warm for long”, I agreed, fiddling in my pouch for a ration bar.

Once more Din looked at his mug, then at me. “Let’s share”, he proposed.

I felt a smile bloom on my face under the helmet at his friendly gesture. “It’s alright. I have had pog soup more often than you.”

“You cooked it”, he pointed out. “I wouldn’t even know it without you. Give me your mug.”

“It won’t be enough for two”, I tried to reason with him. As rich as pog soup was, the portion left over would only fill up one adult.

“Don’t worry.” He reached for his belt. “I got some dried rations earlier. We’ll have them with the soup.”

From his pouch he produced some stripes I recognized as dried meat. They were long and dark, more than enough to stretch our soup. Strangely enough I smelled a hint of fish.

“What is this?” I asked curiously.

“Something local.” I could hear a smile in his voice. “I’d call it dinosaur turtle jerky.”

I cocked my head. “You are kidding, right?”

“True story”, he assured me. “Last time I was here, that thing gatecrashed a foundling’s Creed ceremony. Right in front of the cave.”

My eyes grew big. His people seriously hid on a planet crawling with dinosaurs? Dank farrik, how desperate were they? That explained the huge shadow on the lake I had seen earlier.

“Well, then it deserves to be eaten”, I eventually said dryly and handed Din my mug. While he divided his portion between us, I also took my share of the jerky.

Once we both had our food, we went into our respective half of the cave. Din closed the curtain between us and we sat down on the bench, our shoulders touching. With relish I took off my helmet and heard the soft tell-tale hiss as Din removed his own on his side.

“Bon appetite”, I said with a smile before we both dug into our soup and jerky. It felt good to share a meal, even if I could not see my dinner companion. Feeling him close by was a nice substitute, though. It definitely beat eating alone.

For a while we ate in companionable silence, occasionally brushing against each other through the cloth when lifting spoons to our mouths or using knives to cut the meat. It had a very gamy taste, and I had not imagined the fish aroma either.

“I could get used to the meat”, I admitted between bites. This jerky was great for rations, tasty and filling.

“I’m getting used to your soup”, Din replied behind the curtain.

His voice sounded muffled, as if his face was in the mug to get even the last bits and pieces out. I chuckled softly, remembering how Sabrina had always licked her bowl clean after eating my pog soup. For once the thought of her did not make me sad. It was good to know her kids and her sister had survived. It would have made her happy.

“Strictly speaking it’s my sister’s recipe. I only started making it after her death.”

It had made me feel closer to Satine to work my way through her personal recipes and adapt them for my everyday uses. It had felt like teamwork, and with my loathing for ration bars the meals were a welcome alternative.

“Right, your sister.” I heard Din put his spoon and mug aside. “What was Pre Vizsla’s deal with her?”

He must have burned to ask this question. I was grateful he had been patient enough to let me eat first. I thought about my answer briefly, wondering where to start. With Din Djarin I never knew which part of Mandalorian history he was familiar with.

“Have you ever heard of the New Mandalorians?” I finally decided to ask.

“No.” I felt him shake his head. “Who are they?”

Oh dear, this was going to be a long talk indeed.

“A pacifist movement”, I began with the foundations. “They tried to stop the clan wars by denouncing our martial past.”

I could well understand people being sick of war and longing for peace. Our constant infighting was a curse. It was how they went about it that still gave me a sour taste in my mouth.

“When they took over, those of us who were still warriors were given a choice. Either we renounced our martial traditions, or we would be declared outcasts and exiled to Concordia.”

From the other side of the curtain I heard startled coughs. Din must have gotten his food down the wrong way. When he finally managed to speak, his voice was laced with shock.

“They outlawed the Way?”

“Yes”, I agreed reluctantly. “You have no idea how angry I was.”

While I had come to understand many of Satine’s moves, I still thought this one had been unwise. She had made herself many unnecessary enemies. But seeing how many enemies I had made myself, I was no one to talk.

“I think I have.” He shook his head in disbelief. “So that’s why we were taught Mandalore had forsaken the Way. No wonder you were angry.”

“You don’t know half of it”, I sighed. “Their leader was my sister.”

There was complete silence on the other side for several moments. Had he been astonished before, he must be outright thunderstruck by now. Maybe he remembered how Paz Vizsla had accused my house of having fallen from the way. If even I who had taken the Creed was an apostate, my pacifist sister defied description.

“She betrayed your father’s memory”, Din finally managed to say.

“That’s what I thought at first”, I admitted sadly. Of course things had not been that simple. “She saw it differently. She wanted to honor him by stopping unnecessary carnage. Unlike others she realized what the the constant warfare did to our planet. By the time she was grown up, most of the surface had been reduced to wasteland. Only the dome cities were still inhabitable. She was trying to get to the root of the problem.”

Pensively Din tilted his head. For a Mandalorian warrior it was hard to understand Satine. It had taken me years myself. Then again, Din was a father whose child had almost lost him. He could probably imagine Grogu taking either way. Either the little fellow would try to emulate his father or root out the reason for his death.

“This must have been hard for you”, he finally said, obviously unable to decide what to make of my sister.

“We both wanted the best for Mandalore, but we were completely different”, I said with a sigh. “She turned pacifist, I joined Death Watch and we stopped talking.”

“How did it happen, you two falling out?” he asked curiously.

I took a deep breath, bracing myself for another trip down Memory Lane.

“As I said, while Satine was on the run with the Jedi, Pre Vizla trained me as a warrior. When I was older, he sent me to the Kyrimorut training camp”, I told Din. “There I came in contact with the Nite Owls. My late mother had been one, and I wanted to follow in her footsteps. That’s where I met Sabrina Eldar, Laurana’s sister.”

The curtain moved with Din’s nod.

“I was still in training when my sister ascended the throne and became Duchess Satine Kryze. She already had a reputation by then. Pre Vizsla, on the other hand, was governor of Concordia. Every dissatisfied warrior banished there would air their grievances to him. He was furious at what she was doing.”

“Can’t blame him”, Din muttered gruffly.

“I had not heard from Satine in a while. Shortly after I had finished training, Pre contacted me and told me my sister wanted me to come to Mandalore and live with her. He was suspicious, wondering if she was luring me into a trap.”

“Because you were in Death Watch?” Din asked.

I shook my head. “Back then I wasn’t. I didn’t even know of their existence yet. I had just joined the Nite Owls, and Pre urged me not to tell Satine. So far the Nite Owls had flown under the radar and not been outlawed yet. If the princess kicked up a fuss, the duchess might remember the Nite Owls were more than just an outdoor training camp.”

“Kriff”, Din muttered angrily. “If you don’t like weapons, don’t use them. You don’t go around and make everyone who owns them an outlaw.”

I made a face. To a point I did agree with him, on the other hand Satine had been forced to take some radical measures in order to finally get the body count on Mandalore down. With unrestricted access to weapons and our notorious infighting, our people had decimated themselves drastically. To say nothing of the damage to our planet.

Still, after my talk with the Armorer I realized I made less excuses for my sister than usual. I had to stop to regard her as a martyred saint just because I felt guilty. She had not deserved being murdered, yet she had not been easy to get along with either.

“Our people went from one extreme to the other”, I sighed. “I came home to an explosive situation.”

I remembered my excitement when my beloved home planet finally showed up at the window of the ship. Satine was still worried about bounty hunters and consequently I returned home unofficially on a line flight, without revealing myself as the duchess’ sister.

“As soon as we were in orbit, the captain made an announcement about the restrictions placed on all Mandalorians by birth or creed. I had to take off my armor and weapons in order to be granted landing permission on Mandalore. On my own home planet!”

I could not keep the indignation out of my voice. I had never taken well to random strangers telling me what to wear, especially not when coming home. As a teenager, still struggling to find my way, I had been infuriated.

“Helmets too?” Din asked with some alarm.

“Helmets too. No Mandalorian was allowed to wear weapons or armor save the protectors.”

Din muttered a curse in Mando’a. I shuddered at the thought of a Child of the Watch in such a situation. To me it had been an outrage. To them it was but a violation.

“What did you do?”

“I complied and put my armor in a safety box”, I said miffed. Despite my fury I had stuck to Pre’s instructions to not get into trouble. “I was met by my sister in the palace and we had a tearful reunion. But I felt uncomfortable without my armor.”

I remembered feeling far too light, almost naked without the familiar weight of the beskar on me. It was as foreign and strange as the gowns Satine had taken to wearing. I remembered seeing her in a headdress almost twice as big as her head, foxglove blossoms made of silk woven through her hair, and not recognizing the young girl I had known. She had become an icon, hiding her true self behind elaborate costumes worthy of a queen of Naboo. It was not Mandalorian in the slightest and made me feel as if strangers and outsiders had taken over my home world. If she felt the need to mask, she might as well have worn a Mandalorian armor and helmet. I knew I would prefer my beskar to all the costly robes in the galaxy. But this was a point Satine was not willing to even negotiate.

“She kept stressing how the days of war were over. That I would not need to protect myself any longer. But this was not the point. It felt wrong to not wear it. It was…” I paused, struggling for words.

“It’s part of our identity”, Din said quietly. “It’s just who we are.”

“Yes”, I agreed wholeheartedly. “She would not understand, and neither would her servants. I was an intruder to them, someone who did not fit in their neat, pacifist world.”

For a long time after Satine’s death, I had blamed myself for everything that went wrong between us. I felt I had pushed her back after my return to Mandalore, not giving her a chance to ease me into her own world. By now, enough time had passed for me to understand that it had been a two-way street. Satine had not eased me into her world, and it had not even been entirely her fault. Since she had no idea I had been trained as a warrior, she assumed I knew the basics of our changed world's politics already. Without realizing it, she had thrown me in the river and waited for me to swim. With unrests going on in the Mandalore sector, she rarely had time to introduce me to her politics or even the new government herself. More often than not I was left with a pile of texts and a note of her encouraging me to study while she was gone for days. I was used to an active life with people I liked around me. Sitting in a palace all by myself, with nothing but datapads as company, made me feel abandoned and unwanted.

Had she made me a protector, I might have reconciled myself with our changed world. It would have given me a task that suited my talents and given me something meaningful to do, though their uniform under Satine’s rule was nothing short of atrocious. However, what I wanted or needed in order to settle in was never even discussed. On the one hand, when Satine returned from her duties, she was worn out and in no mood to talk politics. On the other, I had to hide my affiliation with the Nite Owls from her as well as Pre Vizsla’s opposition to her pacifism, and was therefore keen to avoid talking about what I could contribute. If we spoke, it was of the past as we tried to find common ground again. As for the future, my sister had a clear vision what was best for our world. It did not even occur to her I might disagree.

But I did. I saw the downside of her policies. With the governor of Concordia as my foster father, I witnessed formerly proud warriors and decorated veterans washing up on our moon, forced out of their homes, humiliated and stripped of their ranks and armors. It was both heartrending and infuriating.

And I would not be spared either.

“The second morning in the palace of Sundari I realized my armor was missing.” My voice grew hoarse at the memory. “When I kicked up a storm, the servants admitted they had taken it away. According to the law all remaining beskar was to be melted and used for civilian projects now. Satine had signed that law into effect a while ago.”

From the rash movement I could tell Din had spun around to face me, even though he could not see me through the screen. “She took your armor?!”

“At least her servants did”, I acknowledged miserably. “But when I confronted Satine, she did not seem overly sorry either. While she regretted I was upset, she told me it was better this way. It would help me to let go of the past and embrace the future.”

“Dank farrik”, Din whispered, sounding absolutely horrified.

Instinctively I pulled my knees up on the bench. “I had worked so hard to become a Nite Owl, and now I didn’t even have my armor anymore. There was no way of retrieving it. It was lost.”

“I’m so sorry, Bo.” His voice was full of compassion. “I would have hated her.”

To be honest, there had been moments when I had hated her too, and once more my feelings threw me into a conflict.

“She was my sister, the only family I still had. I wanted her to like me. Instead she showed me how much she hated what was important to me. I felt rejected. Threatened. As if she was killing a part of me.”

Din’s hand appeared under the screen, and I clasped it gratefully. Nobody could understand my grief and sense of humiliation at the loss of my armor better than a Child of the Watch.

“She had no idea what it meant to me. She thought I was traumatized by the war and just wanted to be a warrior to feel safe. She believed once I felt safe again, I would embrace pacifism like her.”

“She didn’t know you at all”, Din stated flatly.

“True”, I acknowledged. “But I did not understand her either.”

From his grumbling on the other side I could tell neither did he. Maybe he would, after a few decades. As for me, I had come to the conclusion that in her own way Satine had felt as lonely as me. She was constantly critisized for her efforts to maintain the peace, leaving her in a defensive position and in need of support. Even as pacifists, Mandalorians would expect their leader to show strength, and while Satine did her best to deliver, it took a toll on her.

What she had hoped for when I returned was a helpmeet, someone who stood by her side and eased the burden she was carrying. While I would have been more than willing to assist and protect her, she had wanted it on her own terms, and there I was bound to fail. By trying to mould me in her own image, she had clipped my wings and filled me with resentment. Also, I had already witnessed Pre Vizsla's outbursts against her. While not realizing it then, I was sure his anger at Satine had influenced my thinking. I had learned to be annoyed at her for certain things to keep my foster father's goodwill. I had come to her prejudiced, and it kept me from getting to know her by myself.

“Trouble was brewing up”, I continued my story. “A few weeks after my arrival, there was a demonstration against Satine. It was not a huge crowd, but they were rather aggressive, some drunk. Security had to dissolve it and people got arrested. Among them was Sabrina Eldar. She had not even participated, she and her sister were just bystanders. When things got nasty, she protected Laurana against a drunkard, and her cape got ripped. Underneath she wore her beskar.”

It was a standard way for us Nite Owls to remain incognito. We would simply put wide capes over our armors and, according to circumstances, either cover our helmets with hoods or keep them attached to our belts and hidden under the cape. Of course I had not done so while living with Satine, seeing Pre Vizsla had asked me to at least outwardly conform. After seeing what happened to Sabrina, I understood his point. Besides, I no longer had an armor I needed to hide.

I heard Din drew in a hissing breath between his teeth. “From then on things went south?”

“You bet”, I said darkly. “Security immediately jumped on her, and of course she got defensive. She was a proud Nite Owl and would not deny being a warrior.”

Unlike me, Sabrina did not have a high-ranking family member who she was not allowed to embarrass. She made no secret of her dislike for the government. Her fate was sealed the moment she yelled that Mandalore had become a dictatorship, and that the duchess should step down if she really wanted the best for her people.

“A fight broke out between her and them, and they busted her. Almec, Satine’s prime minister, made a mountain out of a molehill. In his report to my sister he called Sabrina a terrorist who had sneaked back to Mandalore to instigate riots and assassinate Satine. He demanded to bring her to trial for treason.”

“Almec?” I felt Din straighten up. “Didn’t you say he worked with this Zabrak who killed Vizsla and your sister?”

“The very one, before the Zabrak showed up.” I made a fist, then realized I was still holding Din’s hand and quickly loosened my grip again. “I knew that very moment he was trouble, but Satine trusted him completely. I demanded to know more and to investigate the matter, but he knew what she wanted to hear while I blundered my way through the conversation. He made me look like a troublemaker.”

“Yeah, I can imagine”, Din snorted. “Was that your reason to break with your sister?”

“Pretty much”, I said wearily. “I could not let a fellow Nite Owl go to prison. She had done nothing apart from wearing her armor and losing her temper when being insulted for it. So I made a last attempt to try and change Satine’s mind. It was a disaster.”

I had never been the most diplomatic person, and my outrage at Sabrina’s treatment and Almec’s manipulations did their part. Satine, on the other hand, was stressed out from the unrest in the city and the constant attacks she was facing. She did not take kindly to her sister’s defence of a perceived culprit. Poor Korkie, who was visiting that day, had at some point tried to melt into the wall.

“I had gotten the details of Sabrina’s arrest from Laurana and presented them to Satine. I begged her to reconsider and not antagonize the Nite Owls. There was no need to make even more enemies. Eventually I told her I had become a Nite Owl before I came back to Mandalore. Just to make her see we were no monsters.”

Not my smartest move, but I had been young and sick of playing the pacifist princess.

Din snorted again. “That must have rankled her.”

“Yeah.” I flinched slightly at the memory of Satine’s face turning cold and hostile. “She told me she was not going to let her sister play war while she worked so hard to bring peace to Mandalore. Things got heated, we both started yelling. I asked what her problem with warriors was, and she… she basically said warriors were all just murderers in waiting.”

“Oh, kriff…”

Din’s hand clutched mine tightly. He felt the injustice of this statement as keenly as I had. Of course warriors were more likely to kill people than others. It came with the territory. However, it was not lust for killing that had driven us both and so many of our kind to train as warriors. More often than not, we wanted to protect our homes and our people, or simply be able to defend ourselves. Even in Republic times the galaxy had not necessarily been a friendly place when you were on your own. Those who did enjoy killings had not become this way by training as warriors. They had been like this before.

I had not been able to put it in words then, but I had keenly felt she rejected all of us, our mother, our father and me, lumping us in with the scum of the galaxy. It was a devastating experience for my younger self to feel hated by my own sister. With hindsight I could of course see where Satine was coming from. Her memories of the clan wars were more acute and more awful than mine. For her, warriors and murders were inextricably linked.

“She had made the worst experiences with Mandalorian warriors”, I told Din quietly. “They killed our father, hunted her… By the time I entered the picture again, her views were set in stone.”

“She had radicalized”, Din concluded.

The corner of my mouth twitched slightly. Usually I was the sister who got called a radical.

“We were both Kryzes”, I said eventually. “Terrible at talking about our needs and feelings.”

Unless threatened with death or otherwise in low spirits.

“I think you make yourself quite clear.” Din fondly nudged my shoulder with his, and despite my sadness I smiled too.

“Had a few decades to practise.”

Had I realized back then that my sister was motivated by grief and pain about our parents’ loss, we might yet have reconciled. We could have bonded over the shared experience, realized we were the only ones left and tried to find a way to work together. But I had not been able to see it and neither had Satine bothered to explain. All I saw was her anger, flung at me and everyone daring to disagree with her. It had been unbearable. Overwhelmed I had turned on my heel and ran away, desperate to bring as much distance as possible between me and the woman who seemed to hate me so much.

“After our fight I wandered through Sundari, trying to figure out what to do. I felt as if I had lost my home all over again. On my way I overheard two protectors talking. According to them, Almec had convinced Satine to declare the Nite Owls terrorists and to demand their immediate dissolve. They were to get an ultimatum of 24 hours to disband, then they would be outlawed.” I gritted my teeth. “I knew for sure they would not comply, making Sabrina and me members of a terrorist organisation. They would make an example of her, and I had no idea what Satine would do about me. I had to act.”

“What did you do?”

My face hardened. “I still had an encrypted comlink Pre Vizsla had given me for emergencies, so I contacted him and told him everything. Once he heard the story, he agreed with my assessment of the situation and promised to send an escape vehicle from Concordia. He did not feel comfortable with me doing a prison break unarmed and unprotected, but…” I could not help smiling smugly. “There was still my mother’s old armor and guns.”

“Ha!” Din exclaimed, sounding both surprised and pleased. “How come they had not been melted down?”

“Because they were stored in a secret place”, I explained. “When I told my father I wanted to be a Nite Owl one day, he deposited Mother’s armor in a cache only I could open. He promised it would be mine once I made it into the Nite Owls. During my time with Pre Vizsla I did not think about it but now it came in handy.”

Satine had not known about it. When Dad promised me Mother’s armor, she had already been away to train as a diplomat and politician. Even then she had shown no interest in becoming a warrior herself. It was only natural the armor that had been in my family for two generations already would become mine one day.

“I retrieved my mother’s armor from its hiding place, sneaked into the prison complex and extracted Sabrina. I even managed to retrieve her armor and weapons, but I missed one surveillance droid. It set off the alarm, and we got into a skirmish.”

Looking back I could hardly believe we had actually made it out with so little effort. Had Satine surrounded herself with properly equipped Mandalorian warriors, we rookies would have stood no chance. But we were equipped with vambraces and jetpacks, two advantages they did not have. We overpowered the guards, and it had made me fiercely proud. My sister might hate me, but I could still hold my own against her cronies. I had felt daring and reckless as I raced through Sundari, the first flight of many to come with Sabrina by my side.

“We managed to reach the escape ship. When I got back to Concordia, my rescue mission had made it onto the holonet.”

“Did they know it was you?” Din asked.

“Fortunately I had kept on my helmet”, I said drily. “Unfortunately the armor was painted in Clan Kryze’s colors.”

I felt Din nodding heavily against the curtain. “Your sister must have recognized it.”

“She did”, I confirmed glumly. “The lines were drawn. Just a little later Pre Vizsla told me about Death Watch. With beskar from the old mines of Concordia he put the exiled warriors back in armor. He promised we would remove the corrupt government and return Mandalore to its former glory. I was angry and itching to do something.”

“Mhm.” Din nodded thoughtfully. “So you joined Death Watch.”

“I did, and the Nite Owls as well. I didn’t mean to wage war on my sister as a person, but I wanted her government gone, especially Almec. If this meant removing her from power, so be it.” I sighed deeply. “I did not realize other Death Watch members wanted her dead. Especially Pre Vizsla.”

I had stopped counting how often I had wanted to slap myself for my past stupidity. What had I expected after Death Watch took over? That they would rap Satine’s knuckles and then let her live happily ever after in a garden full of roses? I should have realized they were after her blood. Instead I had not bothered to think further than her removal from power and my chance to shine.

“I never had siblings”, Din said after a few moments of silence. “I just know what it’s like to be at odds with my tribe. I hated being estranged from them.”

“I hated it too but I was too angry to seek a reconciliation.” I stared at my feet. There was no going back now. “Eventually Death Watch joined forces with this Zabrak Maul, though I opposed it. Still, I trusted Vizsla and did nothing when he imprisoned my sister. I only woke up when Maul killed him and took over. I tried to free Satine, but she was recaptured while I fought his super commandos.”

Din took in a deep breath, already sensing what was coming.

“He stabbed her. I came back too late.” My face hurt from the effort to keep it together. “It was not even because he hated her. He just killed her to hurt her Jedi friend. As if she was… a thing he could break and toss aside.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Din said quietly, gently squeezing my cold fingers. “Sounds like you still loved her.”

“I never stopped”, I said simply.

It had come as a shock to me to learn that Pre Vizsla had made several attempts on Satine’s life. He had been wise to conceal it from me. Here went another slap for my former stupidity.

“We disagreed on almost everything, but I did not want her to die. I’ll never forgive myself for her death”, I stated bleakly.

“You did not kill her”, Din said firmly. “You tried to save her.”

“Our quarrel contributed to my sister’s murder”, I countered. “If I had not joined Death Watch, things would have gone differently. She and Mandalore might not have suffered as much.”

“You couldn’t have known the outcome”, Din insisted. “Not everything that goes wrong is your fault.”

Easy for him to say.

“Look, I appreciate your support.” I did my best not to let my impatience creep in my voice. “But you are not the one who got a family member killed because of a wrong choice. You are too honorable to do that. So you can’t know what it’s like.”

This time there was no reply. I could not decide whether to feel satisfied or sorry. I had carried my point across, but it was sweet of him to defend me, even against myself. Stopping him from doing so felt like pushing him away, and despite my words I had no wish to do so. I kept making the same mistakes every single time, I thought with a sigh. Punishing myself by shutting others out and hurting them in the process.

The silence stretched, and it was extremely uncomfortable. I racked my brain for something to say to dissolve the tension, but simply could not think of anything. I should just call it a day and go to bed, I decided in resignation. My barely existing diplomatic skills had been stretched to the limits during the confrontation with Paz Vizsla. They would not improve anymore tonight. I stretched my legs, preparing to stand up.

“I got our covert on Nevarro killed because of a wrong choice.”

Din’s voice was so low I would not have heard him if I had risen from the bench. Nevertheless his words shook me like an sudden death cry. This was unexpected.

“How?” I finally managed to stutter.

On the other side of the curtain he took a deep, shaky breath. When he spoke again, his voice was riddled with shame.

“I sold Grogu to the Imps.”

Oh gods.

I exhaled audibly. This had gotten really dark very quickly. I had done a lot of bad stuff myself, but thank the Force selling children to the Imps, or to anyone, was not among them. I was rather familiar with accidentally getting my people killed, though, and here we had common ground. Here we resembled each other.

For the second night in a row I found myself moving on the bench until my back touched Din Djarin’s. This time I was not looking for comfort though. Instead I offered him the same quiet support he had given me the last time. As soon as we touched, I felt him relax against me, as if relieved I was not judging him.

“Tell me”, I offered gently.

If he wanted to speak about it, I was ready to listen. If he did not, I would still be there for him. I was not going to give him hell for a mistake he so deeply and obviously regretted.

For a while he sat in complete stillness, saying nothing. Then he took a deep breath.

“You know I was a bounty hunter. Back then the covert lived on Nevarro. We hid from the Imps in the sewers and only came up one at a time, to hide our numbers.”

I felt a surge of anger on behalf of the Tribe. The thought they had to hide in the sewers to avoid being slaughtered by the Imps was outrageous. Even dinosaur turtles gate-crashing Creed ceremonies were better than that.

“One day on Nevarro I got an assignment by a client working with the Imps. He offered beskar as payment.”

I let out an angry hiss. “Stolen from Mandalore.”

“Which is why I wanted to get it back to our people.”

I got it. I would have tried to reclaim stolen beskar as well, only I would not have bothered to work for it. I would have stolen it back.

“And the assignment was…?”

“To find a being of an unidentified species, in their Fifties. I thought it was some elder person.” His hand closed around mine tightly. “It was Grogu.”

“Huh?” I exclaimed in astonishment. “Are you telling me your toddler is in his Fifties?”

“Amazing, isn’t it?” He laughed softly before becoming serious again. “We ran into some trouble on the way back and protected each other. Also, he liked to play with the ship’s controls. He just… kind of grew on me.”

I felt myself smile in agreement. The little one was good at making friends. “So what happened when you returned to Nevarro?”

Through the screen I felt Din lowering his head. “I handed over Grogu, collected my payment and walked away. Brought the beskar to the Armorer and got a new cuirass out of it.”

The unpainted beskar he wore now had been bought with a bounty on Grogu. It was quite a story and nothing I would have expected.

“What did the others do when you showed up with the beskar?”

“Depends.” He snorted. “The Armorer was pleased to have it back with our people. Paz Vizsla though – he got so mad at me for dealing with the Imps that he tried to remove my helmet.”

I flinched. “I can picture it.”

Vividly. In color and three-dimensional.

“The Armorer broke up our fight, and I tried to move on. The Guild has rules”, he continued. “Once we get paid, our job is finished. We don’t ask what is going to happen to the assets we deliver. It’s not our business.”

It was hard to imagine Din Djarin being so disinterested in Grogu’s fate. By the time we met, he had already been a devoted father, risking his life to keep his foundling safe. Apparently I was not the only one who had gone through a major change during the years.

“Still… I couldn’t forget Grogu. There was this creepy Imp doctor, and Grogu cried for me when I left.”

My heart ached for the little one. A Jedi child who could sense the Imps’ glee at having him must have been terrified.

“What did you do?”

“What I should have done in the first place.” His voice hardened. “I stormed the place, shot the troopers and got Grogu out. But now I had broken the guild’s code. They ambushed me, and I thought we were going to die.”

Briefly I contemplated to write down how often these two had faced almost certain death and still got away. It would make a great holonovel.

“And then suddenly my brothers and sisters were there. They had abandoned our rule to only venture above one at a time and came out in full force to help me. They gave us time to escape.”

I felt a warm glow of pride at the thought of the Tribe coming to the aid of their brother. Even Paz Vizsla had put his anger towards Din on hold to do the right thing. Mandalorians were stronger together.

Unfortunately I already knew how the story would end.

“Did they get killed by the guild?”

“Not the guild”, Din said quietly. “Guess who showed up once he learned Mandalorians were around.”

My back stiffened, my guts clenched with hatred. “Gideon.”

“He had them hunted down and butchered.” Din’s voice nearly broke. “When I returned, only the Armorer was left, salvaging the armors of the fallen. Paz Vizsla had survived too, and for a while we thought the three of us were the only ones. Turned out the foundlings and their guardians left as soon as the Tribe came to my rescue.”

“Thank the Force”, I whispered. Yes, Laurana Eldar would have seen the writing on the wall once the Tribe made their choice. She would have smuggled Ayk and Boan out into space immediately.

“Still”, he said in a low voice. “So many dead because I sold a child to the Imps. I see them whenever I look at Grogu.”

I squeezed his hand, too moved to speak. Finally I understood his utter devotion to Grogu, his fierce protectiveness. The child’s life had been bought by Mandalorian blood. He had to survive, to ensure their sacrifice had not been in vain.

“I’m not more honorable than you, Bo.” Din sounded extremely tired. “I was just lucky my rescue mission succeeded. But my people still died while correcting my mistake. Their honor is my shame.”

Now it made sense why he had been so desperate to be forgiven. His brothers and sisters had sacrificed themselves for his sake, and afterwards he had broken their most sacred rule. Small wonder Paz Vizsla had been angry enough to call him an apostate and to try to get rid of him. Axe would have reacted just the same, only without the religious part.

Cautiously I turned my head sideways and came in contact with his, a soft touch through the screen. My heart skipped a beat as I realized it was the first time I felt him through the cloth without his helmet on.

Din did not withdraw. Instead he turned his head sideways too, mirroring my position. With nothing but a layer of cloth between us we shared several breaths, our heads resting against each other.

“I still think you are a good person”, I said softly.

Through the cloth, with my face touching his, I could feel his smile against my cheek. “So are you.”

This time I did not contradict him. He was neither patronizing nor pitying me when he tried to stop me from feeling guilty. I could see that now. He too carried a burden of guilt and regret, and he knew the importance of forgiveness. He might not have lost our home world, but to be fair, he had never been in a position of power either. It was a liberation to realize I did not need to feel ashamed with him. I was not beneath him for what I had done to Satine. We were equals.

Maybe this was the reason we felt drawn to each other. Each of us sensed a kindred spirit in the other, despite all our differences.

And next time I would hopefully think twice before claiming someone had no idea what they were talking about.

“Do you think we’ll make it?” I asked quietly. “Redeem ourselves?”

“I have to believe so.” He squeezed my hand. “If we can’t atone for our sins, what’s the point of going on?”

I just nodded. This question was very familiar to me. I had asked it myself on Kalevala multiple times, only with the wrong conclusion.

“Giving up and being redeemed through death is not an option”, he continued, his voice filling with affection. “Grogu needs me. I’m the only one he has left.”

“Not the only one”, I said simply. While I still had trouble picturing myself as a single mother, I would take up this mantle if anything happened to Din. I sincerely hoped it would not come to this, though. “He keeps you going, doesn’t he?”

“He does”, he agreed fondly. For several breaths he was silent before tentatively asking: “What keeps you going?”

My eyes stared off into the distance as I briefly pondered his question. I knew the answer I wanted to give. I was merely double-checking it, making sure I was not fooling myself here. But it was true. There was something I loved as devotedly and fiercely as Din loved Grogu. Something that kept me going no matter what happened.

“Mandalore.”

It was for our planet that I had broken away from Death Watch. It was for our planet I had fought against Maul, and it was for our planet I had refused to kowtow to the Empire. It was for our planet that I stole an entire fleet and went on the hunt for the Darksaber.

I had loved Mandalore when the cities stood, and I still loved it, as ravaged and destroyed as it was. As far away as it seemed to me now, it was my guiding star, leading me onwards and shining even when I could not see it.

His head touched mine through the screen. “We’ll take it back, Bo. Together.”

My heart ached for our lost home, yet at the same time I felt safe and at peace for the moment. A rare occurrence in my life.

“Yes”, I said longingly. “One day.”

Chapter Text

It turned out Grogu was not the only one suffering from spacelag. Din and I were exhausted too. We actually fell asleep mid-conversation on the bench, leaning against each other.

In the middle of the night I awoke because of a stiff neck and the backache from hell. Through the curtain I felt Din, slumped against me and breathing evenly, our hands still clasped. Being so close to him made me feel warm and safe. I would not have minded staying right where I was. Yet there was no way I could go to sleep again in this position, or I would not be able to move without my jetpack tomorrow.

As cautiously as I could I disengaged myself from Din. Immediately he started slipping. I quickly supported him through the screen, just to realize how hard it was to get a hold on my sleeping friend through a curtain. The cloth made his smooth beskar extremely slippery. For several moments I struggled against his dead weight, sweating with fear he might slam onto the stone bench. It would have helped a lot to open the curtain and grab him properly instead of through the cloth, but it was not an option. Din was not wearing his helmet. While I still found the Tribe’s helmet rules exaggerated, I could not betray his trust while he was sleeping, not after everything he had done to redeem himself. Whether he showed his face to me or not had to be his choice.

Finally I got a proper grip on him. With an effort I managed to gently lay him down on the bench without having to peep through the curtain. He did not even stir. He must be as exhausted as Grogu. With everything happening so fast it was easy to forget what he had been through before we came here.

I stood on my side of the screen for several moments, merely listening to Din’s even breathing. It filled my heart with peace. When was the last time I had been free to rest next to a friend without having to worry about standing guard later or about being ambushed?

Despite being far away from any civilization, I realized I liked being here. The Tribe had taken me in without asking for anything in return. My royal status did not matter to them, and consequently they did not expect me to always have a plan and solve all their problems. I could take all the time I needed to heal instead of constantly having to push myself beyond my limits. It was rejuvenating to get a break from the burden of leadership without feeling like a complete failure and sinking into despair. To be able to sleep. I felt whole, as if rediscovering parts of myself I had been forced to shed during the decades.

All thanks to one Mandalorian and his tiny foundling, I thought fondly.

As I went to bed and closed my eyes, the last sound I heard was Din’s untroubled breathing close by, assuring me all was well and safe.

When I awoke the next day, Din and Grogu had already left the cave. I must have slept like a stone, for the sun was much higher in the sky than yesterday. To my joy I had once more missed out on the nightmares. It gave me hope I might be on the mend. On Kalevala I had been stuck in a vicious circle of nightmares, sleeplessness and despair. Once the nightmares were gone, I slept better and my mind had time to rest and recuperate.

The good mood I was in was something I still needed to get used to. In times of stress I tended to revert to my Death Watch persona. In times of rest – well, truth be told, I had not had much of it during the last decades. It would be interesting to figure out who Bo-Katan Kryze was when neither in charge nor on a battlefield.

When I opened the curtain, Din had left me some of yesterday’s jerky on the bench. I enjoyed having the entire cave to myself for breakfast before my zest for action finally kicked in again. With my helmet on I left our quarters and walked through the cave system, trying to find my way back to the surface all by myself.

As I rounded a corner to enter the main tunnel, I saw Laurana Eldar coming out of another cave, balancing several jetpacks in her arms. It was not a mean feat, seeing how narrow some tunnels were and how little you saw without peripheral vision. She did not see the stumbling block right in her path, her view being obscured by jetpacks. I saw it, though, and made a dash towards her. Just as she hit the rock and almost tripped over, I grabbed her by the shoulders to steady her and prevent her from falling.

“Careful!”

She let out a startled gasp but quickly regained her footing. “Thank you.”

“Don’t worry.” I glanced at the pile of jetpacks in her arms. Looking through a helmet was difficult enough without your view being even further obstructed. “Want a hand with those?”

She did not need to think twice. “Yes, please.”

Without hesitation I stretched out my arms. Laurana put down her burden and picked up one jetpack at a time.

“I told Ayk and Boan last night that you were here”, she stated casually while loading me with packs.

“Oh?” I perked up my ears. Sabrina’s children had been very young when I last saw them. “Do they still remember me?”

“Vaguely. Boan remembers your name was similar to hers and that you told her adventure stories.”

I remembered the stories as well. Mostly I had described my adventures with the Nite Owls, toned down for the sake of the child.

“Ayk always loved the painting of your helmet”, Laurana continued. “This is what he remembers. You are the Owl Woman for him.”

I smiled a little. “I hope they are not too upset. The last time we met, their mother was still with them.”

“Not upset, no.” Laurana grabbed her own jetpacks again and lifted them with some effort. “If at all, they seem more hopeful. Along the lines of, if you survived, others might have as well.”

I nodded sadly. She did not need to tell me who the children wished to be still alive.

“So… where do you want these jetpacks?”

“Outside.” She pointed her chin in the direction of the surface as she picked up her own load again. “The apprentices need to train.”

“Oh, you are teaching them the Rising Phoenix!”

With much more enthusiasm than before I walked right next to Laurana, balancing the jetpacks on my arms. They seemed rather heavy to me and also a little too big for a bunch of younglings.

“Yes, they need to learn how to move in the air”, Laurana confirmed. “I just hope everyone gets to do their turn.”

“Do you think some will try to fly longer than allowed?”

Oh, the memories of my first flight! When my instructors put the jetpack on my back, I had never wanted them to take it off again. It was too exhilarating to fly in the air as freely as a bird. I had not been willing to give it up too soon.

“If only.” I heard a weary smile in her voice. “The fuel is rationed. We have to make sure not to use too much.”

“Rationed?” I almost stopped in surprise. This was unexpected. Clan Kryze had never suffered from fuel restriction. “Why?”

“At the moment funds are low”, Laurana replied seriously. “After Nevarro we had to rebuild our covert from scratch. It depleted our resources. On colonized planets a few of us would take up some odd jobs to support the Tribe. Right now, it’s not possible.”

I looked at the jetpacks in my arms more closely. They were clunkier than the ones I was used to from the Nite Owls. They were old, I realized, some of them dating back as far as the Clan Wars, making them terrible fuel guzzlers. On top of that, the fuel of the more modern jetpacks as well as the Gauntlet’s was not compatible with them. Small wonder the Tribe had trouble getting refills.

I shifted the heavy load in my arms. These jetpacks must be family heirlooms or leftovers, and thanks to their age they were not nearly as powerful as the modern ones anymore. You would not even be able to leave the atmosphere and go into orbit with these ancient babies. For practice they were fine, but I had seen these models on warriors during the last days as well. These were what they used in their daily lives.

Under my helmet I briefly closed my eyes. Until now I had not realized how impoverished Din’s people were. They literally lived from scraps, struggling to salvage whatever they could. Small wonder they had little use for outer trappings like fancy armor or even the Darksaber. Their main priority was to stay alive and to preserve our culture with their limited means.

Yet despite their poverty they willingly welcomed outsiders into their fold and shared their limited resources with them. It made me painfully aware of how privileged I had been so far. Small wonder Laurana had worried at first I might look down on their circumstances.

I wished I could do something to improve their situation. If only I could give them access to the resources of the Nite Owls and Clan Kryze! We had more than enough, plundering Imperial warlords and taking back what was rightfully ours at every opportunity. We could have easily outfitted the entire Tribe.

“Can’t you take what you need from the Imps?” I asked carefully.

“For a while we were scattered”, Laurana explained while we slowly made our way up the tunnel and close to the surface. “We keep hidden, so the Imps don’t find out how many there are of us. On Nevarro, only one at a time would venture out.”

Right, Din had spoken about that. It still grated on me my people had been reduced to hiding in the sewers instead of enjoying the endless skies as we used to. Kriffing Imps!

“Also we have to think of the children. Some of us always have to stay back to take care of them.”

Children. I could have slapped myself. Of course. In my squadron there were none. We were a mere warrior congregation. The Tribe, on the other hand, was more similar to a classic Mandalorian clan of several generations.

“Which made it impossible to send out a unit of fighters to get what you needed.” I nodded thoughtfully.

“We don’t have units”, Laurana said simply. “Apart from the Shriek-hawk Training team, there are no trained soldiers here.”

For a moment I was dumbfounded. As commander of the Nite Owls I was used to all of my warriors having military training. Death Watch too had been a military unit. Something had clearly gone wrong with the Children of the Watch.

“How come?” I finally asked. “The Tribe is descended from Death Watch. They were an army.”

“Too many losses”, Laurana replied quietly. “After Nevarro only a handful of us was left, so we took in foundlings and adults to increase our numbers again. We teach them how to fight but we can’t pass on knowledge of military tactics and maneuvers without trained soldiers.”

“Dank farrik”, I cursed under my breath. Their situation was even more serious than I had thought.

This explained the Tribe’s losses on Nevarro. A fully trained Mandalorian commando usually was a force to be reckoned with. If they lacked tactical knowledge and training how to work as a team, though, they were reduced to a bunch of single fighters. Easy to overpower, especially for stormtroopers.

“Those left were the foundlings and their guardians, weren’t they?” I asked, shifting the weight in my arms a little.

“Yes”, Laurana confirmed. “Not the most ferocious fighters, I’m afraid.”

I looked at her closely. By now I knew a thing or two about self-deprecation.

“You kept your nephew and niece alive”, I stated bluntly. “That’s nothing short of a miracle under the circumstances.”

I could have told her she had succeeded where I had failed, but I did not want to make our talk about myself. Besides, speaking about Korkie just plain hurt too much. I was not ready for it yet.

I vowed to myself this very moment that I would do what I could to improve these people’s conditions. No matter how long my stay here would be, I would try to help them getting what they needed. This was the true reason we needed our home world back, I thought grimly as I dragged my load into the daylight with Laurana by my side. Our people should not have to hide underground or in primordial caves without access to modern technology or basic medical care. They deserved a proper home where they could raise their children in peace and pass on our culture without fearing repercussions from self-styled Imperial warlords.

I could not give them back our planet right now. But I would give them my aid whenever and however they might need it.

I looked at Laurana again. “If you want a spare jetpack to teach the foundlings, I’m in.”

Despite my even voice I felt uncharacteristically shy. I did not want to look like the overbearing Nite Owl showing the amateurs in the re-enactment camp how things were done properly. I merely wanted to pass some of my knowledge on to Din’s people, especially since they were so short on trained soldiers.

“Really?” Laurana sounded as if she was beaming at me behind her helmet. “That would be great. I have some beginners today. You could show the bigger kids the more advanced stuff.”

“You’re on!” I said cheerfully. If this was what the Tribe needed, I would gladly help out, especially since my jetpack was compatible with the Gauntlet’s fuel.

Outside we were greeted by a cloudless, blue sky and bright sunlight, reflecting on the light sand of the lake shore. Several members of the Tribe were outside already for their sparring practice. I spotted Grogu in the sand again, playing with stones. Nearby, Din was busy fighting a warrior in a dark blue helmet. From afar I could pretend he was kicking Axe Woves’ ass, an immensely cheering thought.

My hands were too full to wave to him and my smile was hidden behind the helmet. Still, our eyes met for a moment and he gave me a friendly nod. No awkwardness between us, thank goodness! It was easy to share burdens in the dark behind a curtain. Meeting each other again afterwards in broad daylight was not necessarily as easy.

“This way.”

Laurana pointed to a secluded part of the shore where the water was shallow. Eight foundlings of different ages stood together, talking and flipping stones in the water. No dinosaur turtle should be able to sneak up on them there without being seen in advance.

As we came closer, we could hear an excited voice. A boy in a white helmet with lime-green accents was entertaining his friends with facts about shriek-hawks.

“They swallowed the food for their chicks and predigested it”, he announced cheerfully. “Back home they threw up their prey again, so the babies could eat.”

“They fed their chicks with barf? Yuck!” A taller boy in a blue helmet shuddered in disgust. “That’s gross!”

“Ewww!” A girl with a purple helmet stepped away from the young shriek-hawk expert, as if he was as gross as the bird. She was about as tall as the boy in blue.

Laurana laughed quietly. “That’s them”, she told me, pointing at the girl in purple and the boy in white. “Boan and Ayk.”

I blinked, trying to reconcile the chubby kids I had known with their much bigger, helmeted versions. “They have grown…”

Our voice interrupted the chatter and the kids fell silent. They looked over to us, eyeing me curiously.

“Hello everyone”, Laurana greeted them gently. “Bo-Katan Kryze is joining us today. She is a Nite Owl and very skilled in the Rising Phoenix.”

“Hello”, Boan muttered shyly. Her younger brother all but disappeared behind her, though he occasionally peeked at me curiously.

Truth be told, I felt just as awkward as the kids. What was I supposed to say to the two? I had known them when they were little, but apart from commenting of their growth I simply could not think of a topic. Boan might be embarrassed if I reminisced about telling her stories in front of her friends, while Ayk could barely remember me. And their late mother was just not a subject any of us would feel comfortable with.

Finally I settled on the simple, honest thing and merely replied: “Hello.”

With some luck, more meaningful conversations would follow at some point.

“Right”, Laurana told the kids briskly. “Since there are two of us today, we’ll split the group. Ayk, Ragnar, Boan and Niva, you will train with Bo-Katan. She’ll show you the more advanced maneuvers. Everyone else, over to me.”

Ayk and Boan joined me without hesitation, their eagerness to learn new things outweighing their shyness. Niva, wearing an emerald green helmet, was a little slower and Ragnar, in the blue helmet, only hesitantly made his way towards me.

“She is not a trainer”, he stated bluntly.

A feisty one. I would have answered just as bluntly, but Laurana remained as gentle as ever.

“Bo-Katan has decades of experience with the jetpack. The Nite Owls are famous for their skills in the air.”

Ragnar muttered something under his breath, but did not openly talk back.

Laurana and I divided the jetpacks between the kids. Since my students were the oldest in the crowd, I picked the big, clunky packs for them, so the smaller kids had a chance of getting one lighter than themselves. Niva and Ayk needed help to put theirs on, Ragnar and Boan managed well on their own.

“You four know the basics?” I assured myself.

The foundlings nodded.

“Very well. Let’s practice a few maneuvers then. I’ll explain them first, show them to you and then you try them out.”

The foundlings listened as I explained how to activate thrust reversal with a jetpack. As I spoke, Sabrina’s children and Niva nodded in understanding while Ragnar seemed skeptical. He made no attempt to interrupt me though, and I proceeded to demonstrating the maneuver. This time Ragnar was openly shaking his head. With the Nite Owls I tended to nip such behavior in the bud, and I saw no reason to let it go with kids striving to be warriors one day. As soon as I had landed, I directly addressed Ragnar.

“Do you want to say something?”

“This didn’t look right”, he said as bluntly as before. From a grown-up this would have been a challenge.

“What makes you think so?” I countered, neatly sidestepping the provocation.

“My Dad does it differently.” The boy folded his arms before his chest, daring anyone to contradict his father.

I grinned wryly. This was like a mirror to my past, to the stubborn child who hero-worshipped her father and was ready to challenge anyone doubting his abilities. I could handle this kind of criticism.

“Does he?” I asked calmly. “Who is your father?”

The kid raised his chin defensively. “Paz Vizsla.”

I looked at him curiously. Another Vizsla of whose existence I had not known so far. His helmet color was similar to his father’s, dark blue with teal accents, his stance watchful and wary. Despite my lack of experience with children I could tell this was not really about flight training. He was testing me. As a newcomer to the Tribe I had yet to earn my stripes and find my place in the hierarchy. I was very familiar with this concept. The Nite Owls seized new members up, and Death Watch had done so as well. The boy was old enough to make his own observations and form an opinion. He wanted to see my reaction and decide whether I deserved respect or contempt.

He was smarter than I had been at his age. He questioned things that did not seem right.

“It makes sense he does it differently, then”, I said lightly. “Your father is a big, strong man. He needs a different jetpack than most of us and has to adjust his maneuvers accordingly. Once you are as big as him, you can do it his way. Until then, you will have more success with mine.”

The boy tilted his head, processing the information. I was curious what his response would be. I had spoken of his father respectfully, neither badmouthing him nor claiming to be smarter. This should count in my favor if he was merely skeptical about my methods differing from Paz Vizsla’s. If he was prejudiced against me personally, though, I was in for a longer struggle.

“Do as she says, Ragnar”, a deep voice said.

I lifted my head in surprise to find the very man we had just spoken about behind me. How long had Paz Vizsla already been there and watched us?

More importantly, why was he supporting me?

His son seemed as clueless as me, and unlike me he did not hesitate to ask. “Why?”

“Because in Clan Vizsla the young respect their elders.”

“She is not our clan,” Ragnar replied in confusion, speaking my mind exactly. “She is a Kryze.”

“One does not speak unless one knows.” Paz Vizsla’s voice betrayed nothing as he repeated the very words the Armorer had used on him only yesterday. “Bo-Katan was born into Clan Kryze but she became a foundling of Clan Vizsla. Just like you.”

I stifled a gasp of surprise. Not so much about the fierce kid before me being a Vizsla foundling too. But if Paz called me the boy’s elder, that meant…

As if he knew what I was thinking, the big warrior gave me a grave nod. “Once part of the clan, always part of the clan.”

Behind the helmet my lips parted slightly in astonishment. The very man who had accused me of murder and demanded my blood in retaliation was officially accepting me as a clan member. I still regretted what I had done on Pre Vizsla’s orders, but I could not deny he had been kind to me during my childhood. He had not always conspired against my sister. When he took me in, he had sincerely wanted to help his old friend’s daughter. Adopting an orphaned girl had been a good deed, and now it spawned another one by his kinsman.

My eyes grew misty, and I blinked furiously. What was going on here? First the Armorer’s acceptance of me, then Din Djarin’s support, now Paz Viszla’s peace offering. Were the Children of the Watch conspiring against me, determined to kill me with kindness? After yesterday I had thought Paz was embarrassed about our unexpected connection. I had been convinced the best I could expect from him in the future was being ignored. Gods, had I been wrong!

In this warrior’s big body, well hidden under layers of beskar, there was also a big heart. Someone who took in orphans himself would of course acknowledge other foundlings of his clan. By accepting me, he was also consolidating Ragnar’s position, reassuring the boy that foundlings would always be family members. I had not expected this impulsive, blunt man to be capable of such good parenting.

Paz stretched out his hand, offering me the greeting of comrades in arms. I had to swallow a lump in my throat before I managed to grab his lower arm. Mine almost completely disappeared in his glove. We shook hands silently, but not without cordiality.

“Proceed”, he told me as we stepped apart again. He gave his son a nod and left us to join the sparring training of the adults. I looked after him, wondering if I had dreamed the whole thing or if miracles did indeed happen sometimes.

By my side Laurana laughed softly. “Looks like you tamed that Mythosaur.”

I merely shook my head in disbelief.

Noon passed. Most members of the Tribe were outside now, practising their fighting skills under the supervision of judges or doing target practice. One by one the children finished the Rising Phoenix, and we took the jetpacks back. Eventually, when all were done, a judge with an orange helmet came to collect them for sparring, and Laurana and I split the jetpacks between us to carry them back into the cave.

As we walked through the sand, we came close to four warriors, one woman and three men, finishing their target practice at the lake shore. Their armor was thrown together like everyone else’s, but their helmets were matching, the same dark blue with a silver stripe. I had a vague memory of having seen them on my arrival, and when I got a glimpse on their pauldrons I remembered indeed. All four of them wore the shriek-hawk signet.

I felt myself stiffen. This ancient crest belonged to the past, to Death Watch, to a different life. Even Clan Vizsla, from where it originated, no longer wore it. After the end of Death Watch they switched to a flowered twig to symbolize a fresh start for their clan.

“Not Death Watch”, Laurana said gently, realizing my reaction. “Just the Shriek-hawk Training team.”

I remembered she had mentioned them before. “They are the trained soldiers?”

“They attended the military academy. I believe they were fresh out of basic training. As far as I know, they made it off-planet during the Night of a Thousand Tears.” Laurana raised her shoulders apologetically. “I don’t really know more about them. We… try to look forward instead of backward.”

No sharing of sob stories. Got it.

Once Laurana and I had stored the jetpacks in the caves again, she bid me goodbye to participate in target practise at the lake. As for me, I walked around, occasionally watching the training sessions.

Especially the foundlings’ sparring looked interesting. I spotted Ayk, easy to recognize in his white helmet with lime-green accents, right next to the judge and watching his sister. She was fighting a boy in a red helmet. As I came closer, he threw her to the ground and I heard Boan grunt, her anger barely concealed by her purple helmet.

“Submission”, the judge called out and nodded at the boy. “Winner.”

Din Djarin too was standing there. We exchanged a brief look in greeting before I walked on to see what the others were doing.

One of the shriek-hawks got tackled. He rolled over his shoulder, was on his feet again and attacked his opponent with his flamethrower. Two other shriek-hawks were fighting each other. I watched the woman and three men with some interest. They at least knew how to operate as a team, even if they never earned a rank. My guess was they had served in a unit named after the shriek-hawk. It would explain their signets as well as their almost identical, blue helmets.

Maybe I should join forces with them and offer those warriors who were interested some training as a group. With the losses the Tribe had suffered on Nevarro, they needed to become as efficient as possible and work as a team to ensure everyone’s survival. I decided to establish contact once they were done practising and continued my walk.

As I looked back to the foundlings, poor Ayk just got thrown down by Ragnar. Not a good day for Sabrina’s kids.

“Winner”, the judge called.

Before I could decide whether Ayk’s defeat merited support or rather merciful ignorance from my side, I realized Din had set Grogu down, right in front of the victorious Ragnar. I cocked a hidden eyebrow. By the looks of it, he was putting the kid up for the next fight. Curious how the situation was going to develop, I walked over to the little group.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” I asked Din. I had little knowledge of what Grogu could or could not do, but size-wise he was at a disadvantage here. Besides, Ragnar was good at sparring.

“If he is ever to rise from foundling to apprentice, he must learn”, Din said simply. “Judge!”

The warrior in the orange helmet, who had just spoken to his assistant, turned around. In some distance behind him, at the entrance of the cave, I saw the Armorer and Paz Vizsla, watching the children’s progress as well.

Once he had the judge’s attention, Din pointed to Grogu in the sand. “He challenges.”

I would have loved to know if he could say it with a straight face. Grogu was all big-eyed innocence. Nobody in their right mind would have thought he was challenging.

The judge too seemed unsure if this was some kind of practical joke. “He is too small.”

Din was unfazed. “I am his ward. Proceed.”

Grogu cooed, making him seem even more innocent and harmless. The judge grazed me with a brief look, as if silently asking me to end this silliness. I did not move. This was not my call to make.

Eventually he seemed to decide it was better to humor overly enthusiastic fathers. No doubt he met a lot of those in his line of work. “What weapon?”

Din pointed his chin towards Ragnar. “Let the challenged decide.”

“Darts”, the boy replied, sounding anything but eager for this fight. At his age I would have felt insulted at the very thought of being partnered with a toddler for sparring practice. Grogu hardly looked like a worthy opponent.

“Bring the training darts”, the judge told his assistant, who went to fetch them.

Ragnar studied his would-be challenger, his arms crossed before his chest. “Why doesn’t he wear a helmet?”

There was a hint of suspicion in his voice, as if Din’s mortal sin of removing his helmet could have passed on to his child like some disease. Din, however, remained patient.

“He is too young to speak the Creed, and so, too young to wear a helmet.”

“Then he’s too young to fight”, Ragnar stated, not incorrectly.

Grogu cooed and looked at his father uncertainly. It did not make him look more dangerous, and certainly not like someone in his fifties.

Din’s voice turned hard. “One does not speak unless one knows. Is that not the Creed?”

I bit my lip to stifle a chuckle. Poor Ragnar could not get away from this phrase today.

This time the boy stood his ground though. “Well, I know.”

“Perhaps this lesson is for you, then”, Din retorted. The proud father would not let anyone belittle his child. It vividly reminded me of Dad. He had loved to show me off too.

I could practically feel Ragnar’s scowl. So far the boy had shown himself as fiercely independent. Such characters did not take well to being lectured, as I knew from myself.

The stand-off between the two was broken up by the assistant showing up with a casket. “The training darts”, he announced.

The judge set the casket down between Grogu and Ragnar and opened it. “Fighters, arm yourselves.”

Listlessly Ragnar took the small dart cuff from the judge’s hand and strapped it to his wrist. Grogu seemed at a loss what to do, so I took his darts and knelt down beside him. Compared to the cuff, the little green arm seemed even tinier. The kid looked at me with big, confused eyes, as if asking what the heck his father was up to.

“Don’t worry”, I told him quietly while fastening the cuff on his small wrist. “My dad was the same way. He’s just proud of you.”

I checked once more to make sure the cuff would not slip off Grogu’s arm and patted his shoulder in encouragement. “You take it easy on him, kid.”

Once Ragnar was done fastening his own cuff, the judge explained the rules to two foundlings.

“Each has three darts. You may fire the darts in any order. Each direct hit scores one point. A mark must be visible to score. One round. Highest score wins.”

I nodded to myself. Easy enough, even for Grogu.

Din squatted down to his kid to give him a final pep talk. “Squeeze your fist to launch the darts. You’ll be fine”, he assured him when Grogu cooed nervously.

Come to think of it, the kid might have a reason to be worried.

“He doesn’t know how to fire darts?” I whispered when Din stood right next to me again, starting to feel a little nervous as well. Practice darts were glorified paint balls, but for a tiny creature like Grogu they might still be painful.

Din’s confidence in his son seemed unshakable. “He’s got this. Trust me.”

The judge stepped aside, leaving the foundlings facing each other. “Ready.”

Obediently Grogu lifted his arm, pointing the cuff at Ragnar. The elder boy radiated annoyance. I could not blame him.

“Begin!”

Swift as lightning Ragnar lifted his wrist and fired a dart at Grogu. His aim was good. A real dart would have struck him in the chest. The practice dart merely left a green paint spot on Grogu’s light brown robe. The kid looked at it in confusion, but to my relief did not seem to be in pain.

“Point!” the judge declared, to nobody’s surprise.

Grogu made an unhappy sound and turned to his father. I felt with him.

“Don’t look at me”, Din cautioned. “Look at him.”

“Ready”, the judge called. “Begin!”

He had barely finished his command when Ragnar shot his next dart. He had quick reflexes, and once more his aiming was sound. The second spot appeared on Grogu’s clothes, opposite to the first.

“Point!” the judge announced.

I felt my heart sink. This was turning into a humiliation for the little one. Maybe Din in his paternal pride had overestimated his child’s abilities.

As Grogu babbled in distress, Din knelt down beside him. “Grogu, I’ve seen what you can do.”

The kid threw him a wary look, as if his father was talking secrets nobody else was allowed to hear.

“It’s okay”, Din reassured him gently. “Show them.”

My worry for Grogu turned into curiosity. This was a Jedi child, after all, and if he was really in his fifties, he had survived the Jedi purge. He might have hidden his abilities for quite a while, just to survive. I knew Ahsoka had done so.

Perhaps Din had a reason to feel confident.

Cooing in response, Grogu turned to face Ragnar again. Something in his stance changed. He seemed alert now, more sure of himself. Ragnar saw the difference as well. The boy tensed, his former annoyance replaced by genuine vigilance.

“Ready”, the judge called.

Grogu’s ears went up. His eyes were fixed on Ragnar, registering every move.

By now quite a crowd had assembled. I saw Ellis Tindale’s white helmet with yellow accents behind Ragnar, having abandoned shooting practice for the moment. A little further away the shriek-hawks were watching. The Armorer and Paz Vizsla had come nearer. Ayk was hovering behind Din Djarin to have a better view.

“Begin!”

Ragnar’s fist came forwards, firing the third dart.

Grogu jumped. Avoiding the dart, he catapulted himself into the air and force-jumped over Ragnar’s head, behind his back.

“Whoa!” The boy whirled around in surprise.

Grogu had barely touched the ground when he jumped again, over Ragnar’s head and back to his original position. While the elder boy still turned back, Grogu lifted his arm. Three splashes of paint appeared on Ragnar’s chest literally before he knew what hit him.

“Three points!” The judge sounded as astonished as I felt and pointed at Grogu. “Winner!”

The warriors who had watched the spectacle applauded. I could almost see Din’s beam as he congratulated his son.

“There you go!”

“Did you teach him that?” I asked, nothing short of impressed.

“Not me”, Din said proudly, and I understood. Grogu must have learned it from the Jedi who had come to the rescue on Gideon’s cruiser.

I looked at Ragnar. The poor boy looked crestfallen, having lost to a toddler with secret powers. My heart went out to him. I knew what it was like to get your ass kicked by a skinny Jedi.

“One doesn’t speak unless one knows”, Paz Vizsla reminded him sternly.

Ragnar merely sighed in response at hearing it for the third time today and walked away, to the lake shore. Everyone would have needed some alone time after such a crushing defeat in front of a crowd.

“Great job, kid”, Din complimented his kid, and I heartily concurred. Grogu had clearly held back so far. I would never underestimate him again.

Suddenly a roar shook the ground. I whirled around, along with everyone else.

A huge shape had appeared behind the rocks, flapping leathery wings to make it to the lake shore. I gasped in horror as I realized it was a reptavian, one of the primordial creatures on this world.

And it made a beeline for Ragnar.

The boy seemed petrified. The last thing I heard from him was a frightened noise when the gigantic reptile swept down on him. My stomach churned as it grabbed Ragnar in his claws and made for the sky again.

The Tribe scattered, some of them screaming. I saw Laurana dashing to the foundlings and shepherding them towards the cave. Others pointed to the sky and gesticulated wildly. Din pulled out his blaster and took aim at the flying creature. Before he could fire, though, Paz Vizsla caught his arm.

“No blasters, it will kill the child. Follow it to its lair.”

As the rest of the Tribe sought refuge in the cave, Din, Paz and two of the shriek-hawks activated their jetpacks and took to the sky.

I, however, did not.

While my urge to help Ragnar was just as strong, something held me back. A tingle at the back of my mind, a thought trying to make it to the surface. I forced myself to not be impulsive but to take a breath and think before I acted.

Fuel.

Laurana had told me the fuel was rationed. There was not enough for everyone. None of the warriors flew on a full jetpack. They would run out soon, most likely before they could track the creature to its lair.

My mind raced, analyzing my options. For my own jetpack, the reptavian was already out of reach. I could use the Gauntlet to catch up with it again, yet it would have to be a stealth mission. The beast must not know I was following it, otherwise it might kill the child.

Perhaps I could fly higher and keep a distance where it could neither hear nor see me, I thought as I rushed into my ship and powered up the engines. This way I could follow its course and let it lead me to its lair. If there was no way to extract Ragnar immediately, I could at least scan the perimeter and give the search party intelligence where to look.

To my utter relief at least the Gauntlet was not short on fuel. I could still take several trips through hyperspace without running out. Following a raptor within the confines of a planet should not be a problem, as long as I managed to keep track.

By the time the pre-flight configurations were ready and the Gauntlet took to the sky, the raptor was well out of sight. Instead of looking for it I led the scanners search for jetpack trails. They left particles in the air much easier to find on an uncivilized planet than one of the many giant lifeforms living here. With a beeping noise the scanner picked up the trails of Din, Paz and the shriek-hawks. I programmed the nav computer to plot their course and followed them in the Gauntlet.

The cave fell behind, the rocks and lakes stayed with me as I flew the same route the rescue party had taken. After a few minutes, one trail perished, and down below in a canyon I spotted a single shriek-hawk on foot, dejectedly walking back in the direction of the cave. His jetpack was empty, just as I had thought.

One by one the other trails thinned out as well. The second shriek-hawk was grounded, and Paz and Din’s trails grew so sparse I could barely trace them anymore. With a pounding heart I took the curve of a canyon, and suddenly I saw the huge creature on the horizon, flying westwards. Quickly I switched on the scanners to track its course. I briefly spotted Din’s shiny beskar and Paz’ bulky shadow on the rocks beneath me, then they too faded away. It was only me and the beast, which my scanners just now classified as a raptor.

While following it at a safety distance, I started to map the area. It was not that different from the region around the cave, all rocks, rivers and lakes. Yet so far I saw no place where the raptor could withdraw and eat in peace. It gave me hope for Ragnar, but also made a rescue mission more difficult. The beast had come a long way for its meal.

Eventually I saw something on the horizon, rising high into the sky. A rock needle, surrounded by the usual hills and canyons of the area. My grip tightened around my control sticks. If this was where the beast lived, I had to be extra cautious now. There was no cover for the Gauntlet, no wall to hide behind, no rock to dim the noises of its engines. I simply could not venture any closer without being seen or heard, and the distance would still be too great to protect Ragnar.

My fingers danced over the controls, scouting the area. I did not even bother to scan for animal lifeforms. The last time I had done so on my arrival, the scanners had almost crashed with the amount of incoming data. Instead, I scanned for human lifeforms.

There was exactly one ahead of me. Ragnar, hanging in the beast’s claws. He was still alive.

I mapped his course and made a scan of the area to pinpoint Ragnar’s exact location. I was itching to just get closer, but even as I watched, the raptor slowed down its flight and landed on the rock needle. I had to give it credit for this smart choice of a lair. The rock needle no doubt gave it a spectacular view over the entire landscape. It would spot me in no time if I ventured any closer.

I gritted my teeth. This was the moment of truth. Would I be forced to helplessly watch from afar how the raptor tore a child apart? If so, I would at least shoot the creature out of the sky to make sure Ragnar was going to be its last victim. I kept the scanner running to look for human life, waiting with baited breath for the moment where the beeping stopped and the red dot that was Ragnar faded away.

Nothing happened. The red dot remained, even as the minutes passed. By the looks of it the raptor was not hungry yet. Maybe it had merely wanted to secure breakfast for the next day. Many Reptavians were cold-blooded, so the beast might need something warm after a cold night. If this was the case, it could afford to put down its prey for the time being. The child would be unable to escape from this height.

There was nothing I could do right now to help him. I could not come any closer and retrieve him without startling the raptor again. Soon it would be evening and there was no point in following it all over again only to lose it in the dark. It was smarter to leave the raptor here in its lair and in the meantime get a rescue party on the way. Here at least we could find Ragnar again. While I had no clue if he would still be alive when we returned, I had seen him use both his strength and his brains in training. If there was a chance to survive, he would grab it.

But kriff, how I hated to leave him behind! I could well imagine how frightened the kid must be. I knew what it was like to be alone, torn away from your family, and in mortal peril. Ragnar was not even armed, rendering him completely helpless against the beast. All he could do was trying to find cover and hope for a rescue party.

The sooner I got help, the sooner this nightmare would be over for him.

With a heavy heart I turned the ship around, throwing the rock needle a final glance.

Hang in there, kid. We are coming for you.

Chapter Text

This time I did not bother to park the Gauntlet in a hidden place and landed it right next to the cave. As soon as I disembarked, the members of the Tribe swarmed out to meet me, hoping for good news and dreading horrible ones. Din, the Armorer and Paz were the first to reach me, and I quickly gave my report.

“I kept a high altitude and followed it to its lair. I know how to get there. We should muster up a hunting party and go after him.”

While I spoke, Paz never turned his gaze away from me. His fists opened and closed nervously, as if he was itching to do something yet did not know what. Hope and despair seemed to fight a fierce battle in his heart.

“Have you seen Ragnar? Is he alright?”

“I had to stay out of sight”, I admitted.

His head sank. A shiver ran through his body. Had I known him better, I would have put my hand on his shoulder. As it was, I could only try to comfort him with words.

“Paz, listen to me.” I spoke gently, trying to imagine how I would talk to Din if Grogu had gotten lost. “There is still hope. If the beast had been after a quick snack, it would have devoured Ragnar immediately instead of taking him alive.”

“It might have done so by now.” His deep voice nearly broke with pain.

I had to agree with him but clung to what I knew, not what I feared.

“While scouting the area, I scanned for human life forms. By the time I left, Ragnar was still registered by the scanners. He was alive. The beast might not be hungry yet.”

“Why would it take him if it doesn’t mean to eat him?” Din wondered.

“Not all predators eat their prey immediately”, the Armorer ventured. “Some capture them for storage and keep them alive for a while.”

I nodded. “My thoughts exactly. If we hurry, we might still be able to save him. Come with me, I have the data stored in the ship.”

I walked back into the cockpit of the Gauntlet, followed by the three. Once we were assembled, I activated the holo emitter to project the map.

“I scouted where it lives and mapped the location.” I pointed at the top of the holographic rock needle. “There. The nest.”

Din looked at the area closely. “It flew a long way.”

He did not say it out loud, but I knew what he was thinking. Time was working against us.

“I will go get him”, I declared, refusing to accept defeat before the battle had even started. I could not let a Mandalorian die on my watch, especially not a child.

“The mountains are too high,” Paz Vizsla groaned as he checked the data. “If we use jetpacks, the beast will hear.”

“It would kill the child”, the Armorer agreed, sounding deeply worried.

“These are no higher than the peaks of Kyrimorut”, I tried to encourage them. “I used to climb them in basic training.”

The others looked at me blankly and I bit my lip. I kept forgetting people with full military training were the exception here, not the rule.

“I‘ll fly to the foothills, scale the rest of the way on foot,” I summarized.

“I’ll join you”, Din Djarin declared without hesitation.

Abruptly I realized he was the only one in this council of war without a personal interest in the quest. The Armorer as the leader was naturally concerned for the well-being of her people, and Paz was Ragnar’s father. Din had no obvious reason to join, but I was not complaining at all, quite the contrary. He was a reliable friend, and we made a good team. I was looking forward to working with him again.

The Armorer nodded at our plans. “Paz Vizsla, enjoin the Shriek-hawk Training team to accompany you.”

I heartily approved of the Armorer’s choice. I would feel much better with a trained unit in tow.

“I will pack extended lariats for your launchers”, she promised. “We must avoid explosives and blasters for the safety of the foundling.”

I cleared my throat, ready to address the bantha in the room.

“We will also need fully fueled jetpacks.”

If only to protect ourselves from falling to our deaths during the climb. Also we had to be able to follow the raptor, should it decide during our visit that it would rather have its meal on a different peak. As short as the Tribe was on fuel, a full jetpack could mean the difference between life and death here.

The Armorer remained silent for a few heartbeats, then she nodded. “Agreed.”

The tone of her voice gave me an idea just how scarce fuel really was. My respect for the Tribe grew. They were willing to sacrifice their last resources for a chance to rescue their foundling, though the child had not even been born as one of them. As soon as they had accepted someone into the fold, an unbreakable bond was forged, and unlike in Death Watch it was based on affection. Once part of the clan, always part of the clan.

“I will need your vambraces to pack the lariats”, she told us.

As meekly as children the three of us took off our armor pieces and trustingly handed them over to her. It was the first time I willingly gave up a piece of my beskar since joining the Nite Owls. With bittersweet amusement I realized the Armorer had succeeded with me where Satine had banged her head against a durasteel wall.

I wish she was our third sister.

Our council dissolved. Paz went to inform the Shriek-hawks, the Armorer to the forge to equip our vambraces. Din and I remained behind, preparing the Gauntlet for the mission ahead. We needed no words to know what had to be done. By now we were well attuned to one another and worked side by side without getting into each other’s way. While I went through the pre-flight configurations, Din checked the outside of the Gauntlet for damages and fatigue of material. Once he was back, we went through our equipment, especially on the first aid front. Ragnar might well need medical attention after his extraction.

To my relief R5 had done a great job. Not only was the first aid section spotlessly clean, but also the droid had gathered all the usable material from the open medkits and sorted them by expiry date in the little medicine cabinet. I had been ignorant of how many units of bacta spray and dressing material I still had on board. A pleasant surprise, especially on a dinosaur-infested planet. Once this mission was completed, I would give the Tribe access to the leftovers.

“All done”, Din informed me, completing his checklist.

“Me too.” I pushed a button on my datapad to send the two checklists to the ship’s computer, updating the Gauntlet’s technical status and current equipment. “Turn around, please.”

“Why?” Din asked in confusion, but did as I asked.

“So I can see your jetpack.”

I stepped up to him and ran a trained look over the model on his back. It was older than mine, but not nearly as ancient as others I had seen around.

“Thank the Force!” I breathed a sigh of relief. “We can fill it up with the Gauntlet’s fuel. The model is compatible.”

“Good.” Din too sounded relieved. “There can’t be much left in the Tribe.”

I nodded, frowning with worry. “I keep thinking we should take a trip off-planet and get what we need.”

Din harrumphed. “If the Tribe had the money, they would have fuel.”

“Who needs money?” I threw him a shrewd glance. “Let’s find an Imperial remnant. Free for all.”

He let out a grim chuckle, and despite the dire situation I was glad I could make him smile.

Together we walked into the belly of the Gauntlet. Like all modern Mandalorian troop transporters it was equipped with a small fuel station where the warriors could hook up their jetpacks for refilling.

“Should get one of those for the N-1”, Din commented with a dry smile in his voice while he took off his jetpack.

“Install a pillion and you’re good to go”, I grinned, plugging the pack in. “Though it won’t do much for the N-1’s looks, I’m afraid.”

“And Grogu might try to drink it.”

We waited patiently, keeping an eye on the fuel gauge, when suddenly I heard a small voice from the entrance of the fuel chamber.

“Bo-Katan?”

I turned around. In the entrance stood a foundling, younger than Ragnar, in a white helmet with lime-green accents.

“Ayk”, I said surprised. His voice was so downcast I had not recognized it. He had sounded much more lively when speaking about shriek-hawks.

I walked over to him. Sabrina’s son hung his helmeted head and seemed to fight back tears. His elder sister stood a few steps behind him with her arms folded, clearly struggling to look aloof and grown-up.

“What is it, kid?” I asked gently.

When he spoke again, I could practically hear his lips tremble. “Is Ragnar gonna be alright?”

“Eh…”

Awkwardly I cleared my throat, wishing myself far away. A raptor’s lair sounded good. There at least I knew what to do. Behind me Din shuffled his feet, obviously feeling as uncomfortable as myself. Grogu, the child we both interacted with most, was in a way much simpler to handle. He did not ask uncomfortable questions, so we were not forced to think up elaborate, evasive answers.

With a beep the fuel station signaled the end of the cycle. Before I could move a muscle, Din unplugged his jetpack and put it back on in record time.

“I’ll say goodbye to Grogu”, he muttered and slipped past the children, leaving me to face the music alone.

Traitor.

I threw a wary glance around, feeling way out of my depth here. “Where’s your aunt?”

Laurana was much better equipped to handle the situation. She knew these two better than I, and while I was willing to get to know them, now was just not the time. Every minute could cost Ragnar’s life.

Boan snorted in frustration. “She won’t tell us anything. She keeps saying all will be well.”

Her obvious contempt warned me to not even try this phrase on her. Admittedly, as a child I had hated being fobbed off by the adults. I had believed my own thoughts were scarier than anything they could tell me.

By now I knew better.

Feeling rather helpless I shook my head. “Why do you think I’ll say something else?”

Boan lowered her head and stared at the floor. “Mum always said you didn’t lie”, she finally muttered. “That you would tell the truth if it killed you.”

As welcome as Sabrina’s belated vote of confidence was, I did not like the implication. “You think your aunt is lying to you?”

The girl fidgeted in discomfort while the boy pulled up his shoulders. “She also said it when Morr was taken.”

“Who was Morr?” I asked cautiously.

“My friend.” Ayk’s voice quivered with tears.

“The foundling who lived in your quarters before you”, Boan said bleakly. “The raptor took him first.”

Kriff.

I closed my eyes. The bed Grogu slept in had belonged to a foundling devoured by the raptor.

“So it has taken others?”

“Foundlings and adults. No one came back.”

Only the presence of the kids kept me from hissing an X-rated curse. This was really bad. One stolen child was tragic but not unheard of on a planet full of dinosaurs. Several meant the beast had developed a taste for human flesh, and like every animal it went for the weakest prey. Which meant this thing had probably made it into every foundling’s nightmares by now. In addition to the nightmares all Mandalorian survivors already had.

And I had thought I got a rough deal in my childhood.

Taking a deep breath, I opened my eyes again. Ayk was close to tears. Boan just stood there, arms folded, withdrawn into herself. This must be how she had endured her past losses, presenting a gruff mask to the outer world. I was very familiar with that. The mask helped to hide your feelings while you fought your battles on the inside, unseen by anyone.

I was less familiar with comforting children. Korkie had already been a young adult by the time I returned to his life. And Grogu was – well, Grogu.

“I don’t think she means to lie to you”, I clumsily tried to cobble a few words together. “She doesn’t want you to be afraid.”

Boan threw up her hands in frustration. “We are already afraid, for kriff’s sake!”

Good point.

“Will you get Ragnar back?” Ayk asked pleadingly, pinning me down more efficiently than any Imp had ever managed to.

“Ayk, I…” I hesitated, thinking furiously.

Boan lifted her chin challengingly. “Don’t give us stories, Bo-Katan. We aren’t stupid. Tell us the truth.”

Her tone of voice said it all. She, for one, thought Ragnar was gone. She was old enough to clearly remember the night when all hope had failed Mandalore. She was not going to hope again any time soon when the odds seemed impossible.

The truth it was, then.

“I don’t know if Ragnar is alright”, I said frankly, squatting down so Ayk and I were on eye level. “I hope he is still alive, but these are things I can’t control.”

Ayk trembled. I had probably said the worst thing possible, but did not see an alternative. They had to know in order to prepare themselves.

“But I can promise you one thing.” I put my hands on his shoulders and looked at him seriously from behind my helmet. “If Ragnar is alive, we will fight like Mandalore the Great to bring him back.”

Boan’s shoulders sank. “Even you can’t win all battles.”

I knew that. I had had many years to learn that lesson.

“No”, I said simply. “But if I don’t even try, I have already lost.”

Ayk wrung his hands. “And if Ragnar is dead?”

“No matter how we find him, he will be the last foundling this monster took.” I was surprised myself how steely my voice sounded. “We will kill the beast.”

I was not being melodramatic here. Predators fond of human flesh were too dangerous to be left alive. The raptor had to go.

The girl stepped closer to her brother and took his hand, her eyes never leaving mine. “Promise?”

In the fierceness of her voice I heard an echo of my own anger, from a time when I still believed I could succeed by sheer willpower.

“Promise.”

I meant it. Even if I failed Ragnar, I would not fail my lost friend’s children. At least of this nightmare I could free them.

Both children nodded solemnly, looking calmer now. They were still afraid and worried for Ragnar, but at least I had given them hope that the monster would not haunt them forever.

I accompanied the kids to the outside and watched them until they were safely back in the cave. Just as they entered, I saw several people coming out of the cave and walking towards me. They were led by Paz Vizsla.

“Bo-Katan”, he greeted me seriously and gestured towards the four warriors in blue helmets behind him. “The Shriek-hawk Training team.”

They gave me the warrior salute and I returned it. None of us still had vambraces on. The Armorer had her work cut out for her now. Well, as long as she was preparing our things, I had time to get to know my companions better. The woman immediately gave me Nite Owl vibes with her dark blue helmet and silver-framed visor. Her cuirass, though, was split horizontally in sea-green and yellow, a combination I had never seen among my unit. The pauldrons, too, were differently colored, white on the right side, dark blue on the left.

The three men all looked alike on first glance in their dark blue helmets with the silver stripe. When paying closer attention, however, I realized their armor was different, giving me a way to distinguish them. The first man’s blue helmet sported sea-green accents and dark-grey frames around the visor. The right pauldron was silver, the left one dark blue. His cuirass was sea-green like Laurana’s. The second combined his completely blue helmet with a red-brown cuirass and also different pauldrons, white on the right, sea-green on the left. As for the third, he was the only one with matching pauldrons in the same dark blue as his helmet, which sported a silver-framed visor. His cuirass though was vertically split in blue and sea-green.

“What do you want me to call you?” I asked in my usual frank way.

Personally I would have been fine giving them call signs like Shriek 1, Shriek 2 and so on, but maybe they preferred their real names.

“I’m Asla”, the woman introduced herself. “This is Cal” – she pointed at Number One – “that is Hiro” – she gestured towards the second – “and over there is Rhys”, she finished with her third companion.

“Good to have you all here”, I welcomed them briefly. “You have been on board of a Kom’rk Class fighter transport before?”

While the academy might have updated their schedule several times over since my own basic training, I hoped some classics had survived. To my relief all four of them nodded.

“If necessary, I can pilot one”, Hiro informed me calmly.

“I can maintain it”, Asla chimed in.

“I can secure it, and Cal will convince the critters to get out”, Rhys finished with some dry humor.

Well, that gave me an idea what their special training fields had been at the academy. Hiro and Asla were easy to pinpoint as pilot and technician, while Rhys might have trained as security officer. Only with Cal I was not sure. Perhaps I could find out during the mission.

To pass the time until we got our equipment back from the Armorer, I showed the four Shriek-hawks the holographic map and gave them a brief summary of what I had told the others already. Together we discussed and devised ways to restrain the raptor with lariats. My first impression of the Shriek-hawks was good. They knew the main maneuvers of air combat and were used to operating together. Should we have to out-fly the raptor, I was sure I could rely on them.

Eventually Din Djarin rejoined us, bringing back our vambraces with the Armorer’s blessing.

“Grogu is with her now”, he informed me. “She will watch him until we come back.”

I nodded to his words while fastening my vambraces again. “Let’s go then.”

It was late afternoon when I landed the Gauntlet on a plateau in the foothills. The sun was already getting closer to the horizon, the vanishing light leaving the rocks below us littered with pitch-black shadows.

“We’ll continue on foot from here”, I told the others. “Any closer, and it will hear the ship.”

We took our equipment and disembarked. Having been here I before, I led the way. Paz Vizsla and Din followed me, after them the four Shriek-hawks. Soon the Gauntlet disappeared behind us, and only rocks remained. Being on the plateau we could walk in a comparatively straight line towards the rock needle without having to climb steep mountains.

Nobody spoke. The worry for Ragnar hung over us like a dark cloud. By now the foundling had been in the raptor’s clutches for about two hours. I was anxious to get there as quickly as possible and save him, but kept a tight leash on my emotions. I had seen Din Djarin after Grogu had been taken by Gideon, and even he, with all his self-control and strategic mind, had been worried sick over his son’s well-being. Paz Vizsla right behind me was already high-strung in everyday life. I did not want to find out the full extent of his anguish. The tiniest spark could cause a firestorm now, and I needed my companions focused and strong.

The sun moved towards the horizon, the rocks already starting to feel cold. The sky turned from blue to various shades of pink and purple while we walked on. Evening was drawing close. I kept my eyes on the sky. If the raptor was cold-blooded, night would render it motionless. Nightfall was always cold in the mountains. If it decided to leave its nest for a final flight now, we would have to keep an eye on it, in case it took Ragnar along. But not a single winged creature showed itself.

Once we came to the higher summits, thus entering raptor territory, Paz Vizsla took the lead to cover us with his cannon gun. I was fine with falling back a little, and soon I found myself between Din and Rhys of the Shriek-hawks.

“How far did you four make it at the academy before you had to go?” I asked the latter in a low voice.

“Finished basic training and the first semester of our respective fields”, he answered just as quietly.

“And afterwards you joined the Tribe?” I guessed.

He shook his head. “Got in touch at the academy already. In a secret society.”

Behind my helmet I cocked my eyebrow. So the Children of the Watch had taken a leaf out of Death Watch’s book here and infiltrated the academy to find new recruits. Interesting. This explained how the Shriek-hawks had made it off-planet during the Night of a Thousand Tears. They had known about the hide-out on Concordia and were probably already used to sneaking back and forth between Mandalore and its moon.

“Think the Tribe could use a military crash course?” I cut straight to the point. On my other side Din perked up in interest.

“Definitely”, Rhys replied immediately without hesitation. “Good fighters, but not a unit. We joined this covert just a few weeks ago, though. Low seniority.” He shrugged.

I frowned slightly. Strictly speaking my own seniority was even lower than theirs, yet it had not stopped me from taking charge and acting when necessary. Moreover, nobody had taken offense. So either the Shriek-hawks overestimated the importance of seniority here, or I was getting special treatment.

Before I could ponder more, I realized Paz had stopped and looked up. There was a huge rock needle towering over us. I activated the holo projector in my vambrace to double-check whether we had reached our goal. Paz stepped closer, comparing the mountain to the hologram as well.

Yes, there was no doubt. We had reached the lair of the raptor.

“The target is on the top of this peak”, I told the others.

Paz and I exchanged a look. We would have loved to get up there immediately and retrieve Ragnar, but it was getting too dark already to risk the climb. We would have to wait for sunrise.

I looked around briefly for a place that could cover us and spotted a ledge at the foot of the rock.

“If we tuck in under this outcropping, we sleep out of line of sight, and climb at first light.”

“We will make camp”, Paz Vizsla agreed.

Quietly the seven of us went to work. There was something strangely soothing about setting up camp with fellow Mandalorians. The blue helmets of the Shriek-Hawks were just a shade darker than my own. If I blanked out their checkered armor, I could pretend to be with Clan Kryze again, only here there was no difference in status between us. Being a member of the royal family usually meant special treatment for me, as well as a certain distance to the others. The Tribe did not have these distinctions. Apart from the Armorer, everyone was equal. If you wanted special treatment, you had to distinguish yourself by your deeds and merits.

I liked being treated as one of many. Blood was overrated.

The fire was burning in no time, hidden under the ledge, so the raptor would not notice it from above. Hiro, the one in charge for dinner, was rummaging in his backpack to get the rations out. The other six of us just sat around the fire, recuperating from the hike and lost in our own thoughts.

Unsure I looked around. It was just a matter of time until Hiro unpacked the food, and nobody seemed to have brought screens to eat behind. Cautiously I leaned over to Din.

“How do you eat when other people are around?” I asked softly, hoping I did not sound too foolish.

“You don’t”, Din whispered back. “When you get your food, you go off to find a place where you can take off your helmet.”

I silently nodded in understanding, just in time for Hiro to come back with rations. He distributed them evenly among the party, and everyone got up. As I was about to leave as well, Paz Vizsla stopped me with a gesture of his arm.

“You are the leader of the war party”, he told me in a low voice. “You have the honor of staying by the fire. This is the Way.”

So I stayed where I was while everyone else melted away into the darkness. Once I was sure they were gone, I took off my helmet and put it on the bench beside me. A few days among the Tribe, and already I felt terribly vulnerable exposing my face.

Truth be told, I felt rather forlorn, sitting all by myself. Eating alone reminded me far too much of my time on Kalevala. I would have preferred sitting on the bench in our cave with Din, separated by nothing but a layer of cloth. I could have listened to his friendly voice and felt the warmth of his back against my quickly cooling one. He had come back into my life just a few days ago, and already I had gotten used to living with him.

With a sigh I unpacked my ration – dinosaur turtle jerky again – and started to eat. If only my younger, ambitious self had known the full meaning of being the leader! Back then I had sought leadership for selfish reasons. I had wanted to prove myself, wanted to show off my prowess in battle and, later, be the liberator of my people from Maul’s yoke. Well, pride goes before a fall.

Nowadays I was not so keen on being in charge anymore. My sudden promotion to party leader might be a sign of trust from the Tribe, but it gave me little joy. I had learned the hard way that apart from being lonely, I was also responsible for every single life under my command. It was a burden, and it meant at times I had to send good people to their deaths. Besides, after hitting rock bottom following the disaster on Moff Gideon’s cruiser I was not sure anymore I even made a good leader. My forces leaving me was not a stellar testimony to my leadership skills.

It was hugely ironic that the moment I no longer wanted power, I had it thrust on me again. Unlike Clan Kryze and the Nite Owls, the Children of the Watch did not care about my royal status. They simply thought I was the best woman for the task. I wondered if they had made a good choice, though. I might have experience in planning an extraction, but there was no guarantee I could bring the kid back alive. I had failed many people in my life, and I would hate to fail those who gave me a home when I was but a hunted outcast.

I finished my meal quickly and put on my helmet again as soon as I could. The night was cold between the rocks and the sharp wind cut into my face. The others, who were eating in seclusion now, were exposed to the cold without protection. They would need the warmth of the fire again soon. I did not want them to stay away longer than necessary just because they did not want to catch me unaware.

Soon enough I heard footsteps on the gravel. They were loud, not even trying to be quiet. I realized it was the Tribe’s way of announcing their return, so I would have time put my helmet back on. There was something very familiar about these steps, though, and I felt myself smile in relief. Alone time was overrated.

“It’s alright”, I called out softly. “I’m decent.”

A few moments later Din Djarin came out of the dark and moved towards the fire. He had wrapped his arms around his torso, his cape tightly tucked around him.

“Come to the fire”, I invited him, patting the stone beside me. There was plenty of space for both of us.

Without hesitation he sat down at my left and stretched his hands towards the fire. “I hope the kid manages to stay warm.”

I winced. I had been so occupied with the raptor that I had not even thought about the icy wind on the rock needle. Cold was our worst enemy in the outdoors. Ragnar’s thin clothes offered little protection against it.

“It must be even worse up there”, I agreed miserably and wrapped my arms around my torso.

Something in my voice made Din turn towards me and look at me with concern. “You are shivering.”

He was right, I realized. There were shudders running through my body. The fire could do only so much to keep me warm. My back was freezing cold already.

“Should get one of those”, I said dryly, pointing my chin at his cloak.

“Hold on.”

Din picked up the bottom right corner of his cloak and spread it over my back, sharing it with me. My heart skipped a beat as I realized he held it in place himself, with his arm around my shoulders.

“Thank you”, I whispered. Was he just cold or did he also feel the need to stay close to each other on hostile territory?

Slowly, so he had a chance to back out, I leaned into him and rested my head on his shoulder. To my joy he made no attempt to withdraw. Instead he cautiously tilted his head until this cheek touched the top of my head. For a moment I hardly dared to breathe as it dawned on me we were almost sharing a Keldabe kiss. It was extremely rare I let people get so close to me. Mostly I kept them at a distance, to avoid getting hurt. With him I was not afraid, though. With him I felt safe. With him it was easy to open up.

“I’m scared”, I confessed quietly, staring into the fire.

“Of what?” he asked softly.

“Of disappointing you and the tribe.”

“You won’t”, Din assured me, his voice as confident as when he set up Grogu to fight Ragnar. “You are already doing more than anyone else.”

“You are doing just the same”, I reminded him. After all, Din had been one of the first to follow the raptor. I might not have found the beast again without the trail of Din’s jetpack.

“I did not even think of using the N-1. I was rash. You thought things through before acting.”

I shrugged. “Easy when you are not personally involved. The kid is your tribe, of course you panicked. You have known him longer than I.”

Din was silent for a few moments. The fire cracked, spitting a few sparks into the night.

“I don’t really know Ragnar”, he admitted eventually. “He joined after Nevarro while I was away. Last time I was here, he had his Creed ceremony.”

I frowned behind my helmet. This was odd.

“Why did you come along then?” I asked eventually, braiding my fingers into his on my shoulder. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad to have you. But you seem to be the only one who is here without a reason.”

His arm around me stiffened. His whole body seemed to tense, as if bracing himself. I swallowed nervously, wondering if I had accidentally crossed a line between us. Without a screen between us things seemed to get awkward much more quickly. I hardly dared to look in his direction while he clearly struggled to express himself. At least I was not the only one occasionally fumbling for the right words.

“I came because of you.”

It was a miracle the sudden thunder of my heartbeat did not alert the raptor to our presence. Din must have felt my start though, for he flinched and quickly looked away, into the fire.

“I mean I didn’t want you to go alone”, he hastened to explain. “Paz Vizsla can be very difficult. I wanted to make sure he didn’t give you trouble.”

Despite his quick save, my racing heart would not be stilled so quickly. I was suddenly very aware of how close the two of us were sitting. I realized how good Din’s arm felt around my shoulders, and how lovely it was of him to share his cloak with me. How comfortable I felt to sit at the fire with a good friend instead of being alone.

And how smart I had been to intertwine our hands, so he could not simply withdraw his arm.

“Thanks for coming along”, I finally managed to say, struggling to stay calm though I could feel my heart in my throat. “Paz Vizsla though… we spoke this morning. Before Ragnar was taken.”

“Did you?” Din asked a little too interested, clearly grateful for the change of subject. “What did he say?”

“He acknowledged me as part of his clan.”

I could practically hear Din’s jaw drop. “What?!”

His total astonishment made me chuckle softly. The tension between us dissolved.

“Unbelievable”, he muttered half annoyed, half amused. “This man challenged me twice already and still hates my guts. How are you part of the family after just one challenge?”

“Foundling of the right person”, I said with a crooked smile, glad that things were back to normal between us. “I almost wish he still hated me. Then at least he won’t be overly disappointed in me if Ragnar… ” I stopped, unable to say it out loud.

He looked at me in silence for a few moments. “I won’t let him blame you.”

“Din, I’ve been the leader before.” I sighed deeply. “I know what it means. It makes me responsible for all that goes wrong.”

“And for all that goes well”, he reminded me. “If you had not taken charge, Ragnar would be lost to us already. You are doing your best. My people respect that.”

Another shiver ran through my body, and this time it was not from the cold. “There were times when my best was not enough.”

Truth be told, there were times when I felt nothing would ever be enough.

Din gave me a comforting squeeze. “It will be this time.”

“How do you know?” I asked doubtfully.

“Because I know who you are.” He turned his head back towards me and looked me straight in the eyes. “You, Bo-Katan Kryze, are the scourge of Imperial warlords. This” – he pointed up to the top of the peaks – “is but a raptor. If I was this ugly chicken and knew you were after me, I’d be waving the white flag by now.”

He got me this time. The thought of this primordial beast throwing up its floppy wings in panic and hoisting a white bed sheet on its nest was too ridiculous. I burst into a giggling fit, desperately trying to keep it down, so as not to alert our prey. Instead of guffawing out loudly I snorted into my helmet, and from Din’s silent shaking I could tell he was stifling a laugh as well.

“Ugly chicken”, I managed to get out before another silent laughing fit shook me.

“That’s what it is”, Din chuckled. “Most hideous bird ever.”

While the tension would not completely leave me, I did feel better. Din was right. We were not storming an Imperial remnant here. We were taking on a wild animal. It was a challenge, but we should be able to handle it.

“If the kid makes it through the night, we have a realistic chance”, I admitted. “The foundlings’ helmets are fully functional, right? They can be pressurized?”

“Yes, fully functional”, he confirmed. “Should help with the temperatures up there.”

I made a face. I had camped in the outdoors often enough to know what sharp, cold winds could do to your eyes, ears and nose. There was a reason why I had kept my helmet on back on Carlac.

The gravel cracked under heavy boots. When I turned around, I spotted Paz Vizsla returning to the fire. Seeing the foundling was his son, we discretely dropped the subject of Ragnar. He was already on the edge with worry and did his best to keep it together. No need to drive him up the walls even further. So I merely greeted him with a nod, and together the three of us waited in silence for the return of the Shriek-hawks.

Please let it be day soon.

Despite my worries and despite being sandwiched between Din and Asla, I slept like a stone. My body seemed to try and catch up on every nap I had missed out on during the last months. When it was our group’s turn to stand guard, I felt refreshed and eager to get to work. Still, we had to wait until dawn, so we could even see where to put our hands and feet.

The only one who did not sleep a wink was Paz Vizsla. He was awake with Rhys, Cal and Hiro when I went to sleep, and he still sat in the same spot, motionless and sighing deeply, when we changed guards. I felt sorry for him but also too anxious to try and cheer him up. There was just nothing that might improve his mood, except for promises which I was not sure I could keep. So I remained silent and bore his quiet anguish as well as I could.

Finally the planet’s rotation delivered us from our torment. A silver stripe appeared in the East and the stars began to pale. We woke Rhys, Cal and Hiro, extinguished our fire and gathered together for the final mission briefing.

“The raptor’s lair is atop the highest peak”, I explained to them in a hushed voice. I did not want to find out the hard way how far sound carried here. “Now, our hope is that the child is still alive so we have to make sure not to fire on the raptor.”

“It will kill the foundling if attacked”, Paz Vizsla agreed gravely. “It has happened before when it has taken others.”

I saw Rhys quietly shake his head and could only agree. It was high time the Tribe learned some military basics, like how to efficiently secure a perimeter with modest means.

“Our best bet is stealth”, I reminded them. “Our jetpacks will alert it to our presence. Let’s move.”

We fired grappling hooks from our vambraces and started to climb the rocks.

Soon we were sweaty, huffing and gasping for breath. It really was like Kyrimorut all over again, I thought, as I pulled myself up inch by inch. The rock was steep and provided few holds for hands and feet.

The Shriek-hawks and I were doing well. I could tell they had gone through the same climbing training as me. Din Djarin was keeping up, his adventures with Grogu having him prepared for challenges like these. Only Paz seemed to have the occasional trouble. As the biggest and heaviest of us it was harder for him to find secure holds, and also he was carrying his canon gun. I worried his lack of sleep from last night might come back and bite him when he least needed it, but his determination to get Ragnar back seemed to sustain him.

The sun rose while we climbed, and I felt myself getting restless. The warmth would soon wake up all cold-blooded creatures in the vicinity. If the raptor decided to have a nice, juicy meal after its nap…

Din Djarin motioned to me. As I looked, he pointed up and made the sign for caution. I followed his gaze, and then I saw it too. Thick branches, slightly hanging over the edge of the rock needle.

The raptor’s lair.

We passed the message on to the others. Silence fell over us as we tried to stifle even our occasional groans now. Our goal was within reach but unfortunately, so was the beast. We had to be utterly cautious now.

After a few minutes, which felt longer than weeks, we finally made it to the top and checked the area. From beneath, it might have looked like a nest. From close up, we were facing a wall of branches and small tree trunks, woven together tightly enough to pose a significant obstacle. With some effort I managed to climb over it.

The first thing I saw was a small Mandalorian helmet. For a moment my heart stopped in my chest, then I realized the color. Red. Not blue like Ragnar’s.

I exhaled quietly. It must have belonged to one of the other poor foundlings the beast had devoured. Memories of the empty helmets in the cyborg cave threatened to come up, and I quickly forced them back in their box, slamming the lid shut. Not now.

On the inside the nest was padded out with dried twigs and some old grass. The raptor seemed to like to sleep in comfort, but as for now there was no trace of it.

“It’s not here”, I stated with some relief. “Let’s find the kid.”

The gaps between the thick branches might just be big enough for a child to find cover and stay hidden. Din switched on the scanners on his helmet and looked around.

“I see a heat source there”, he said eventually, pointing at roughly 11 o’clock.

He had barely finished speaking when Paz Vizsla climbed over the edge into the nest and made for the spot without even looking left and right.

“Wait until we clear the area”, I hissed in alarm. What if the beast spent the early morning sleeping in, under its covers of dry twigs?

“He’s my son!” Paz Vizsla snapped at me.

I swore I heard a frustrated groan from Rhys at this lack of discipline, and I could not have agreed more. I threw Din an exasperated look, but he seemed more resigned than anything else. Either he was already used to Paz pulling such stunts, or he, as a fellow father, understood better than me what the uncertainty did to his brother-in-arms.

“Ragnar!” Paz shouted, dropping on his knees and peering under the twigs. “Ragnar! Ragnar!”

With a shriek something huge and pink with gigantic eyes burst forth from the covers. For a terrible moment I thought the raptor had woken up, but then I realized that despite being taller than Paz, this specimen was a chick.

And it had brought its siblings.

I could have slapped myself for not thinking of chicks when scouting. I should have scanned for more reptavians instead of just focusing on Ragnar. That was a fine “how d’ye do”! Three young raptors were enough to throw even Paz Vizsla off balance. He landed on his back, right in the twigs. The boldest chick dashed forwards and tried to snap him. Paz, struggling with the dry shrubbery beneath him, barely managed to hold it off with his vibroblade.

Then, like a nightmare from the past, the mother rose from beneath on the far side of the nest and hovered above us on her battered wings. From close up she was huge, her head at least as long as one of her chicks. Immediately her three babies turned toward her, their beaks opening hungrily.

Without paying us more attention than throwing us a dirty look, Mama landed on the nest and started to gag. After a few retches, she spat out a tiny figure wearing a blue helmet.

I almost followed her example with last night’s dinner.

They swallowed the food for their chicks and predigested it. Back home they threw up their prey again, so the babies could eat.

Ragnar was dangling upside down between the raptor’s teeth, limp and motionless. As the beast bent down to feed him to its eagerly snapping chicks, the boy’s helmeted face pointed straight in our direction. Suddenly he jerked, and I realized with a gasp he was not dead yet. Burning stars, the beast had swallowed him alive!

“Help me!” he screamed, sounding terrified and hopeful at the same time.

Paz Vizsla struggled back to his feet. “He’s alive!”

Finally I remembered to breathe again. Thank the Force Ragnar had already sworn the Creed! Without a pressurized helmet he would have suffocated.

Paz finally freed himself from all the dried shrubbery. Without hesitation he flew towards Mama Raptor and tackled her. Shrieking angrily she dropped the boy, and I flinched for his sake as he hit the thick branches of the nest. That must hurt.

Her huge maw closed around Paz. Before Ragnar could even attempt to get away, Mama grabbed him in her claw and rose up into the air again. Even worse, she now had Paz between her jaws as well. She must be happy about today’s special Vizsla offer. Catch one, get one free.

“Help!” Ragnar screamed.

As one, the Shriek-hawks took to the sky, accompanied by Din and me. We quickly exchanged a few messages in the military sign language and followed the raptor.

To my relief Paz Vizsla was still alive and kicking. When we got nearer, he used his flamethrower to stop Mama from biting down on him harder. While she roared in fury, I closed in on Ragnar.

“Take my hand!” I shouted over the noise of wings, jetpacks and raptor screeches.

I could see the kid stretch out his arm but Mama slashed at me with her free claw. Barely managing to avoid that murder weapon, I flew straight into her leathery wing. It felt like being hit by a speeder bike. For several moments I fought to stay conscious. I spiraled downwards, thrown completely off course. My right pauldron came off and vanished in the depths of the lake beneath me.

Then my senses returned. Instead of falling like a stone, I lay down on the air to slow my fall. With a few nudges and clicks I managed to stabilize my jetpack again and stop my rapid descent before I could hit the ground. Thank the Force for Nite Owl training!

A moment later I was shooting up into the air again. Catching up with the others I saw Din firing a lariat at Mama. His weight pulled her around, forced her to change course. I seized the opportunity to fire my own lariat – extra long, courtesy of the Armorer – and used it to pull myself onto the beast.

This time I reached its head and clung to its lid. With my other hand I activated my vibroblade and stabbed the raptor’s face several times. Roaring in pain it opened its jaws, and Paz came free. He dropped towards the rocks, his jetpack barely breaking his fall, and slammed into the mountainside. I dove after him, ready to grab him, should he slip and fall towards the lake. Luckily he managed to find a hold, but I had a feeling his jetpack was broken. This model only needed to be hit in the right spot to go crazy. I had pulled this stunt on the Mauldalorians more than once.

Once Paz was out of danger, I pursued Mama again. I had fallen back, giving me a good opportunity to watch the Shriek-hawks in action. They were doing an amazing job, working like a well-oiled machine to slowly but steadily restrain the raptor with well-placed lariats. I could tell merely by watching their movements they were completely in tune with each other. They must have fought as a tightly knit unit for years, just like Axe, Koska and me.

They were Nite Owl material.

I sped up, trying to catch up with the raptor again. It still held on to Ragnar and showed no sign of wanting to let go any time soon. While the Shriek-hawks forced it to change course, Din managed to overtake the beast. Then, as swift as an eagle, he changed direction and fired another cord at her.

This time he hit her right wing, tying her up. While she struggled to regain her balance, Din flew straight at her, his vibroblade drawn. With a solid stab he freed Ragnar out of her claws and grabbed him by the wrist. The foundling desperately tried to hold on to him, but his ordeal had weakened him. I could see his grip loosen and then he fell with a scream. As fast as lightning Din dove after him, grabbed him with both arms and held him tightly while flying back to Paz.

Right next to them the raptor spiraled down, tied up in our whipcords. Screeching and flapping in vain, she fell down into the lake with a huge splash. The Shriek-hawks and I paused in mid-air and looked down.

“We have to put it down”, I said matter-of-factly, remembering my promise to Ayk and Boan.

Hiro nodded grimly. “It will come back for the foundlings. This has to end.”

All five of us drew our blasters and took aim at the raptor struggling in the water, trying to flap its wings. Then, before any of us could even pull a trigger, a gigantic head burst forth. Huge jaws shot out of the depth and closed around Mama. I gasped into my helmet as I saw the ginormous reptile chomping down on the raptor.

“Dinosaur turtle!” Cal called out in warning. “Stay away from the water!”

I needed no further encouragement. Together with the Shriek-Hawks I ascended again and turned back to the mountains as quickly as I could. No need to make the acquaintance of the widow of last night’s jerky.

“I see the Vizslas”, Rhys informed us as the five of us flew together and pointed at the mountainside close to the rock needle. As we came closer, I too saw them, half lying, half hanging against the slope, Paz tightly embracing his son. Din was with them, making sure they did not slip and fall.

“I think the raptor broke Paz Vizsla’s jetpack”, I reported. “He and Ragnar will need assistance to get down.” Din might be able to carry the foundling, but there was no way his jetpack would support him and the much bigger Vizsla together.

“I’m going to check the nest for armor pieces”, Asla announced. “They should not be left behind.”

“The families should know”, Cal agreed gravely.

And we can’t afford to waste any beskar, I added in my thoughts. If the Armorer had risked her life on Nevarro merely to salvage the armors of the fallen, the Tribe literally needed every scrap.

“I’m coming with you two”, I said instead. “To hold off the chicks.”

“You three do that”, Hiro acknowledged. “Rhys and I will help Din Djarin to get the Vizslas back on the ground.”

While the two of them went for Din and Clan Vizsla, Asla, Cal and I made a beeline for the nest. As soon as we landed, the chicks screeched and tried to get to us, their beaks opening hungrily. I activated my shield, getting ready for battle, when Cal instead started rummaging in his pouches. When the first chick had nearly reached him, he threw it a piece of jerky. His aim was great, I had to admit. The dried meat went straight into the open beak, and the chick swallowed eagerly. Encouraged by their sibling’s success, the other two started to wobble towards Cal as well, who was ripping a long stripe of jerky into pieces.

“Come here, my pretties”, I heard him mumble under his breath. “Tasty food…”

“You need help with those?” I asked Cal cautiously. For my taste he seemed to be having a far too good time feeding the chicks.

“I got this”, he replied lightly. “You help Asla with the armors.”

From his sister-in-arms came a dry chuckle. “Leave him be, Bo-Katan. He used to study Alamites.”

“Really?” I almost laughed myself.

Finally I knew what Cal’s special field had been at the academy. Alamite biologists were a mixture of scientists and big game hunters, needing both skill sets to get close to their objects of study and handle them. Small wonder he had a hand for wild creatures. Feeling assured he knew what he was doing, I started to search the nest for beskar remains, working my way towards Asla who started from the other side. It was not easy with all the shrubbery around, but I did find a small, purple helmet. It reminded me so much of Boan that I felt my throat constrict. These poor children.

On the side where we had climbed in, Asla picked up the red helmet. Her shoulders slumped as she exhaled audibly.

“This belonged to Morr”, she said quietly. “The first foundling who was taken.”

I swallowed against the tightness in my throat. The very child whose bed Grogu now slept in.

“The foundlings told me of him.” I lowered my head. “I’m so sorry.”

To my astonishment the warrior put a gloved hand on my shoulder. “Thanks to you, it is over now.”

“It was a team effort”, I declined the praise. “You Shriek-hawks did most of the work to bring it down.”

“Only because you tracked it first”, she stated simply.

Before I could argue with her, Asla walked away from me and joined Cal. Shaking my head in confusion I followed and watched him handle the chicks. He still fed them by throwing bits and pieces of dinosaur turtle jerky in their open beaks. They screeched eagerly and snapped in his direction to catch more.

“They won’t survive without their mother,” Cal stated with some sadness.

I nodded glumly. So far I had regarded the raptor merely as a dangerous predator that needed to be put down. While this still held true, it had also been a mother providing for its young. It had not been evil. It had merely tried to ensure her babies’ survival, as any mother would have.

Sudden inspiration struck me. “Let’s take them with us.”

“What for?” Asla asked in confusion.

I was so excited I could not help a giddy smile spreading over my face.

“We could tame then!” I enthused. “Our ancestors rode the Mythosaur. Why shouldn’t we ride them?”

And who knew, once they were older, they might keep other raptors at bay, merely by defending the area around the cave as their territory. In my opinion it was worth a try.

Cal whistled through his teeth in excitement, as if a whole new world of possibilities had just opened up to him.

“They don’t need fuel to fly. Doesn’t the Creed tell us to take orphans in as foundlings? This is the way”, he pronounced.

“This is the way”, I happily replied.

“They do look like shriek-hawks…” Asla looked at the chicks with her head tilted. I could tell she was won over too.

“I’ll get the Gauntlet and pick everyone up”, I promised. “The three might just fit in if we all sit in the cockpit.”

When I returned with the ship, the situation was under control. Paz Viszla, Ragnar and Din stood at the foot of the rock needle. The Shriek-hawks were up in the nest, preparing the chicks for travel. Rhys had put lariats around their necks, so he could hold them on a leash. Cal had put a big piece of jerky on his spear. As soon as I arrived with the Gauntlet, Asla and Hiro entered first to clear a path for the chicks into the transport section. Cal and Rhys followed, half coaxing, half pulling three screeching little raptors with them. I just hoped they would not get sick in my ship, on top of not being housebroken.

Once they were safely stowed away, I brought the Gauntlet to the ground, so the others could board. Paz came in first, his arm slung around his son. Ragnar leaned heavily on his father, looking completely exhausted. I could not blame him. Apart from fear of death, the poor boy had spent the night covered in digestive juices. We would have to check him for chemical burns and treat them.

As soon as Din was on board as well, I touched Paz’ arm. “The Gauntlet has a first aid bunk. There we can treat Ragnar’s injuries.”

Paz needed no further encouragement. Still keeping his arm around his son, he followed me to the bunks. Thanks to R5, we were well equipped with bacta spray, and once Ragnar was on the bunk bed, Paz immediately started to take care of him.

“Let me know if you need anything else”, I told him quietly.

I was about to slip out again to give father and son some much-needed alone time, when Paz’s hand touched my arm.

“How can I ever thank you?”

I turned around and looked at him thoughtfully. Somehow, despite everything that had happened, I realized I no longer regretted having been raised by Pre Vizsla. Thanks to him taking me in, a tiny sapling of friendship was growing between me and his impulsive kinsman. It healed something in me. Not everything from my Death Watch times was turning out badly.

My first instinct was to tell Paz he did not need to repay me. Then I realized there was something he could help me with. It was probably far off in the future, but when it came to honing my skills, I could never start too early.

“There is someone in Clan Kryze”, I started, my stomach clenching in anger at the mere thought of Axe Woves’ betrayal. “He usurped my position and stole my forces. I’m going to fight him to get my command back, but he knows my style very well. I have to work out something else to beat him.” I looked at him openly. “Will you be my sparring partner, to prepare me for this fight?”

Paz Vizsla rose to his full height and offered me his hand. “Bo-Katan Kryze, I will partner you until you are ready to stomp your foe into the ground. This is the way.”

“This is the way”, I agreed, sealing our deal.

Shaking hands with him I felt some malicious joy at the thought of surprising and overpowering Axe Woves. He would have no idea what hit him.

Feeling rather pleased with myself, I went to the cockpit and took my seat at the helm. Asla and Hiro had taken the jump seats in the back, Din was in his usual observer seat. As I passed him, he looked at me closely, his eyes lingering on my unprotected shoulder.

“Are you alright?”

I smiled weakly. “Just a lost pauldron. You?”

“Not a scratch”, he assured me. “Let's go home.”

To my relief the flight back went without a hitch. Cal and Rhys kept the raptor chicks in check, Paz and Ragnar stayed in the first aid section. Now that we did not need to worry about alerting raptors to our presence, the way back seemed very short.

As we reached the cave, the covert were already streaming out, eager to hear how the mission had gone. I spotted the Armorer, accompanied by Grogu, as well as Laurana with Boan, Ayk and the other foundlings. By the time I parked the Gauntlet, every single member of the Tribe must have come out.

“Quite a welcome party.” With a smile I lowered the gangway and let Paz and Ragnar disembark first.

Happy laughter and clapping filled the air as Clan Vizsla joined their brothers and sisters. Ragnar was enthusiastically greeted by the foundlings, though he was too exhausted to give his friends more than a handshake. Hiro and Asla went out next, followed by Din and me. While Hiro mingled with the crowd, Asla stepped towards two warriors, her posture grave. From under her cape she produced the red helmet. I quickly looked away, not wanting to intrude on their grief for their lost foundling.

It was far more cheerful to watch Din. He went straight for Grogu and picked him up fondly. Something shone on the little one’s chest, and I recognized a rondel with Din’s signet of the mudhorn on it. Apparently Grogu’s armor had gotten an upgrade while we were gone.

I was still watching the two, lost in pleasant thoughts, when the Armorer stepped up to me.

“Bo-Katan Kryze.” She spoke my name as reverently as if it was the greatest praise she could bestow on me. “You have honored your House and all of Mandalore. You have done the highest honor of the Creed. Saving a foundling.”

The highest honor.

For decades I had thought the highest honor I could achieve was to win the Darksaber and follow my sister on the throne. Now it felt as if after a spell of blindness my sight had cleared again. Highest honor could not be achieved by outer trappings, just by deeds. This was my path to redemption, helping my people and taking care of them. Achieving forgiveness through my own efforts felt more real and more deserved than my unplanned bath in the Living Waters.

A deep peace filled me. Despite my fears I had not failed Din’s people. I had exceeded even the expectations of the Armorer and won her respect. I had proven myself to the Tribe, worthy of their trust and of walking the way of the Mand’alore.

“This is the Way”, I whispered, my voice shaking with emotion.

“This is the Way”, she agreed serenely.

I turned back to the Gauntlet. “And we have brought you three more foundlings in need of care and training.”

“Is that so?” The Armorer tilted her head with interest and looked to my ship as well.

Shrieking and on wobbly legs, the three chicks came out, following the piece of meat Cal waved before their noses and held in check by Rhys’ fibercord whips around their necks. Startled noises came from the members of the Tribe at the sight of our cargo. Especially the children shrank back as they saw the miniature versions of their nightmare.

Cal and Rhys sprang into action. While Rhys led the chicks over to the clearing, Cal threw them little bits and pieces of meat. Slowly the frightened sounds died down. The foundlings edged closer, still holding on to their parents, but clearly interested. I could hear Ayk starting to chat about shriek-hawks again. Close to him Boan cautiously picked up a piece of meat that had fallen down and threw it to one of the chicks. I felt a smile bloom under my helmet as I watched this impromptu zoo. Perhaps the kids could move past their nightmare by facing their fear, by watching the small raptors grow and by seeing they were no monsters. That they might look terrifying but could be tamed like the Mythosaur.

The Armorer pulled me out of my thoughts. She bent towards me and touched my right shoulder where I had lost the pauldron.

“You’re in need of a repair. Come with me.”

Steering me through the crowd, she went into the cave and led me into her forge. I had not been here since my arrival. This time I was neither apprehensive nor distrustful and could fully appreciate the dance of the flames and the homely feeling only a Mandalorian forge could convey. This was a place where clans met, where stories were passed on to the next generations, and where even hostile clans kept the peace.

“I can replace what’s missing”, the Armorer informed me while getting a flat piece of beskar, “but not with its modern refinements.”

That was fine by me. I was in no need of special treatment. While the Children of the Watch did not have as many resources as Clan Kryze, their armors were just as sturdy and functional as ours. I merely needed my pauldron to be stable and to protect my arm, and I was fully ready to trust in the Armorer’s talent. With fascination I watched as she brought the beskar to the forge and started to melt it. I had not seen a Mandalorian smith at work since the Purge. The blue flames brought back memories of the Great Forge, once the heart of our civilization.

“Shall I inlay the signet of the Nite Owl?” the Armorer asked over the sizzling noise of melting metal.

I hesitated. I still very much defined as a Nite Owl, but I no longer was the person I had been when repainting my mother’s armor. Once more my gaze was drawn to the Mythosaur skull hanging in the forge. Seeing the noble animal had started my change of heart, and I wanted to express it. I was not sure though if the Tribe had rules about who was allowed to wear it. I had no wish to squander their hard-won respect by offending their religious sensibilities.

“Would it be acceptable to wear one pauldron of the Nite Owl and another with the Mythosaur?” I asked carefully.

“The Mythosaur belongs to all Mandalorians”, the Armorer told me calmly. “It is always acceptable to wear.”

I smiled in relief. “I would like that.”

I sat down and watched her as she took the heated beskar from the flames and started shaping it with well-placed blows of her hammer. The sound carried me back to my youth when I first visited the Great Forge. The air had seemed to ring with the sound of countless hammers. I remembered the awe I had felt at seeing this huge, ancient place, as well as the sense of belonging. These were our roots reaching back for millennia, the one thing all Mandalorians had in common. Even under Satine’s pacifistic rule the Great Forge had not stood still, though they had used the beskar for different purposes then.

The forge here was much smaller, yet it conveyed the same sentiments. I belonged here just as much as I belonged in the Great Forge.

The Armorer was pouring melted beskar into a casting mold. After cooling it down, she turned it around, revealing a cast, silvery Mythosaur skull. Gazing up at the big Mythosaur skull on the wall again, another familiar symbol of home and belonging, I suddenly realized I could muster the courage to confide in the Armorer.

“What would you say if I told you I saw one?” I asked hesitantly.

“That you saw what?” she asked calmly, fusing the pauldron with the silvery Mythosaur skull.

“A Mythosaur.”

She did not seem surprised in the slightest. “I would say you’re very lucky”, she stated, walking towards me with the pauldron in her hands. “It is a noble vision.”

Despite my growing fondness for the Children of the Watch, I was fairly certain I was not religious enough for a vision. And unlike Din Djarin, I had neither suffered from acute hypoxia nor been injected with drugs. What I had seen was real.

“No, I… I mean a real one”, I clarified. “Beneath the Living Waters on Mandalore.”

The Armorer attached my new pauldron to my right shoulder. It was unpainted beskar like Din’s with a silvery gleam to it. Wearing the blue Nite Owl on my left and the silver Mythosaur on my right, I felt like a wanderer between two worlds, similar and intertwining despite their difference. Each honorable and beautiful in its own right and yet complementing each other.

“When you choose to walk the Way of the Mand’alor, you will see many things”, the Armorer said, non-committing.

For once I wondered if she was merely brushing me off. Perhaps she really thought I had imagined it, yet was too tactful to tell me so. I had to admit to myself that it sounded rather crazy. Even the Children of the Watch who believed the old stories must know Mythosaurs were extinct.

“But it was real”, I insisted.

“This is the Way”, the Armorer stated calmly, neither confirming nor dismissing my claim.

Unsure what else to say I sat down again and looked at the Mythosaur skull at the wall while the Armorer returned to her fires and tinkered with other damaged pieces of armor. What was the meaning of me seeing a Mythosaur? Would I ever find out?

“Bo-Katan?”

The child’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts. When I looked up, I saw a bunch of foundlings peeping into the forge, headed by Ayk and Boan.

“Hello, you two.” I stood up and walked over to them. “Can I help you?”

Something tiny and green flew through the air and landed on my hip, cooing happily.

“Grogu!” I caught him in my arms and laughed at him though he could not see my face. “Missed me?”

He babbled, which I took as affirmation. He was heavier than usual with the new rondel under his robe. I grinned to myself. By the looks of it, we had something in common now. Spend time with the Armorer, come out with new shiny pieces of armor.

“Where is your dad?” I looked around. “Don’t tell me you gave him the slip.”

Grogu was all big-eyed innocence. I just shook my head. “Well, you stay with me and I’ll take you to our quarters later, alright?”

Boan cleared her throat, clearly gathering her courage. When she finally spoke, I could hear a shy smile in the girl’s voice.

“Before you take him away… will you tell us the story of the Nite Owl and the Shriek-hawks who took down a raptor?”

I bent down to be on eye-level with Sabrina’s daughter and put my hand on her shoulder. “Absolutely. Let’s go.”

“Stay”, the Armorer prompted from the forge. “Stories are best told at the fire.”

I hesitated for merely a moment before sitting down again with Grogu on my lap. The foundlings made themselves comfortable around me, and I began my story, accompanied by the music of the Armorer’s hammer on hot beskar.

Chapter Text

Weeks passed without me realizing it. This time it was not like on Kalevala, though, where days of inactivity and regrets melted into each other. With the Children of the Watch I was kept busy. After Ragnar’s rescue I officially became the Tribe’s strategist for coordinated missions. It was a role I could fill easily enough. I had learned from basic training on how to organize warrior groups, and as commander of the Nite Owls I had plenty of experience.

First of all the Shriek-hawks and I compared notes to find out where our skills overlapped and where we diverged. Mostly it came down to me having more military experience while they had specific knowledge in their respective areas. Cal had found his vocation now that the chicks were around. Without ships and with only few technical devices Hiro and Asla had little opportunity to apply their skills. Rhys had plenty of perimeters to secure, but unfortunately too few similarly trained warriors around to truly make a difference.

Here I saw a possibility to involve and train the Tribe, especially after the raptor incidents. Together with the Shriek-haws I drew up a schedule for group training and showed it to the Armorer. She gave it her stamp of approval, and almost instantly interested volunteers flocked to us. Din and Paz Vizsla were the first to officially join, Paz bringing his friend Loé along. He was quite a sight with his bright yellow armor and green-framed visor. They were followed immediately by Ellis Tindale and her friend Lin Tsue. I had already met her on my second day here as Ellis’ sparring partner. In a lime-green cuirass and red helmet with blue-framed visor she showed at least as much love for colors as Sabine Wren. Seeing that lime-green and red were a rather popular combination among the women here – other bearers of these colors being Kaya Mari and, though in very pale shades, Janine Solus – I was glad for every distinctive feature.

In the end I had seventeen warriors in my training. Of course the Shriek-hawks had signed up as well. While I was glad at this public backing, it also made me a little anxious how well I would actually fare as their trainer. They had, after all, had proper instructors instead of an amateur like me.

“I need you to be honest with me about this”, I told Din seriously once we got the Armorer’s permission. He was just the kind of person to let me get away with blunders merely out of friendship. “If something doesn’t make sense to you, tell me immediately. I haven’t trained warriors in a long time.”

“When was the last time?” he asked.

“Must have been Koska Reeves.” My face darkened as I spoke, luckily hidden behind my helmet. “About fifteen years ago.”

Din looked at me closely. He must have realized my discomfort at speaking about her. While I was comfortable letting my guard down around him, it was sometimes uncanny how well he could read me by now.

“Was she your foundling?”

“No, no.” I shook my head. By the time Koska joined us, she had already finished basic training. “She was between sixteen and seventeen already when she lost her family. Clan Reeves is part of House Kryze though, so it was my duty to take care of her.”

When we Nite Owls found her, Clan Saxon had just bombed a few places associated with House Kryze. Neither we nor Koska knew whether they had specifically targeted affiliated clans or had merely meant to send me a warning. It did not really matter either way, seeing Koska’s family had been killed in the bombing. She herself survived, buried under rubble with several broken bones. After I had pulled her out and put her in a bacta tank, she threw in her lot with the Nite Owls and never looked back. All that remained of her past were her quick temper and her fierce loyalty to me.

Until she abandoned me and joined Axe Woves.

“House Kryze?” Din tilted his head in confusion. “You said you were of Clan Kryze. Is there a difference?”

I shook my head fondly at his innocence. In the past his ignorance of Mandalorian society had annoyed me. By now I had come to regard it as a rather adorable trait.

“Clans are basically families, like your Clan Mudhorn. Usually they affiliate with a house. Simply said, the houses are powerful factions. Many of them are nobility, like House Kryze and House Vizsla. The clan bearing the same name as the respective house usually provides the head of the house.”

Din nodded in understanding. “Does Axe Woves’ clan also belong to House Kryze?”

“Yes.” I felt the familiar surge of anger. “With him it was different though. Clan Woves switched to House Kryze during the imperial occupation. Clan Reeves has been with my house since my father’s days, even during my sister’s reign.”

I had often wondered on Kalevala whether Axe and Koska’s respective clan history had been the reason for their behavior. After I had failed to retrieve the Darksaber, Axe had been very vocal in his opposition. Clan Woves prided themselves on following the legitimate leader. Clan Saxon, put into power by the Empire to replace me, had not fulfilled Clan Woves’ criteria.

Without the Darksaber I apparently did not qualify anymore either.

Koska had been more hesitant to outright condemn me. She had been there on Gideon’s cruiser, had witnessed everything and understood my reasons better than Axe, who merely got the information second-hand. With her family history of loyalty to House Kryze she had a harder time cutting herself off me.

Still, in the end she had gone with Axe.

“So…”, Din stated, clearly feeling the mood dampening, “what are you going to teach us first?”

I was grateful for the change of subject. “How to spot an ambush by watching animals. They change their behavior once someone hides close to them. If you know what to look for, they are the best warning system you could ask for.”

With all the dinosaurs on the planet we had plenty of opportunity for practice. All we needed was a few herbivores, and since foliage only grew in the valleys, it was always easy to find peaceful dinosaurs there. I would send some warriors out to hide close to them and then tell the others to watch the animals to find their hidden comrades.

“Study their behavior”, I told the hunters. “To them, we are predators. Once they know we are around, they start to become cautious. Pay attention to where they look and where they wind.”

They soon got the hang of it and became rather ambitious to spot each other as quickly as possible. Within a few days they were able to track down the other team, sometimes merely by watching where the bloodsucking gadflies and mosquitos swarmed. It was gratifying to see how eager they were to learn and how quickly they picked up new knowledge.

Another important part of my schedule were standard Nite Owl maneuvers like the Binary Star, a set of movements designed to help two comrades-in-arms fight back to back. It was especially useful when fighting together with someone for the first few times. By following the form, the partners found a rhythm helping them to work together. Among the Nite Owls we often used it to ease newcomers into partner fights.

First I taught them the steps, which was mostly footwork. Once everyone managed to get through the form, I paired the warriors to practice back to back, encouraging them to not pick their usual partners this time. They needed to be able to perform the steps with everyone, not just people they knew well. With seventeen students the number was uneven, though, and after Ellis joined Janine Solus and Kaya decided to train with Loé, Din Djarin was left over.

“Looks like you are stuck with me”, I said cheerfully, not at all sorry with the situation, and placed myself back to back with him.

I felt more than I heard his soft chuckle. “Always glad to learn from the best.”

A pity he could not see my smile.

“Let’s try it, then. One – two – three…”

Slowly we worked our way through the first moves. We were used to leaning against each other, so unlike the others we did not need to sort out our limbs or overcome a potential awkwardness first. We simply fell into the steps, exercising them with precision and fully focused. Soon I forgot everyone else around me and just moved in a rhythm Din and I discovered together.

When we finally finished and returned back to the real world, everyone was staring at us. As usually it was Paz Vizsla who finally voiced what most people only thought.

“You could have told us you knew the maneuver already, Din Djarin!”

“I didn’t!”

I could practically hear Din’s scowl and fought hard not to grin.

“No, he did not”, I agreed calmly. “He merely paid attention to my signals. This is how it is supposed to work. Take it slowly, don’t rush things. Get to know each other’s movements and find a rhythm that works for you both.”

Cal whispered something to Asla, and I was fairly sure it was: “Advice on the Binary Star or on relationships?”

What is that supposed to mean?

For some odd reason I felt rather irritated by his silly comment. Unfortunately I could not reprimand him without being sure of what exactly he said. So I pretended to not have heard and called for the next round.

After two weeks of hard work I decided to give the warriors a break and rewarded their successes with a few days of “Capture the Flag”. It was a classic Mandalorian strategy game I had last played during my youth. I remembered it as a team-building exercise where you learned how to work as a unit and, above all, as huge fun.

I divided the warriors into Team Mandalore including Din Djarin and Team Mythosaur featuring Paz Vizsla, splitting the Shriek-hawks up for the occasion. This way each side had two trained soldiers as well as one veteran. I told the teams to pick spots for their fortresses where they hoisted their very own flags and then launch attacks against each other’s fortresses in order to capture the opponents’ flag. Seeing that the own flag still needed to be protected, it was a game that required both planning and team work. There was room for the impulsive daredevils who stormed the enemy fortress but also for the stealthy snipers and strategic thinkers.

I had to admit, it was my biggest success since stealing a fleet from the Imps. The enthusiasm of my trainees catapulted me right back into childhood. The amount of preparation alone that went into choosing the flags! Surviving clan members had brought banners of their houses along which were currently used for Creed ceremonies. For the first time since the Purge I saw several clan crests spread out in the caves as discussions ran high which ones to use. There was Clan Eldar’s red flag with the white lioness head, courtesy of Laurana. Asla, whose clan had been affiliated with House Vizsla, brought out the white banner with the flowering twig. Janine Solus came with a burgee in Clan Awaud’s colors of red, yellow and purple. Even the coiled vexis of House Kast made a reappearance. And, of course, there were plenty of Mythosaur emblems.

It was a matter of hours and intense discussions before each team finally settled on a banner. Team Mythosaur, not really a surprise, chose the Mythosaur. Team Mandalore created their own banner and combined the crests of several clans, including Clan Mudhorn. When Din Djarin presented their result to me, I swallowed a lump in my throat as I recognized the crest in the foreground.

“This is Clan Kryze…”

“You are part of the Tribe”, he said simply.

I began to wish he could see how brightly he made me smile.

When the game finally began, it was like letting a bunch of overgrown foundlings out to play. Only these foundlings were neither afraid of pulling punches nor of getting hurt. With Paz Vizsla in Team Mythosaur and Din Djarin in Team Mandalore, the battles between the teams almost amounted to open warfare. While hostilities between Din and Paz had ceased since Ragnar’s rescue, the rivalry of the two was still very much alive.

In order to supervise their techniques and maneuvers, the Armorer and I acted as referees. Each of us stayed with one fortress and watched the warriors, though we never interfered. We merely had to remind them every once in a while that not only fuel but also bacta was limited. It would neither serve the Tribe nor their training if everyone ended up with broken bones.

The evenings were spent in the great cave that served for assemblies, together with the rest of the Tribe. Each team would give a report, which only occasionally slipped into bragging. Once they were done, I analyzed their strategies, pointed out their weaknesses and praised them for solid team work and good ideas. They learned fast and their skills as units improved drastically. Day by day I could see them making progress, their minds being sharpened by constant strategic thinking, their actions becoming more coordinated.

Everyone had a great time, and the adults’ excitement was not lost on the foundlings. Before I knew it, the kids insisted on playing “Capture the Flag” as well. After some hot discussion the Tribe decided to restrict the kids’ version to the caves. For them it was just not safe enough to run all over this dinosaur-infested world. While the warriors were getting skilled in securing areas, our numbers were few. We simply could not spread out far enough to cover the children on open territory and still keep the caves safe.

On the upside, the entire Tribe got some entertainment out of the kids’ version in the caves. Several flags were made from scratch since the foundlings’ taste sometimes changed from one day to the next. Members of the Tribe volunteered their caves as temporary fortresses. Even the raptor chicks’ pen was occasionally used as a stronghold. Parents consulted with their children to give them tips and teach them secret maneuvers.

It was hilarious to see Din and Paz glow with paternal pride when the children fought to have Grogu and Ragnar in their respective teams. The two had won their peers’ respect, Ragnar because of his brush with death, Grogu for beating him in combat. With the foundlings, the team-building worked even better than with the adults. They knew they were weaker than the grown-ups and that their strength was in numbers. They, more than anyone else, needed to learn how to work together in order to survive. Mandalorians were stronger together, especially as foundlings.

I was glad Laurana took over the organization and supervision of the kids’ version because I simply did not have the time. Once the training sessions for the warriors were over for the day, I was due for my own ones. Paz Vizsla kept his promise of sparring with me, and he gave me a run for my money. Every single weakness I had accumulated during my stay on Kalevala was mercilessly pulled out into the open, exposed and worked on. With a veteran’s experience and his superior strength Paz was a formidable opponent. He did not hold back in the slightest, and while it was a great preparation for my eventual confrontation of Axe Woves, all I wanted during the first weeks was to just once wake up without sore muscles and bruises.

To hold my own against the formidable Vizsla, I had no choice but to include new elements in my fighting style. Paz himself taught me every trick the Children of the Watch knew. As soon as I found countermeasures, he helped me to improve them. His dogged determination was the best antidote for my shortfalls, for I knew Axe Woves’ mind worked in a very similar fashion.

From our first sparring session on we had a silent watcher. Din Djarin stayed in the background, never interfering but closely observing what was happening. His eyes hardly ever left me. Since I was growing rather good at reading him, I could tell he was on the edge, ready to jump into action. When Paz during the first session eventually sent me to the ground with gusto, Din looked at me tensely. I realized he would come to my aid immediately if I gave him a sign. Apparently he still wanted to make sure Paz did not give me hard time just for the fun of it. I never gave the sign but realized how much my confidence increased simply by knowing he had my back.

As soon as I was done with Paz’ training for the day, Din gave me his own feedback. As a seasoned bounty hunter he too had a few tricks up his sleeve and was more than ready to share. These days sparring became our closest interaction. Thanks to all our activities Din and I just crashed in the evenings, which cut our dinner talks rather short. More than once we dozed off on the bench slumped against each other through the screen, completely exhausted from our toils.

Still, the trust that had developed between us merely grew. We got better attuned to each other’s moods and needs. While we rarely aired our feelings these days save for comparing boo-boos, I found a lot of solace merely by being with Din Djarin. He made me feel safe in a way I had last experienced during my childhood. Slowly the walls I had built up during the years started to shrink. They did not disappear completely, but it felt good not having to take cover behind them all the time.

Things were going well. I was beginning to hope the covert was in for an era of peace and quiet.

I should have known better.

I was woken up by a shot close by. Startled I sat up in bed straight, immediately fully awake despite the darkness of the night. Just one heartbeat later I heard Din Djarin’s voice.

“Bo, wake up!”

“Din?” Instinctively I reached for my blasters in the darkness. “What is it?”

“Dinosaurs!”

With a curse I kicked the blanket aside and drew my weapons. “In here?!”

Hastily I put on my helmet, pulled the curtain aside and made for Din’s half of the cave. He too was in full beskar, holding a blaster in his right hand and carrying Grogu in his left arm. Something lay motionless at his feet. Just as I came to his side, he fired another shot and a thudding noise sounded from the entry.

Activating my vibroblades I dashed there and saw Din was right. He had indeed shot a dinosaur, which was now twitching and coiling on the floor. It had ripped the screen open, and the sight of the tattered cloth kindled a firestorm in me. I had lost too many homes to aggressive intruders to just let it go. With more force than strictly necessary I slashed the animal’s throat to make sure it would not get up again.

Once it stopped twitching, I risked a closer look at the intruder. Its snout resembled that of the winged raptor that had taken Ragnar, only this specimen was merely 12 feet long. Nevertheless it was the proud owner of several dozen curved, blade-like teeth. Despite having greyish feathers, its clawed wings were too small to let it fly. Instead the dinosaur walked on its strong hind legs, its hip height of almost 3 feet putting it on eye-level with at least the foundlings. Din’s description of the winged raptor as ugly chicken would have been very fitting here as well.

As I looked at its feet, a shiver ran down my spine. Each foot sported one long, sickle-shaped claw on the second toe. It pointed upwards like a drawn blade. Suddenly I was very glad only the screen had been torn by this terrible weapon. A kick from this thing might well rip a belly open.

“Are you two alright?” I called, cleaning my knife and keeping a close watch on our tattered screen. Just in case our visitor had brought some friends along.

“Fine”, Din assured me, coming over with Grogu still safe in his arm. “Grogu woke me up. He must have heard it come in.”

“Or sensed it”, I agreed, remembering how Ahsoka could sometimes tell if something dangerous was around.

Din joined me and switched on the light of his helmet to look at the beast more closely. “Any idea what that is?”

I shrugged, sheathing my knife. “I’d call it a sickleraptor.”

In some civilized place of the galaxy there probably was a database entry on this dinosaur with its proper name. On this backwater planet we made up names of our own.

“Think the others got one too?” Din asked, peering out into the darkness.

As it turned out there were two more lurking through the caves. One got injured by Cal who was on chick guard duty, the other one had the audacity to get between Laurana and Ayk. Even in the dark Laurana’s aim was keen, and her blaster bolt killed the sickleraptor before it could hurt anyone. Unfortunately stray blaster fire hitting the rocks damaged them and resulted in several collapses, luckily just small ones. The surviving beast fled into the night.

We put it off to bad luck. On a planet crawling with dinosaurs the occasional encounter was inevitable. Apart from a proper scare, and some scratches nobody got hurt.

We all knew we were in trouble when the following night the survivor returned with a dozen friends.

This time they proved themselves as fierce predators, and we did not dare to use our blasters, for fear of crashing the caves on us. Only our armors saved the Tribe from losing more warriors and children, and while we won the day, we knew now the beasts would return. What we did not know was why they had suddenly taken an interest in us. The covert had been around for a few months now, and apart from the dinosaur turtle and the foundling-eating raptor they had been left alone by the jurassic inhabitants of this world.

It was Cal, our specialist for wild animals, who put two and two together.

“They were after the chicks”, he stated in dismay during the assembly following the attack. “As you all know, the chicks are cold-blooded. When night comes, they fall into a cold rigor.”

His fellow Shriek-hawks, Paz, Din and I nodded our assent. We had seen evidence for it when rescuing Ragnar.

“Before they go down”, he continued, “they make some very specific sounds. I believe it’s a call for their mother to come home before it gets too cold.”

Hushed whispers went through the crowd. I had an inkling where this was going.

“The sickleraptors, on the other hand, are warm-blooded. It makes them born nocturnal hunters, and it seems they specialize on cold-blooded species when they are in cold rigor.” Cal sighed in defeat. “They came here because they heard the chicks.”

I groaned in frustration. Apparently Mama Raptor had had a point, raising her babies on a rock needle far above the ground. I could not regret saving the chicks’ lives, but did every single one of my choices have to come back to haunt my people?

The warriors muttered among themselves. Eventually Chu, the judge in charge of the foundlings' training, spoke. “So what do we do? Abandon them for the safety of the covert?”

I felt a stab at the thought of letting the chicks die after bringing them here in the first place. Luckily I was not the only one.

“They are foundlings!” Cal protested. “We do not give up those we have taken in! Once part of the clan, always part of the clan!”

Other voices rose, complaining that non-sentient beings should not be lumped in with normal foundlings. After two sleepless nights under attack, tempers were flaring. At least I was already used to the torture of sleep deprivation and could pinpoint where my bad mood came from.

“It is pointless to abandon them now”, Din’s voice cut through the chatter. “The sickleraptors might have followed their noises during the first night, but now they are after us as well. They will come back until we switch locations.”

A hushed silence followed his words. Cal nodded in agreement.

“He is right. This time only one of them tried to get to the chicks. The others made straight for our quarters.”

“Bo-Katan Kryze.” The Armorer turned to me. “Do you see a way to secure the area against such predators?”

Dejectedly I shook my head. “The Shriek-Hawk Training Team and I tried to map the entire tunnel system leading to the cave. Some of them stretch out for miles and have several openings to the surface. We don’t have enough warriors to monitor such a large perimeter, especially not at night. Besides, the sickleraptors can maneuver through tunnels too tight for us.”

Rhys cleared his throat. “With the firepower of the Gauntlet and the N-1 we might be able to crash some of the tunnels. Could destabilize the entire cave system, though.”

Instead of answering, the Armorer looked at me. I thought about it for a moment.

“This should be our last resort”, I voiced my opinion. “Currently the caves are the only thing standing between us and even more predators. If we find another place to stay and know we only need to hold out one more night, I will take the risk, but not now.”

I glanced at the Armorer, wondering if I had spoken in accordance with her. To my relief, she gave me an imperceptible nod.

“But we have to do something”, Lin Tsue insisted.

“Yes, and we will”, I assured her. “We can’t secure all the tunnels, but we have several caves that can be defended easily by few warriors. The forge, for example. The fire might scare the beasts off.”

Din nodded slowly. “If we put the foundlings and their guardians in there for the night, we can take turns to protect them.”

“Forge and Foundlings”, Paz Vizsla agreed gravely, naming the two things every Mandalorian worth their armor would lay down their life for.

“This is the Way”, the Armorer agreed.

“This is the Way”, the Tribe echoed.

Together with the Shriek-hawks I drew up a guard schedule for the forge. When the evening came, the foundlings and their guardians brought their pallets and blankets in there and set up camp. While things were civilized and the forge a familiar place for everyone, the sight of adults and children huddled together still reminded me of refugee camps. I groaned involuntarily.

“Are you okay?” Din gently touched my arm.

“Sleep deprivation is torture”, I sighed. “Been there, done that.”

“Kalevala?” he guessed.

“Kalevala”, I agreed wearily. If these nocturnal interruptions did not stop soon, nothing would prevent the shadows from coming back and consuming my mind.

When we were attacked the third night in a row, I felt the burning urge to re-enact the Great Purge of Mandalore on this predator-infested planet.

“What do they eat when they can’t get Mandalorians?” Ellis Tindale cursed.

“Reptavian chicks”, I heard Lin Tsue snark back before I was forced to focus on not getting gutted.

It was the biggest attack of them all. We spotted several groups of sickleraptors in the tunnels between the caves, as if they had multiplied during the last hours. Even worse, it now turned out they hunted in packs, jumping at their targets in a threesome and stabbing them with the sickle-shaped claws on their feet.

And once they realized most of their prey were assembled in the forge, they became nearly unstoppable, a mass of muscles, claws and teeth pushing forwards. We guards fought and struggled like our ancestors must have done against the onslaughts of the Alamites. In such close quarters and in the dark, we could not risk blaster fire. Even flamethrowers were more likely to hurt our comrades-in-arms instead of our foes. Instead we were reduced to firing whipcords and using vibroblades.

Later I could not tell when exactly it happened but at some point I realized I had been separated from Ellis and Lin and moved away from the forge. The sickleraptors had ganged up on me and forced me to retreat further and further. In my fatigued state I had been less active in battle and mostly responded instead of forcing them into my own rhythm. When I finally stumbled backwards into an open area, I realized I was in the kitchen cave. I could feel cold sweat break out under my helmet. Icy fear grabbed me. This was not good. The kitchen had several entrances and no ceiling. I would be exposed from all sides.

They had well and truly cornered me, far away from everyone who could help me.

The sickleraptor closest to me made a clicking noise. Maybe my imagination was running wild with sleep deprivation, but I could swear I saw some semblance of malicious intelligence in its eyes. The oldest trick in the book of pack-hunting predators: separate one individual from the herd and then attack in full force.

Quick as lightning it jumped at me. I barely evaded its horrible sickle claw. Instinctively I slashed at it with my vibroblade and buried it in its shoulder.

Something heavy dropped on me from above, and with a startled scream I fell on my back. All the air was knocked out of me, and for several moments I was paralyzed, desperately trying to breathe.

In the dim light of the moon I saw a sickleraptor standing on my chest, pinning me down. It had jumped in from above, its wings just strong enough to break its fall. Over the rim of the rock above me I could clearly see more of its kind peering down at me. As I watched in horror, unable to move or breathe, the beast lifted its foot with the terrible claw and stomped down on me.

“Bo!” I heard a voice cry out in both fright and fury, just as the claw hit solid beskar and merely left a harmless scratch in the paint of my cuirass.

Din…?

Dazed I looked to the side. It was Din Djarin indeed. Through a blur I saw him activate his jetpack and jump into the air. Using his last drops of fuel, he sped towards me, a silver comet with a flaming tail. He slammed into the raptor and kicked it aside. A blink of an eye later he bent down to me and pulled me up on my feet again.

“Are you hurt?” He sounded terrified.

“No”, I gasped shakily, my breath finally returning. “What’s the plan?”

“Didn’t really think of one”, he admitted, keeping a close eye on the snarling sickleraptors around and above us. “I’m out of fuel, but you could fly out with your jetpack…”

“And leave you here? Forget it”, I stated flatly.

Din moved slightly, so we stood back to back, covering each other. “In that case… we just have to hold out.”

I did not like it at all, but there was little I could do. In frustration I reached for a blaster. Here at least there was no ceiling to come down on us. If I let the sickleraptors get close enough for my vibroblade, I was literally risking my own skin.

“Take this”, I heard Din say grimly and something cylindrical was shoved in my hand.

It was the Darksaber.

“Din, no!” I protested hotly, but he cut me off with a sharp shake of his head.

“Take it! I can’t use it!”

A sickleraptor jumped at me and I forestalled our discussion. The blade awoke to life in my hand and I thrust it at the raptor, burning its open jaw. With a shriek it recoiled, and I felt my courage rise. This was more like it. The long blade gave me an extended reach, so I could keep a safety distance from dangerous claws and still hurt the predators. I had always liked fighting with the blade. It gave me the feeling of more control than the blasters.

“Fine”, I relented. “I’ll borrow it for this fight.” After all, I had used it against the cyborg as well. It was self-defense, not usurping a blade I had no claim to.

The sickleraptors eyed my new humming weapon suspiciously. They were definitely no fan of its light, but they were hungry. It would not keep them off for long.

“Do you remember the Binary Star?” I asked Din softly, activating my shield.

I could hear the smile in his voice. “Of course I do.”

I stepped back a little to get in position, my back touching Din’s. I heard his calm, even breath and knew he was as reliable as always, steady and unshakable. He was my rock in the middle of a raging sea.

In the shadows of the cave I spotted several new pairs of luminous eyes. At the same time I heard the flapping of wings from above. My right hand closed around the Darksaber more tightly. The sickleraptors were hungry, and two of us were their best chance of a meal compared to an entire forge full of warriors. They were coming.

“Ready?” I whispered, and once I felt him nod, I started to count the steps. “One – two – three…”

We fell into the rhythm just as the first ugly chicken leaped at us.

Din’s flame thrower incinerated the sickleraptor while my shield covered us. His whipcord pulled a beast closer to us, I killed it.

The first rounds went well. Then I realized we were in trouble.

Like every fighting style the Binary Star had to be slightly adjusted in a real battle. At times you needed to move faster or slower to keep your opponent at bay. It required practice, and as more sickleraptors flooded in, I could tell Din was struggling. Unlike me, he had not completely internalized the style, having only started practicing it a few weeks ago. He could follow me as long as we kept it at the regular pace from training. Right now, the steps needed to be irregular in their rhythm, since we could not expect a bunch of ugly chickens to please slow down to our preferred speed. When I had to move faster than in training and Din was unable to follow, we got out of sync.

Of course, like any good predator, the sickleraptors literally jumped at the opportunity. As soon as we were not a unit anymore, one came down from above. It managed to get between us and kicked Din from behind. My blood froze as I felt my friend fall and heard him gasp in pain.

A gravity hammer flew past me and knocked the sickleraptor out. A moment later I ran it through and knelt down at Din’s side.

“Oh kriff, it got you!”

With alarm I saw the deep stab in his thigh. His pant leg was already caked with blood. Even without searching my pouches I knew I was out of bacta spray. Everything was in the forge to keep us guards nimble and swift.

“I’m fine”, Din tried to fob me off. Despite his words he could not suppress a slight groan when trying to get up.

I rolled my eyes behind my helmet. Just like Axe Woves, always pretending he was fine. As if they would lose their Tough Guy Card by admitting they were injured.

A shadow fell over us and I whirled around, ready to defend my injured friend against an entire murder of sickleraptors. Instead, I found myself face to face with the Armorer. I blinked in disbelief. How had she gotten in? Din and I must have distracted the sickleraptors enough to clear one entrance of them, allowing the Armorer to sneak in.

The Tribe’s matriarch was picking up her hammer. In her other hand she held her trusty tongs. I had to admit they were good weapons for this situation. No huge damage to the walls and a longer reach than a mere vibroknife.

“You are injured, Din Djarin”, she said in a no-nonsense voice. “Bo-Katan, get him out of here.”

I looked at the now nine sickleraptors circling us and fiercely shook my head. “I’m not leaving you behind!”

“He needs medical assistance”, she reminded me sternly. “The smell of blood attracts the predators.”

She was right. More and more sickleraptors were flocking in from the entrance, making strange, guttural noises. Like any pack-hunters they went for the weakest prey, and at the moment that was Din. He must be smelling like an entire All-You-Can-Eat buffet to them. The Armorer and I might be able to fend the pack off together, but protecting our injured brother-in-arms would seriously hamper us.

Din took a painful breath, trying to spare his injured leg. “If I make it to the forge, Grogu can heal me.”

“You won’t make it there alone”, she stated the obvious. “They will outrun you.”

Outrun you…

A sudden idea struck me. “Din, take my jetpack!”

He turned to me in astonishment. “What?”

“Take it!” Already I fumbled to take it off. “Fly to the forge.”

It was risky using a jetpack in the tunnels, but not impossible. Even if the ceiling got lower and he encountered sickleraptors, the jetpack would give him enough thrust to run them over. His armor would protect him during the clash.

“This is the Way”, the Armorer agreed, apparently satisfied with this solution.

Din looked at my jetpack, then at me, clearly torn between following the Armorer’s command and his unwillingness to leave me behind.

“Go”, I told him softly. “You saved my life. Don’t make me watch you losing yours.”

The sickleraptors crept closer.

Din’s shoulders slumped, and I knew I had won. He took a deep breath and touched my arm.

“Stay safe.”

“Go find Grogu”, I replied as calmly as I could.

Reluctantly Din put on my jetpack and activated it. I could tell only the thought of Grogu could tear him away. He flew towards the entrance closest to the forge, using the thrust to kick two sickleraptors out of the way. Then he was gone.

It was only me, the Armorer and our foes now. Instinctively I moved closer to her, to my relief seeing she took the starting stance for the Binary Star. My back touched hers as the sickleraptors closed ranks around us.

“Remember, Bo-Katan Kryze”, the beautiful voice behind me said softly. “When you choose to walk the Way of the Mandalore, you are both hunter and prey.”

I took a deep breath, exhaling my tension and anxiety as the sickleraptors closed in on us. “This is the Way.”

“This is the Way.”

Afterwards I could not remember much of the battle. I had fought so many they eventually all blended into each other. But I did remember for a long time afterwards my sheer awe at the Armorer’s prowess. She fought in complete silence, apart from the noise of her hammer. Her moves were as strong and deadly as a Togorian’s. I never once saw her using a blaster or wielding a blade in battle. Her most deadly weapons were her tools, gravity hammer and tongs. She used them for both creating and destroying.

Apart from her fighting skills she also had mastered the Binary Star. With her it was no problem at all to keep a rhythm, no matter how spontaneously we needed to change the sequence. Sickleraptors attacked us in seemingly random patterns, and we fought them back, combining our strengths and covering up each other’s weaknesses. The Armorer grabbed a sickleraptor with her tongs to hold it in place, I stabbed it with the Darksaber. She brained one with her hammer, I gave her cover. We moved like a binary star indeed, circling around a common center and never moving too far away from each other.

The fight could not have lasted longer than a few minutes, yet looking back it felt like an eternity. When I beheaded a raptor with the sword, I was actually surprised to see it had been the last one.

“This is getting out of hand”, I gasped, sweating under my helmet. “Perhaps it is time to cut our losses and move to a different planet.”

“Few worlds are welcoming to our kind”, the Armorer stated, pulling her hammer out of reptavian brains. She was not even out of breath. “Most are less than this one.”

She had a point there. Our people’s reputation was not the best in the galaxy. During our 10,000 years of existence, Mandalorians had often come as conquerors and invaded independent systems. I still winced in shame at the thought of Carlac. It had not improved our standing at all. Now that we were a scattered people, we were distrusted and feared as outlaws and robbers.

With a sigh I lifted my hand to wipe my forehead, just to touch beskar. Mechanically I switched off the Darksaber.

“You are a good swordswoman”, the Armorer commented while wiping her tools clean on a piece of soft leather. “Born to wield long blades.”

Her appreciation made me beam with pride. “I was trained by Pre Vizsla himself.”

As wielder of the Darksaber Pre had installed a healthy respect of swords in me. While I had never hoped he would pass the Darksaber on to me, he had wanted me to be able to use long blades. We had often practiced with vibroswords. It had made things easier for me when I got the Darksaber.

“A fierce warrior”, the Armorer concurred. “He could hold his own even against Jedi.”

“Not against a Sith, though”, I remarked with a sigh.

She looked at me, then at the hilt of the Darksaber in my hand. “What are you going to do about this blade?”

I frowned, uncertain what she meant. “I’m going to return it to its rightful owner, of course.”

The Armorer’s eyes seemed to bore into me, as if trying to read my thoughts. I felt myself grow restless under her gaze.

“Are you?” she finally asked.

Her words hit me like a punch in the gut. She knew how tempting the Darksaber had been to me in the past. She knew what had happened the last time I wielded it as leader. And Din must have told her how much I had wanted it. How much I had needed it.

She doesn’t trust me.

Tears pricked my eyes at the realization, but I could not blame the Armorer for her suspicion. On my hunt for the Darksaber I had behaved anything but honorably. I had tricked Din Djarin into hijacking a transporter with me to learn of the Darksaber’s whereabouts. I had lied and cheated in order to get my hands on Gideon and win the Darksaber back. Even Grogu’s rescue had merely been a means to an end for me. I had cared for nothing but the blade.

Now I held the key to uniting and ruling our people in my hand. All I needed to do was break into a run, get to the Gauntlet and leave the planet to find the Nite Owls. I could reclaim my entire fleet and start the reconquest of Mandalore. Why would I stay on a blasted planet full of predators, in the midst of a primitive covert if I could be Regent of Mandalore again?

Why would any sane person trust an obsessed, backstabbing liar like me?

I lowered my head and turned away, the grief and shame almost overpowering me.

“Let’s go to the forge”, I choked out and walked away as quickly as possible, trying to regain my composure.

The Armorer did not object.

In silence we went back to the forge, only to find an impromptu med station there. Laurana had done triage to sort those with light injuries from the more seriously wounded. To my relief nobody had died during the attack, but Janine had been stabbed through the leg and lost a lot of blood. Cal, in defense of the chicks, had suffered a bite to the shoulder, right between the pauldron and the cuirass.

Din Djarin was not with the injured. To my relief he had already recovered, probably thanks to Grogu. His leg was no longer bleeding. When he saw us, he immediately made a beeline for us.

“Did you kill them?”

“Every single one of them”, I assured him, handing him the Darksaber. “Thanks for lending it to me.”

He did not move to take it. An uneasy feeling grew in my belly.

“Keep it”, he said softly. “It’s yours.”

Behind me I felt the Armorer watching us closely.

“No!” I spoke harshly, fighting both the temptation and my power-hungry self from the past. “I’m not the rightful owner! Take it back!”

I thrust the hilt at him, willing him to finally liberate me from the damn thing. He still did not move.

“Bo, you need to take it.”

My hands started to shake. Behind my helmet I gritted my teeth in mounting fury. Why was he doing this to me right now, when the Armorer was already suspicious of my motives?

“It is yours”, he insisted. “I’m surrendering it to you…”

“Don’t!” Closing my eyes against the rising tears of despair, I pushed the Darksaber in his hand. “Just don’t, Din Djarin. Please”, I added with an already shaky voice. “Never speak of it again.”

Without waiting for a reply I went over to Laurana. I’d rather help taking care of the wounded than starting another discussion what I should and should not do about the blade.

“Bo-Katan Kryze will not accept the Darksaber as a gift, Din Djarin”, I heard the Armorer say behind me. “Not again.”

Was it only me or was there a hint of respect in her voice?

“You don’t understand”, Din retorted angrily. “I should not even have it anymore…”

As quickly as I could, I grabbed one of the bacta sprays I had donated to the Tribe and helped Laurana with the injured, shutting out any conversation in the background. I was too thin-skinned from three sleepless nights to listen any further and think about what might have been. The Darksaber was Din Djarin’s, unless I chose to challenge him. And this I would not do.

So I busied myself with helping my people. I acted as first aider, cleaned wounds and either dressed them or treated them with bacta. How long it took, I could not say, but at some point my last patient got up and no other took her place.

My eyes burning with fatigue, I looked up. The forge was practically empty. Only the Armorer and I were still there. She just wiped her gloves clean, then looked at me thoughtfully.

“Have you slept at all, Bo-Katan?”

I raised my throbbing head to the Armorer. “Just a few hours within three nights”, I admitted quietly.

She merely nodded. “Go to sleep. Your strength has been taxed enough.”

Reluctantly I got up. For once I was not looking forward to going back to our quarters. The old specter of the Darksaber had raised its ugly head again, and I was not keen on seeing Din. Even if we would not exchange a single word, I knew I would not be able to sleep in the same room as him today. I was too worried I might wake up with the Darksaber right next to me. It was strange how much I feared having it gifted to me now. In the end I was beginning to believe in the whole curse thing after all.

I must be tired indeed.

“You can sleep over there”, the Armorer said calmly, pointing to her pallet in the background of the forge. “I’ll see to it you are not disturbed.”

My lips parted in surprise. Was she reading my thoughts? After the awkward situation with the Darksaber I had not expected her to be overly hospitable. But I was not going to argue.

“Thank you!” I said almost fervently. Gods, the bliss of a few uninterrupted hours of sleep!

As soon as I reached her bed, the Armorer closed a screen between her quarters and the forge, leaving me free to remove my helmet. I made use of that privilege immediately, sank down on her pallet and already felt the world dim around me.

“May you find peace in your sleep”, was the last thing I heard the beautiful voice say.

Chapter Text

I smelled roasted chicken.

Through the thick fogs around my mind I recognized the smell. It belonged to Mandalore, to Sundari Castle. Satine had made it for me when I was sick during our first weeks in Sundari when we had still been happy about being together again. Before politics and plotting prime ministers came between us.

I woke up from a fever dream and knew Satine was there. I could not see her since my eyes were still closed, but I felt her presence in the room, like the sweet fragrance of her beloved Nubian roses. Despite my weariness and exhaustion I felt safe and secure. My sister was with me and took care of me, keeping the world outside and making me comfortable. No servants today, no boring studies, no audiences with the prime ministers. Just the two of us.

I could hear her move through the room, softly, so as not to disturb me. I would merely need to open my eyes to see her tall, majestic figure, the golden hair and the blue eyes. While I had taken after our father, Satine resembled our mother very closely. It was always comforting to see a part of Mother was still here with us.

There was a distinct smell of caf in the air, and I could feel my mouth water. A day starting with chicken broth and caf was a good day in my book.

Steps sounded from somewhere, voices were whispering. I frowned, my eyes still closed. Satine had canceled all of her appointments today to stay with me. Who was interrupting us?

“Who is it?” I muttered, turning my head in the direction of the noise. My lids fluttered open, only to see a curtain in front of the bed.

The whispering ceased, someone tiptoed away. Steps came closer to me. Through the curtain I could see the shadowy outline of a woman.

“Satine?” I asked sleepily.

“She is not here”, a beautiful voice said softly.

I blinked. It was not Satine I had seen through the curtain. It was the Armorer.

It had just been a dream.

I let out a soft sigh, waiting for the crushing disappointment and hollow emptiness. It was my usual response to awaking from good dreams of Satine. The more contentment and peace I felt during the dream, the bitterer the realization that she was gone in reality. I had lost her. She would never return.

Nothing happened. I had woken up, yet I felt calm and safe. Somehow, despite the Armorer’s words, I could sense Satine had been here. Maybe she had realized, wherever she was, how much I needed her right now. Maybe she had come to give me some comfort, to assure me that I would be alright.

Not gone, merely marching far away.

“What time is it?” I asked cautiously, pulling myself up in a sitting position.

“Afternoon”, the Armorer responded calmly. “You slept through the rest of the night and the entire morning.”

I really must have needed a break. Small wonder I had dreamed of my sickness in Sundari.

The smell of chicken was still lingering in the air, making my stomach rumble. I had thought it was part of my dream, yet I was awake now and here it was.

“Do you have food here?” I asked cautiously. If not, I should officially start looking for a therapist.

“I do”, she affirmed to my relief. “Kaya Mari just brought your portion.”

“Kaya?” I shook my head in confusion, trying to clear my still sleepy head. “What…”

“She and Loé process our game. She was trained as a field cook, he as a butcher. They took care of the dead sickleraptors.” There was a hint of amusement in her usually serene voice. “Kaya assured me it tastes quite like chicken.”

“Oh my…” I managed to say before a giggling fit shook me. Ugly chicken for a late lunch? Heck, why ever not!

Through the screen I could see her shadow pulling something out of a drawer. “Will you take a caf?”

My jaw dropped. “You have caf here?”

“Two portions.”

“Yes, please!”

This must have been my most enthusiastic response ever to being offered a cup of caf. It was ages since I had had one. From what I had heard from the others, the covert had not done any grocery shopping either since their arrival here. The Armorer must have saved the caf for months.

A bowl with roasted meat appeared under the curtain, followed by a mug with steaming caf. For a moment I just held it between my hands and inhaled deeply, savoring the smell. I had dreamed of chicken and caf, and now they were actually here. Was it so unlikely to believe that Satine had been here as well?

With the fire of the forge behind her, I could see the shadowy outline of the Armorer sit down on the other side of the curtain, lifting her hands to her helmet. With the tell-tale soft hiss the helmet came off. I watched closely, curious for any clue what she might look like. She could have a bob cut like me, a bun like Ursa Wren or wild curls like Koska Reeves. To my disappointment I saw no shape indicating hair. She was probably wearing a tight-fitting hood underneath her helmet, as many Mandalorians did to avoid their hair getting caught in the helmet. Her appearance would remain a mystery.

Still, after weeks with the Children of the Watch I found I did not mind very much. I was getting used to having a picture of them in my mind. By now it would probably be weird to see their actual faces and realize how far off my imagination was.

What mattered more than looks was the Armorer’s willingness to keep me company. The mug right next to her indicated she had joined me for the cup of caf, and I was grateful for the gesture. I did not want to eat alone, yet did not want to go back to Din right now either.

Curiously I took one of the roasted pieces of meat and bit into it. Another grin briefly stole across my face. Kaya had not exaggerated. Sickleraptor did taste like chicken, and it was well cooked.

Neither of us spoke while I wolfed down my fresh food. So much better than rations! Only occasionally I stopped stuffing my face to enjoy a sip of my caf. Slowly I started to feel like myself again.

“Well, at least one good thing came out of last night’s attack”, I finally stated when I had finished every fibre of meat on my plate. “Enough to eat for the Tribe.”

Who knew, many warriors might be the proud owners of down-filled cushions and blankets by the end of the week.

“A blessing in disguise”, the Armorer agreed, holding her mug between both her hands just like me. “Though the price eventually might be too high.”

I nodded, feeling rather sober. “We must think about relocation. The sickleraptors might leave us alone for a few days but they will be back.”

If only because they followed the chicks’ evening calls.

The Armorer nodded heavily. “Unfortunately our options are few, as short as we are on fuel.”

She was right. Nobody ever came here, so we only had the Gauntlet to take our people off-planet. It would take several trips, and as long as we had no way to restock on fuel, the new planet must not be too far off.

“I wish I could take you all to Kalevala”, I said dolefully. The planet was lush, and even if there were predators, they were not nearly as bad as the sickleraptors. “It was calm there. Peaceful.”

“Close to Mandalore”, the Armorer added, an unmistakable longing in her voice.

“I had hoped to use it as a base for retaking our planet”, I reminisced with some melancholy. “Not an option anymore.”

“Why not?” she inquired.

“On our way back to Kalevala we were attacked by TIE interceptors”, I told her, staring into my mug. “We managed to destroy some of them, then bombers showed up. They blew up my last home.”

“Kryze Castle.”

Her voice was gentle. Every Mandalorian understood what it meant to lose a home. I did not wish to dwell on this loss though. Other things were more important.

“It was a rather big force, not your typical remnant leftovers. I might have annoyed someone powerful among the Imps.”

“The highest praise your enemy can give you is their displeasure.” There was a fierce smile in her voice, and I smiled along.

“Still, it’s not safe for the families”, I conceded. “Not until we know which warlord ambushed us.”

Her shadow nodded. For a while we sat right next to each other in companionable silence, sipping our caf.

“Tell me about Mandalore.”

I turned my head towards her, only to face the screen. “I thought Din Djarin gave you a report on our trip there.”

“He did not”, she stated simply. “He merely told me how you followed him and became his savior.”

“Huh.”

I shook my head in confusion. For me it was unthinkable to not give my superiors a full report.

“It’s not poisoned”, I started with something positive, “and there is still life down there, and water. But you would not recognize the surface anymore…”

Between little breaks to take sips of caf, I told her about the bizarre glass structures, as hauntingly beautiful as a fever dream. I described the burned ruins of Sundari, infested by Alamites and winged reptiles, though I remained silent on finding the crystal with House Kryze’s crest. Instead I mentioned the empty armors in the cyborg’s cave, knowing how much the Tribe needed every scrap of beskar.

“It is possible to establish a camp on the planet and start resettlement”, I finished my story. “But it will take time and many people to succeed. The predators there are like nothing I have seen before. It must be dormant species that woke up.”

Like the Mythosaur. If it had not already been there before.

“Where would you start a settlement?” the Armorer inquired. “In Sundari?”

“No”, I said with determination. “The city is in ruins, full of predators and hard to secure. I would start at the Great Forge. Din and I didn’t go there, but there is a chance it‘s still standing. It was built to withstand fire and earthquakes. We could find shelter there and secure a perimeter with just a few people. Then we could start to rebuild our world.”

Despite my sadness at not being able to retake Mandalore, it felt good to share my plan with the Armorer. The Nite Owls and Clan Kryze still regarded me as the scion of the royal house of Mandalore. It set me apart from them, leaving me without an equal and without someone I could fully confide in. Here at the Tribe, outer trappings and status did not matter. I could share my ideas and get honest opinions.

“I want to rekindle the Great Forge”, I said quietly. “It would go a long way to lift our people’s spirit again.”

Her shadowy outline at the screen nodded thoughtfully. “Once the flame is lit, everything is possible.”

Our talk was interrupted by a cooing from outside. The Armorer sat up straight and put down her mug.

“Time to put on our helmets.”

I quickly downed the rest of the caf and put on my helmet again, opening the curtain when I was done. To my surprise Grogu waddled in. He looked around searchingly and then stretched out his arms for me. His ears were down, his dark eyes huge and sad.

At once I went over to him and picked him up.“Hey buddy, what’s wrong?”

He made a whimpering noise looking at me, then back into the tunnel where he had come from. At first I thought he was nervous about sickleraptors, but then it dawned on me. This was the tunnel leading to our cave. He could not understand why I had not come home.

“Oh, Grogu…”

I looked at him helplessly. How to explain to a kid what two adults had clashed about?

“I don’t hate your dad. I know he means well. I was just so very tired, and he doesn’t understand…”

Behind us I heard the rhythmic sound of a gravity hammer on beskar. The Armorer had started working again, giving us some privacy to talk. Safe in the knowledge that she would hardly hear anything over the ringing noise, I sat down with Grogu on my lap.

“You saw how he offered the Darksaber to me, right?”

The child nodded, cooing questioningly. I lowered my head, our foreheads almost touching.

“When he said he surrendered it to me… it brought back bad memories. You see…” I swallowed hard, feeling my throat getting tight. “I surrendered it too. Not because I was bested in battle. I was blackmailed by a liar and mass murderer.”

“Patu?”

His noise sounded so much like “who” that I felt compelled to answer, though my voice was barely more than a whisper.

“Moff Gideon.”

Grogu’s eyes narrowed, he made a growling noise. Until now he had never gotten angry in front of me. Seeing his grim expression, I suddenly knew for sure he was not your regular toddler in the slightest. His dark eyes bored into mine. For such a cute person he could look surprisingly fierce. Nevertheless I could tell he was on my side. He too was a survivor of Gideon’s twisted games. If anyone in this covert understood me, it was Din’s small, green foundling.

“You see my problem?” I whispered, my head aching with sadness. “If I take the Darksaber because it is surrendered to me, I’m no different from Gideon. But I have to be better than him. I have to!”

I had not done a good job on this front so far.

Had I not held the child, I would have covered my face with my hands. Instead I forced myself to breathe deeply and try to explain myself to him. It was more difficult than I had anticipated. In my head it was all clear and obvious. Rendering it understandable to someone else, though, was hard.

“The Darksaber means everything to my people. Handing it over randomly robs it of its meaning. Then it just becomes an empty trophy, an outer trapping without a soul.”

I sighed, frustrated with my inability to put my thoughts into proper words. I must sound like an imbecile.

“We have lost too much of our culture already”, I valiantly tried once more. “The few good things left must remain meaningful. It’s not enough that one person thinks I should have it.”

I had once walked into this trap with Sabine Wren. While I still believed it had been the right thing not to fight the girl, I would not repeat my mistake by letting Din Djarin just hand the blade over to me.

“If I want the Darksaber, I have to prove myself worthy and win it rightfully”, I told Grogu seriously. “At the moment this would mean fighting your father, and I won’t do that. You have my word.”

Grogu cooed and trustingly snuggled up to me. Automatically I put my arms around his little body and leaned my helmeted cheek on the top of his head, missing the sensation of his softness against my skin. Still, it was nice to have someone warm and alive close to me. I had never shown overly much need for physical contact, but at times I did miss the normal, affectionate touches of family members. Satine had been a big hugger, and she had passed this trait on to Korkie. After her death he had continued the tradition. While I had often protested hotly against his crushingly tight embraces, I had also cherished them. I did not get this kind of contact with my Nite Owls.

Come to think of it, since Korkie’s loss only Axe and Koska had been close enough to me to give me the occasional hug. And now it was Din and Grogu…

“You are very similar to my nephew, you know.” I smiled softly, though Grogu could not see it. “He always tried to mediate when my sister and I fought.”

With a questioning noise Grogu looked up to me.

“His name was Korkie. I lost him during the Purge.” I snuggled up a little closer to him, and Grogu leaned in. “Before I met with Moff Gideon, I sent Korkie a holo message to meet with me in Sundari Castle. When I returned, I found Gideon had betrayed me. The planet was still being bombed and the castle was burning.”

My voice was monotonous, as if merely retelling something I had read on the holonews instead of having experienced it myself.

“The com channel was dead. I never saw him again. For a while I hoped he had managed to escape, but he would have contacted me by now.” I raised my head and looked at Grogu wearily. “I’m the last one left.”

The words sounded ominous even in my own ears. Mandalorian songs were full with sole survivors of entire clans. They usually had gloomy, tragic fates, and I really did not want to end up like them. Maybe that was a reason why I felt at home among the Children of the Watch. They too consisted of sole survivors and yet found strength in their community.

Right on cue a deep humming noise sounded. In astonishment I looked up as Grogu pressed himself against me with a start. I could swear the rock was vibrating. The Armorer too interrupted her work and looked up.

“A ship is approaching.”

I was rather aghast. “Is that what it sounds like when I pull the Gauntlet in?”

The Armorer nodded. Kriff, small wonder the entire tribe always spilled out of the cave as soon as a ship was down! The noise would have woken up a raptor chick in cold rigor.

“Who would come here?”

Immediately I grew suspicious. This planet was off the beaten track and there was no reason to visit. Except maybe for Kaminoan scientists who needed genetic samples of dinosaurs in order to clone them and then sell them to flashy amusement parks.

I looked at the Armorer and saw she was already holding hammer and tongs in a very characteristic way, like she had done last night before braining sickleraptors. She, for one, would not be caught unaware.

She gave me a nod and I returned it grimly. The jobs were allocated without one of us having to say something. She would defend the forge, I would find out who the intruder was. With Grogu on my hip I marched out and went to the entrance of the caves. The others had already gone there. I could hear their voices and steps on the sand outside.

As I reached the entrance area, I spotted a bunch of foundlings lingering around there. On the forefront were Boan and Ragnar, right behind them crouched Niva and Ayk with the smaller ones. They were all staying out of sight while listening intently.

“What’s going on?” I asked in a whisper.

Ayk turned around to me, eager to share the excitement. “An X-Wing just landed outside.”

I drew in a sharp breath. X-Wing? The last time I had seen one of those was when the Jedi joined us on Gideon’s cruiser. He might have been our savior, but he had also taken Grogu away. Instinctively I held the little one more tightly, refusing to surrender him to an outsider.

“Did you see the pilot?” I asked urgently. “It was not some fellow in black, right?”

“What? No!” Boan shook her head at my apparent cluelessness. “It’s some republican ranger. Carson Teva, or something.”

I thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Never heard of him.”

“Well, Dad told him to beat it, and he just won’t”, Ragnar informed me. I could almost hear his scowl.

“Sounds like fun”, I commented dryly and handed Grogu over to Niva. “Can you watch him for me? I’ll see if the others need help getting rid of him.”

“Sure.” The girl took Grogu on her hip. “Tell us everything later.”

“I will,” I promised solemnly and stepped into the daylight.

The atmosphere out there was tense. Team Shriek-hawk was represented by Asla while Din and Paz stood menacingly close to the Republican ranger. Even gentle Laurana Eldar was not in the mood for fooling around. She had grabbed her rifle and joined Ellis Tindale at the cave entrance, ready to open fire. I was used to warriors pointing guns at me, but for some reason a pediatrician ready to fire set me on the edge.

I came just in time to hear Teva say: “Fortunately, someone I served with in the Rebellion is amongst your ranks.”

I froze in my tracks. While single individuals like Sabine Wren had joined the rebellion, Mandalorians as a people had stayed clear of the Alliance for the Restoration of the Republic. As much as we hated the Empire, we had not been overly fond of the Republic either. Relations had been strained even before they turned Empire in the blink of an eye.

Many of us did not even see that big a difference between the Old Republic and the Empire. As soon as Satine had declared our neutrality in the Clone Wars, we were cut off from all Republican trade, with devastating consequences to our economy and our food supply chains. The Republic might not have bombed Mandalore like the Empire, but their restrictions had starved us. Many, including Satine, regarded it as a petty attempt to force us into submission and join the conflict on their side. For the sake of my people I had eventually taken the risk of asking for their help against Maul. While we had managed to get rid of him together, the result had been the Imperial occupation. We had no reason to trust the Republicans.

The revelation that one of them had hidden among us and, on top of it, had ratted out on us was not welcome in the slightest. The others exchanged startled looks. Before anyone could start to throw accusations around, Teva saluted Din’s astromech.

“Thanks, R5.”

You little traitor!

“The entire covert will now have to relocate”, Din stated angrily. This could not help with his general distrust of droids.

“About time”, Laurana muttered to me.

Despite my annoyance with R5 I could only agree. The sickleraptors alone were reason enough for me to leave this place behind. Now there was an even more pressing reason.

“Or we could kill him”, Paz Vizsla threw in coldly. “Stay right here.”

I rolled my eyes under the helmet. This was so Paz. How did you know he had had a couple of bad nights? The amount of death threats increased.

To my relief Din was having none of it. ”This man cut me a break once and now I’m returning the favor.” He made a dismissive sign to the X-Wing pilot. “Clear out, Blue.”

I looked at the ranger closely. It was an elderly man with white hair and beard, quite harmless at first sight. His dark eyes betrayed him though. They were keen and sharp, the eyes of a veteran who had seen a lot and knew how the galaxy worked. He was no fool. He was fully aware coming here was asking for trouble, yet he had taken the risk. It reminded me of Ahsoka and her habit of interfering in order to do the right thing.

“Greef Karga sent this holomessage.”

He reached for his pocket. Immediately several blasters pointed at his chest, and I had an uncomfortable déjà vu to my own arrival here.

The pilot rose his other hand in a pacifying gesture. Much more slowly he reached into his pocket and produced a palm holoprojector. Keeping his free hand where we could see it, Teva tossed projector to Din who nimbly caught it.

“Nevarro is under siege by pirates. He’s asking for help.”

Despite the helmet I could practically see Din’s eyes narrow in suspicion. He stepped closer to the ranger, and the two walked away a few paces, so we could no longer hear what was being said.

“Do you believe him?” Laurana asked me quietly.

“Not sure”, I admitted. “Last time I made a deal with the republic, I bit off more than I could chew.”

“Nevarro, of all places…”

Something in Laurana’s voice made me turn and look at her closely. Despite her armor I could see shivers run through her body. I bit my lip, remembering what Din had told me about the massacre. She must have lost friends and comrades in arms there. I knew only too well what that felt like. Without saying a word I put my hand on her shoulder and watched Din and Teva discussing.

Din was oozing suspicion, though I had to admit the captain looked candid. He had this kind of Obi-Wan honesty, the big, sincere eyes assuring you he was only here to help, complete with the de-escalating movements. Either he was the best actor on this side of the galaxy or he was being truthful. If he was a former rebel, he might just be one of these savior types. People who followed their ideals rather than pragmatism and got involved selflessly to save others.

Had I not been brought up by the leader of Death Watch, I might have turned out similarly.

As soon as Teva turned to walk back to his X-wing, I covered the distance between Din and myself and came to his side. Nobody else did, as if Din’s experience with this man put a distance between him and the Tribe. When I arrived, Teva was just settling down in his cockpit again and sighed deeply.

“I know you’ll relocate anyway, but you have my word, I will not reveal your location. Sorry to intrude.”

Obi-Wan honesty, and impeccable manners on top of it.

Nevertheless I threw him a suspicious look, hidden behind my helmet. Din said nothing either. Together we watched the X-wing lift off the ground and make for the atmosphere.

“So, what are you thinking?” I asked eventually, resolutely putting our clash over the Darksaber aside. This was a much more pressing problem. Experience warned me against trusting the Republic, yet if he had had any doubts, Din would not have given Teva a chance to explain himself.

Din looked at the holo projector in his hand. “He’s right. I gotta help the guy.”

“You can’t do it alone”, I stated matter-of-factly. Din looked at me thoughtfully and I shook my head half annoyed, half amused. “I’m with you, don’t worry. But you’ll need more than the two… three of us.”

“I’ll have to put it before the entire Tribe”, he acknowledged with a sigh. “This will not be easy.”

“Why?” I asked, pointing at the holo projector. “Who is this Greef Karga?”

“He was the head of the bounty hunters guild on Nevarro.” Din threw a furtive look towards the Tribe, and it suddenly dawned on me.

“Wait… the one who ambushed you with his cronies after you freed Grogu?”

“Yes”, Din confirmed heavily.

I nervously glanced at the Tribe too. “The one your brothers and sisters rescued you from before they were mowed down by the Empire?”

Din lowered his head. “Yes.”

I blew out my breath. This was not going to go down well.

“I have to try”, Din insisted quietly. “It must sound crazy to you but…”

“You are speaking to a Death Watch warrior who freed the Duchess of Mandalore after putting her in prison in the first place”, I reminded him dryly. “What are we waiting for?”

As it turned out, we were waiting for Kaya and Loé to finish their work on processing the sickleraptors. With more than two dozen dead animals, the two had their work cut out for them. The only cave big enough to gut them and cut them up was the assembly cave. Only once this was done, the meat could be taken to the kitchen cave for smoking, and so evening came before the meeting could take place.

One by one we flocked in and sat down on the benches on the far side of the cave. The Tribe filled the entire semicircle and I looked around for those I knew well by now. On the right side sat Paz Vizsla and Loé with several warriors, among them Chu, the judge. In the first row of the center the Armorer had her seat right next to Grogu. Laurana Eldar and I seated ourselves at her right, next to Paz Vizsla’s group. On the Armorer’s left were the Shriek-hawks, and, further left, Kaya Mari, Lin Tsue, Ellis Tindale and Janine Solus with several red-helmeted women.

“Din Djarin, you have called for a meeting”, the Armorer announced. “Step forward.”

Din rose from his seat and walked down to the center of the semicircle. As soon as he reached the Armorer, she handed him her gravity hammer. I had a vague memory that in the old times the one holding the hammer had the right to speak. While people were allowed to discuss his words among each other, he was not to be challenged or interrupted while holding the hammer.

“Do you speak for Clan Mudhorn, Din Djarin?” the Armorer asked ceremoniously.

“I do”, he replied seriously.

On my seat I straightened myself up. “Din Djarin speaks for Clan Kryze as well”, I declared.

It sounded a little pompous in my own ears to make Din the spokesman for my entire clan when I was the only representative around, but I knew the Children of the Watch would not mind. They were used to having only one survivor of a clan among them.

Din looked at me, radiating warmth and gratitude for my public backing. I just shrugged, smiling behind my helmet. He would have done the same for me. Besides, nobody needed to convince me that people who defended their home world against aggressive intruders deserved support.

“You all heard what the ranger said”, Din started his speech, slowly walking up and down before his audience. “Nevarro is under attack from pirates, and calls for help. They are not part of the Republic, so Coruscant won’t help them.”

I made a face under my helmet. It had been a bureaucratic nightmare to get Republican forces to Mandalore in order to topple Maul. By the looks of it, the New Republic followed in the old one’s footsteps.

“Now, many of you don’t know Greef Karga”, Din continued. “And those that do fought against him when you rescued me from his ambush many cycles ago on the streets of Nevarro.”

The covert murmured and I felt myself flinch. Yeah, this one would not be easy to sell to them.

“Since then, he’s had a change of heart”, Din insisted, “and has risked his life to save mine as well as the foundling in my charge.”

As I had found out myself, saving a foundling was doing the highest honor to the Creed. This might just work in Karga’s favor. That is, if they thought someone who was not Mandalorian could actually honor the Creed.

“I stand before you to petition an intervention. To help rescue Nevarro before it’s too late. I am in no position to ask any more of you. However…”

Din had to stop his speech for a moment. The warriors were discussing in whispers and murmurs, several of them shaking their heads.

“However”, he continued, “the enemy that decimated this very covert were Imperials, not Greef Karga’s bounty hunters. Greef Karga is now a High Magistrate and has offered me a tract of land on his independent world.”

I perked up my ears. This was interesting indeed. A scattered people who had to relocate all the time might do well with a piece of their own land. Especially if there were no dinosaurs or other monsters on the planet.

“Perhaps it is time for us to live in the light once again on a planet where we are welcome”, Din elaborated. “So our culture may flourish and our children can feel what it is to play in the sunlight.”

From my seat I gave him a nod. It was a good argument. I knew from working with Laurana how exhausting it was to constantly watch the children or keep them in the caves just so they would not get eaten. Also, they deserved better than a life underground. Mandalorian values were about walking in the sunlight, not lingering in the shadows like crooks and criminals.

Din walked to the Armorer and handed the hammer back to her. Taking it up, she looked around questioningly.

“Does anyone else wish to speak?”

Din returned to my side and chose a seat between me and Laurana. His shoulder briefly brushed mine as he sat down beside me, as closely as during our nightly talks through the curtain.

“It’s up to them now”, he told me quietly.

Paz Vizsla’s massive figure rose in response to the Armorer. “I do.”

Din stiffened by my side. I took a deep breath. This did not bode well.

The Armorer handed the hammer to Paz Vizsla, who accepted it with a grave nod. I resisted the urge to fidget as he wandered towards the center.

“I was there on Nevarro that night”, Paz Vizsla began, his voice hoarse. “I fought against Greef Karga and his hunters. I saw my brothers and sisters fall at the hands of the Imperial butchers that hunted us in the sewers.”

Din had told me of this dreadful night already, of his own share in the covert’s death, but hearing it from Paz added a new layer to the horror. Din had been able to get off planet. Paz had remained behind and witnessed his covert being slaughtered by the Imps. I lowered my head at the unmitigated grief in his bearing. I could understand him so well.

Satine… Korkie… Sabrina…

“I saw many die to save the life of this one, tiny foundling.”

He gestured to Grogu, who looked around with his big eyes. I felt a sense of foreboding. Was it bitterness that spoke out of him now?

“And now we are asked to sacrifice yet again.”

I could see Cal shake his lowered head silently. Beside me, Din’s hands clutched into fists with apprehension. Instinctively I put my hand on his knee, though I could not say whether I was trying to calm him down or myself.

“The question we should be asking ourselves is, why? Why should we lay our lives down yet again?”

My heart sank as several warriors nodded their assent, some openly discussing the situation among themselves. I could not even blame them. I too tried to preserve my people wherever I could. There were just too few of us left to needlessly risk their lives.

“Because we are Mandalorians!” Paz yelled.

My head came up in surprise. Come again?

Paz pointed at Din. “I have had my disagreements with this man, but he risked his life to save my son.”

Laurana at my left nodded seriously.

“And Bo-Katan Kryze did not give up on my child's life even when the rest of us did.”

For a moment he lowered his head, no doubt reliving the nightmare of trying to save Ragnar from certain death. By my side Din shifted. His hand closed around my wrist with excitement.

“These two”, Paz eventually continued, “are asking us to take up arms in the name of a brighter future, and I for one will take up arms to fight by their side. This is the Way”, he roared, lifting the hammer.

“This is the Way”, the Tribe chanted back.

I had to hand it to Paz, he knew how to work up a crowd. This talent clearly ran in the Vizsla family.

“This is the Way”, the Armorer agreed, settling the matter once and for all.

I looked at Din with growing enthusiasm. “We are actually doing this!” I whispered as excited as a rookie. “If the Tribe establish themselves as Nevarro’s saviors, they can get back to civilization.”

He leaned his head towards me so only I could hear his quiet words.

“I’ll need your help to plan this. It must not become a second massacre.”

I could sense his apprehension. Nevarro had been the biggest defeat of the tribe, and to Din a memory of shame and grief. I knew only too well how he felt. Been there, done that.

I would not let him or my people suffer like this again.

“We’ll figure it out”, I assured him softly, squeezing his knee. “This time we won’t be butchered. I promise.”

Gratefully he placed his hand on mine. “Thank you. You are becoming the savior of my people.”

I looked at him with a soft smile that hopefully made it into my voice. “Did it ever occur to you that you and Grogu might be the saviors of me?”

He looked back at me. Despite the helmet I could feel the warmth of his gaze, and for a moment the world consisted merely of the two of us, surrounded by a cozy little cocoon of trust.

The spell broke when Paz handed the hammer back and sat down again, nodding at us. I straightened myself up. The clock was ticking. Nevarro needed help immediately.

“Let’s go save a planet.”

Chapter Text

With the promise of giving them all an update once we had finished preparations, the Armorer dismissed the Tribe. Some of them were clearly hesitant to leave, especially the fearless fighters of Team Mandalore and Team Mythosaur. I could tell they would have loved to stay and listen in, like eager foundlings trying to eavesdrop on the adults. Once Din and I joined Paz and the Armorer, though, they finally took the hint and left us alone.

“Bo-Katan.” The Armorer turned to me. “We need to devise a plan.”

I folded my hands behind my back, my mind already racing. Nevarro was running out of time, so it would have to be a simple strategy with room for improvisation. Luckily I was used to plan special operations while the clock was ticking.

“Let’s take the warriors who participated in my training. They have learned how to secure an area and how to operate as a team.”

“Agreed”, the Armorer responded without hesitation. “I will join as well.”

I felt a surge of excitement. Having seen her handle the sickleraptors, I was curious to see how pirates would respond to her.

“If you lived on Nevarro before”, I came to the next point, “do you still have maps of the planet?”

“I have one in the nav computer of the N-1”, Din replied. “Just a few weeks old. I also have data of Gorian Shard’s ship there, if that helps.”

If that helped! I beamed at him. This man was worth his weight in beskar.

“Excellent”, I exclaimed, feeling much more confident now that I got data to work with. “I’ll need you to transmit it all to the Gauntlet.”

I turned to look at Paz and the Armorer, bracing myself. “How is our fuel situation?”

“Still rationed”, Paz informed me glumly.

When he showed me the actual number on his vambrace, I bit back a curse. Ragnar’s rescue mission had cut deep into the Tribe’s provision. But there was no point in crying over spilled milk.

“So just enough for dropping and landing, and maybe single flights”, I stated matter-of-factly.

I made a face, which nobody saw. This could cause problems, especially with the pirates’ strength in numbers. Fighting in flight was one of our greatest strengths, and we would not be able to fully exploit it with the fuel restriction.

All the more reason to free Nevarro and settle down there. Once the Tribe was established there, they could trade with the townspeople.

If the plan doesn’t work, make another one.

“Let’s take a first set of provision with us”, I proposed. “This way we can immediately make camp on Nevarro, and then the families can join us soon.”

I had learned with the Nite Owls that you needed to be able to make camp almost everywhere. Since we were already taking the Gauntlet, we might as well fill it up with boxes.

“I’ll inform the warriors of Team Mythosaur and Team Mandalore”, Paz declared.

I nodded in agreement. “Din Djarin and I will analyze the data on Nevarro and Gorian Shard’s ship.”

“I will have the provisions and weapons packed”, the Armorer ended our talk. “We leave in a few hours.”

Before any of us could even think about taking Grogu along, she picked him up as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Well, the kid would benefit from learning what to pack for a camp, I thought with amusement, and he seemed happy enough to join the Armorer.

Din and I nodded at each other and left the assembly hall. Side by side we marched out to the ships. From the N-1 Din initiated the data transfer and then came back down to me to go to the Gauntlet.

“I had a brief skirmish with Shard on my last trip to Nevarro”, he told me while we walked up the gangway. “Just before I came to Kalevala. His helmsman and some pirates caused trouble in the capital. Karga and I shot them.”

“Good job”, I said with appreciation, though I knew what it was like with pirates. No matter how many of them you eliminated, there were always successors. Gorian Shard was probably operating with a full crew again by now.

Din snorted with dry humor. “Almost got ambushed by Shard later. That’s how I got a scan of his ship.”

By now we had reached the cockpit of the Gauntlet. A notification awaited me to confirm a transmission from the N-1, and I switched on the projector. Together Din and I watched it emit the hologram of a Cumulus Class Corsair. Its prow was shaped like an anvil, making it look like a sinister bird from afar. I exhaled audibly as I read the data.

“Fourteen turret missile launchers, and at least four quad laser canons.”

Din nodded grimly. “It hosts several snubfighters as well.”

“A flying fortress, then.” I threw the hologram an angry stare as if its very sight was a capital offense. “Right, let’s look at the map of Nevarro.”

Obediently the emitter showed us a hologram of the planet. One look at it told me most of the things I needed to know.

“The majority of the population seems to live in Nevarro City”, I stated, looking at the only bigger settlement I could find.

Din at my side nodded. “Nevarro is very volcanic. It has only so many places you can settle.”

“So it’s safe to assume Shard is only targeting the city”, I summarized. A pirate king would not be interested in tiny settlements if he could have the plum part of Nevarro.

“My thoughts exactly”, Din agreed. With a swipe of his finger he positioned the holographic ship over Nevarro City, letting it hover above the settlement as menacingly as a bird of prey over a wounded ash-rabbit. “With this kind of firepower, they can easily bomb the city from above. Teva said Shard was about to blow Nevarro to hell.”

Something inside me froze. Bomb the city from above…

The rocks and lake behind the Gauntlet’s windows vanished. Instead, I saw Mandalore.

Mandalore was burning.

Even from space I could see the glow of a billion fires, billowing higher than the domed cities. My planet was ablaze, a roaring inferno. Everything down there was on fire, the very sands of the wastelands burning.

Then we saw the bombers. They were everywhere. Like evil, black bugs eager to lay their disgusting eggs in an inflamed wound, they swarmed across my screaming planet, dropping their deadly cargo with murderous precision. At the helm tough, battle-hardened Axe Woves moaned like a hurt, frightened child.

Fire rained down on Mandalore. Entire towns disappeared in gigantic explosions.

“No!” I heard myself sob out in horror. “No, no, no! I surrendered! I did what he wanted! He promised to stop!”

Axe turned towards me, his face ashen like a corpse’s. Only his eyes, red and brimming over, looked somewhat alive.

“That son of a bitch betrayed you.”

In the deafening silence between us I watched as everything my sister had achieved for our planet crumbled to ashes. As our people, who we both cherished more than anything else, ceased to exist.

Lost. Everything was lost.

I had failed.

“Bo? Do you hear me?”

With a start I returned to the present. It was Din who stood with me, not Axe. We were not in orbit of Mandalore but on a dinosaur-infested planet which our people needed to leave behind as quickly as possible.

My heart hammered in my chest. Of course I knew I suffered from PTSD. Pretty much every survivor of the Purge did, just to a different extent. There was a reason why I had slipped into a daze when Kryze Castle was bombed into the ground. The sight of explosions on a planetary surface could do that to me. But this time I had had a flashback at the mere mentioning of a possible bombing. This was not good in the slightest. Maybe the sleepless raptor nights had woken up another beast in the darkness of my subconscious.

Din looked at me closely, and once more I was grateful for my helmet. And for the fact that Grogu was not here. He would have known immediately how the land lay.

I could have told Din I was struggling with an old trauma. He would be understanding, as always. There was nothing to fear from him. But I knew I would still let him down. Right now I was the only one in the Tribe who could plan the mission on Nevarro. If I now pleaded ill health and dropped out, the covert would lose their strategist. Din’s nightmare of sending his people to their certain death once more might well come true. I could not leave them in lurch right now. They needed me.

“Sorry”, I muttered, shaking my head. “Got lost in thought.”

Before he could ask what I had been thinking of, I gave our conversation a new turn. “So all in all there are three parties we have to take into account. The Corsair, the snubfighters and the pirates on the ground.”

Din looked at the Corsair thoughtfully. “I’d say you and I take on the ships.”

“If we take the fighters out of the game, we can drop our people to the surface”, I mused. “Then they could take care of the pirates on the ground without having to worry about aerial strikes.”

“I could distract the fighters”, Din suggested. “Shard has beef with me. He will recognize the N-1 and send his pilots after me.”

“And keep an eye on you himself”, I followed his train of thought. “Which would give me the opportunity to drop the teams over Nevarro City unseen. Will you last long enough against the fighters?”

“Don’t worry, I got this”, he assured me. His demeanor was confident but not cocky, which actually made me believe in him.

“Alright, as soon as I have dropped our teams, I’ll join you and fire on the Corsair”, I promised. “He’ll probably call his fighters back then and go after me. Should give you time to get a few shots in.”

Din chuckled slightly. “Sounds like Kalevala all over again.”

The smile froze on my face. Luckily he did not see it.

“Just like it”, I said briskly and turned my attention to the map of Nevarro City.

As usual, keeping busy helped to keep the shadows of my mind at bay. I studied the city’s infrastructure, its buildings and alleys, trying to memorize as much as possible. Din threw in some helpful information he had gathered first-hand from living there. Step by step I started to get an idea of how the city worked and where our teams would have the most impact.

In the intense preparation and discussion with Din the hours flew by. Almost before I knew it, Paz came to let us know the warriors and the Armorer were ready. I had no idea if I was ready, but the planning had calmed me down. As long as we kept Shard from bombing the city, I should make it through the day without another flashback.

As we left the Gauntlet together – me to join Paz and the Armorer, Din to get Grogu and man the N-1 – we were met by our two teams, who had just a few days ago tried to capture each other’s flag. In their colorful armors they did not look nearly as professional and efficient as my Nite Owls, but I knew better.

“Mandalorians”, I greeted them briefly. “We are about to secure a city and free a planet. This is what you were trained for. Like in training, we will secure perimeters and take out enemy targets.”

My trainees looked back at me, and despite the lack of faces I could tell they were following my very words. These people had become my friends during the last weeks. They were my people, my tribe, my protegees. I had taught them all I knew, and now it was time to lead them into battle. Just as I had to trust in their fighting skills, they had to trust in my strategic skills.

I made a point of glancing at each of them individually. Loé in bright yellow. Bex, one of the warriors in red armor. Toru, also in red helmet, but with a yellow cuirass. Mark Eldar, Laurana’s husband, in a grey helmet, honoring his wife’s heritage by wearing Clan Eldar’s lioness on his red pauldrons and their sea-green on his cuirass. The Shriek-hawks in their blue and silver helmets. Ellis in white and yellow. Lin and Kaya in their bright red helmets and lime-green armors, Janine in paler shades. Din and Paz. The Armorer.

“This is a Kom’rk Class fighter transport”, I told the warriors, walking up and down before them like I had done during “Capture the Flag” when introducing new assets and strategies. While they all had seen my ship before, I wanted them to know it was our classic transporter for warriors in order to increase their confidence. They might be living on scraps, but they would fly into battle in style, like true Mandalorians.

“I’ll use this to drop you in and you will operate as a tight military unit. Din Djarin and myself will reinforce from above.”

The two teams looked at Din, then nodded their assent. I walked to the ramp of the Gauntlet and crossed my hands behind my back.

“If everyone acts as they should, we can use the element of surprise and defeat an enemy that outnumbers us.”

Unlike my sister, I had never been great at giving pep talks. I usually confined myself to giving people a brief outline and to keep it on a need-to-know level. Satine would have managed to stir their hearts by appealing to their heroism and the dire need of Nevarro’s citizens. I might have mentioned something of this sort, but would have felt rather stupid doing so. People needed authenticity. I was no orator. I was a warrior. Besides, there was no time for long, elaborate speeches. We were on a clock here.

I led the warriors into the Gauntlet’s dropping area, relying on the Shriek-hawks to show them how to strap in and how to get out quickly. Paz and the Armorer joined me in the cockpit, Din and Grogu got the N-1 ready. In no time at all we left the atmosphere and set a course for Nevarro.

The rest of our mission briefing was done in hyperspace. Paz, the Armorer and I watched the holograms extracted from Din’s data in the cockpit, the warriors in the dropping area of the Gauntlet. Din and Grogu in the N-1 were linked to us via comm channel, so they could listen in and follow my presentation.

“Pirate King Gorian Shard is captaining a Cumulus Class Corsair carrying a complement of snubfighters”, I explained as the projector showed the holo of Shard’s ship. “It has aerial bombardment capabilities.”

To my immense relief my voice stayed normal this time, and the flashbacks stayed in their box. The last thing our people needed now was their strategist to go bonkers.

“The N-1 will distract the Corsair and her snubfighters as we drop in to liberate the planet below.”

The Nevarro map popped up with the four red points I had marked there.

“These are the dropping areas. Team One is going down first”, I informed everyone while the respective red dot started blinking, indicating the precise location Team One would land in. “They clear their perimeter. Team Two drops on the other side and secures the area there. Once the pirates in your respective dropping zone are neutralized, you join forces and move to the courtyard.”

“How do we communicate without the pirates listening in?” Hiro asked.

“On this frequency.” I pushed a button on the comm in my vambrace to send it to them all. “R5 checked the encryption. As long as we keep them occupied, the pirates should not be able to crack it any time soon.”

“What channel is it?” Paz Vizsla asked while programming his vambrace com.

I smiled grimly. “The private channel of Clan Kryze. Nobody will listen in.”

Unless Axe Woves was taking assignments from pirates now. I suppressed an unprofessional growl at that thought and went on with my presentation.

“Team Three will advance to the courtyard to reinforce the others and to clear the square.”

The hologram showed an open place with trees, surrounded by houses. The most imposing one was a tower at the opposite side of our teams’ rendezvous point.

“The tower is the most luxurious place in the vicinity. It is very likely the pirates’ lair now”, I warned. “You will have to be prepared for heavy fire, maybe even artillery.”

“If there is artillery, it will be mounted up in the tower”, the Armorer pointed out. “They can cover the entire place from there.”

“Which is why Team Four’s task will be to infiltrate the tower”, I explained. “A small team should be able to get in undetected.”

She nodded pointedly. “I will do it.”

I opened my mouth to suggest taking a team, then closed it again. The Armorer was a one-woman army, more than a match for several opponents. Also, she was quieter when on her own.

“As soon as the pirates lose control of the city, they will only have their spaceship left. Din Djarin and I will take out the fighters and hope to damage the Corsair enough for Shard to withdraw.” I could feel a shiver creep into my voice. “We will do our utmost to prevent a bombing from above.”

The Armorer looked at me briefly but did not say anything. I breathed an inaudible sigh of relief.

Once the military part was done, I gave the warriors a brief summary of the planet itself. “Nevarro is an independent planet and no longer under remnant Imperial or New Republic protection. But it’s that very independence that makes it appealing for you to settle. You lived there once, hiding in the sewers. But now, you can be heroes.”

“Are you sure this is what the citizens will think?” Mark Eldar asked with a hint of doubt in his voice.

“Oh yes”, I said calmly.

I had been there when terrified civilians under attack of criminal scum were rescued by Mandalorian troops. All of a sudden the formerly feared and despised warriors had become saviors.

“This will work. Trust me.”

Only this time the attack of the scum was not staged by a crazy Vizsla in cahoots with a Sith, and the warriors were actually risking their lives.

Should make it all the more convincing, the cynical part of me said. The rest of me just hoped to keep as many of my people alive as possible.

While I knew there was nothing else to brief about, I felt far from ready when the nav computer sounded the alarm and our ships fell out of hyperspace. Nevarro hung in space before us, looking deceptively peaceful. Right on cue Paz and the Armorer left the cockpit to join the others in the dropping area.

“Scanning for the Corsair”, Din’s voice came in. Merely moments later he added: “Got it. Right above the city center.”

The ship appeared on my scanners as well, and then I saw it. In real life it looked even more like a carrion bird, hanging above the city as if feasting on it. But the good news was that for all its menace it was a sitting duck. The shields were off. Gorian Shard clearly did not expect anyone to come to Nevarro’s aid. With what I knew of pirates I could well imagine they were all drunk in a stupor, feeling as the invincible lords of the city.

I had felt the same way on Carlac, until Ahsoka had shaken me out of my complacency and made me fight for my life. It had been a bitter but very efficient medicine, and I was itching to dish it out.

“Using the rocks for cover until you give the all clear”, I told Din. “Good luck.”

Din gave me a thumbs-up from his cockpit and fearlessly flew straight towards the Corsair while I kept the Gauntlet in the shadows of the mountains. While waiting for his sign, I scanned the area and soon found several life signs outside of the city. Karga and his people must have made camp there, desperately waiting for help.

It was on the way, and it came in the shape of a shiny N-1 firing a shot at the Corsair.

I grinned under my helmet as I imagined how the pirates jumped out of their smug stupor and sounded the alarm. And indeed, Din caused quite a stir there. From the cockpit I watched how canons were fired at him and how several snubfighters disengaged from Shard’s ship. The sight of one, single Mandalorian was reason enough for the scum to send the entire fleet after him. This was more like it, I thought with satisfaction. No more creeping in the sewers for my people. It was time they reclaimed their place under the open sky.

“The Corsair’s on me”, Din’s voice sounded over Clan Kryze’s channel. “Coast is clear.”

I needed no further inducement. As soon as the ship was following Din, I piloted the Gauntlet towards Nevarro City.

“Approaching drop point”, I informed the warriors. “First team, prepare to drop.”

The first team consisted of a dozen warriors. I opened the hatch of the Gauntlet. A hissing noise when Nevarro’s air streamed in, then I spotted small, helmeted figures flying to the ground.

“First team away”, I informed both the N-1 and the second team.

Let’s hope their fuel lasts. And that I actually taught them anything useful.

Team Two was next. It consisted solely of the Shriek-hawks since they were a trained Mandalorian force and could cover about the same ground as their more numerous but unexperienced comrades.

I had just dropped them when the first team reported back in.

“Area clear. Team Two, you with us?”

A short break, then Rhys’ voice sounded. “Team Two, moving toward courtyard.”

So far, so good.

Team Three and the Armorer were the last ones to drop. I could barely see her under the Gauntlet as she soared towards the ground, a tiny fleck of sunlight reflecting on her golden helmet.

Good luck down there. You are on your own now.

I muted myself but kept the Clan Kryze channel open, so I could listen to all that was happening. As the strategist I had to keep tabs on all of them, so I could adjust the plan if necessary.

“Din, what’s your position?” I called my fellow pilot, ready to do my share.

“I’m over the flats with snubfighters in pursuit”, he responded immediately. “You’re clear to start your run.”

Gladly.

Flying a sharp curve I flew directly at the Corsair and launched a volley at their engine. Since Din had cleared out the snubfighters, the pirates had no chance to stop my attack. With relish I looked at the explosions my shots had caused. This was definitely more than just shield damage.

“Possible ambush”, Rhys’ voice sounded from the channel. “Take cover!”

Barely a heartbeat later the sound of shots rang through the com channel. I drew in the air between my teeth and hoped for the best. At least the Shriek-hawks were no rookies.

“Behind us”, Asla called out in warning.

More shots, then Rhys’ sober words: “We’re boxed in.”

For a moment I wanted to yell how the kriff they could get boxed in while wearing jetpacks. Then I remembered the fuel shortage and could have wailed in frustration. Instead I bit my lip helplessly. It was so hard to listen to their plight and not being able to help.

Then the Corsair opened fire on me and I was forced to think of my own safety.

I turned the ship and flew a wide circle to evade their canons. I tried to blend out the noise from the channel, the sounds of heavier shots, the grunts of pain from the Shriek-hawks and the knowledge that my friends were fighting for their very lives down there.

Come on, Team Three! Come on…

A beeping alarm sounded in my cockpit, and I threw the display a quick look. Five snubfighters had regrouped and were now starting the chase on me.

Remember, Bo-Katan Kryze, the Armorer’s beautiful voice spoke in my mind. When you choose to walk the Way of the Mandalore, you are both hunter and prey.

I was indeed, and these pirates would realize very quickly the same went for them. Keeping my eyes on the screen, I flew a curve. The fighters followed me, firing from all cannons, when a shot from above incinerated one of them. The N-1 was back.

I grinned fiercely as I watched Din just taking their formation apart. Fast as lightning he was above one, then below it, chasing it and then fired. The fighter crashed into the Corsair, causing another explosion.

Must be getting uncomfortable in there…

“All clear”, Paz Vizsla of the third team called in the channel. “Advance!”

I cheered silently. All clear meant the Armorer had managed to smoke out the tower. Things were starting to look good for us.

The warrior’s voices came in quick succession now.

“On me!” Cal called to his warriors. “Forward.”

“Man your positions.”

“Go, go, go!”

With more relish than ever before I fired on the snubfighters and their mother ship. The snubfighters’ formation had broken completely. Each of them was only thinking of saving their own skin now, not caring what happened to the others. The contrast between a Mandalorian unit and a bunch of selfish grifters could not have been sharper. One of them actually made for the atmosphere and disappeared from the system. While passing another snubfighter I spotted a single Shriek-hawk on top of it, sabotaging it and sending it spiraling down to the ground. The four were on fire today.

On the ground things were going great as well. I could see pirates running out of the city, only to be boxed in by Karga’s people and Paz Vizsla’s team. From afar I could only imagine their frustrated faces as they threw down their guns in the galaxy-wide gesture of surrender.

Time to focus on the root of the problem, the Corsair. It only had one engine left, and if Gorian Shard was smart, he would clear out by now.

He was not.

Instead he turned the ship around. The canons were readjusted and fired. I saw the shots hitting the ground, saw what was next in the line and tensed with anger.

“He’s targeting the townspeople.”

And our people. His own people. This man was ready to kill everyone just to avenge his wounded pride. The worst scum the galaxy could produce.

Then again, this was the material pirate kings were made of.

If we did not stop him, he would blow up the town and its inhabitants. There would be fire. Explosions. People burning.

“We’ve gotta take him down”, Din stated grimly. “Focus fire on their last engine.”

He attacked the Corsair from the front, I from the rear. Together we fired volley after volley, melting the ship right under Shard’s butt. The fires of a huge explosion engulfed us both before we safely emerged on the other side. Before our eyes the Corsair went down, burning out. It crashed behind a hill just beyond the city and exploded in a gigantic fireball.

The victory cheer died on my lips.

Fireballs. Explosions. A burning planet.

Betrayal.

My people going up in flames.

Flashes of memories.

“Axe, open a channel on all our encrypted frequencies!” I know I am grasping at straws here, but I cannot bear doing nothing. “There might be survivors. We have to find them!”

Visibly shaking, but still piloting the Gauntlet steadily across the flames, Axe does as I tell him. I bend over the speaker in the cockpit, desperately trying to speak despite the huge lump in my throat.

“Mandalorians, this is Bo-Katan Kryze. The Empire has refused a cease-fire. They are determined to wipe us out. Get off planet immediately. Respond if you need help. I repeat, respond if you need help.”

Who am I fooling here? Everyone down there could have needed help and hardly anyone is left to get it.

“Bo, we’re getting something!” Axe is sitting up straight. “Someone is responding. A Nite Owl frequency!”

A familiar voice moments later.

“Sabrina Eldar here. Bo-Katan, do you copy?”

“Sabrina?” I yell into the com, desperately relieved someone is still alive and talking. “Where are you?”

“Close to the Great Forge. We managed to evacuate some wounded people, but we’re under fire!”

Tremors and rumbles in the background as her ship is shaken by laser bolts.

“We’re coming for you!”

The race through a burning inferno. The desperate search for some recognizable landmark in a sea of fire, something to lead us to our missing friend. Close calls with TIE interceptors.

Then another Gauntlet, badly damaged and burning, close to our starboard. Sabrina still at the helm while the ship is falling apart underneath her. No place to land with every inch of landscape being covered in flames.

And the interceptors are coming back.

“Axe, open the hatches! They have to go aboard in the air.”

Hisses as the hatches unseal. A wind gust as hot as a furnace blowing in, almost singing my hair and eyebrows.

“Sabrina, send those with working jetpacks over to us! I’m coming for the rest!”

Injured Nite Owls stumble in, all of them covered with burns of varying degrees. Stench of burned flesh. Screams and moans as people just drop where they stand.

And me, flying back and forth between our two ships, taking those without jetpacks to the comparative safety of my Gauntlet. The air is so hot I can barely breathe. It tastes of dust and ashes.

The tell-tale sound of TIEs.

Koska Reeves with a huge burn across the thigh, sobbing with pain. Me, shaking so badly with exhaustion I can barely hold her.

“She is the last one”, Sabrina calls out to me. “Take her over! I’ll keep this Hutt spawn occupied.”

Flashes of laser bolts, noises of thunder, the omnipresent heat of the flames. Koska’s heavy weight in my arms. Almost missing the hatch as the Gauntlet is shaken by shots.

Sabrina’s ship suffers another hit. Only one engine left.

The interceptors have suffered no losses at all. Instead they are getting reinforcements. Like black beads on a deadly chain an entire commando moves towards us, determined to throw every single Mandalorian into the flames.

“Sabrina!” I scream into my com. “Get off this suicide sled and come!”

There is a silence. The interceptors come closer.

“Go, Bo-Katan”, I hear Sabrina say in a strangely calm voice. “Do your thing. I’ll buy you time.”

My body grows numb. “Sabrina…”

She simply speaks on, not paying any attention to me. “Koska, you there, right? Take care of our girl for me. Axe… Tough Guy, you keep them together, alright? I’m counting on you.”

Koska’s eyes widen, her mouth opens in a soundless scream. Axe wildly shakes his head but we all see what happens.

We see Sabrina pilot the burning Gauntlet straight into the line of interceptors, causing a huge explosion. In a chain reaction several fighters catch fire as well, and there is the gap in the chain. There we can escape.

Somehow Axe manages to steer our Gauntlet through this gap and into the sky, sealing the hatches as we fly. We are followed but even as I shoot the cannons at them I spot a tiny figure on one of the interceptors, her signature horizontal pauldrons clearly visible against the fires. The flames paint her grey and blue Nite Owl armor orange as she slams something on the interceptor. A moment later it erupts into flames as well.

The tiny figure misses the right moment to escape. Mutely I watch as the explosion of her own device throws her away. I see another tiny explosion as her jetpack disintegrates. The small speck of fire becomes a part of the huge inferno devouring our planet.

When the stars finally turn to lines, we all awake from our daze. Koska cries at my shoulder. Axe, who I have only ever seen cursing before, slumps in the pilot seat and drops his head on his arms. His body is shaking with sobs.

As for me, I have no tears left to shed for one of my oldest friends. My eyes are as dry as the ashes of our lost world.

I closed my eyes, fighting back both the flashback and the tears. This fire did not symbolize the death of billions of innocents, I tried to reason with myself. It was merely the end of a scumbag. But it was useless. The tears kept flowing. The memories would not fade. They would stay with me and haunt me as long as I lived.

A tiny hand touched my cheek.

My eyes flew open, I gasped almost panicky. I was wearing my helmet. How could any hand touch my cheek? If I felt hands where there were none, I was well and officially losing my mind.

The hand gently caressed my skin under the helmet and wiped away a tear. There was so much tenderness in this touch that I felt my panic abide. While I still had no idea what was happening, the feeling was strangely comforting. It was as if someone could see right how I felt and tried to support me.

Do your thing.

Sabrina had said that ever since I broke her out of prison. Whenever I was fighting for our people or our planet, she had called it me doing “my thing”.

She was right. I had to finish what I had begun here.

I looked to the side where the N-1 flew to check on my wingman, and my eyes widened. While I knew Grogu had been sitting on Din’s lap, I could clearly see him standing now. The little face framed by big ears was turned in my direction, his round, dark eyes gazing softly at me. His tiny hand was placed firmly against the glass, and as I watched, he moved it in a caressing gesture.

Another tear was wiped away under my helmet.

I almost let out a sob as I finally understood what I felt. He was using the Jedi telekinesis to comfort me.

You little sweetheart…

“Bo?” I heard a gentle voice call me from the com channel. It took me a moment to recognize it as Din Djarin’s. “How are you doing over there?”

I struggled with my answer. I did not really want to lie to him but unburdening myself via a com channel was not an option for me.

“Fine”, I forced myself to answer, my voice as hoarse as if I had screamed for Sabrina again. “They only grazed me. You?”

I knew what he would say before his voice sounded.

“Not a scratch”, he delivered dutifully and the corners of my mouth twitched a little despite my dull sadness.

I looked down to our people who stood with the citizens of Nevarro. Nobody had reported a loss or a dangerous injury. We had liberated the city with comparatively little effort. I unmuted myself and spoke into the Clan Kryze channel.

“The Corsair is down. Good work, everyone.”

They had done good work here indeed. Nevarro was safe.

I had done my thing, but I could not feel joy. My heart was numbed after the onslaught of memories from the past. I just felt a deep, aching fatigue, together with the longing to just roll over and pass out. But I could not afford to. I was the mission leader, I had to join my people and help them get settled down.

In a quiet, subdued mood I followed Din’s N-1 away from the flames.

We met the others and Karga’s people on the outskirts of town. Our entire force was assembled there, only the Armorer was missing. When we got out of our ships, Grogu immediately catapulted himself into my arms. With a worried coo he reached out his little hand to touch my helmet.

“I’ll be alright”, I told him quietly while hugging him close to my chest. “Thank you, sweetie.”

Din looked at me pensively but thankfully said nothing. When I handed Grogu back to him, he lightly brushed my shoulder with his, our quiet gesture of mutual support. He clearly realized I was shaken but did not make me waste my strength by telling him right now before facing a crowd. He knew I would tell him in private once our work was done.

As soon as I joined the warriors, Asla showed up beside me. “It was just like in training!” she enthused. “You were so right to teach us watching the animals! The lizard monkeys warned us of an ambush!”

Thanks to the helmet I did not need to fake a smile. Instead I put my hand on her shoulder and nodded in appreciation. “Well done. You all did great today.”

Asla was about to reply, wanting to elaborate on their deeds, when Greef Karga stepped in front of the Gauntlet. The man clearly had a flair for the dramatic, for the wings of my ship flanked him like tall pillars. It made him look like an important intergalactic statesman instead of the magistrate of one small planet. The royal princess in me grinned wryly, appreciating the show.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you”, he exclaimed, beaming at us. “To all of you, and especially to our fine Mandalorian liberators, to whom this planet is forever indebted.”

His voice grew more serious. “Mandalorians, I know that we have been on opposite sides in the past, but that is behind us. From this day forward, I, Magistrate Greef Karga…”

“High Magistrate, sir”, his protocol droid corrected primly.

It was a good ice-breaker. Everyone started laughing.

“… High Magistrate Greef Karga”, he concurred with a smile and a bow, “hereby cede all land from the western lava flats to Bulloch Canyon to the fine people of Mandalore. You may no longer have a home planet, but you do now have a home. Welcome.”

He started clapping. His people cheered and clapped along, beaming at my people.

Solemnly the Children of the Watch raised their right arms to their chests in the warrior salute and bowed their heads as a sign of gratitude. It was something, I had to admit. Our people had to begin somewhere, and I appreciated Karga’s kindness. Yet despite his talk of home, he could not soothe the ache and longing in my own heart.

It should be Mandalore.

“Welcome! Welcome, and thank you.”

I watched Karga’s people cheering and my people responding in their dignified ways. Even I could not deny it was a heart-warming spectacle. It was a beginning, maybe even a new home for the Tribe. But I simply could not cheer along with everybody. The flashback had not only reminded me of the horrors of the past but also of my unfinished task to reclaim our world. Deep down I had always known I would never find true peace until we had rebuilt Mandalore. The flashback had mercilessly brought it to the surface, along with gut-wrenching homesickness.

While everyone was still clapping, Paz Vizsla stepped up to me. “The Armorer wishes to speak to you”, he informed me quietly.

I was glad to get away before my low spirits could put a damper on everyone’s mood. Silently I followed Paz while Din and Grogu went to chat with Karga.

Paz Vizsla escorted me to a set of stairs leading underground, into the sewers. We walked in silence, without exchanging a single word. I wondered if on seeing their old hide-out he felt the same as me when seeing the blackened ruins of Sundari again. Despite our differences we had made very similar experiences.

Eventually we reached the Armorer. She stood in a round room, lit from above thanks to an open sewer lid in the ceiling. Respectfully Paz Vizsla stepped aside to let me enter and then withdrew again. Whatever the Armorer wanted to say seemed to be confidential.

I folded my hands on my back and waited for her to address me. She examined a rusty construction covered in cobwebs. When my eyes grew accustomed to the light I recognized it as a forge, similar to the one I had first met her in.

“This was once the forge of our covert”, she said eventually, seemingly lost in memory. “I have been to the Great Forge on Mandalore.”

My throat constricted and for a moment I closed my eyes. Apparently I was not the only one who had been thrown back into the past.

“I remember the forge well”, I finally managed to whisper.

“It was large and ornate and the air rang with the music of a hundred hammers”, she reminisced wistfully, rubbing dust off her gloves. “And here stood a simple one. Yet, they were both forges. They served the same purpose.”

She looked at me steadily. Slowly it dawned on me she had not called me here to speak about forges. There was something about her words that made my heart beat a little faster.

Both serving the same purpose…

“Remove your helmet”, she commanded.

Whatever I had expected, it was not this. In fact, I froze with shock. While in my culture taking off my helmet was a sign of respect, with the Tribe it meant something completely different. It meant breaking a taboo. The Armorer herself had exiled Din for doing the very thing she asked of me now.

“But...”

She inclined her head. “Do you respect my station?”

“I do”, I whispered.

The Armorer was one of the few people I respected out of my own free will, and herein lay the trap. If I refused a direct order from the honored leader, I might as well just walk out. If I obeyed, though, I would turn apostate, losing all the goodwill of the Tribe I had worked so hard to earn. They would throw me out. I would be an outcast all over again, and this time without a home to return to. I could not fathom why the Armorer would outright ask me to do so. I was caught between a rock and a hard place.

“Remove your helmet”, she repeated, more gently this time.

Slowly, my arms as heavy as lead, I obeyed. The helmet came off with a hiss, removing my only layer of protection and leaving me vulnerable and frightened, marked by the flashback to the Purge. I forced my features into a semi-neutral mask to hide how scared I was of rejection. Mechanically I tucked my helmet under my arm and faced the Armorer, waiting for whatever fate she had in store for me.

Her gaze was fixed on me, studying me as if trying to reconcile her knowledge about me with my face. For a moment I wondered if she had imagined me differently and now had to let go of her impression. Then again, my face had been all over the holonet several times over. Most born Mandalorians knew what I looked like.

“Our people have strayed from the Way and it is not enough for a few to walk it”, she finally said. “We must walk it together.”

A tiny seed of hope sprouted in my heart. This did not sound like she was going to kick me out in disgrace.

“This is the Way”, I agreed cautiously.

Mandalorians were stronger together. I did agree with her in this area. Yet by now she should know I was willing to walk the Way with her and the Tribe.

“We must walk the Way together”, she emphasized. “All Mandalorians.”

My eyes widened in surprise as I finally realized what was happening. She was not speaking of me and the Tribe. She wanted to unite all the Mandalorian remnants, to bring our scattered brothers and sisters back together and move past our old enmities. To be a people once more instead of warring factions.

She was no longer talking to Bo-Katan, respected ally of the Tribe. She was addressing Lady Kryze, commander of the Nite Owls and head of her own force. One leader to another.

“I understand”, I whispered, my heart beating fast.

For the first time since I knew her, I heard a hint of excitement in the Armorer’s usually calm voice. “I was taught that the Mythosaur existed only in legends, and yet you saw it. It is a sign that the next age is upon us.”

I almost gasped in surprise to finally have my experience acknowledged. After my attempt to talk to her about the Mythosaur I had assumed the Armorer simply did not believe me. Instead she must have taken the time to study the old songs and legends, to see what the rise of the Mythosaur had meant in history. Until finding the answer she was looking for, she had kept her own counsel.

One does not speak unless one knows.

“Mandalore must all come together”, she summarized. “You have walked both worlds. You are the one who can unite us.”

“Am I?” I asked quietly, much more doubtful of my unifying ability despite my respect for her.

I might be a relatable figure for both sides now, Children of the Watch and Nite Owls, yet why did the Armorer think me so special? Laurana Eldar too knew both ways, and unlike me she had a clean slate with our people.

“Never doubt the judgement of the Mythosaur. It only shows itself to the worthy ones.” She walked closer, her shielded eyes firmly set on my bare face. “Mandalore’s daughter has returned. In you.”

A shudder passed through me. I opened my lips, wanted to protest, but the words never made it out. In quick succession several snippets of my life passed before my inner eye, each one validating the Armorer’s words despite my disbelief.

My father had been the ruler of Mandalore. My foster father had wielded the Darksaber, rightfully claiming the title of the Mand’alore.

Mandalore’s daughter…

I had waged war on my sibling who took the throne by claim of blood, not by prowess as a warrior.

I had been a leader who acted selfishly, suffered heartrending losses and wearily withdrew from the world.

I had gone to the Living Waters and recited the Creed out of my own choice.

I had been redeemed and rewarded with the sighting of a Mythosaur.

Mandalore’s daughter. The chosen one who committed herself to her people and took back their home.

“Yes.” The Armorer nodded softly at seeing the change in my face. “Leave the bereft foundling behind you, Bo-Katan. You must take up the mantle of leadership like Mandalore’s daughter did. Our people need you.”

For a moment the enormity of my task almost weighed me down. I had been made leader before, courtesy of Clan Wren, and the result had been a disaster. There was no way of knowing it would end differently this time.

“I have made so many mistakes…”

“Yet you rose above them. We all begin as raw ore”, she reminded me. “We refine ourselves through trials and adversity. Your soul has been forged and shaped in the flames.”

My eyes brimming with tears, I lowered my head. Forged in the fires of Mandalore, indeed. There was so much truth in her words. I had never been the same again since the Purge.

“How do you know the flames didn’t destroy me?” I whispered, struggling to control myself.

“The Forge can reveal weaknesses”, the Armorer replied seriously. “It was not just for a new pauldron that I brought you there.”

I inhaled sharply as I remembered the forging of my pauldron. Without me noticing it, the Armorer had tested me. My thoughts raced. Had I done anything while watching her shaping the beskar?

Try as I might, I could only remember the deep peace I had felt when listening to the sound of her hammer. A sense of belonging. Of coming home.

“Your weakness is your distrust in yourself”, she said gently.

I did not bother to ask how she could judge my weaknesses. The Armorer had an uncanny ability to read people.

“All leaders question themselves sometimes”, she stated serenely. “A good one acts on their knowledge, not on their fears.”

This did sound familiar, I had to admit. My fears were part of me and always there, lurking in the shadows of my mind. Yet since my flight from Kalevala I had refused to be enslaved by them again. Instead I had focused on doing the right thing, helping those who needed me and working on improving their lives.

“I am afraid to fail”, I admitted. While I could no longer lose our home world, I could lose people I had grown to love. “But I won’t let my fear be stronger than me.”

I had been afraid of the battle against the pirates as well, knowing my weakness was just lurking beneath the surface. Yet I had flown into battle and, despite everything, emerged victoriously. While the flashback had knocked me down, I had not allowed my fear to consume me. I had faced it, I had suffered, but I had made it through.

The Armorer nodded as if I was merely stating the obvious.

“My people accept you as one of us”, she continued. “Now it is time to join together with your people.”

I bit my lip. “I don’t know if they will still follow me.”

There was, after all, still the issue of the Darksaber. I could already hear Axe Woves sneering at me for daring to come back without wearing the blade.

The Armorer looked back without flinching. When she spoke again, her voice was as steely as beskar.

“They will.”

It was impossible to feel the slightest ounce of doubt in the face of her absolute, utter conviction. She did not speak like she believed it. She spoke like it was a fact. I wondered what it was that she knew and I did not. But I had no reason to distrust her. She had been kind to me from the beginning on, and since then she had been supportive and understanding, if at times mysterious.

Only now I started to appreciate her foresight. I had never quite understood why she had been so willing to let me join her covert. My reputation among the Children of the Watch had been nothing to write home about. By taking me in, she had used the opportunity to watch me from the background, size me up and let me forge my own destiny among the tribe. Once she had found in me what she was looking for, she subtly helped me to become a bridge between the two different worlds our people lived in. To become a leader both sides could respect.

Yet there were two final hurdles to be the accepted leader of both. The first was clipped to Din Djarin’s belt, and the other was tucked under my arm. I decided to address the more pressing one first and leave the other one for later.

“Will the Tribe understand?” Anxiously I pointed my chin towards my helmet.

While I could not see it behind her helmet, I was fairly certain she was smiling.

“We will walk this way together, Lady Kryze.”

We did exactly that.

Side by side we exited the forge and walked up the stairs into the sunlight, where our people were starting to set up a preliminary camp. Rhys just happened to look up from a box and plain froze at seeing my face. Mark started, visibly shaken at my sight.

It was by far the hardest walk I had ever done. Even with the Armorer’s staunch, silent support by my side I felt assaulted by the stares and whispers arising as soon as the Tribe saw me without my helmet. To them it must seem like I was throwing their hospitality right into their faces, disregarding their most sacred law and sundering myself from them. Their bewilderment and shock was almost physically painful. From the corner of my eye I saw heads turn and follow my every move, saw people who had fought by my side recoil from me and stare at the same time. It took a huge amount of self-control to keep on walking steadily with my head held high and not flinch.

Din was at the Gauntlet, with his back to me. Only when Grogu babbled in surprise at my sight, he turned around, freezing like his brothers and sisters. I felt a stab to my heart at this sight. He must be thinking after my strange behavior earlier I was throwing in the towel and walking out on him and Grogu. Fighting to remain calm, I took a shaky breath and looked straight at him.

Please trust me.

The two of us stopped at the Gauntlet. From the side Paz Vizsla made a beeline for us. I just hoped the Armorer knew what she was doing. I had seen how ugly things could get when Mandalorians decided to rebel against their leader. I had lost my command this way.

I had lost my sister this way.

She raised her magnificent voice, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Bo-Katan Kryze is going off to bring other Mandalorians in exile to us so that we may join together once again.”

By now Paz Vizsla had overtaken us. He towered over me, blocking the way to the Gauntlet.

“But she shows her face.”

Instead of the righteous outrage I had expected from him, I sensed mostly bewilderment. And hurt. After having accepted me as part of his clan, he must now feel utterly rejected. It came as a shock to realize that his good opinion had actually started to matter to me.

“Bo-Katan walks both worlds”, the Armorer explained calmly. “And she can bring all tribes together.”

Cautiously I looked at Paz. He returned my gaze without a move, then, slowly, he turned his head to look at Din. My heart started to flutter as my loyal friend gave him the tiniest of nods.

Slowly I allowed myself to breathe normally again. So far nobody seemed inclined to accuse the Armorer of apostasy and remove her from power. They were wary, but trusting.

Axe Woves could have taken a leaf out of their book.

The Armorer too watched the exchange before looking back to the Tribe. “It is time to retake Mandalore.”

And suddenly, despite my lingering sadness, I found myself smiling. I might not be the legendary Mandalore’s daughter, but I was a daughter of the planet Mandalore. So were the Nite Owls. So were the Children of the Watch. Whether we were Mandalorians by birth or by creed, we all traced our roots back to one world.

This was why we needed to get it back. Not because I wanted to be regent again, but so we all could fill it once more with life.

Mandalore’s daughter and her people were going to reclaim their home.

The Armorer turned to face me. “Lady Kryze, will you bring our families here before you go out on your quest?”

“I will”, I assured her. “I’m going there straight away.”

Despite my sense of elation I had a feeling I should not overtax the Tribe’s endurance. They had responded remarkably well to seeing my face. It was only polite to give them some time to process what had happened. I gave the Armorer the warrior salute, offered my people the same respectful greeting and went into the Gauntlet as soon as possible.

I was still doing my checklists and preflight configurations when I heard an excited gurgle. As I turned around, Grogu steered his floating pram towards me, smiling at me broadly. Just a few steps behind him came his father.

“Hello, you two.”

I smiled at Grogu, then looked at Din somewhat anxiously. I well remembered what he had gone through in order to redeem himself for showing his face. I would not hold it against him if he was angry for having been declared apostate for the very thing the Armorer had given me permission to do. Inwardly I braced myself for a furious outburst or at least some indignant questions.

Din Djarin did no such thing. Instead he stepped right in front of me, stood at attention and gave me the warrior salute.

“Lady Kryze”, he stated formally, lowering his head in a nod. “Clan Mudhorn pledge their allegiance to your house.”

I just stared at him. “What?”

Din remained unmoved. “Do you accept our service?”

“I… I do”, I managed to say despite my bewilderment.

I was well and truly dumbfounded at his unexpected behavior. He was acknowledging me as a princess of Mandalore, though the Children of the Watch did not recognize the royal family’s authority. Like a born and bred Mandalorian he pledged his and his clan’s loyalty to me and my house. I did understand and appreciate his generous gesture. For my sake he was willing to step into the Mandalorian culture I had grown up in and, to a certain extent, adjust to it.

But I did not want him to be merely a retainer to me. His pledge pulled up a barrier between us, separating the royal princess from the simple warrior. I did not want to be merely Lady Kryze to him. I wanted to be Bo, the woman he trusted completely and who was his equal in everything. It almost broke my heart to think I might lose my beloved friend like I had lost Axe and Koska.

“Din, please.” Carefully I reached out and put my hand on his upper arm. “Just tell me why you are doing this.”

As I touched him, I was relieved to see he relaxed his stiff stance. His hand covered mine as he stepped a little closer to me. When he spoke again, his voice was the one I knew, the voice of our intimate conversations. The gentle voice I had grown to cherish.

“Does a loyal warrior need a reason to serve his lady?”

My heart seemed to unfold like a blossom at his words. For the first time in weeks Din Djarin could see the radiant smile on my face that was his alone.

“No. Not at all.”

Chapter Text

Our first trip led us back to the covert. The remaining warriors, the foundlings and their guardians swarmed out of the cave as soon as I parked the Gauntlet close to the entrance. While Din and Grogu got ready to disembark, I realized I was lingering, taking much longer for my post-flight procedures than usual.

“Are you coming?” Din asked, waiting for me at the hatch.

“Sure.”

I was surprised how uncertain I felt. Every step towards the hatch felt as heavy as if my legs had turned to lead.

Din looked out of the hatch, then back at me. “Would you like me to prepare them? So you don’t have to… go through all that again.” He gestured towards my face.

“Yes, please!”

I breathed a sigh of relief. Now that he mentioned it, I realized how much I had dreaded facing the Tribe without my helmet. It had been hard enough with the Armorer by my side, and here we would have children present. Showing them my bare face without warning might be regarded just as rude as mooning them.

I could hear a smile in Din’s voice. “Take your time. I’ll tell them what happened.”

He stepped outside, into the sunlight and out of my line of vision. I could hear his voice and those of some warriors, though I could not distinguish the words. The sudden silence was unmistakable, though. Din must have told them now how the Armorer had explicitly permitted me to take off my helmet. While the Children of the Watch very much believed in following orders, I was still anxious. This could be a breaking moment for the Tribe. I knew from experience how little it took to split a band of brothers and sisters into several warring factions. Mandalorians were notorious for fighting over trifles.

With the Tribe, showing your face was not a trifle in the slightest. It was the greatest taboo.

I glimpsed outside through one of the windows. Din stood in front of the crowd, calm yet firm. Some Mandalorians, like Laurana Eldar and Chu, the judge, had put their heads together and whispered, radiating astonishment. Others, among them Ayk and Ragnar, looked around in confusion and I could tell without helmets they would have scratched their heads. While none of them seemed furious or offended, they clearly could not fathom what was happening.

But there was an exception.

Boan Eldar moved towards Din, her head slightly raised as if in joyful surprise. Her whole demeanor showed excitement rather than shock. I could hear her address him, and suddenly I realized I had to go out there. I was not a little girl anymore, hiding behind her big friend and hoping he would fend off her attackers. I was a warrior, a commander of troops. I had to face the music myself and prove to my hosts that I was still their friend and ally, respectful of their culture and grateful for their hospitality. If I wanted to bring the Mandalorians together as a people, I had to be the change I wanted to achieve. I had to show them that it was possible to peacefully coexist despite our differences. That accepting another culture, born on our common home world, was not akin to abandoning your own. That there could be strength in diversity if we all worked towards a common goal.

With a deep breath I tucked my helmet under my arm, arranged my features into a calm expression and walked out of the Gauntlet.

The whispers died down as soon as I stepped into the sunlight. All heads turned towards me, helmeted gazes boring in my naked one. I stood still for a moment, looking at each one of them steadily, then bowed my head and lifted my right arm to my chest in the warrior salute.

Seconds ticked by, each longer than an hour. The Tribe seemed frozen, despite Din’s preparation. It was one thing to hear about something incredible, but quite another to actually see it, let alone find a proper response. Then a slender figure with a purple helmet made her way towards me.

Boan moved as if she was in a dream, in slow, deliberate steps. The Tribe looked back and forth between me and her, trying to gauge her reaction. I had no idea what she was up to either, but made a point of looking at her as she came closer. While the helmet hid her expression, I spotted a slight tremor running through her body. It could be anything, really. Pure outrage at my transgression or sheer disbelief there was actually a face behind my helmet.

“Hey kid”, I said softly, hoping to convey that I was still the same old me.

Sabrina’s daughter stopped in front of me and reached out her hand, gently touching my hair and my headband.

“It’s you”, she stammered, her voice wobbly with tears. “It’s really you.”

Before I could even respond, she put her arms around me and started sobbing. For a moment I stood dumbfounded, completely at a loss what to do. Despite our previous interactions I simply did not know the girl well enough to understand what was going on.

Luckily I had always been good at improvising. Carefully I embraced her back, ready to withdraw any second if she showed the slightest sign of discomfort. Instead she rested her helmet against my breastplate, beskar touching beskar with a muted clank, and cried like a little child. I shot a bewildered look at Laurana who tentatively moved towards us. According to her body language, more unguarded than that of most warriors, she too was fighting back tears.

When she reached us, she put one hand on her niece’s shoulder and one on my upper arm. “Welcome home, Bo-Katan”, she said loud enough for everyone to hear. “Good to have you back.”

Her gentle words broke the ice. People started to stir again, some of them still rather uncomfortable with the whole situation, others giving me cautious nods. It gave me hope. They might have to overcome an ancient belief in order to deal with me, but then again, the Nite Owls would have to adjust as well.

As usual Din proved he was worth his weight in beskar. He gave the others a short summary of what had happened and told them to get ready for relocation. I would not have been able to do so, seeing I was awkwardly trying to comfort a crying foundling. I did succeed in the end, though probably more by accident than actual skills.

Once Boan was calmer, Laurana suggested to bring her down to Clan Eldar’s quarters where she could safely take off her helmet and clean her face. Her niece agreed but absolutely refused to let go of me. Eventually I ended up walking to their living quarters holding her hand. Truth be told, I was rather frightened. The girl had witnessed and survived the Purge, so seeing me might have triggered an old trauma. I just hoped I could bring her to Nevarro soon and that there were counselors or therapists among Greef Karga’s people. Some things could not be cured by a mere hug.

We stepped into Clan Eldar’s quarters, very similar to the ones I shared with Din and Grogu. The only difference was a second nursery. Boan made a beeline for hers, dragging me along as if her life depended on it. While it was touching, I stopped once we reached her entrance with the screen. The Armorer might have given me permission to remove my helmet, but Boan might turn apostate if she did the same. I did not want her to be exiled from her friends and family before the Armorer officially extended her permission to the rest of the Tribe.

“I’ll give you some privacy, so you can take off your helmet”, I told her gently.

She hesitated briefly, then nodded and disappeared behind her screen.

I turned to Laurana, who hovered just a few steps behind us. As a trained pediatrician she was the closest thing the Tribe had to a psychologist, which made her far better equipped to deal with the situation than me.

“What just happened?” I whispered frantically.

“Hard to explain”, Laurana whispered back. “She hasn’t spoken of Sabrina since the Purge. When you joined the Tribe, she started to talk about things she remembered about you. Like, how you told her stories about the Nite Owls.”

I nodded thoughtfully, remembering how the girl had asked me for a new Nite Owl story after Ragnar’s rescue.

“Lately she also started to mention what Sabrina thought about you.” Laurana rubbed her hands pensively. “My guess is your presence helped her to approach the subject of her mother. When she saw your face now… I think reality hit home.”

For once Laurana could see the panic spreading on my face. “So me coming here hurt her?”

“That’s not what I mean”, she replied gently. “You coming here started her healing process.”

“Healing?” I repeated in disbelief. “How is it healing when she is in pain?”

“It’s not healing either when you bottle up everything.” Laurana looked back calmly. “Only pain that you feel can be healed.”

Strangely enough, I understood what she meant. I had had plenty of bad times in my lives, and the worst ones had not been when I was in pain. The worst times were when I did not feel anything anymore. Small wonder my exile on Kalevala had nearly broken me.

“What can I do for her, then?” I asked helplessly. “To make her feel better.”

“You can’t do anything”, Laurana said simply. “Don’t try to fix her. Just be yourself. Trust me, it will go a long way with her.”

Clan Eldar were among my first group of resettlers. We filled up the Gauntlet with as many people and goods as safety permitted and took them to Nevarro. Din and Grogu rode with me in the cockpit, and Boan had joined us there as well. Remembering Laurana’s words I refrained from asking her about her crying. Instead I started to explain the Gauntlet’s controls to her, treating her like my copilot in training. I did so without an agenda, just trying to find a way of interacting without things getting awkward again. Still, the girl blossomed under my attention.

She also proved to be a quick learner, and when we reached Nevarro I let her hold the helm when we entered the atmosphere. Of course I stood behind her, ready to take back control any moment, but all in all she was doing a good job. By the time I landed the Gauntlet, she was beaming behind her helmet and eager to get to know her new home.

During our absence Greef Karga and his people had organized some supplies, and the Tribe had made camp in the valley, next to a stream. For the time being it was only tents but I could already vividly imagine a settlement sprouting there, with houses, medical and training facilities. By the looks of it Karga, Paz Vizsla and the Armorer had already put their heads together in order to build a proper Mandalorian dwelling. The cities on Mandalore had all been domed already when I grew up in them, but I knew the feeling of living under an open sky from Kalevala and later Concordia. I had grown to love being outdoors, and if we had the chance to build a city under the sky, I was happy to pitch in.

My main task at the moment, though, was to provide shuttle service. While the people of Nevarro would have been happy to help, they were still cleaning up after the attack of the pirates. Their vehicles had been damaged or even destroyed, and it would take time to repair them. I did not mind doing it by myself, though, especially since the citizens gave me free refueling. The Tribe was not that numerous and it gave them time to recover between the shocks of seeing me without my helmet.

Around the third or fourth run I could tell the Children of the Watch were getting used to me showing my face. They completely stopped staring and merely gave me friendly nods when our eyes chanced to meet. It still felt rather strange to be the only one without a helmet, but I loved the feeling of sunlight and wind on my face. To say nothing of the advantage of finally having my peripheral vision back.

The last flight I did without Din and Grogu, instead taking Cal of the Shriek-hawks with me. It was time to transport the chicks to their new home on Nevarro, and Cal insisted on overseeing the process. Chu had volunteered to stay with them until everyone else was evacuated, and so we had two people to rein the little reptavians in. Turned out they were necessary, for when we entered hyperspace, all three chicks started to barf. For the rest of the trip Cal and Chu were busy cleaning up the dropping area, while I in the cockpit high-fived myself for my good fortune of being the pilot.

When we returned to Nevarro, I wanted nothing more than sit down somewhere in peace, have a drink and share a chat, preferably with Din and Grogu. So when these two came to the ramp to meet me when I disembarked for the last time today, I felt like I was coming home indeed.

Before I could do much more than smile at them and pat Grogu’s cheek, Din got straight to business.

“Greef Karga wants to meet up with you.”

I let out a sigh. “Really, Din? Now?”

“Yes, now.”

There goes my free evening…

I had not missed this part of being in charge either.

“It’s not merely a social call, Bo.” I could tell from his demeanor he was trying to cheer me up. “He has the resources to help you track down your fleet.”

My eyebrows came up. This was interesting, I had to admit.

“Lead the way”, I relented. “But there better be drinks!”

Din chuckled softly. “Don’t worry about that.”

Together we walked through Nevarro City. The place still bore the marks of the recent fight, with blaster traces scarring houses, and junk and rubble cluttering the streets. There was an unmistakable smell of ash in the air, and it was a struggle to not immediately draw comparisons to the ruins of Sundari. At least here the damage was merely superficial. It would take Sundari a long time to reach this stage.

Everywhere people were busy cleaning up the mess the pirates had left them. We passed by a group, among them children, emptying a building of dirty bottles and filthy rags.

“The school”, Din explained to me as we passed them by. “Shard once gave Karga money to build a bar. Once the Imps were kicked out, Karga converted it into a school.”

“And when the pirates returned, they wanted their bar back”, I stated, watching the children carrying brooms and sponges inside. “I‘d rather have a school. There are enough bad bars in the galaxy.”

“Maybe the foundlings could be educated here”, Din mused. “Grogu liked it a lot when we visited last.”

I liked the idea too, I had to admit. The Foundlings, who had only known death, war and escape so far, would profit from meeting other kids and learning more about the galaxy in peaceful surroundings. Bringing the Nevarran and Mandalorian children together might be the quickest way to build bridges between the two peoples.

We passed the courtyard where most of the action had happened. The bark of the trees surrounding the place was partially scorched, and the pavement had been burst open by the pirates’ heavy canon fire. Still, it made me smile to see lizard monkeys hanging out in the trees. They screeched at us from the branches above, but it felt more like a fierce greeting than a sign of aggression. Asla had told me, after all, that the little critters had warned them of an ambush. They had hated the pirates’ presence here as much as the humans, taking an instant liking towards their Mandalorian liberators.

Crossing the square, we made our way to the tower which the Armorer had conquered all by herself. Greef Karga was already there with his protocol droid and some of his people, discussing repairs and reconstructions. As we stepped closer, he disengaged from his fellow citizens and turned towards us with a huge smile. He still wore the same dark red robes and cape I had met him in, now stained with dust, soot and grease. While he no longer looked presentable enough for some high society event, his dirty clothes and hands-on attitude actually made him rather likable to me. He did care about his looks, but he had his priorities straight. The welfare of his city came first, and until the mess was cleaned up, his own cleaning up would have to wait.

Karga looked at me with interest, his eyes fastening on my face, before turning to Din Djarin.

“A Mandalorian without a helmet on? You were not kidding, Mando, your friend is special indeed.”

Despite his attempt to be pleasant and charming, my face froze slightly. I was not overly fond of the word Mando. More often than not it was a term of abuse, thrown into our faces by the Imps. Since Din showed no offended response though, I reined myself in for the moment and left the introductions to him.

“High Magistrate Greef Karga, meet Lady Bo-Katan Kryze.” I could have sworn there was a hint of mischief in Din’s voice as he added: “The last princess of Mandalore.”

“A princess?” Karga looked at me with unmitigated surprise before taking my right hand and bowing over it like a consummate courtier. “It’s an honor and a pleasure to meet you, Lady Kryze. Forgive me for not greeting you properly. The last days must have taken a toll on my good manners.”

Bravely I bit back a giggle. Greef Karga apparently had no clue about Mandalorian royalty. We might be noble born, but all in all we were warriors, more down-to-earth than the standard nobility in the galaxy, and not overly dependent on protocol. Still, it was rather endearing he was trying to do the proper thing.

“Don’t worry about it, High Magistrate Karga”, I assured him with a gracious smile. “We fought on the same battlefield. I’d rather regard us as allies and comrades in arms than getting trapped in formalities.”

He straightened up and beamed at me. “I am most happy to enter an alliance with you, Lady Kryze, and with your fine people. Which brings me straight to the point of our meeting. Mando here said there is someone you need to be found?”

“Yes, that’s right. I’m looking for my former second-in-command who took off with my fleet.”

Karga nodded. “I might be able to help you out with this. Please, let’s go to my rooms where we can talk in peace.”

With an inviting gesture to follow us, he took the lead through the corridors, his wide cape billowing behind him.

“Why is he calling you Mando?” I muttered to Din as we followed Greef Karga to his office.

“I did not give him my name back then”, he told me quietly. “We hid how many of us were actually around. With our helmets we all looked the same to the people. Names would have made us distinguishable.”

“Got it.” I nodded in understanding. If the Tribe called themselves Mandos and actually allowed selected individuals to use this word, it was a different thing.

While Karga had apparently taken great efforts at having the tower tidied up again, there was still a smell of stale ale in the air, and some walls were in sore need of a paint job. In comparison to what a bombing would have done, though, it was minor damage, easy to fix.

One of the smaller rooms was not quite in as bad a shape as others, and Greef Karga had set up his temporary office there. It boasted a couch – still slightly moist from cleaning – a matching armchair, a cabinet, a desk with a terminal and a few shelves.

“Please, have a seat”, Karga invited us, pointing to the couch.

I needed no further encouragement and sat down. Din followed straight, and Grogu wriggled out of his arm to comfortably squeeze himself between us.

“May I offer you a drink?” Karga asked me with a smile. He did not offer anything to Din, though, clearly familiar with the Tribe’s habit of not eating and barely drinking around others.

“Yes, please”, I accepted gratefully. If I had to talk business after all my flights today, I might as well have a good time.

Our host produced two glasses and a bottle with a crystal blue liquor from the cabinet. He filled both glasses and handed me one of them before sitting down in the armchair with his own. I sniffed the liquid cautiously, then took a sip and found myself pleasantly surprised. This was good stuff, not the cheap booze the hallways smelled off.

“Very nice”, I admitted, smiling back at him. “I haven’t had such good liquor in a while.”

He beamed at me and I knew I had won his heart. Nothing like a few well-placed compliments here and there to make new friends.

“It’s not easy to come by at the moment, but I hope to interest a few more interstellar merchants in our prospering little world here.”

Before I could think of a pleasantry to reply – and steer the conversation towards business – Grogu climbed on my lap, cooing eagerly and made an attempt on my liquor.

“No, you don’t!” Din and I exclaimed in unison, me holding my glass out of reach, him gently restraining Grogu.

“Not for kids!” I told him sternly.

Karga chuckled quietly, went to his cabinet and pulled out some light blue bantha milk. “If you want something blue like the adults, have this one”, he told Grogu.

The little one stopped struggling and babbled enthusiastically. The magistrate poured him a glass and sat down in his armchair again.

“Lady Kryze, Mando here probably told you about our shared past in the guild. That we used to track people for payment, including this little one here.”

He pointed at Grogu, who happily slurped his milk.

“I’m familiar, yes”, I assured him, starting to realize where this was going.

“I have left the guild since I took over my current position as High Magistrate, but” – he gestured towards the terminal – “I have never gotten rid of the old programs. You never know when you need to find a missing person.”

My eyes lit up. “You want to use your software to track down my second-in-command?”

“That's the idea”, he confirmed. “If we can access his chain code, or even just parts of it, the software can cross-reference it with the databases on the holonet. Maybe even create a tracking fob, so you can locate him once you found the right world.”

I raised my eyebrows with interest. “Like you did for the targets of your bounty hunters?”

“Exactly.” He winked at me. “I might have become respectable but I still know the old tricks.”

I could not help smiling. “You and I have something in common, then.”

While I was still not proud of my Death Watch past, I had acquired invaluable knowledge there. It came in handy nowadays to help my people. Greef Karga apparently was of the same kidney. I realized I was actually starting to genuinely like him.

He grinned back. Hard to imagine this charming, friendly elder man had once tried to kill Din and Grogu. Then again, anyone who saw me and Ahsoka joining forces against Maul would not have believed we had once fought to the death on Carlac.

“So who is the man we are talking about?” he cut straight to business.

“His name is Axe Woves. Clan Woves, House Kryze”, I told him Axe’s name and affiliation out of old habit.

Karga looked at me with renewed interest. “He belongs to your house?”

If I interpreted it correctly, he was wondering if he had just offered to help recapture an errant prince of House Kryze. I kept forgetting how little Karga knew of Mandalorian culture.

“Clan Woves joined our faction during the imperial occupation”, I explained matter-of-factly. “We are not related by blood, though. It’s an alliance forged through an oath of fealty. Many different clans pledge their loyalty to the same house. ”

“Fascinating.” Karga beamed at me. “Forgive my ignorance, Lady Kryze, this is all so new for me. I have known Mando here for years, but he never told me anything about your clans and houses.”

He threw Din a mock hurt glance. Din looked at me and despite the helmet I could hear his silent plea.

Don’t tell him how clueless I was!

I smiled at Karga winningly. “You must not forget every information about Mandalorians was classified. We could not afford to let the Empire know how many of us were left and how they were organized or affiliated.”

“Of course, of course.” With a grin Karga looked at Din. “Come on, Mando, you are among friends here. What’s your affiliation?”

“Clan Mudhorn, House Kryze.”

I could not decide what was nicer: witnessing him openly declare his loyalty to my house once more or hearing the affection in his voice. Before my broad, happy grin could split my face, I quickly hid it behind my glass.

“Why am I not surprised?” Greef Karga teased him before turning to me again. “Do you happen to have part of Woves’ chain code?”

“Even better.” I was openly grinning now. “I have his full chain code.”

Privilege of the commander to have a full registry of her warriors. After all, despite our hope to unite our people again, the Nite Owls were not interested in recruiting former Mauldalorians. These traitors no longer deserved to be counted among us. In order to weed them out, potential new recruits had to give us their chain codes, so we could check their identity. Of course it was possible to forge or damage them, but it was a time-consuming, difficult process.

Greef Karga rubbed his hands gleefully and walked over to the terminal. “Lady Kryze, I foresee a fruitful partnership between us. Once you have taken back Mandalore, be assured Nevarro will assist you with supplies and helpers, should needs be.”

“I’m looking forward to it”, I assured him sincerely.

I had no wish to put Mandalore under Republican rule, meaning I would have to strike up alliances with other independent worlds of the Outer Rim. Nevarro was a good starting point. It might be small, but, as Grogu had taught me, size and outer trappings did not always matter.

I punched a command into my vambrace to access data from the Gauntlet. After a short search the computer produced Axe Woves’ chaincode, and Karga typed it into his terminal. Din and I got up from the couch and stepped behind him to watch the process over his shoulder.

“Everyone leaves traces in the galaxy”, Karga explained while his software cross-referenced the chain code with the databases. “Sometimes by virtual payments, sometimes just when crossing a border. Whenever a chain code gets fed into a database, our program can find it, given some time.”

“How long does it usually take to find someone?” I asked, rather fascinated by this kind of research.

“Depends on how obvious their trail is”, Din explained while Karga kept an eye on the screen. “People who don’t know they are being tracked are usually more careless. The cautious ones avoid places where the chain code could be registered. Some manage to use mutilated versions. They are harder to find.”

I snorted. “Axe doesn’t do cautious.”

Something beeped. Karga leaned forward, squinting his eyes. “I’m starting to think you are right, Lady Kryze. We just got a hit.”

“How old?” Din asked immediately.

I watched him with interest. While I had gotten to know him as a warrior, it was the first time I got an idea what he must have been like during his bounty hunter days. He was focused, alert and sharp, like a bird of prey ready for the swoop on the unsuspecting womprat. Together he and Karga must have made quite a pair, the suave businessman and the cool-headed, no-nonsense hunter.

“Just a few hours”, Karga replied in disbelief. “It’s a hundred percent match.”

Din made a surprised movement. “Seriously?”

I looked back and forth between the two. “Is that something special?”

“It is”, Din assured me. “When chain codes are scanned for everyday purposes, most databases only save an encrypted version. The encryption corrupts it slightly, so when our program extracts the code, a few digits always go missing. My best hits were in the nineties so far. A hundred percent match is as rare as, say, finding a Mythosaur.”

I flinched at his words. Right, I still had not told him that. I would have to do that soon, but not in front of Karga. The Mythosaur was too Mandalorian to share it with an outsider.

“So… how is it possible?” I asked, carefully keeping my features under control.

I did not want to sound paranoid here, but I could not shake the suspicion the chain code had been put out in the open on purpose. Perhaps someone wanted me to find Axe. Perhaps someone was setting up a trap. Ahsoka’s gloomy words about Thrawn flashed through my memory, and I had to make an effort to push them back into the corner of my mind. This was not the right time to freak out about mere suspicions.

Karga turned around to face me. “According to our software, the source was not a scan. It was an interplanetary message.”

I was not sure I liked this software’s ability to intercept and read messages, even if it worked out in my favor for the time being. In the future I would be much more careful and use better encryption.

“In other words, someone transmitted Axe Woves’ chain code to a different planet”, I summarized.

“Sounds like he is being tracked already”, Din threw in grimly. “Sometimes bounty hunters work in groups to cover several planets at once. If one of them found out Woves was in a searched system, he might have alerted his companion.”

“It’s possible”, Karga agreed. “The frequency on which the code was sent matches one used by bounty hunters in the past.”

“Can you find out the identity of the hunters?” I asked.

If they were beginners, Axe should be safe until we found him. He, Koska and I had plenty of experience in dodging rookies. If they were pros, we would have to hurry. While I did have a bone to pick with Axe, I did not want him to fall into the clutches of seasoned bounty hunters and end up in the loving embrace of Imperial warlords.

Regretfully Karga shook his head. “After leaving the guild I no longer have the clearance to access this kind of information. I can give you the location of the recipient, though.”

“Good enough”, Din decided. “Chain codes are not traded for trifles. If someone sent the chain code there, it must be close to Woves’ location.”

Karga pushed a few more buttons, and a holographic planet showed up. “There we are”, he announced. “Vlemoth Port, also the Outer Rim.”

“Never heard of it”, Din commented and looked at me. “You?”

“Not that I remember”, I muttered, studying what little data there was about the small planet.

It was sparsely populated, a few years ago counting a total of around 525.000 inhabitants. By now it might be even less, seeing the file on the planet had not been updated since. It gave me an idea just how unimportant and off the beaten track the world was. It might make a good hide-out, so perhaps Axe and the fleet had sought refuge there. Din bend forwards as well to read the little table of contents.

“A few humans and even fewer Talz, some Muun”, he summarized. “If Woves is there, we should find him quickly with a tracking fob.”

“I’ll create one straight away”, Karga promised. “I suppose you will want to leave immediately, Lady Kryze?”

Suppressing a yawn, I nodded. I would catch a wink in hyperspace. “We can leave as soon as you are done.”

With the complete chain code at hand, Greef Karga managed to create the tracking fob fairly quickly. Even better, he also provided us with fresh traveling fare, so we could save time and have dinner in space. Just a few hours after bringing the chicks to Nevarro, I was in space again, this time accompanied by both members of Clan Mudhorn and R5.

As so often before, Grogu had landed his pram on the copilot’s seat while Din sat behind us, manning the guns. By now the three of us had a comfortable routine preparing and flying the Gauntlet together. Nevertheless I was glad this was the last flight today. As soon as we made the jump into hyperspace, I got up from my seat and stretched.

“You have control”, I told Din, stifling another yawn. “I’ll crash for a few hours.”

He looked back calmly. “After you have eaten.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You have not touched a bite in hours”, he reminded me unfazed. “Don’t wear yourself down, Bo. When we meet Woves, you will need all your strength.”

Reluctantly I had to admit he was right. My last meal had been a ration bar, quickly shoved in my face while helping my brethren to load their belongings in the Gauntlet. When I was in a flow and had lots of stuff to do, I tended to forget to eat. Not my healthiest habit, and certainly not a good idea before a confrontation with a determined opponent.

“Fine, if you stop bothering me”, I relented, sitting down again.

Together we opened Greef Karga’s provisions. I was delighted to find some cold chicken in there, as well as home-made sandwiches and fresh fruit. Karga had really gone out of his way to make us feel appreciated. Once I smelled the food, I realized just how ravenous I really was and started to wolf down a sandwich. Grogu eagerly joined me and grabbed himself a piece of fruit. Din, as usual, refrained from eating in company when no screen was within reach. I should install some here, I thought while chewing. To make him more comfortable.

“Maybe I should be reminding you to eat”, I teased between bites. “I never see you do it.”

Din just chuckled and pointed to a drumstick. “Dibs.”

I laughed and playfully bopped his shoulder. It was nice to see him during a meal, even though he did not eat with Grogu and me. But we were together, and it made me happy.

After another sandwich I had some fruit for dessert and then got up. “The food is yours. I’m off.”

Leaving the bridge to Clan Mudhorn, I made my way to the bunks. Thanks to the exhausting day I fell asleep immediately.

While I did not have nightmares, despite my flashbacks, I did dream of people I had lost. First came Satine and Korkie, followed by fallen Nite Owls like Ursa Wren and Sabrina Eldar. Despite the sadness I felt, though, it was not a bad dream. Satine and Korkie smiled at me lovingly and Ursa gave me the warrior salute. Only Sabrina seemed somewhat restless, the jewel in her right nostril twinkling, her grey helmet with the blue-framed visor and the Nite Owl signet tucked under her arm. She looked at me piercingly, as she had always done before making a request. I had no idea what she wanted me to do, but I could make an educated guess.

“Don’t worry, Sabrina. I got an eye on your kids.”

Before she could give me an answer the alarm sounded that we were leaving hyperspace.

Although I knew this noise, I startled out of my dream. For a few moments I was rather disoriented and remained where I was while the Gauntlet dropped out of hyperspace. Only when I heard the beeping sound of the proximity alert, I finally came out of my daze. Shaking off the last remnants of sleep, I grabbed my helmet and got up.

As I rounded the corner to the cockpit, I caught a glimpse of a ship flying past the window. I blinked. Either I was still very tired or I had just seen a Gauntlet with red and purple markings.

Frowning I entered the cockpit just to hear a voice from the com asking: “Repeat again: what is your affiliation?”

For some strange reason I did not like way the voice stressed the word what. Something about it put me off.

“Clan Mudhorn, House Kryze”, Din replied patiently and turned to me as I sat down beside him. “Looks like we found the Mandalorians.”

He gestured towards the windows, and as sure as beskar, there were three Gauntlets, piloted by helmeted Mandalorians. As they came closer, I could clearly see their dark, T-shaped visors looking over to us, masking their faces.

My heart beat faster. Something was different. When I left the fleet, none of our Gauntlets had sported this strange scarlet and purple paint. Even if Axe Woves had wanted to put his personal mark on the fleet, he would not have used these colors. He was more into Clan Kryze’s discrete blue and grey than into attention-seeking red and purple.

I looked at Greef Karga’s tracking fob. It was silent, no beeping, no flashing light.

No indication of Axe Woves being nearby.

Realization hit me like a punch in the face. “They are not Clan Kryze!”

I had barely finished when a laser bolt hit us, shaking the entire ship. R5 squealed in terror. Grogu’s eyes grew wide.

“What is going on?” Din demanded harshly.

The reply came in no time. “We’ll escort you down to the surface. Do not resist or we’ll open fire!”

“Dank farrik…” I whispered as it finally dawned on me what the red and purple markings on the Gauntlets’ outside meant.

Impossible. After all these years…

“I’ll take the helm”, I stated, my voice hoarse with tension. “If they hail us again, leave the talking to me.”

Din’s head jerked up in confusion. “What did I say?”

“House Kryze.” I sighed deeply, resigning myself to whatever was going to happen. “You said House Kryze.”

He looked at me, then back at the Gauntlets outside while vacating the pilot’s seat. One ship appeared on each side of us, the third put itself before us, serving as our guide and guard at the same time.

“You know these people?”

I took my seat and pointed my chin at their red and purple markings. “These are the colors of Clan Awaud. They left Mandalore after the Clan Wars.”

I had seen these clan colors recently. Janine Solus had donated a Clan Awaud burgee to our flag collection for Team Mandalore. I had not heard of the clan since their exodus, and had certainly not expected to find Vlemoth Port guarded by them. What in the galaxy was Axe Woves’ chain code doing here?

“Never heard of them”, Din stated, unsurprisingly. “Why are they mad at House Kryze? Did you have a feud with them?”

I shook my head heavily. “Not me.”

“Ah…” He exhaled deeply as he finally understood. “Your sister. She exiled them as well.”

Feeling rather worn out by accidentally finding and opening another old can of worms, I gestured towards the Gauntlets outside.

“Din Djarin – meet the third faction our people shattered into after the Clan Wars. The Old Mandalorians.”

Chapter Text

As I had already expected, Din knew nothing about a third faction. While we were being directed towards our captors’ stronghold, I quickly explained the basics to him.

“You already know the New Mandalorians threw the warriors out. Many of them joined Death Watch, but there was a group among them who was not interested in political or ideological struggles. They called themselves the Old Mandalorians and just wanted to preserve our warrior ways without taking back our home world. So they emigrated and settled in various Outer Rim systems. I had no idea they were still around.”

“Do they follow the Creed?” Din asked.

“I’m not sure”, I admitted. “As far as I know, they tried to stay clear of ideologies. But still, they can’t be happy about a Kryze showing up here.”

Din tilted his head. “Have they ever tried to avenge themselves on your clan?”

Think as I might, I could not recall a single instant where the Old Mandalorians had claimed responsibility for an attempt on Satine’s or Korkie’s life. Of course I had not been with them for long, but the Duchess of Mandalore had made several headlines with her various skirmishes. Even in Death Watch I would have learned of any Old Mandalorian activity around her, if only because Pre Vizsla would have hoped to finally recruit them to our cause. And later, during my short time as regent, it had been the Imps and Clan Saxon, not Clan Awaud, who had caused me trouble.

Hesitantly I shook my head. “Not that I know off. Neither during Satine’s reign nor mine.”

“Then why should they hold a personal grudge against you?” he asked simply. “If they even left your sister in peace, they have no reason to treat you as an enemy.”

“Clan politics can be very confusing”, I sighed. “They don’t always follow logic. Just think of Blood for Blood. It doesn’t even matter there whether you kill the actual perpetrator or merely a clan member.”

Din grunted in disbelief. “Honestly? It sounds like once more you think everybody hates you.”

I shot him an angry glare. “They got hostile the moment my house was mentioned! That leaves little room for interpretation.”

“Or maybe they just don’t like trespassers”, Din argued. “You know how the covert responded when Teva found us. A Mandalorian clan who survived the Purge has to be careful. Once they realized we are not their own, they initiated their security protocol. It might not have anything to do with your house.”

Much as I hated to admit it, he was making sense. Maybe I had jumped to conclusions indeed. If there had been one stark difference between the Old Mandalorians and Death Watch, it was the former’s lack of desire for vengeance. They had struck me as a rather dispassionate, pragmatic people back then, doing what had to be done to preserve their way of life, without being maudlin or outraged about the change of our world.

“Fine”, I relented, letting out a deep sigh. “Let’s see where this is going, but keep your eyes open.”

“Always”, he assured me, his shoulder encouragingly brushing mine.

We broke through the clouds, and a breath-taking, lush landscape presented itself to us. Right underneath us a huge coniferous forest spread over hills and valleys. The trees were enormous, reaching heights up to 100 feet. Only on the northern horizon the forest receded as the hills grew into snow-capped mountains. I could understand why Mandalorians would want to settle here. For a moment I was transported back in time, to a young recruit eager to train with the Nite Owls.

“It looks like Kyrimorut…”

While we followed our guide on a northern course towards the mountains, I kept an eye on the data coming in from the scanners. Beyond the mountains there seemed to be tundra. The only lifeforms my scanners picked up there were Talz. In the foothills before us, though, there were human lifeforms, close to a lake. Greef Karga’s old information about Vlemoth Port had not mentioned any settlements apart from Sanshur Flats, an industrial manufacturing city built by the Muun before the Clone Wars, and Vlemoth Station, the planet’s official space port. I would never have expected a Mandalorian settlement out here in the wilderness. Apparently Clan Awaud had actually managed to stay under the Imperial radar.

“Imagine growing up here as a foundling”, Din said wistfully, sharing a look with Grogu. While I could not see through his helmet, he radiated something. A deep, profound longing.

It occurred to me all of a sudden that he had asked for none of this. That, left to his own devices, he would be on Nevarro with the covert, raising his foundling in peace. But ever since he had taken me to his people, he had gotten more and more involved with my causes and my issues. I wondered if one day he would not regret pledging his clan’s loyalty to my house. It was obvious that he longed for a simple life. Mine was anything but simple.

The com came alive again, forcing me to focus on the speaker’s voice.

“Kryze Gauntlet, how many of you are on board?”

“Three”, I replied truthfully. “Bo-Katan of Clan Kryze, Din Djarin of Clan Mudhorn and his foundling, Grogu. And an astromech.”

The speaker went silent on hearing we had a foundling with us. Slowly I dared to hope. The Old Mandalorians were supposed to be honorable. They might refrain from shooting me on the spot for Satine’s actions while a foundling was watching.

“Very well”, the voice finally stated. “You have been assigned a landing platform in Arumorut.”

An incoming transmission gave us the number of our platform, and I punched it into the nav computer.

“Once we give you the all-clear, you three will disembark”, the voice continued. “Slowly. Make sure we can see your hands. The droid stays on board.”

We exchanged a brief look. The speaker was definitely Mandalorian. He did not even ask us to leave our weapons on board, knowing fully well this process might take an hour. Instead, they wanted to see our hands. It sounded fair enough, yet I remained on my guard.

“What will happen to us then?” I asked tersely.

“Up to Chieftain Beroya”, the voice informed us curtly and the channel was closed.

“Beroya?” I frowned at the familiar tingling at the back of my mind. “I have heard this name before.”

Crusaders, my mind whispered to me like a faint echo from the past as I tried to recall where I had heard the name Beroya. Crusaders…

To my frustration the memory would not get any clearer. I only had a vague impression that the name belonged to a Mandalorian clan, which, frankly, was not helpful in the slightest.

At least another piece of information clicked into place, though. If the chieftain of Clan Awaud was not an Awaud by name, the original clan must have died out and only lived on in name. It made it very similar to Clan Kryze whose members did not consist of born Kryzes anymore either. Except for yours truly.

“I heard of a Vera Beroya when I was a bounty hunter”, Din muttered as we kept following our escort. “She had a reputation in the guild for commanding about 800 warriors, but I had no idea she was another Mandalorian. There are rumors she helped the rebellion out at the Battle of Xorrn.”

I turned my eyes away from the planet for a moment, glancing at Din nervously. “Didn’t Karga say the frequency on which Axe’s chain code was transferred had been used by bounty hunters?”

Din nodded grimly. “Guess now we know why.”

I clutched the helm a little tighter. “Good thing you are with me. You know how to handle bounty hunters. I suck at negotiations.”

Our guide was flying lower now, and I followed his lead. Cautiously I piloted the Gauntlet over the tops of the large trees. We were going north, getting closer to the mountains. While the trees did not get any sparser, our guide was slowing down. As I reduced speed myself and happened to look down to ensure we stayed clear of the tree tops, I let out a gasp of surprise.

“Look at that!”

Din and Grogu peered down as well. The kid’s eyes grew wide and he cooed in excitement.

“Unbelievable”, Din whispered in awe.

The settlement underneath us was built between the trees and so well camouflaged with tree bark, branches and mud, it was almost invisible from above. One had to actively look for the organically shaped houses in order to distinguish them from the surrounding shrubbery. I felt reminded of Mandalorian field camps, only this one had been made to last. According to my scanners, the wood used for the houses was extremely sturdy and hard to destroy. I could well imagine the first settlers building a temporary camp here and then realizing their houses would serve them well for decades.

Before us, our guide made a beeline for a foothill ahead. As we came closer, the three of us spotted a huge dome on top of it, perhaps 160 feet in diameter. I recognized it as the roof of a Mandalorian dome fortress, which might boast several levels underground. It was flanked by two narrow, reinforced cylindrical towers between 40 and 50 feet high, and my guess was they served as defensive fortification. From there the warriors were able to fire on anyone trying to storm the building. At the edge of the foothill we saw several landing platforms, which looked much newer than the dome building and the towers. While the latter had been around for at least two decades, the platforms could not be older than a few years.

And there were Mandalorians down there, waiting for us.

With a deep breath I initiated the landing sequence and brought the Gauntlet safely down on the platform. The engines had been off for several minutes, when eventually the com channel came back to life.

“You are clear to come out.”

I sneaked a peek out of the window at the Mandalorian warriors in full armor surrounding the Gauntlet, and swallowed hard.

“Not just security protocol”, I informed Din tensely. “They are hostile.”

He looked out as well and gave me a confused look. “What makes you think so?”

Ah, right. Child of the Watch.

“They are wearing their helmets”, I explained patiently. “Only the Tribe keeps their helmets on all the time. If other Mandalorians do so, it’s a sign of hostility. A friendly greeting always involves showing at least the leader’s face, as a sign you are neither hiding something nor planning to fight.”

He exhaled audibly. “That’s going to be difficult when your people meet mine.”

I nodded glumly. “Let’s hope seeing my face got them used to the idea.”

I was not looking forward to this meeting between the Tribe and the Nite Owls at all. Luckily – or rather unfortunately – for now we had to focus on the situation here.

Din looked back and forth between me and the Mandalorians outside, clearly thinking furiously. “You keep your helmet off, right?”

“Definitely”, I agreed. “Our chances might be better if the head of House Kryze looks harmless and not all dressed for war.”

“Harmless…”, he repeated pensively. “How about you carry Grogu when we go out? If they really think you are their enemy, a foundling will make you look less threatening.”

I nodded thoughtfully. “It might work, as long as they can see my hands. Alright, let’s do that and go out, before they get impatient.”

Grogu did not mind at all when I picked him up. Instead he put his little hand on my arm and got comfortable in the crook of my left elbow.

Slowly and carefully we stepped out of the Gauntlet side by side, into the sunlight of Vlemoth Port. A smell of pine needles, moist soil and herbs welcomed us, the smell of the forest. It was fresh and clear with a hint of snow in it, probably thanks to the proximity of the mountains. The forest of Concordia had smelled very similarly.

I could not pay much attention to nature’s beauties, though. First and foremost I had to focus on our hosts – or captors, depending on how this all would play out.

We were greeted by silence. The warriors all held guns in their hands and kept their faces hidden behind their helmets. It set me on the edge, just as much as the Tribe had when I first came there. They were looking at us as we made our way down the ramp and came to a still stand on the ground. The atmosphere felt tense, as if they did hold a grudge against me, yet could not decide so far how to act on it. I could feel Grogu stiffen in my left arm and worriedly asked myself what sentiments the poor child sensed in the air.

“Clan Awaud”, I greeted them with a cautious nod and slowly lifted my right fist to my heart for the warrior salute. By my side Din did the same.

Our greeting caused at least a little movement between the Mandalorians. They shifted their weight and stopped looking like statues. A helmeted warrior in green armor, who stood closest to the ramp, gestured at Din with his rifle.

“Whoever comes to Arumorut shows their face”, he barked. “Off with the helmet!”

Like a hot stab I realized what I had not taken into account. The Old Mandalorians had left before Death Watch dissolved and split up. They had no clue about the Children of the Watch.

“I walk the Way of the Mand’alore”, Din said flatly. “The helmet stays on.”

With a click the warrior cocked his gun. “You will walk to your grave if you don’t…”

He did not get any further. He froze in his place, throwing back his head.

To my consternation he made choking noises, as if he could not breathe anymore. The gun fell out of his hands as he grabbed his throat. I gasped in shock. A force-choke.

I had seen this before. I had experienced this before. Maul had choked me like this with his Sith abilities.

But who could…

Then I heard Din cry out in sheer horror. “Grogu, no! Stop!”

Grogu?!

I felt myself pale as I looked at the child. His little face showed the same fierce expression as a few days ago, when I told him about my encounter with Moff Gideon. Only this time the warrior threatening his father was on the receiving end of that look. With his tiny hand stretched out, Grogu used the Force to cut off the man’s air supply.

How could this sweet, adorable child have the same power as a disgusting Sith?

A furious shout rose among the Old Mandalorians. “Jedi!”

My heart stood still as the ancient hatred of the Mandalorians for the Jedi raised its ugly head again. I knew what they were going to do before it happened.

Cradling the child close to my chest, I threw myself behind the ramp, shielding him with my beskar and body. Blaster bolts, flames and whipcords hit the air where I had stood heartbeats ago. Frantically I crouched behind the ramp to protect Grogu and saw a movement in the corner of my eye. I whirled around, just to see a Mandalorian in purple armor pointing a gun at my head. My unprotected head.

Everything went dark as Din Djarin threw himself protectively over me and Grogu. For a moment all the air got knocked out of my lungs as he tackled me to the ground next to the ramp. His cape fell over us like a blanket, shielding us at least from hostile eyes, if not shots.

Then I saw several flashes of light. Blaster bolts, all hitting Din.

His beskar could only cover so much of his body. He let out a painful gasp, then went limp, his heavy weight pinning us to the ground.

The shots ceased.

Everything froze. Time, the world, myself. For some endless heartbeats I lay as still as a statue, shell-shocked and trapped underneath my friend’s dead weight. Even Grogu, stuck between Din and me, had stiffened with fright.

You brave, loyal, foolish man!

My senses returned as I realized something was painfully pressing into my right hand. As I carefully tried to free it, I felt a cylinder under my fingers, as familiar as my own armor. The Darksaber. It had come off Din’s belt when he covered me and was now squeezed against my hand. If I turned it just a little bit, I could grab the weapon.

Through the coarse material of Din’s cape I saw Green coming closer. He was still rubbing his throat, but no longer wore his helmet. Most likely he had ripped it off the moment Grogu released him, a knee-jerk reaction for any Mandalorian in need of air. It was an older man, his short crew-cut and stubble already gray, his features as sharp as those of a hawk.

“Let’s see what kind of mug this fellow tried to hide”, he growled.

Hot, searing fury rose up in me as I realized what was about to happen. Green was still hell-bent on removing Din’s helmet. I could not let anyone desecrate my friend like this, whether he was dead or alive.

Yet how to prevent it? The moment I came out from under the cape, I would be facing an entire army, already riled at Grogu’s stunt. My cuirass might protect my body from the shots, but without my helmet I could still get shot in the head, and Mandalorian warriors were renowned for their aim.

“Be careful!” a woman’s voice from further away urged. “The Jedi might not be out!”

“If the grown-ups are out, so is the little runt.” The steps came closer.

Out? I breathed an inaudible sigh of relief. That sounded like they had only used stunners. A knot in my belly loosened on realizing Din was not dangerously injured. He would have the hangover from hell once he woke up after taking several stun shots, but he should be OK.

And they thought I was out too…

“What”, the woman hesitantly threw in, “what if the adults shielded him? Their armors might be old enough to be blaster-proof.”

“Please”, Green snorted, kneeling down beside Din. “Who still has beskar these days?”

Grogu’s tiny hand grabbed my arm still slung around him, and I looked at him. In the semi-darkness under Din’s cape I saw the child’s dark, intelligent eyes intently look at the Darksaber, then at me. He raised his little brows meaningfully, and suddenly I knew what to do.

Who still has beskar these days?

Clan Kryze and Clan Mudhorn did.

Holding Grogu tightly against me with my left arm, I carefully took the Darksaber in my right hand and gave him the slightest of nods. With baited breath I waited for the right moment.

It came when Green placed both his hands on Din’s helmet.

Grogu’s force-push lifted his stunned father up in a jerking motion. His helmet slammed into Green’s chin, knocking his head back. Several warning shouts sounded, Green reached for his blaster. But he was too late.

The moment I was liberated from Din’s dead weight, I rolled out from under the cape and got behind Green, my back pressed against the side edge of the ramp. With a swift movement I dropped Grogu between us and grabbed Green in a headlock with my left arm. The Darksaber sprung to life in my right hand, pointing at his stomach. Even if Green’s cronies shot me from behind and I doubled over, he would still fall on the blade. And as I knew now, his armor would be of little use.

Startled silence fell at me unexpectedly turning the tables on them. For a moment the humming of the sword was the only noise.

“This is the Darksaber, crafted by Tarre Vizsla”, I spat at Green, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Your durasteel won’t protect you. I swear on my name and the names of the ancestors, I’ll kill you if you touch his helmet again!”

“He didn’t comply with our orders!” Green hissed.

“He is a Child of the Watch!” I yelled back. “They don’t even show their faces to their own family!”

Green shook his head in confusion. “A what? Never heard of these people!”

Had I been calm and rational, I would have acknowledged his words as a reasonable excuse. The Old Mandalorians had not exactly stayed in touch with Death Watch or its descendants. Seeing how both they and the Children of the Watch kept to themselves, it was safe to assume their paths had never crossed.

Seeing they had just shot Din, however, I was anything but calm and rational.

“Do you think you are the only Mandalorians around?” I demanded harshly. “How can you not know about different Mandalorian cultures?”

A cynical voice in the back of my head pointed out that Din Djarin had not known about other Mandalorian cultures either at our first meeting, but I shut it down firmly. Not the point right now. The three of us were completely outnumbered and outgunned. My only advantages here were my beskar and the Darksaber. Mandalorians who did not follow the Creed only responded to strength. I could not afford weakness right now.

“Where did you get that sword?”

It was hard to say whether the quiet voice coming from the crowd was a man’s or a woman’s. With them all wearing helmets I could not identify the speaker.

“It belonged to my foster father, Pre Vizsla.”

Whispers ran through the crowd, warriors exchanged glances. I kept a tight control over my features. Unlike the Children of the Watch, the Old Mandalorians knew the Darksaber and its connection to House Vizsla. I just fervently hoped they would not grill me further. I might borrow the Darksaber as a weapon in battle, but lying about being the rightful wielder would just be that one step too far. It might really bring a curse on me this time, though not the esoteric version of the Mandalorian mystics.

“You are Pre Vizsla’s foundling?”

I was growing tired of talking to a disembodied voice. “Who wants to know?”

A big, muscular figure in full Mandalorian armor over black clothes stepped out of the crowd. Helmet, vambraces, leg pieces and pauldrons were all red with golden accents. The pauldrons were horizontally placed on the shoulders, like Sabrina’s had been. The red cuirass sported a purple triangle in the center, standing on its tip.

“I’m Vera Beroya, chieftain of Clan Awaud.”

Despite the female name the warrior wore a helmet traditionally associated with male Mandalorians, the T-shaped visor framed with gold. Among the Nite Owls I had met several individuals over the years who ignored traditional helmet styles and rather wore what suited their respective personalities. With the name Vera the warrior probably identified as a woman. To my astonishment she had a huge Mythosaur ax strapped to her back, giving me an idea how strong she must be.

So this was the mysterious bounty hunter Din Djarin had heard of.

“We don’t acknowledge the wielder of the Darksaber as our leader”, she said frankly.

I was fine with that. Even if I had been the owner of the blade, I would have had no intention to claim leadership over a bunch of bounty hunters who had just shot my friend.

“We did not come here to be acknowledged”, I clarified. “We merely wanted to talk.”

Which had not gone well so far.

“Talk?” Beroya scoffed. “You did not even mention your foundling was a Jedi child! He tried to kill one of my warriors!”

Fair enough, but her warrior had threatened Din. Even Mandalorian foundlings without Jedi powers did not respond well to their family being attacked.

“He only uses his powers when frightened”, I said between gritted teeth. “Your man here threatened to kill his father.”

“We would merely have stunned him.”

I did not even blink. “If that is true – why did Grogu sense mortal danger?”

Din had been in several tight spots while I accompanied him, and Grogu had never choked anyone. It was an extreme reaction for him. If I knew him at all, he had well and truly believed his dad was in danger of death.

I heard a hissing noise from Beroya, then she looked at Green. “Really, Avin? Again?”

His face must show an expression I could not see, because she shook her head in frustration. It reminded me of countless situations where I had had to rein Axe and Koska in.

“Nobody was supposed to have their blaster set to killing!”

It was almost refreshing to see I was not the only leader around with overly trigger-happy followers, but I had to make sure hostilities ceased. I forced myself to take a deep breath. This whole situation had blown out of proportion completely. Everybody here needed to calm down again. In my mind I could almost hear Satine’s voice, urging me to de-escalate before things grew even more violent.

“How about this”, I suggested, looking as friendly as I could with a hostage in my grip. “Your friend here walks free – my friend keeps his helmet on. My Jedi child won’t hurt anyone – your people lower their guns. You and I sit down together and have a civilized chat, one leader to another. Deal?”

I could well imagine how Satine would have responded to this clumsy attempt of diplomacy. I could almost see her cringe and cover her face with embarrassment. Then again, her way of dealing with Old Mandalorians had been kicking them out. I had to find a different solution, and with Mandalorians sometimes you needed to be brazen to win the day. Seeing we were locked in a stand-off, I hoped Chieftain Beroya here was not interested in her people needlessly getting hurt either. It was a trait most Mandalorian commanders shared, at least those who were not completely cracked up.

She did not answer immediately. Her hand reached to her back, touching the handle of her Mythosaur ax while she thought about my words. I suppressed a nervous gulp. If she chose to not talk but instead challenge me, one leader to another, I’d be in hot water. Even the Darksaber could not significantly increase my chances against this melee weapon.

The hand moved away from the ax. Vera Beroya straightened up and looked around, at each of her warriors.

“Weapons down”, she ordered.

I breathed a sigh of relief as the Mandalorians obeyed. They kept their blasters in their hands, but they were no longer pointing at us. As my own little gesture of de-escalation I removed the Darksaber from Green’s – Avin’s chest and let him go. He glared at me and got back on his feet, leaving Grogu visible to everyone. I also stood up, the Darksaber still in my hand, and placed myself next to the child. He put a tiny hand on my leg, as if in need of support and coyly looked at the Old Mandalorians. Beroya looked back at him, her face unreadable behind the helmet.

“Leave the oddball be”, she told Avin. “For the time being we’ll make an exception.”

Obediently he stepped away from Din Djarin and consequently away from me.

The chieftain turned to face me. By now I could tell when helmeted eyes were boring into mine.

“A long time ago my clan was allied with House Vizsla. They led us into battle and to many victories. In honor of this old alliance I will hear you out, Bo-Katan Kryze, foundling of House Vizsla. Afterwards I will decide what to do about you.”

Vera Beroya lifted her hands to her helmet and took it off. My shoulders relaxed on seeing this sign of temporary peace. Feeling safe for the time being I deactivated the Darksaber and looked at Beroya’s face curiously. Her skin was dark brown like Greef Karga’s, her frizzy, black hair held in place by a red bandana. The most remarkable feature though were her striking, amber eyes, glowing with a sharp intelligence. Until now I had only ever seen this eye color with birds of prey. As far as I could tell, she must be in her thirties.

“I agree to your terms, Vera Beroya of Clan Awaud”, I stated formally and picked up Grogu. He snuggled himself into my arms and looked at the Mandalorians with wide, dark eyes.

Beroya nodded curtly and gestured towards the dome fortress. “Follow me, then. We can talk in the Clan Home.”

I hesitated for a moment, looking down at Din. I could not just leave him lying around here like a fallen piece of furniture.

“What about Din Djarin?” I asked Vera Beroya.

She merely shrugged, clearly not overly interested in him. “He might be out for an hour or so. My people will have an eye on him.”

“I’m not leaving him”, I stated flatly, not trusting these clueless bounty hunters with my favorite Mandalorian. Once unsupervised, they might well take his helmet off. Not on my watch.

Vera Beroya’s gaze hardened. She lifted an eyebrow, a silent warning to not overtax her patience. If I undermined her authority in front of her warriors, I would not do any of us a favor. I had to give her a sufficient reason for my behavior, apart from my personal affection for Din Djarin. Mercenaries and bounty hunters cared little for other people’s emotional attachments.

But Clan Awaud were also Old Mandalorians. If they still followed our ancient values, they believed in honor and duty towards their own. I could give them honor and duty.

“He pledged his loyalty to me personally”, I explained. “I am his lady. When accepting his service, I entered a commitment to protect him in return. I cannot do that by leaving him behind all helpless.”

Once more her piercing eyes bored into mine. I looked back openly, doing my best to embody the honorable head of a Mandalorian house merely fulfilling her obligation to a loyal clan member.

Eventually she inclined her head and looked at someone in the crowd. “Get a stretcher.”

“Thank you”, I said softly, knowing fully well I was not really in any position to make demands here. Beroya could have been completely obstinate, and there would have been nothing I could do about it.

The warrior in purple, who had tried to shoot me earlier, disappeared briefly and then returned with a floating stretcher. He helped me to haul Din up on it and then sent the remote control software to my vambrace. With the simple push of a button I gained control over the stretcher and programmed it to follow the signal of my vambrace, seizing the opportunity to discretely put the Darksaber back. No point in giving Din Djarin the wrong idea once he woke up.

Vera Beroya walked towards the dome building at the top of the hill and I followed her with Grogu on my hip. Behind me came the rest of Clan Awaud. The entrance opened into a small atrium, which in turn led to a huge, circular common area, big enough to host several hundred people. I saw long tables and chairs and gathered this was where the clan assembled for meetings and feasts. Several doors led to different areas of the Clan Home. If it was similarly designed as classic Mandalorian fortresses, the building must have an armory, an infirmary, a kitchen and living quarters as well.

One of the doors led to Vera Beroya’s destination, a study with a desk. Star maps and battle strategy holobooks piled up on it. Behind the desk a big window allowed me a breath-taking view of the snow-capped mountains behind a crystal clear lake.

The walls were decorated with technical drawings of space ships and laser canons. Weapons also hung there on hooks, and Beroya’s Mythosaur ax joined them as she entered. What really caught my eye, though, was a beautiful, painted picture of Mandalore, as seen from Concordia. I was very familiar with this sight, having lived on Concordia for several years myself, and so I could tell the artist had seen the real thing at least once in his life.

“Sit”, Beroya told me curtly and gestured to the two chairs in front of the desk. She herself did not sit down in the one behind it, but walked over to the window and looked out for a few moments.

The stretcher floated in behind me, and I stopped it behind the chair assigned to me. Cautiously I sat down, reaching behind me with one hand just to feel Din close by. Grogu too seemed eager to be close to his father, so I sat him down on the stretcher.

I was anxious and nervous at the thought of having to speak to Clan Awaud’s leader all by myself. If they hated me for Satine’s sake, things could go scud very quickly, especially without a mediating force like Din Djarin present.

“Leave us alone”, Beroya commanded her retinue. Obediently the Old Mandalorians stayed outside and closed the door behind them. Grogu and I were alone with the leader. She crossed her arms and threw him such a dark look that he shrank back and did his utmost to disappear under Din’s cape.

With one target out of sight Vera Beroya went straight for the next one – me.

“So, Bo-Katan Kryze”, she said in a belligerent voice. “I suppose you have come here to negotiate?”

While I did not show it, I was rather bewildered by this conversation starter. Unless Beroya was talking about the terms on which she would allow us to leave her planet again, I had no idea what I was supposed to negotiate with her. Besides, my professional for negotiating with bounty hunters was still out cold.

“To talk”, I corrected her. “I’m sorry for all the commotion. We didn’t mean to cause trouble.”

Her amber eyes flashed dangerously. “Really? Last time Clan Kryze was not interested in talking at all.”

I remained patient. I myself had needed decades to come to terms with Satine’s expulsion of the warriors. For people who had never been able to return to their homes, the pain might still be much fresher and stronger.

“This was decades ago and with my sister at the helm, not me”, I reminded her quietly. “I know she wronged you, and I fell out with her over it. She has been gone for decades now, and Clan Kryze has changed a lot. I came here because I think you and I might be looking for the same person. Axe Woves.”

She stood very still on hearing Axe’s name. Her eyes searched my face intensely, as if trying to read my thoughts.

“Axe Woves”, she repeated slowly. I could tell it was not the first time she heard this name. “What is he to you?”

My eyes narrowed slightly. The last time I had heard these words, Sabrina had teased Koska about an alleged love interest. Hopefully I had not stumbled over Axe’s abandoned girlfriend who suspected me of being her replacement. I really did not need another complication in my life, thank you very much.

“He is my former second-in-command”, I said matter-of-factly. “A few months ago he seized command of my Nite Owls and took off with my entire fleet. I intend to get them back. Din Djarin here” – I pointed at my still unconscious friend – “used to work as a bounty hunter as well. With his help we tracked Axe’s chain code. According to our sources, it was sent here to Vlemoth Port. So it seemed our best shot to come here.”

At the mentioning of Axe’s chain code being sent here, Vera Beroya looked to the side, just for a brief moment, as if trying to avoid my eyes. She knew something, I was sure of it now.

Pensively she looked out of the window to the beautiful snow-capped mountains, her fingers drumming on her folded arms. Eventually she moved to her desk and sat down in her chair opposite of me.

“You have not been with them for months, then?”

“I have not”, I confirmed, wondering if she would now look down on me, the so-called leader who managed to lose her entire fleet.

If she had these thoughts, though, she did not let it show. “You know how they currently fill their bellies?”

It was hard not to make a face. I simply disliked mercenary work, but this was the wrong woman to express this sentiment to.

“Yes, I do. They are currently guns for hire.”

“So are we.” She folded her arms. “With the Empire gone, the galaxy has more guns for hire than needed.”

I nodded cautiously. Not just ordinary citizens, but also stormtroopers and other former Imperial military had to find work some way. Many of them would try to monetize their honed skills.

“We still manage to get contracts because of the Mandalorian reputation”, Beroya continued. “We are an elite, we deliver what we promise, and we want good money for our services. Now a new group of Mandalorians shows up and undercuts our prices. It’s bad for business.”

Whatever I might think about their line of work, her words sent a shiver down my spine. Without knowing it, my Nite Owls had pissed off the Old Mandalorians by poaching in their territory. I knew only too well what dangerous enemies rival clans could make.

“How far would you go to remove them?” I heard myself say, calmer than I would have expected.

She nodded slightly, as if satisfied I had gotten the gist. “I spoke to Axe Woves when he stole an assignment from a Mon Calamari viceroy right from under our noses. I told him to back off.”

Last time Clan Kryze was not interested in talking at all.

Briefly I closed my eyes as I finally understood what she had meant with these words. “He didn’t listen.”

“You know him well.” Her mouth was set in a hard line. “He was not paying me any attention and just continues stealing our jobs.”

“He did not take you seriously”, I realized.

This was odd. Since when did Axe Woves brush off Mandalorians? He too had fought Clan Saxon. He knew how nasty Mandalorian feuds could get.

“A mistake many enemies have made. Just because I don’t always wear my armor for holo calls, they don’t perceive me as a threat.”

This explained why the bounty hunter guild had not recognized her as Mandalorian. Like the Armorer, Vera Beroya used secrecy to keep her people safe. Probably a smart choice, especially after the Purge.

Not very smart of Axe, though, to judge people by outer trappings. Just as he had judged me by having, or rather not having, the Darksaber.

“We have worked hard for our reputation as elite warriors and loyal contractors”, Beroya continued, her eyes flashing. “Now Woves and his people shamelessly profit from our good name and push us out of business by undercutting our prices. I was not going to let him get away with it.”

I could not hold it against her. Axe could be infuriating in his single-minded stubbornness. Once he had made up his mind, there was just no room for discussion anymore. I could well imagine how after the talk with Vera Beroya he just shrugged and went back to business, completely blind for the danger she could pose. Pissing off the head of a Mandalorian clan was a fail-safe way to get in trouble, especially if you did not realize they were Mandalorian.

“What did you do about it, then?” I asked, bracing myself.

“I sent them someone.” Her amber eyes glowed. “When a new Mandalorian warrior showed up at their camp and wanted to join them, they didn’t suspect anything. They welcomed him with open arms.” She snorted. “Come to think of it, I sent my second-in-command to your second-in-command. It’s quite ironic, actually.”

I felt a very real stab of fear. “You put a saboteur among the Nite Owls?”

This was bad. Mandalorian saboteurs were not to be trifled with. They were skillful, ruthless assassins, all the more dangerous because they operated in secret.

“My options were limited and my clan needs to eat.” Vera Beroya leaned forwards, her arms still resting on the table. “I want your people out of our hunting grounds.”

“Then help me find them”, I said quietly, forcing myself to think clearly despite my growing dread. “Once I have taken back command, I will make sure they don’t get in your way anymore.”

With this new information Clan Awaud’s initial hostility towards us made complete sense. It was not about Satine’s deeds. Having placed saboteurs among the Nite Owls, they must have thought I had come here to hold them to account for it. It had never been about the past House Kryze. This was about the present Clan Kryze.

“Why should I believe anything you say?” Beroya stated coldly. “Your people might still be acting on your orders.”

“They are not”, I stated firmly. “They broke away and I want to bring them back on track.”

“For all your claims, they still call themselves Clan Kryze”, she shot back. “It would not be the first time Clan Kryze cuts us off our living. Your sister took everything from us!”

Alright, maybe it was a little about the past House Kryze.

“I’m not my sister”, I retorted, stressing every single syllable. I could not remember how often I had said these words in a dejected, self-deprecating manner. This time I spoke them with vehemence, determined to not be regarded as Satine’s carbon copy. “I waged war on her for doing this to us warriors.”

Vera Beroya eyed me closely. “You were Death Watch, weren’t you?”

“I was”, I stated without blinking. No point in denying it. An Old Mandalorian would know I had not joined forces with them, leaving only one not-pacifist option. “I wanted to reclaim Mandalore from the New Mandalorians.”

She snorted. “Lovely. Two fanatic Kryze crusaders, just on different sides of the spectrum.”

Crusaders…

My eyes narrowed. This word again…

Suddenly I remembered.

I was young, angry at my sister and eager to protect Mandalore’s warrior tradition. In order to win more supporters for our cause, I was accompanying Pre Vizsla to a meeting with one of the clan leaders born on Concordia. A tall, strong man with olive skin, scarred and battle-hardened, his dark hair tied back. He had cut a striking figure in his red armor with silver accents, and I had been in awe of his huge force of more than a hundred people. Pre Vizsla had been rather excited, hoping to fill the ranks of Death Watch with them. The answer of the clan leader, though, completely confused me.

“We are not interested in becoming crusaders. All we want is staying on our old path. Simple mercenary and bounty hunter work. No politics.”

Pre closed his eyes in regret. “I wish you would reconsider, Nam Beroya. Your clan always contributed to House Vizsla’s finest victories. With your help we could reclaim Mandalore in no time.”

He gestured to our planet, dominating the sky of Concordia. Nam Beroya followed his gaze briefly before shaking his head.

“Mandalore is not out there.” He put his fist to his heart. “It is in here.”

Beroya. That’s why the name had rung a bell with me.

“You are of Nam Beroya’s clan, aren’t you?” I asked my counterpart.

Her head came up at this. “You knew my father?”

I nodded. “I was there when he took his leave of Concordia. My foster father, Pre Vizsla, offered him to join Death Watch, but your father just wanted to go back to his line of work. Simple mercenary and bounty hunter work, and…”

“… and no politics”, she finished my sentence. The semblance of a smile lit up her stern features.

I too allowed myself a slight smile. Slowly I was starting to get the hang of how her mind worked.

“This place is yours and your father’s work, isn’t it?” I said softly and gestured at our surroundings with my hand. “Your people, your city, your profession. You don’t really need anything else.”

“No, we don’t.” There was a certain pride in her voice, a free woman relishing her independence. “Father always respected Pre Vizsla’s prowess as a warrior. But he was not interested in dying or killing for some ideology.”

“Sounds like a smart man”, I said dryly. Much smarter than I had been, though I had to admit it was easier for an adult to spot ensnarement and traps than for a child.

Her face darkened. “He was. But even the smartest can be mowed down by the Empire.”

I exhaled in frustration at another Mandalorian dying at the hands of the Imps. “I’m sorry to hear that. They killed so many of our people…”

Determined she shook her head, as if trying to chase away the sad thoughts. “And yet, there are still too many left for our line of work.”

Right. Back to business.

“You seem like a sensible woman, Bo-Katan Kryze.” There was an almost friendly respect in her demeanor now, as if she too was starting to understand me better. “You must see there aren’t enough jobs for both my people and a bunch of has-been crusaders. Not in our price range.”

“Who says we are done being crusaders?” I asked, slightly amused at this term. “My people have been going through hard times and currently might have lost their way. Nevertheless we still intend to reclaim Mandalore.”

She tilted her head thoughtfully, her eyes never leaving mine. “Everything on this planet has been destroyed.”

“Which is why I need my forces to rebuild it.” I leaned forwards persuasively. “Help me find them. It’s a win-win situation. You get rid of your rivals, I get my errant crusaders back. Once they have a goal again, they won’t bother you anymore.”

Vera Beroya did not even blink. “Our clients are our right, won by hard work. They are not your gift. So apart from retrieving what is rightfully ours – what do we get for helping you?”

I allowed myself the luxury to put my old Death Watch smirk to use. Now I had her. A mercenary was interested in payment, especially someone who upheld an old tradition far away from the home world. I knew what Mandalorians in exile needed, having lived with the Tribe and having struggled for years to support my own people. Weapons and ships were important, but not our defining feature. There was one thing every Mandalorian warrior needed, and it only existed in the Mandalorian system.

“Beskar”, I said softly.

Her eyes sparked with interest. “I’m listening.”

“Whoever controls Mandalore, controls access to the beskar mines”, I said simply. “We are going to take our planet back. I could make sure your people get real beskar alloys again.” I cocked an eyebrow, my smirk still firmly in place. “Armors from durasteel will only get your warriors so far.”

As my stunt with the Darksaber had proved before.

She studied me in silence for several moments. The only noises in the room was Grogu’s quiet babble. He was sitting right next to Din’s head, as if to assure personally nobody took his father’s helmet off.

“You really mean it, don’t you?” she said eventually.

“I do”, I replied simply.

I was not trying to impress her with demonstrative determination. I was merely stating facts.

“I’m a businesswoman”, she countered. “I will need more than your word.”

Now I really wished Din would hurry to wake up. Drawing up contracts with bounty hunters was something he had experience with, not me.

“You want a guarantee, I get it”, I assured her, thinking furiously. Ironically enough, the first thing coming to my mind was an idea Satine had often put into action. On diplomatic missions she had liked to bring independent watchers along, both as witnesses and as a security measure. Perhaps I could adapt her strategy to my current situation.

“Clan Awaud could send a handful of warriors with us once we begin our mission”, I suggested. “As watchers, to protect your interests. Once we are successful, they can contact you and we can negotiate the amount of your payment.”

If I was not flattering myself, she seemed mildly impressed, though not fooled.

“Of course that would mean my people would have to face the same dangers on Mandalore as yours. They might have to fight. You would win yourself some extra warriors this way.”

Truth be told, I was rather impressed by her sharp mind as well.

“A little bonus”, I admitted frankly. “Then again, it’s a great opportunity for volunteers to make a name for themselves. And for you it’s a few mouths less to feed for a while.”

I could tell this argument sold it to her. Every army marched on their stomach, and if their situation was as dire as Vera Beroya claimed, it would take a burden off her mind to not be in charge for a few of them.

“Most of my clan will think you crazy for wanting to reclaim a ravaged planet with a handful of warriors.” She gave me a look of grudging respect. “But you Death Watch people… you have pulled crazier stunts than that.”

“Death Watch doesn’t exist anymore”, I corrected her, not too fond of being labeled Death Watch people. “It split up in several factions. Two of them, the Nite Owls and the Children of the Watch, have forged an alliance now. That’s why Din Djarin and I travel together, and why I have more than a handful of warriors at my disposal.”

I discretely left out the tiny detail that the Nite Owls were completely unaware of this alliance yet. Let Beroya think she was talking to the leader of a much bigger force than she originally anticipated.

She was thinking precisely that. I could tell by the way her jaw muscles tensed. She had expected my force to consist merely of the Nite Owls already infiltrated by Clan Awaud. With more people behind me, their strength in numbers was dwindling quickly.

Time to push my advantage.

“Call your saboteur back”, I demanded, holding her gaze. “I’ll take care of my people and you’ll never see them again, save for collecting your beskar. You can’t win by spilling Nite Owl blood. You will just incur the wrath of the Children of the Watch as well.”

“Save me your threats.” She made a dismissive gesture. “Arumorut has withstood countless enemies. Nobody managed to bring down her walls.”

I smirked slightly. Finally I understood her game. She was bluffing just as much as I was. This was like at a Sabacc table where you pretended to have a better hand than you actually did. The only question now was who was going to be more convincing.

“Nobody before knew your city and its weaknesses. We have access to this knowledge. There are former members of your clan among us.”

She still looked unimpressed. “Prove it.”

I activated the holo projector of my vambrace. After a short search it showed the patchwork banner of Team Mandalore. Behind Clan Kryze’s crest, Clan Awaud’s coat of arms shone in all its red and purple brightness, thanks to Janine Solus’ burgee.

“The flag of our Mandalorian alliance”, I said smoothly.

No harm in embellishing a story a little. I made a mental note to myself to thank Janine Solus after our return and ask her why she had left Clan Awaud. It was probably an interesting tale.

With some satisfaction I watched Beroya tense. She could tell it was not a fake. This was a current symbol of Clan Awaud, not an outdated one of the Clan Wars. From what she knew, I had indeed insiders of Arumorut in my forces, people who knew the city and could provide me with all the intel I needed to launch a strike against it.

“And I happen to know you supported the Rebel Alliance during the Imperial times in the Battle of Xorrn”, I continued mercilessly, inwardly thanking Din Djarin for having provided this gem of information. “How many warriors did you have then, 800? I don’t see that many here anymore, let alone ships. Your city is empty.”

Vera Beroya clenched her jaw. She glared at me.

“That’s why you regard the Nite Owls as a threat, isn’t it?” I summarized. “You suffered heavy losses, especially when the Empire started to hunt Mandalorians down during the Purge. By now even the Nite Owls are a force to be reckoned with.”

She glared at me. “If you have all these resources at your disposal, why not use them against us to get what you want? Why lure me with beskar if you could just force me?”

Dropping the Death Watch mask, I looked at her seriously.

“Because nothing would please the imperial warlords more than our people killing each other off and saving them the dirty work. I won’t let them lead me by the nose, and I’m not her to threaten you or your clan. My sister wronged your people, but you and I don’t have to be enemies.”

I did not say Mandalorians were stronger together. Mercenaries had little use for idealism. Instead I focused on arguments she could understand and appreciate.

“I know how hard it is to be a good leader. We both keep agonizing over how our actions might affect our people. I care about mine as much as you do about yours. Just as you can’t let Clan Awaud starve, I can’t let Clan Kryze die.”

I could see a trace of reluctant agreement in her face. Good. She could still follow my train of thoughts.

“So why don’t we try to reach an understanding? You help me find Clan Kryze, and as soon as we have reclaimed our home world, you get your pick of beskar.”

It was a good offer, and we both knew it. Especially if the alternative was Clan Awaud having to face a vengeful Tribe.

Beroya’s gaze drifted towards the window pensively, her fingers drumming on the surface of her desk. I waited patiently.

“Fine”, she relented eventually. “I’ll tell him to abort the mission and…”

Before she could finish her sentence, the com in her vambrace beeped. Beroya pushed a button and a few lines of letters appeared. While she read, I could see her blanch. For a moment she looked almost frightened.

I had no idea what message she had gotten, but I realized I was losing her attention without having achieved a result.

“You can end this within minutes”, I pushed further. “Just call him back. Let my people go!”

Vera Beroya closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I can’t”, she hissed between gritted teeth, pointing her chin at the letters still hovering over her vambrace. “The trap is set. It can’t be undone.”

I sat up straight, feeling myself stiffen. “What are you talking about?”

There was a knock at the door. With a grim face Vera Beroya got up.

“My infiltrator just returned to Vlemoth Port.”

Right on cue, there was a groan from Din behind me. Apparently the stun finally wore off. I turned around and found him sitting up on the stretcher, looking around like in a daze. His first course of action was to pat Grogu, who snuggled up to him with a happy coo. He turned his head, looking for me, and slumped in relief when our eyes met.

“What happened?” he croaked.

“You took a few stunners for me. I convinced them to talk”, I gave him the briefest of summaries.

His gaze followed Vera Beroya, walking to the door of her office.

“So…”, he murmured, rubbing his neck. “Helmets are off now?”

He had remembered my lecture about the meaning of Mandalorians showing their faces, then.

“For the time being”, I confirmed quietly. “Except for yours, of course.”

He sighed as if a huge burden had fallen off his chest. “Good.”

“Thank you for protecting me”, I said softly, putting my hand on his knee. “You alright there?”

“I’ve had worse”, he assured me, briefly placing his fingers on mine.

I believed him without question. I had seen it for myself on Trask and Mandalore.

Together we watched Beroya opening the door. Her warriors were still outside, waiting for us to finish our talk. All eyes, though, were on a newcomer, a lanky young man in a blue and green armor, standing right in front of the door with his helmet under his arm.

“Kad”, Beroya greeted him curtly. “Come in.”

He threw me a suspicious look when seeing my Nite Owl signet before obeying his commander’s order.

“Din Djarin, meet Vera Beroya”, I said dryly, gesturing towards our host. “We got interrupted just as we were close to an agreement.”

Beroya neither glared at me nor protested. Instead she looked almost resigned, at least as much as a fierce, stubborn Mandalorian could. For a moment she almost resembled Pre Vizsla accepting his fate seconds before Maul executed him.

My heart sank. This did not bode well.

“This is Kad Solus”, she briefly introduced the newcomer to Din and me. “My second-in-command and son of Avin Solus. Kad, meet Din Djarin and Bo-Katan Kryze.”

Din and I exchanged a quick glance. Solus. Like our Janine Solus.

And Avin was the name she had called Green by. Father and son seemed earmarked today to ruin our stay.

If Beroya saw our gaze, she did not respond it. “Report”, she curtly told her Number Two.

He gave me a disparaging look before sitting down in the free chair and turning to Beroya. “I signed up with Clan Kryze, stayed with them for an assignment and then put the package on the ship, as agreed.”

“What was the package?” Din asked sharply. “A bomb?”

“No!” Kad Solus snorted, as if offended by the suggestion of such an obvious maneuver. “I fed the ship an algorithm, specific to Axe Woves. If it gets triggered, it will cause several systems to overheat, eventually blowing them up.”

“Specific to Axe?” I was fast losing track here. “I don’t understand!”

“I do”, Din said hoarsely. “It’s a chain code trigger, isn’t it? That’s why Woves’ chain code was sent here!”

Solus nodded defiantly.

“What does that mean?” Even in my own ears my voice started to sound rather frantic.

Din’s clenched fists gave me an idea how serious the situation really was. When he finally spoke, I could tell he had to force the words out of his mouth.

“Bounty hunters use it sometimes to bring down a ship with their target on board. You know that during the piloting of a ship computers are running in the background, right?”

I nodded tensely. Of course I did.

“After take-off, several algorithms send the current data to the flight recorder”, Din continued, glaring at Kad Solus. The young saboteur was lucky there was a helmet between him and my friend’s incinerating eyes. “Things like, navigational coordinates, mission log, commanding officer, you name it. A chain code trigger is a software embedded in these algorithms. It searches the flight recorder for the target’s chain code. If it appears in the data because the target is part of the crew or a passenger, the trigger is activated and causes the explosion.”

My palms clutched the edge of the table. Kriff!

“Are you telling me,” I hissed, barely keeping it together, “as soon as he goes out on his next assignment, his entire ship will blow up?”

“Yes”, Kad Solus confirmed stubbornly.

Had I still been Death Watch, this answer would have cost him a few teeth. The thought must have shown on my face, for without me saying a word the youngster immediately tried to defuse the situation.

“Just if he is the commanding officer, though.”

By now I was itching to wring his skinny neck. I had to make a conscious effort to stay where I was and not jump at him. “He is their current leader, for kriff’s sake! His data will show up in every single ship!”

“I only put a trigger in the cruiser”, Kad Solus defended himself. “It’s the biggest threat to our business. Once it’s gone, they are no better than us anymore.”

I forced myself to breathe instead of getting violent. Losing it would not help the Nite Owls in the slightest.

“How to deactivate it?” I snapped back instead, trying to remain productive.

“You can’t”, Din replied grimly. “Not quickly, at least. The triggers are imbedded in perfectly normal algorithms for operating a ship. Depending on which kind you use, they are connected to life support, the engines or even the navigational systems. But until activated, there is no way of telling which algorithms have been modified.”

“Well, we have the trigger’s creator here.” I pointed an accusing finger at Kad Solus. “He should be able to give us the exact source code of his package!”

We would just need to search for the trigger’s source code in the ship’s computer, purge the compromised algorithms and replace them with standard ones. It did not sound like an insurmountable problem to me.

“I don’t have the source code anymore.” Solus gritted his teeth. “Once I put it in the systems, I destroyed the creation files. Standard procedure.”

“To leave neither a trace of the creator nor a clue how to get rid of it.” Despite his obvious anger Din could not hide the grudging respect in his voice, one professional to another, for a job well done. “Our only option would be to delete the whole group of algorithms, which will crash the entire system.”

In other words, we could only remove this death trap with a complete formatting of every software of the cruiser. It would take us ages with a ship this size. We did not have this time. The Nite Owls did not have this time.

I could feel all the blood drain from my face at the bleak conclusion. For a moment a gray mist engulfed me, similar to the fogs of Kalevala. The Nite Owls had been my family for decades, when I had had no one else left. Of course I quarreled with them. Of course they could be a royal nuisance who I wished to Mustafar at times. But that was how families worked. Despite squabbles we stuck together against the rest of the galaxy. Even for Axe Woves I could not muster enough hatred to wish him dead. The most annoying brother of them all still did not deserve to be murdered.

Just as my annoying sister had not deserved to be murdered.

“So my people will die?” I whispered hoarsely.

Din lowered his head. Grogu’s ears went down. Vera Beroya rubbed her forehead, looking very much like she wanted to be somewhere else. Preferably light years away.

“Not necessarily.” Kad Solus’ stubborn confidence was visibly fading in the face of his chieftain’s open unhappiness with the situation. “It’s not going to blow up in one big fireball. There will be minor explosions first. Enough time for most of them to get out.”

His words provided just the incentive I needed to snap back into reality. He had not thought things through at all. He was just like me in my Death Watch times. All the rage I had for my own youthful shortsightedness burst forth on realizing his.

“Most of them?” I exploded in his face. “What if they get trapped by the explosions? If the escape pods can’t be launched? What if it happens during the jump into hyperspace?”

Before I could finish my rant with a furious and very undiplomatic “Are you kriffing STUPID?!”, Din Djarin stepped in.

“The only way to prevent the explosion is to keep Woves off the radar”, he urged me. “If his chain code doesn’t show up in the tracked data as the cruiser’s commander, the trigger won’t be activated.”

Something clicked into place. My head came up, my face in a cold mask.

“Then I know what I have to do.”

The course of action was clear. I had to regain command of my fleet. As soon as my chain code was entered as the commanding officer’s, the trap would be disabled. No trigger, no explosion.

Compromise was not an option anymore. Axe had to step down, whether he liked it or not. It was the only way to save my Nite Owls.

“Where did you leave them?” I asked Kad Solus quietly.

He looked at Vera Beroya. She nodded curtly. “Tell her.”

With a sigh he raised his eyes to me. “On Plazir-15. The leaders there wanted to make them an offer. While Woves went to discuss the terms, I installed the package and bowed out.”

I looked at Din. “Then that’s where we are going.”

I got up, not bothering to ask Beroya’s permission to leave Vlemoth Port. I was going, with or without her blessing. If she tried to stop me, she would get a taste of what it meant to mess with a Nite Owl and a Child of the Watch. And a Jedi child. I had not spilled Mandalorian blood in years, but for my brothers and sisters I would make an exception. I was ready to blast my way out if Nam Beroya’s daughter got in my way.

She did not.

“I am sorry, Bo-Katan Kryze.” Vera Beroya looked and sounded as sorry as a mercenary leader could who just lost a great business opportunity. “I wish you success. Perhaps we can finalize our agreement once you have solved the situation.”

She was clearly worried to lose her promised beskar and therefore tried very hard to still be friends. I resisted the urge to tell her to shove it and instead gave her a stiff nod. I might still need an alliance with her. I could not afford to antagonize her right now.

“Once we have taken care of this, I will let you know where to send your watchers, to join us on our mission to Mandalore”, I said instead, trying to sound as cool and collected as possible. No hard feelings between us for her setting a deadly trap for my people. Nothing personal, just business.

Kriffing politics!

Din radiated astonishment but thankfully waited until we had left the clan home before asking me: “Did you actually get Vera Beroya to send us some warriors for retaking Mandalore?”

“Yes, as watchers”, I confirmed absent-minded, walking back to the ship as fast as possible. “But she knows they might have to fight side by side with us once we run into trouble.”

“Without payment?”

“I sold it as an investment to her”, I explained. “Give me some warriors now, get a share of the beskar later.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “And you seriously think you suck at negotiations?!”

I blinked, momentarily surprised myself. “Huh. Guess I didn’t do so bad this time.”

Maybe I was not bad at negotiations, after all. Maybe my failure to save Mandalore had had nothing to do with my negotiation skills and everything with Moff Gideon being a treacherous piece of scum.

Against the Empire, no one was ready.

Maybe the Armorer did have a point, after all.

We spoke no more on our way to the ship. Speed was of the essence and talk would slow us down. Once we reached the Gauntlet, we immediately went to work. Together we went through the preflight configurations, checking our ship for damages and inventory and programmed the nav computer for our next destination.

“So”, Din stated with dry humor as we took our seats. “Any more Mandalorian factions in exile I should know about? Just in case we bump into someone else.”

A tiny smile lit up my face. I was glad he tried to distract me from my worries.

“The Protectors, maybe. If there are still some around.”

I doubted it, though. They too had fallen prey to the Empire. I had not seen any of them in years.

I powered up the engines, and the Gauntlet lifted from the landing platform of Arumorut. After a few minutes we left Vlemoth Port behind us and set a course for Plazir-15.

I had to save my brothers and sisters.

Chapter Text

Hardly ever had I resented a flight through hyperspace so much.

I had always been an active person, used to making things happen. Being condemned to sitting around and waiting was hard for me, especially with the knowledge what might happen to the Nite Owls if we arrived too late. I sincerely hoped the leaders of Plazir-15 had not sent them out on a mission yet. The thought of my brothers and sisters dying without me being able to prevent it was unbearable, but there was nothing I could do. The trip would take its time, no matter how much I glared at the nav computer, silently urging it to finally give me the signal that we were close. The numbers on the display kept ticking on in their monotonous, mercilessly slow rhythm.

Grogu, the one who I could usually rely on to cheer me up again, had dozed off once the stars turned into stripes, snoring softly in his pram. For a game of Dejarik or Sabacc I simply was not focused enough. And sleep was just out of the question. There was no way I could close my eyes while the outcome of our mission was still uncertain. I was condemned to waiting.

Din prevented me from losing it. After our first hour in hyperspace he realized how tightly strung I was. Coming to my rescue like a knight in shining beskar, he started to pepper me with questions about what he had missed in Arumorut when unconscious. It could not increase our speed, but at least he saved me from pointless brooding.

“So what do you think about Vera Beroya?” he asked eventually when I had finished my report.

“She is… impressive”, I had to admit. “A strong leader with a clear purpose.”

Taking care of your people and protecting their interests was something I could respect. Besides, I was fascinated by Arumorut. The whole city had been built by maybe two generations of Mandalorians and had withstood the Empire. It gave me hope for the resettlement of our planet.

“But?” Din prompted.

He knew me well by now.

“But”, I agreed with a wry grin, leaning back in my pilot seat and putting my feet up. “I’m just not thrilled by mercenaries.”

Much as my enemies might deny it, I had never fought without a cause. Granted, it had not always been the right cause. I had signed up with the wrong team, and I was still paying the price for it. Nevertheless, I had never fought for payment. In my book, fighting for money without caring what the employer stood for was demeaning. Vera Beroya did just that, and it undermined my respect for her. To her it might feel like honest work for good money. To me it almost felt like prostitution, hiring oneself out to the highest bidder.

“She doesn’t seem to believe in anything”, Din concurred. “Not even in her own people.”

“Can you blame her?” I sighed. “Her own people kicked her clan out. She probably doesn’t even regard us as her people anymore.”

“Too bad, really”, he mused. “She would be a great help to reclaim Mandalore. Can you imagine what a sight she would be, swinging this Mythosaur ax at Alamites?”

I sighed dreamily. “Would make a great holoshow.”

“Or…” Din’s head came up enthusiastically, “or imagine her in sparring training against Paz Vizsla!”

“Burning stars!” Despite my tension I laughed out with delight. “I would pay to see that spectacle!”

It was the perfect subject to distract me from my worries. Together we geeked out over the sheer possibility of such a fight, like kids discussing trading cards of their favorite warriors. We eagerly debated how such a battle between Vera Beroya and Paz Vizsla, the two biggest and strongest Mandalorians we knew, would play out, weighing out their respective strength and weaponry against each other. It was highly entertaining, though neither of us presumed to know how such a battle would end.

“Our Mythosaur against this Mythosaur ax!” I happily summarized.

Din chuckled softly. “I wonder why the weapon is called that. Did our ancestors use it to slay Mythosaurs?”

“No, I don’t think so.” I shook my head with conviction. “The Mythosaur is sacred. Besides, the ax is far too small for that. You would have to work hard to just chip off a piece of Mythosaur tusk with it.”

“How do you know?” he asked with interest. “Did you ever see a real Mythosaur skull back on Mandalore?”

I paused, realizing where this was heading. I had not anticipated how I was going to tell Din about my experience in the Living Waters. Now the Force provided me with an opportunity, and I decided to take the plunge. The longer I waited, the harder it would be to explain.

“Not a skull.” I took my feet down and looked at Din thoughtfully. “I saw a real Mythosaur. Down in the Living Waters.”

Din inhaled sharply. “You what?!”

I bit my lip. What if he got angry for missing out on the Mythosaur? I was still fairly certain that it was Din who had summoned the majestic creature. By right it should have been him who saw it.

“I saw a Mythosaur”, I repeated quietly. “When I pulled you out of the chasm.”

For a moment he seemed dumbfounded, taking several audible breaths. I waited, doing my best not to throw him anxious looks.

Finally he leaned forward, resting his lower arms on his thighs. “Tell me everything.”

I acquiesced. As precisely as possible I told him how I had found him at the bottom of the chasm and how the light of my helmet fell right on a Mythosaur during our ascent.

“It was magnificent.” Despite my attempts to stay sober and believable I could not prevent my excitement shining through. “The head was longer than either of us. These tusks were ginormous! But it had such soft, brown eyes, and it wasn’t aggressive in the slightest. A beautiful, gentle creature.”

Din hung onto every word I said. “Is that why you asked me whether I saw anything alive in the waters?”

“Yes”, I admitted. “I was completely freaked out. I needed a confirmation, but you couldn’t give it to me.”

He sat in astonished silence for quite a while.

“You never told me”, he eventually whispered. “All this time you kept it to yourself.”

I felt a twinge of conscience. “I just didn’t know what to make of it. I eventually came to the conclusion I had truly seen it, but…”

I hesitated, searching for words.

“But?” he prompted, as usual asking on.

“I was scared.” I threw him a shy look. “I thought you might resent me.”

“Resent you?” he echoed in disbelief. “Why would I do such a thing?”

“Because it should have been you.” I looked away, feeling crushed with guilt. “You were the worthy one who stepped into the Living Waters and recited the Creed. I was just hanging around in the background, reciting the Creed in my head from a memory. You were the one determined to redeem yourself, not me.”

“Exactly”, Din insisted. “I was there to redeem myself. You were the selfless one of us.”

“What do you mean?” I asked in confusion.

“I recited the Creed there for a purpose”, Din explained. “You did it without expecting a reward. And you came to my aid though you didn’t have to.”

I opened my mouth, ready to heartily disagree with him about who was the selfless one of us, when I suddenly remembered the Armorer telling me the story of Mandalore’s daughter.

And it was there, at the shore of the Living Waters, that she cast off all selfishness and vowed to lead a new life, dedicated to serving her people without any reward for herself.

While I did not take the old song literally, I had to admit there were some similarities to my story. I had helped Din Djarin without an agenda, had led him to the waters and rescued him from drowning. It could be counted as casting off my former selfishness, and while I had taken no official vow to serve my people, I had acted on that principle ever since. I had supported the Tribe and saved Ragnar Vizsla. Now I was trying to save the Nite Owls. From any other person I would have acknowledged these efforts as selfless. With myself I was not as generous, too used to remaining wary. I knew what could happen if I let down my guard with myself. I had been complacent too often in my life, and I had paid dearly for it.

“It still feels undeserved I got to see the Mythosaur”, I admitted to Din. “Like I stole it from you, just by chance.”

“It’s not undeserved.” He gently squeezed my arm. “You are the one person I can imagine to be worthy of this honor.”

The devotion, trust and affection in his voice was almost too much to bear. How was I supposed to live up to such adoration? If he put such high expectations in me, I was bound to disappoint him. I was far from perfect and I knew about my flaws and weaknesses.

“Please don’t do that”, I said in a hoarse voice. “Don’t put me on a pedestal. Just see me for who I really am.”

Din did not remove his hand. It felt warm and comforting on my arm. My heart beat a little faster as he leaned in a little more closely.

“I do.”

The shrill alarm of the nav computer nearly made jump out of my skin. Grogu sat up in his pram with a start. Half relieved, half angry at the interruption I pulled away from Din and took the helm again.

“We are reaching Plazir-15”, I informed him, looking at the countdown of our remaining time in hyperspace.

With some gentle words Din calmed Grogu down again and took his own seat. Once the countdown sprung to zero, we fell out of hyperspace.

Curiously I checked my scanners. Plazir-15 seemed to have large oceans and lots of vegetation. The incoming data suggested tropical forests, rivers and grasslands. There were cities and various settlements, all of them inhabited by plenty of different species.

“Scanning for the fleet”, I announced while putting the respective data in my scanners. With so many lifeforms down there it was faster to check for Gauntlet signatures than for humanoids.

Just a few moments later the scanners picked them up close to the planet’s capital. Maybe the Nite Owls had set up camp there since the leaders of Plazir-15 summoned them here. As soon as the nav computer had plotted a course towards them, I piloted the ship into the planet’s atmosphere.

“Looks nice down there”, Din commented, looking out of the window.

I could only agree with him, especially as we came closer and could see the details. The city below sparkled in the sunlight, reflected by the round, glass roofs of the buildings. They vividly reminded me of the domed cities on Mandalore, only these domes here were transparent from above and covered single buildings, not the entire city. In between facilities there were lush, green parks and wide, open areas covered with grass, interspersed with fountains.

This is what Satine wanted to achieve for our world.

“I would love that for Mandalore”, I said wistfully, knowing fully well the wastelands made this kind of greenery impossible. “There they are.”

On our screen the cruiser appeared, along with several Gauntlets and transporters. I did a quick count from above. The fleet seemed to be complete. If Axe had lost any ships on the way here, it could not be more than one or two.

“That’s quite a fleet.”

Din sounded impressed and I smiled slightly. At least one Mandalorian in the area appreciated my hard work.

“It took me a long time to assemble it. Most of it was captured from the Empire.”

Even some of the Gauntlets had needed to be liberated from the Imps. Letting them keep our ships was just plain wrong.

“I knew they looked familiar”, Din stated with dry humor. I could tell he recognized the transporter he had involuntarily helped me to steal on Trask. “Could come in real handy taking back Mandalore.”

“Axe Woves is their leader now”, I reminded him. While I planned on doing something about that, it was by no means certain the forces would follow me into an alliance with the Children of the Watch. “It’s going to take some convincing to get them to join us.”

There were several scenarios I could imagine. The easiest thing would be to just come clear. I could tell Axe about the death trap Clan Awaud had placed on board and ask him to step down voluntarily, in order to save our fleet. Only I already knew it would be pointless. Axe had made it very clear he no longer regarded me as his leader. Thanks to Kad Solus’ destruction of the source code, we could present no evidence of the chain code trigger to the Nite Owls. There was no way Axe would submit to me merely because I arrived with a cock-and-bull story. He would regard it as a sly maneuver on my part to deprive him of his command and worm my way back into leadership without having the Darksaber.

The blade also featured in my thoughts. I did not have a plan yet how to put it to use, but I hoped Din Djarin’s possession of it would play into our hands. If worst came to worst, he might be able to enforce their obedience by authority of the blade.

Or, much more likely, Axe would seize the opportunity to challenge Din and win the Darksaber for himself. He had always been the most vocal opponent of the Children of the Watch. After Din won the Darksaber, Axe had given me hell to get it back “from that zealot”, as he put it. He simply could not fathom why I refused to slay a fellow Mandalorian. To him, the Tribe was nothing but a bunch of deluded cosplayers who had no clue what it meant to be Mandalorian. Which made it even less likely he would consider an alliance with them.

Chain code trigger or not, I was not looking forward to seeing him again.

“I wonder what they’re here for?” Din muttered, pulling me out of my thoughts.

“This planet isn’t on the New Republic Registry, so I’d guess it’s an independent world that hired them for protection”, I speculated. It would fit with Kad Solus’ story of the local authorities making the Nite Owls an offer. It must have outraged Clan Awaud even further.

Din gave me a sideway glance. “Can’t imagine Woves will be happy to see you.”

“Yeah”, I murmured, not keen to elaborate. The less said about the subject, the better. “I’ll land outside the fleet’s perimeter. It’s probably best if we go in on foot.”

The last thing I needed was being shot down by my own forces. I turned the Gauntlet in a U-turn to find a good landing spot away from the Nite Owls, wondering if they had seen and identified my ship already. Would it cause them alarm or just a few disinterested shrugs? I could not decide which was worse.

I was startled out of my uncomfortable thoughts by our com system suddenly coming alive and blaring fanfare music. It was reminiscent of elevator music in some flashy malls on Coruscant. I had gotten my share of it when tracking Ahsoka down. Bewildered I looked up, half expecting to see someone fiddling with my controls.

“Welcome to Plazir-15, the Outer Rim’s only remaining direct democracy”, a female voice sounded over the music, clearly a pre-recorded message. With the background music it could have passed as a holonet commercial. “You’ve been assigned a docking slip.”

I exchanged a glance with Din, my expression not overly intelligent. Grogu, though, seemed to like the music. He made eager noises and moved his head back and forth.

“You will be guided on the assigned path. Engaging automated guidance.”

Next thing I knew, the Gauntlet changed course. Instead of moving towards the Mandalorian camp, it flew towards the city. I pushed buttons and pulled levers to get control back, but only got an “Access denied” message for my troubles.

Just what we needed. More surprises.

“What happened?” Din asked suspiciously.

“They’ve taken control of the ship”, I sighed and leaned back. If we were being directed again, I might as well enjoy the view. “I guess we’re going for a ride.”

Grogu chirped happily. He, for one, did not seem to sense any danger. Had we not been on the clock, I would have appreciated the lush green landscape with its lakes a lot more. Instead I fervently hoped we would not be redirected too far away from my people. I had to neutralize the chain code trigger before anyone got harmed.

At least we did not have to wait long. The ship was making a beeline for the city again, flying towards the domed buildings. As we came closer, I saw a landing platform. The landing sequence was initiated without me doing anything.

“Let’s see what’s going on”, I stated, opening the hatch and getting up from my seat.

Briefly I looked at my helmet, then decided against taking it with me. Showing my face would underline my trustworthiness, and should there be a battle, at least I would have peripheral vision.

Together we went to the hatch, Grogu following us in his hovering pram. When I was about to step on the gangway and get out, I realized Din was slowing down.

“This is interesting…”

He did not sound interested. He sounded wary. Tense.

As I looked down the gangway and to the landing platform, I saw what set him on the edge. Two droids were waiting for us outside. I spotted a protocol droid as well as an astromech, which would have been a rather common sight on several planets. Their black paint job, though, was anything but common. It was imperial. Even worse, the protocol droid was an RA-7, a model produced specifically for the Empire and almost always trained as a spy.

I felt myself tense up. Even Grogu looked slightly intimidated. Nevertheless the three of us kept walking, falling into a brisk pace until we came face to face with the two clankers.

“Welcome to Plazir-15”, the RA-7 stated in its typical tinny voice. “Please proceed to your hyperloop pod.”

He gestured towards the pod waiting for us. Without even breaking our stride, we followed the gesture and climbed up the stairs to the pod.

“Why do they have Imperial droids on an independent world?” Din muttered, sounding anything but impressed.

“It’s the Outer Rim”, I stated dryly. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

The inside of the pod held four seats, two on each side. I took my seat opposite of Din and Grogu. With a hiss the door shut once we had all sat down.

“Bring us to the bay closest to the Mandalorian fleet”, I ordered, waiting for the automated pod to start moving.

Instead an artificial female voice replied on the PA system.

“As per Article Nine of the Coruscant Accords, permission must be granted from the High Senate for access to self-defense forces in the peacekeeping zone.”

I stared at the ceiling and wondered if someone behind a hidden camera was having a good old laugh at us. This was like a bad joke. All I wanted was to prevent my people from being blown to Mustafar, and now the Republic’s red tape had to get in the way? On an independent planet? This could not be real!

I’m getting too old for this kark.

Before I could say something to that effect, the voice spoke again. “Do you grant permission to scan your chain code?”

I threw Din a long suffering look before both of us produced the needed intel from our vambraces. With a trilling sound the AI scanned our codes.

“Din Djarin and Bo-Katan Kryze”, the voice chirped on. “Your presence has been requested by the leadership of the planetary democracy…”

“I’m afraid we have more pressing matters”, I managed to say with some semblance of politeness. If they kept us much longer, Clan Awaud’s package might blow up not just my people but also some of Plazir-15’s infrastructure. “Perhaps at a later time.”

“Please do not attempt to leave the vehicle”, the voice replied, totally unfazed. “This is not a request.”

I was about to ask Din for his consent to just blow a hole in this thing and get out, when the pod suddenly moved forward in a jerking motion. With rather astonishing speed it dashed through its tube, the g-force pressing us into our seats for a moment. The quick flashes of light in the tunnels were bright and numerous enough to be part of an Imperial torture method. Together with the imperial droids at the landing platform I started to have a really bad feeling about this all.

“I’ve never been here before”, I told Din, feeling increasingly anxious. “Have you?”

“I haven’t even heard of it.”

His voice was quiet, but so tense that I knew he shared my worries. What if we had walked straight into an imperial warlord’s trap? It would explain them taking control of our ship and requesting to see us.

Come to think of it, Clan Awaud would have no scruples at all to blow imperial places up. But why would Clan Kryze hook up with Imps? We all hated them with a passion.

Unless it was a really elaborate trap and the Nite Owls were no longer free to go where they pleased...

Din leaned forward. “Do you think we’re gonna have to blast our way out of here?”

I sincerely hoped not, but it was good to know he was as ready as I was.

“We’ll find out”, I whispered back, my mouth dry with anticipation.

The pod was slowing down and finally braked. Grogu yelped in protest at the sudden stop.

With a hiss the doors opened again. Automatically I touched my blasters and exchanged a wary look with Din. The moment of truth was coming.

Together we exited and found ourselves right between a decorative fountain and the entrance to a building with a glassed dome. It opened as soon as we get closer. Keeping Grogu a few steps behind us, Din and I walked in side by side through a corridor, our hands close to our blasters. At the end of the corridor another door opened as we came closer.

With a swishing sound the omnipresent gray of duracrete vanished, and we were swept into a different world, full of exotic colors, smells and sounds. A huge hall stretched before us, its walls as translucent as those of Sundari had been a long time ago. Calm, but cheerful music filled the air. Tastefully placed plants created little nooks and niches of privacy while at the same time filling the room with life.

Not that it would have looked dead without them. Right before us there was a huge table bearing colorful foods and hosting several people, among them Rodians, Sullustans and an Ithorian, engaged in excited chatter. At the front end, right before the translucent wall, a woman and a man were seated, him just getting up at seeing us.

“Join us!” he called out enthusiastically, as if we were the best thing happening to him today. “Come! It’s a party.”

For a moment I wondered, once more, if someone was having a laugh at our expense behind a hidden camera. First a welcome committee of imperial droids, then practically an abduction, and all of this just for a party? I threw the security guards in the room suspicious looks. While they wore colorful capes and tunics, their white armor underneath looked distinctly imperial. Either the guards had mugged a unit of stormtroopers, or those very troopers were doing a lousy job at disguising themselves. Nothing here was what it seemed to be. This whole world felt as strange as a dream where things seemed familiar, yet hid bizarre secrets under the surface.

“Come!” The man laughed again, his bushy salt-and-pepper beard shaking in response. “Everyone, special guests! Mandalorians, I hope you like secretions. Take a little sip-sip.”

Slowly a smile crept into my face as I felt myself relax. The situation was just too absurd to be threatening. No imperial warlord would go through so much trouble to get us into a palace when a bunch of stormtroopers and artillery weapons could have done the job. I looked at Din and could tell that behind his helmet he was rolling his eyes, half relieved, half annoyed.

“Come, please”, the man insisted, invitingly gesturing towards free seats at his left.

By now I had resigned myself to the fact we were not going to meet the Nite Owls within the next minutes. At least I could console myself with the hope that the red tape hindering us was also tying them to this planet. If the senate needed to give permission for us to see the Mandalorians, they might need permission as well to move around With some luck, they were not going anywhere for the next hours.

In other words, I could not refuse the invitation without stepping on a few toes. Since we were most likely in the presence of the leaders, we needed their goodwill. Bowing to political necessities I went to the table with Din and Grogu and sat down at one of the free seats.

As it turned out, our hosts were indeed the planetary leaders, the duchess of Plazir-15 and her husband, Captain Bombardier. He was the man with the bushy beard and wore dark blue tunic and trousers with a short, golden cape. The duchess wore a butterfly-shaped headpiece, parting her black hair on the top of her head and making it fall over her shoulders in countless braids. On seeing her opulent, colorful dress I had to actively restrain myself from asking her if she had taken over Satine’s favorite designer. My sister would have loved the color scheme of blue, purple and pink as much as the holographic train hovering behind this duchess. It served as an extension of the dress, a huge holographic flower framing the wearer’s head.

Yes, it was almost too easy to picture Satine in this creation.

Perhaps this was the reason why I slowly started to unwind and actually amuse myself while watching these strange people. If I closed my eyes, I could pretend to be in Sundari Palace, at one of Satine’s banquets. While the duchess was too dark in hair and skin to physically resemble my blonde sister, she oozed the same warmth and enthusiasm I remembered from Satine during our childhood.

And seeing her interact with the captain vividly reminded me of Satine’s holocalls from her year on the run, when she had secretly contacted me to stay in touch. I remembered how she had crushed on Obi-Wan Kenobi, a young padawan back then. Like any young girl in love, Satine could not have imagined anyone being not as interested in him as herself. She had nearly chewed my childish ears off singing his praise, and it was a sign of my sisterly affection that I bore with her and hid my suffering until the call was over.

Now that I was an adult, I could appreciate the spectacle unfolding in front of me. I found it alarmingly easy to pretend the duchess of Plazir-15 being the duchess of Mandalore, with Captain Bombardier being an aged Obi-Wan who had given up on shaving. It was as good as a comedy watching the two simpering and whispering sweet nothings to each other in a way nobody could fail to overhear. Satine and Kenobi could have been just like this, had they been permitted to marry and lead a life of sheer bliss. All sweetness and cotton candy without the bleak reality of a war tearing the galaxy apart.

I was actually having fun, I realized with some surprise. I was sitting on a strange planet with an ominous clock ticking in the background, yet was in silent stitches over hilarious fashion choices and two adults behaving like love-struck teenagers from the past.

“Honey”, Captain Bombardier would say in a sing-song voice, to give just one example. “Do you love me?”

“Oh, my goodness.” The duchess would burst out laughing before replying, also in sing-song: “Yes, I do.”

Din’s hand dropped under the table, and mine followed suit. Unseen by anyone we clutched hands in silent support to stay strong and neither, in my case, double over nor, in his, just bolt in embarrassment and run for the door. His squeeze helped me to keep my features in a polite, mildly curious expression, and his loyalty towards me kept him by my side.

“Let’s address the bantha in the room,” Captain Bombardier announced, more seriously than before. In my desperate attempt to not burst out laughing at the thought of my sister and her Jedi behaving like this, I must have missed a few introductive sentences. “I was once a facilities planning officer during the war.”

Din and I both sat up straight and exchanged a look.

“And thanks to the New Republic Amnesty Program”, the captain continued, touching his wife’s hand, “I was able to help rebuild Plazir-15.”

“You were Imperial?” As usual Din had no inhibition to call a spade a spade.

“He was”, the duchess confirmed, supportively placing her hand on her husband’s shoulder. “Plazir suffered greatly under Imperial rule. My husband came here as part of his rehabilitation. He oversaw the rebuilding of this planet on which my family served as nobility since it was originally settled, and…” – she started giggling again, throwing her husband languishing looks – “we fell in love.”

“We fell in love”, he cooed back, as if joining her in a song. “We did fall in love.”

Here we go again…

Whatever Din and I might be thinking about their over-the-top PDA, Grogu seemed sold. He made noises clearly imitating their sing-song voices and did his utmost to look all adorable.

Of course he succeeded. The duchess fell prey to his cuteness without the slightest effort.

“Could I perhaps hold the baby?” she asked Din hopefully. “Please?”

“He doesn’t take kindly to strangers”, Din said gruffly.

With a mischievous smile the duchess took some candy in her hand and held it out to Grogu, making kissing noises as if trying to lure a Loth-cat closer. As if determined to prove his father wrong, the kid force-jumped and catapulted himself across the table into the duchess’ arm. She swiftly caught him, squealing with delight.

“You are so fast”, she gushed, placing Grogu on her lap. “Yes.”

I felt a strange stab of jealousy. Din just sighed in defeat.

“You see”, the duchess picked up our thread of conversation again, “it was time for our planet to move into a new age. We held direct democratic elections for the first time in our history.”

I wondered more and more if I had stepped through a looking glass. This was almost word for word what Satine had told me when I returned to Sundari. She too had tried to democratize our world, only it had put this crook Almec in power.

“We are both royals and elected leaders”, Captain Bombardier stated proudly.

“And the Mandalorian privateer warships docked in your fields?” Din asked, unfazed.

I was glad he could still follow the conversation enough to ask questions, for I kept getting thrown back on memory lane.

“Oh, we hire them for protection”, the duchess explained lightly. “Our charter forbids us from having a military because of my husband’s Imperial past.”

I was tempted to ask if she thought of her husband’s past as an illness, gotten by bad luck and overcome a long time ago. But I held back. I was in no position to judge other people’s past. Besides, this man had not thrown bombs on Mandalore. He had built things. As long as he didn’t have the Death Star in his portfolio, I should be content.

“But because of this, all of our resources go to growth and the people”, Captain Bombardier added, ever the optimist.

Another Satine principle. Demilitarize the planet, spend the resources on people’s well-being.

Be that as it may, we had finally reached the part of conversation I was actually interested in.

“I’d like to speak to these – privateers”, I stated grimly.

The couple exchanged a meaningful gaze.

“That can be arranged”, the captain said slowly, then giving me an almost apologetic look. “There is just one condition.”

I closed my eyes. Of course there was.

“What?” I asked with saint-like patience.

The captain’s eyes narrowed, giving me pointed looks and signaling towards the windows.

“You really must see the view”, he said loud enough for everyone to hear. “Right this way.”

He got up. Immediately the other eaters at the table did the same.

“We’ll just be a moment”, he assured them quickly. “Enjoy your meal, don’t get up. Let’s show our guests the view.”

As far as I was concerned, his maneuver to separate us from the party could not have been more obvious. Then again, none of these people here seemed to be used to strategic thinking. Wondering what else the Force would throw at us, I got up from my seat and walked beside the duchess, who carried Grogu on her hip. As she moved away from her chair, the holographic train of her dress followed her, the huge flower shielding her head from anyone following us with their eyes.

“We have a problem”, she stated quietly.

“Yes?” I answered cautiously.

“A droid problem”, the captain specified.

“What kind of droid problem?” Din beside him asked.

“Malfunction,” the duchess sighed.

“A coordinated malfunction”, the captain chimed in.

“We think”, she tempered his words.

“What makes you think that?” Din cut to the chase.

“The planet’s Imperial droids were reprogrammed for peace.” The duchess threw her husband a meaningful look. He sighed.

“I personally oversaw the program. I can assure you they were completely rehabilitated for peaceful purposes. Exclusively”, he affirmed, his index finger raised.

“We thought”, she repeated dryly.

“They were, my love”, he insisted in exasperation. “I personally oversaw the program.”

I listened to their barely concealed bickering. So occasionally there was some trouble in their paradise of two, after all. Thank goodness. There was only so much sugary-sweet harmony I could stomach, even in the hilarious disguise of Satine and Obi-Wan.

“What kind of malfunction?” Din asked. I realized he had slipped into bounty hunter mode again, looking for traces and tracking down a problem.

Captain Bombardier squirmed a little. “I mean, nothing too serious at first. Unexpected power cycles. Deleted task stacks.”

By now we had reached the balcony. Like the rest of the building it was situated under the dome and offered a good view over the rest of the town, including other domed buildings, big and small, interspersed with green. Really quite lovely, if you were on a vacation and had time to spare.

We did not.

“Then it got worse”, the duchess prompted.

“Traffic accidents”, the captain reported dutifully. “Heavy equipment failures leading to injury…”

“Assault”, the duchess said quietly.

Din’s head came up at that. “Assault?”

She nodded earnestly.

“Respectfully, what does this have to do with us?” I asked, wishing them to just tell us what they wanted.

Once more this meaningful look between husband and wife before she eventually replied: “Our constables are ill-equipped to confront battle droids.”

“Battle droids?” Din echoed.

Something about him sent a shiver down my spine. I could not place it yet, but it was far from pleasant. Captain Bombardier too seemed to sense it.

“Uh-uh-uh-uh”, he quickly defused. “Former battle droids. They’ve been rehabilitated for civic duty.”

His wife just sighed. “We thought.”

“They were!” he argued.

“Obviously not”, she retorted.

“The Mandalorian garrison outside your city walls can make quick work of your battle droids”, I said pointedly, just as I would have advised Satine to send fully trained warriors after Almec and his black market cronies.

“That’s just it”, the duchess answered cheerfully.

By now I should have won an award for my infinite patience.

“What?” I asked with a sweet smile.

“Our charter forbids any standing army from entering our city”, she explained. “Our constables aren’t even allowed to carry blasters.”

“But you allowed us to be armed”, Din replied in confusion.

“Exactly.” Captain Bombardier beamed at Din like a proud father at his ingenious son. “The people have voted that we are a pluralistic society. You are Mandalorians. Weaponry and armor are intrinsic to your culture, are they not?”

Wow. A difference to Satine’s Mandalore finally.

“They are”, Din agreed cautiously.

“You see where we’re going here?” The captain grinned mischievously.

“You want us to eliminate your droid problem”, I replied, the same sweet smile firmly fixed on my face.

“Exactly,” the duchess agreed happily. “I knew you would help us.”

“Hold on there, Your Majesty”, I said in a steely voice. No matter how much she might remind me of a young version of my sister, she had no claim to my loyalty or my support. “We didn’t agree to help you.”

“Please, Princess Kryze. Your Grace”, the captain cajoled. “This is not intended to be a work of charity.”

“Unlike my brethren outside your city walls, I am not a mercenary”, I told them coldly.

No thanks to Clan Awaud and the Nite Owls for promoting this particular stereotype about Mandalorians. The two were free to ask Boba Fett if this was the kind of muscle they wanted.

“Apologies if that is the impression I gave.” The captain raised his hand in an appeasing manner. “What I intended to convey is that I would hope that this… excursion would be viewed as an act of diplomacy between our two planets. In fact, Plazir-15 would formally recognize Mandalore as a sovereign system and petition the New Republic to recognize it as such.”

My eyes narrowed as I took in what he had just said. He was good, I had to hand it to him. As I looked at Din, I saw him tilting his head in my direction, as if he too acknowledged our hosts’ skills.

The duchess, who kept caressing Grogu on her hip, cleared her throat. “The mercenary captain, Axe Woves, indicated that he split from you because you had designs on ruling Mandalore once again.”

Oh, was that his official line now? It was an effort not to make a fist and to keep the smile in place.

“Those plans have been abandoned”, I stated blandly. I could not rule without the Darksaber, and I knew it.

“The offer stands nonetheless”, the captain coaxed.

I paused, forcing myself to think things through. The offer was not bad at all. Even if we retook Mandalore, the planet was in shambles and would take years to be rebuilt. While we were sitting ducks without any protection, we would depend on our Outer Rim neighbors to be officially recognized. We would need all the allies we could get.

I had already gotten Greef Karga’s promise of friendship, but seeing how the Republic had refused to help Nevarro, his influence in the core worlds was limited. Plazir-15, on the other hand, had enjoyed Republican reconstruction and was already officially recognized. The support of its duchess carried more weight than Karga’s. She was a valuable ally. To say nothing of the fact that her husband was already very familiar with rebuilding destroyed worlds.

They offered me something I desperately needed in exchange for something I could gather without too much inconvenience. Just as I had done with Vera Beroya.

“What do you think?” I asked Din openly.

His answer came without the slightest hesitation. “You had me at battle droids.”

“One more question”, I said pointedly before the duchess and the captain could pop the corks to celebrate our cooperation. “Are the mercenaries still going after bounties off-planet?”

“When agreeing to serve us, their leader reserved the right to take extra assignments away from Plazir-15”, Captain Bombardier told me. “However, he promised to let us know a few days in advance.”

“Has he done so?” I asked cautiously. So much depended on the captain’s answer.

“So far he hasn’t contacted us. I assume they all stay here for a few days. To get settled in.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. This should give us some time. We could solve this droid problem without worrying about the Nite Owls getting blown up by Clan Awaud’s nasty surprise package. And if I was being honest, apart from the mentioned package I was not too keen on meeting Axe Woves again. Perhaps the delay would help me to get ready for our final confrontation.

I nodded. “Very well. We will investigate the matter.”

The duchess’ face filled with so much girly excitement that I half expected her to clap her hands. Luckily she remembered just in time she needed to hold on to Grogu.

“Excellent! Thank you so much! We will give you clearance for all the security levels you need.” She looked down at Grogu fondly. “And I promise to take good care of this little one until you two return.”

Satine would have offered the same.

I looked at the duchess. She was not my sister, but she was what my sister could have been, had she been allowed to grow up while keeping her endearing features. The Satine I had known during our childhood, yet unmarred by losses and destruction, also would have been a warm, cheerful presence on a prospering planet, if destruction, war and feuds had not rendered her hard and uncompromising. Now the duchess of Plazir-15 was facing a very similar problem as Satine had - leftovers from the Clone Wars.

Perhaps, by helping this duchess to protect her little paradise in the Outer Rim, I could finally make peace with my sister. Perhaps I could preserve at least this Satine, tackling the hostile battle droids like a true warrior should, so she herself could focus on her people and dedicate all her energies to the welfare of her world.

Perhaps the ghost could be laid to rest after all these years.

Chapter Text

As promised, the duchess and her husband provided us with security clearance. We got some information added to our chain codes, so we could officially snoop on all levels of Plazir-15’s society and system.

“You might want to speak to Commissioner Helgait first”, she suggested. “He is our chief of security and an old friend of my family. He and his people collected plenty of footage on the malfunctions.”

“Very good, that might come in handy.” Din sounded satisfied. “Alright, we will start there.”

Still rather anxious, I looked at the leaders of Plazir-15. “Please, as a personal favor, do not give the Mandalorians permission to leave your planet for assignments before our investigation is finished. They are in grave danger and have no idea of it.”

“Danger?” Captain Bombardier echoed, giving me a concerned look. “What kind of danger?”

Telling them about the chain code trigger, and most likely first explain to them what that even was, would have meant to lose even more time. So I settled for the simple version.

“They had a saboteur among them without knowing. Their systems have been tampered with in a very complicated way that only I can resolve.”

Admittedly, Koska could probably solve the problem too by taking over command, but she would not even dream of it. She was a good deal younger than Axe and me, less experienced and she knew it. Pretty much the same went for the rest of the Nite Owls. Had they wanted their own command, they would have followed neither me nor Axe. Axe was compromised thanks to Clan Awaud, so the job was mine.

“I see.” The captain nodded thoughtfully. As a former Imperial he doubtlessly understood the seriousness of security breaches. “Don’t worry, Princess Kryze. We won’t give them take-off clearance during the next days, should they ask for it.”

“Thank you”, I said softly. It was a burden off my chest to know they would not get themselves killed while I was droid-hunting. Now I might actually be able to focus on the investigation.

“I’ll have rooms prepared for you in the palace”, the duchess promised. “So you have a place to stay and rest, should your investigations take several days.”

The thought of wasting several days before I could tell the Nite Owls of the danger they were in did not exactly improve my mood, but I forced myself to be reasonable. The duchess and Captain Bombardier had probably already investigated the matter themselves and found nothing. It was rather naive to think we could conjure up a solution within a matter of hours. Suppressing a sigh I bowed my head to the duchess and shook Grogu’s tiny hand goodbye.

Truth be told, I felt rather forlorn leaving him behind. As Din and I walked out of the ballroom, I kept gazing back over my shoulder, to catch a last look at the little cutie. He caught my eyes briefly and waved cheerily before snuggling up to the duchess again and reaching for some delicious pastries.

“You coming?” Din asked.

He was way ahead of me, as I had fallen behind. Reluctantly I walked up to him. With a hiss the doors closed behind us, completing the separation.

“Feels strange to leave the kid behind”, I muttered, staring ahead as we walked through the corridor back to the hyperloop pod. “With someone else than the Armorer, I mean.”

I could hear Din smile as we stepped out into the open again. “He’ll be fine. He seems to like these two.”

His words did not exactly help. Feeling rather downcast, I climbed into the pod and sat opposite of Din.

“Take us to Commissioner Helgait’s office”, he told the computer, and the vehicle started moving.

Unsure I glanced back over my shoulder, watching the royal palace disappear behind a curve as the pod sped up. “Are you never worried he might choose to stay behind?”

“Hm?” Din looked at me in confusion. “Why would you think that?”

“This is a beautiful world.” I fidgeted slightly. “Peaceful. He hasn’t had much of that. What if he prefers this place to Nevarro?”

Even as I leaned back in my seat, I realized I was not really worried about Grogu falling in love with the planet. This wasn’t about Plazir-15. It was about its leaders. I was worried Grogu might really have taken to the duchess and her husband as people. At times they felt awfully shallow to me, leading a life full of pleasure and, apart from their droid problem, not having a single care in the world. Yet at the same time there were no two ways about their feelings for each other. They surrounded them like ball of warmth and tenderness.

It suddenly occurred to me that Grogu had probably never before seen two adults being openly affectionate with each other, without caring what the rest of the world thought. First he had been with the Jedi who took care to never form attachments, then he had been on the run and eventually with Din Djarin, a single father. Grogu had proven multiple times he could pick up the mood in the room. The way the duchess and her husband behaved must provide him with emotional cotton candy. Maybe this was what drew him to them. Normal people, blissfully unaware of the hardships outside of Plazir-15, and completely happy with each other.

While Din and I definitely shared something, it was different from what the rulers of the planet had. As fond as I was of my loyal friend, I would never be the kind of woman who got all lovey-dovey over a man. My love was quiet, more about showing than telling. I would take a blaster bolt for Din, but I would not – could not express my feelings the way the duchess and her captain did. I would have cringed with shame, and I knew Din well enough to suspect he too would be mortified by such behavior towards him. In this aspect he and I were very much alike. We were both more guarded, more closed up, more private.

Besides, neither of us lived a life of leisure. Our lives were full of struggles.

“He was on a beautiful world before”, Din’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts. “The Jedi brought him to Ossus. I visited him there once.”

“Really?” I looked at him curiously. “I was wondering how Grogu got back to you, after the Jedi took him away.”

The pod was slowing down again. It had been a rather short ride this time.

“His master gave him the choice to either become a real Jedi or to return to me. He chose me.” Din’s voice was gentle, full of affection for his foundling. “There is no need to worry.”

We left the vehicle and stepped into the next entrance. A dark-haired security officer sat at a counter and looked up as we came closer.

“I’m Bo-Katan Kryze and this is Din Djarin”, I informed her, presenting my modified chain code. “The duchess and her husband sent us to investigate the droid malfunctions. We need to speak with Commissioner Helgait.”

Din too revealed his chain code. The officer scanned it and then nodded.

“Please come with me.”

She led us through a corridor very similar to that in the royal palace. Only the room at the end of it was not a ballroom but a control center. Several security officers sat there in front of screens, monitoring various areas in the city. Seizing them up quickly I realized the duchess had spoken the truth. None of them was carrying a blaster. All they had were clubs, which might work against organics not wearing armor. Against droids they were as useless as paint balls.

“Commissioner Helgait”, our escort called out. “Two investigators on behalf of the duchess. Bo-Katan Kryze and Din Djarin.”

An old man with big ears lifted his bald head and turned a wrinkly face towards us, seizing us up with dark brown eyes. I looked back with almost astonishment. Among Mandalorians I had not seen such ancient people in years. The old were the first to perish in times of need, and most warriors did not even reach this age.

“Please, come over.” He gestured towards us and we both walked up to his desk. It was facing an entire wall of screens, showing live feeds from various surveillance cameras all over Plazir-15. “Thank goodness the duchess is taking decisive action. These rogue droids are a threat to our society.”

“Do you have any idea who might be behind it?” Din asked. “Is there someone who would profit from these incidents?”

“So far we can only speculate”, Commissioner Helgait replied with a shrug. “I can imagine some Imperials are unhappy about losing our planet, but so far there is no evidence for any remnant activity.”

“It would also be rather subtle for an Imperial warlord”, I agreed with him. “Those I dealt with preferred open threats and demonstrations of military power to scare planets into obedience.”

Briefly Thrawn came into my mind, the image of imperial subtlety, but I shook it off. I must not let Ahsoka’s suspicions blind me to the facts. So far there was no evidence of Thrawn’s return, and strategically Plazir-15 was unimportant. The opponent was more likely closer to home.

Din looked at the screens in front of us. “The duchess said you had footage of the incidents. I would like to see them.”

“Of course.”

Commissioner Helgait pushed several buttons, interrupting the live feeds. Instead archived footage appeared on the screen at the wall, showing droids working in the city.

“These droids were all reprogrammed to serve the community from the stockpile of captured Imperial robotics scheduled to be scrapped at Karthon”, he explained. “The droid’s reprogramming was a complete success, until one day, an isolated event…”

On the screen a garbage droid appeared, grabbing a can with its spindly arms. Instead of emptying the contents into its vehicle, though, it stared to violently shake the can, scattering the trash all over the place. Then it drove off, leaving a complete mess behind.

“Then others”, Commissioner Helgait said seriously.

He pushed another button. A lady walked to a door, maybe her home, followed by a droid carrying boxes. A B1 battle droid, of all things. I half expected it to say its now iconic “Roger, roger”.

Instead it started to emit sparks, beeped and crackled. While the lady started screeching, the droid tore the boxes open and tossed the contents around.

Still rather harmless and insignificant by itself, like the vandalism of the garbage droid. It was more the fact that they started to rebel at all which made me wary. Today they just threw garbage and clothes around. Tomorrow it might be people.

“This is just a small collection of malfunctions that our security cameras caught”, Commissioner Helgait stated while on the screen a droid stole a speeder at a public place, merely to drive it into a wall.

This too looked like a silly prank, though already more dangerous, seeing the speeder might have crushed someone in this public place. But things got even worse when a kitchen droid with several arms, serving several customers at a dinner, suddenly started to spin knives around, almost hitting the screeching people.

“Turn them off”, I said, rather aghast by the last video. If a droid wielding several knives went crazy, we had a bigger problem than vandalized garbage cans.

Commissioner Helgait turned around in his chair to look at me. “What?”

“Why not turn them all off?” I inquired. “Who’s in charge of that?”

“I am”, he said with a wry smile, touching a bright red switch on his console.” There’s a failsafe cutoff switch built into the system. However…”

“What?” Din asked tensely.

“The citizens voted against any interruption in droid services.” He laughed helplessly. “They can’t live without it.”

“And why’s that?” Din could barely conceal his disbelief.

“The citizens are no longer required to work and can spend their days engaging in recreation, the arts, and participating in our direct democracy. If we shut down the droids” – again the mirthless laughter – “our citizens wouldn’t know how to survive. Our society would collapse.”

Din and I exchanged very telling looks.

“Then what do you want from us?” I asked somewhat bewildered. It was not like we could force the citizens to stop using droids. As far as I was concerned, we were at a dead end here.

“To seek out and decommission any remaining rogue droids, until we can fix the problem”, Commissioner Helgait stated with some force, gesticulating with his hands to underline his words. The incidents seemed to annoy him. As chief of security it must be a thorn in his side to not know what was going on.

I let out a sigh. A quick solution would have been too easy, after all. A scavenger hunt it was, then.

“Give us the list”, I said, defeated.

I sincerely hoped there was a list. The last thing I needed was us having to approach every single droid on the planet to find out whether it was malfunctioning or not.

Helgait shrugged. “Well, for that, you’ll have to go to the lower level and speak to the Ugnaughts.”

Din’s came up at that. “Ugnaughts?”

“Ugnaughts”, Helgait confirmed curtly.

The Ugnaughts worked on the low levels, mostly in construction and maintenance. It was a long way down, but luckily, like most civilized worlds, Plazir-15 had elevators.

The ride took a few minutes, enough time for me to realize Din was on the edge. There was something in his stance and his tense movements that vividly reminded me of trigger-happy Axe Woves.

“You alright there?” I asked, just to make sure.

“This society is something else”, he said grimly. “Why would anyone want to be so dependent?”

“They seem to be doing alright”, I said with a shrug. “Many worlds in the Outer Rim are not so well off.”

Like, for example, Mandalore.

“And now they have to worry about being ambushed by their workforce.” Din snorted angrily. “See what happens when you rely on droids?”

While I was no stranger to his dislike of droids, something was different this time.

“Are you taking this personally?” I asked, staring out into the elevator shaft.

“Just pointing it out”, he said gruffly.

It was clear he was not willing to elaborate and frankly, it was fine by me. “Let’s just finish this so we can be on our way.” For the sake of both his and my nerves.

At the lowest level the elevator opened up and we stepped out into a huge machine shop. Droids of various sizes and designs were repaired or being put together by a crew of Ugnaughts. Sparks flew up from a repair job, and it smelled of ozone.

“I am Bo-Katan Kryze”, I introduced myself. “Which one of you is in charge?”

Nobody paid us any attention. The Ugnaughts did not even look up from their respective work.

“We were sent on behalf of the Duchess and Captain Bombardier to help you with your droid problem”, I tried again. “Hello?”

Same difference. None of them seemed to care we were even there. Either they were completely immersed in their work or ignoring us on purpose.

“This is going nowhere”, I muttered in frustration. This was probably the very spot where the duchess’ first investigation had floundered and died.

Din looked at me briefly, then he too raised his voice.

“I am Mandalorian Din Djarin, friend of Ugnaught Kuiil.”

Several heads turned towards us.

“You will answer our questions and help us with our task”, he declared confidently. “I have spoken.”

To my astonishment the Ugnaughts stopped their work. Some of them took off their protective gear to have a better look at us. Had I not known better, I would have sworn my friend had used the Jedi mind trick to compel them into obedience.

The Ugnaughts started moving, inviting us with a gesture to follow them. They led us to a table where they sat down and offered us chairs as well. I sat down, still in disbelief how easily Din had managed to convince them. As a cherry on top, a droid came over and served us drinks. I gratefully took my mug and took a deep draft.

“Thank you for your hospitality and for sharing your table with us”, Din addressed our hosts. “We were engaged to hunt down and eliminate the malfunctioning droids.”

“There are no such droids”, a dark-haired Ugnaught in red overalls stated with the confidence of the self-righteous.

Yeah, well, living down here might be the Plazir-15 equivalent to living under a rock.

“You may not have heard the news down here, but your droids are wreaking havoc in the world above”, I supplied.

“There is not much of which we are not aware”, he retorted. “These halls are the central nervous system of the city. I assure you, the droids are not malfunctioning.”

Self-righteous and in denial. Great.

“Citizens have been harmed by these malfunctioning machines”, I said pointedly.

“This is not the case”, he denied stubbornly. “I have spoken.”

This investigation was starting to become a full-blooded royal nuisance. I have no idea what I would have done if Din had not taken matters into his hands.

“We’re not in any way suggesting that your work is to blame”, he assured our stubborn friend. “The stories of Ugnaughts’ skill with smithing droids are legendary. We know that Ugnaughts are considered the hardest working species in the galaxy. We, like you, have been engaged with a task to perform. We will investigate the dangerous incidents. We would appreciate your help.”

I threw him a look of surprise. Din Djarin had proven before Grogu’s rescue from Moff Gideon’s that he had a knack for getting people on his side, but this was a rather skilled bit of diplomacy. By knowing and respecting their culture and work, he soothed the Ugnaughts’ ruffled feathers without validating the narrative that nothing was wrong.

Satine would have loved him.

And to my utter delight his approach paid off. The Ugnaughts were nodding as he praised their skills and at his final request they exchanged looks. With a sigh the speaker took a datapad from one of his co-workers and typed in a few commands.

“Here are the locations of the droids you seek”, he said, handing it over to Din.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank you”, Din said earnestly. “We are in your debt. I have spoken.”

The Ugnaught nodded back just as earnestly.

We took our leave of them and made our way back to the elevator. During the entire ride upstairs Din kept reading the datapad, so I refrained from interrupting him even though I was burning with curiosity.

Once more we took the hyperloop pod, this time to the docks. With a sigh I slumped against the backrest. I had a feeling by the time we were done with our task, I would be heartily sick of these contraptions. Had I been the reading type, I would have regretted not to have brought a book.

Finally Din finished his reading material, giving me the opportunity to pop the question.

“What was that?”

“I’ve spent time with Ugnaughts”, he replied. “There’s a particular way to communicate with them.”

This came as a surprise. Under the Empire Ugnaughts had often been employed at the lowest level of technical maintenance, getting only the dirtiest and hardest work. I had never thought Din would have run into them long enough to get to know their rhetoric, though as a bounty hunter he had probably encountered all levels of society. I might have the formal training of a princess, but he possessed a respectable dose of street smarts.

“Accusing their work of malfunctioning is an insult”, he told me, thankfully not in a chiding or patronizing tone. Still, I flinched at the thought of having so thoroughly put my foot in my mouth.

“Now, they’ve indicated that there’s a likelihood that the next event will be at the loading docks.”

Gratefully I followed this new train of thought. “How sure are they?”

“Hard to tell. Ugnaughts always seem sure of themselves.”

“Well, it’s the only lead we’ve got”, I stated with a sigh as the pod came to a standstill. “So we might as well have a look around.”

Together we exited at the official stop for the loading docks. While we had officially reached our destination, the datapad’s information pointed to the restricted area. The pod could not take us there, and so we went the rest of the way on foot via highway bridge.

“Who was your Ugnaught friend?” I asked Din as we walked.

“Kuiil.” Din looked out into the night, seemingly wandering down memory lane. “I met him when I tracked down Grogu. All kinds of scum terrorized Kuiil’s neighborhood. Bounty hunters, mercenaries, even an assassin droid, IG-11.”

“Assassin droid?” I grinned slightly, remembering his dislike of droids. “Let me guess – you turned it into scrap metal.”

“For the time being.” Din said it without the glee I would have expected of him. “Anyway, Kuiil led me to their hide-out where Grogu was being held. Later he helped me repair my ship.”

I nodded in understanding. This should be enough time to pick up some knowledge.

“I’ve never before met such a gifted mechanic.” His voice became wistful, sad even. “He reprogrammed IG-11 to be a domestic help and to take care of living beings.”

“They would have liked him here”, I said softly. “What happened to him?”

“Stormtroopers shot him.” Din heaved a sigh. “Another friend gone.”

I gave him a look full of sympathy. I knew how that felt.

“There is a Mandalorian saying about the dead”, I said softly, reaching out and patting his hand. “They are not gone, merely marching far away.”

Without even realizing it, I slipped into Mando’a as I quoted the old proverb. It had often given me some comfort when my own losses threatened to overwhelm me. Ahsoka too had said the dead merely became one with the Force, staying with us in spirit, if not in body.

Before Din could reply, a rhythmic stomping noise filled the air. I felt myself freeze. I knew this noise.

Oh, kriff...

Neither of us was prepared for the sight unfolding before us. Dozens of B2 super battle droids, formerly used by the Separatists in the Clone Wars to extinguish entire populations, marched around in the docks, carrying cargo.

“Look at that”, Din said between clenched teeth. “Something else is not gone. Merely marching far away.”

I fought down my own sense of dread. The clanking noise of the droids brought back memories I did not care to recall.

“I haven’t seen battle droids since the Clone Wars”, I muttered as we left the highway bridge and walked down the stairs towards the droids. It was surreal seeing them in such great numbers and not hear blaster shots and the screams of terrified, injured people.

“I have.”

Then he might be better equipped than me to spot the bad eggs.

“Any of ’em look suspicious?” I asked, letting my gaze wander over the clankers.

“They all look suspicious.”

On second thought – Din hated droids with a passion. Maybe I should not hand control over completely.

The B2s were marching in line with their loads. All of them passed a B1 battle droid who seemed to be a foreman. Well, if he was in charge, we might as well ask him a few questions, I thought, walking over to him as well with Din in tow.

“Halt!” the droid commanded us. I had heard it so often in the Clone Wars that I had to actively focus to not slip back in time. “This is a restricted area. You are to vacate immediately.”

“We have a few questions”, I informed him matter-of-factly.

“Show me your identification, please”, it stated, coming closer.

I had to hand it to it, this was easily the most polite B1 I had ever met.

“We’re here on behalf of the duchess to investigate the droid malfunctions,” I explained.

From the corner of my eye I saw Din leaving my side. He was walking over to the line where the B2 went past, looking at them suspiciously. When the next came by, he waved his hand in front of its face.

Nothing happened.

“Yes, I saw the reports”, the B1 foreman replied. “Rest assured, I’ve had the entire line of loaders undergo maintenance protocols as a safety measure. The, uh, certification is on file.”

He was looking in Din’s direction. I looked over as well. My friend kept waving his arm in the B2s’ faces, which seemed to rather irritate the foreman.

“Uh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you”, it stated cautiously.

“Why’s that?” Din asked, a challenge in his voice.

“As a precaution”, the B1 explained. “Their base function was warfare.”

“I thought they were just checked out.” I could almost see Din’s hard stare. It gave me a very funny feeling in my stomach.

“They were”, the foreman insisted.

Next thing I knew, Din was kicking the next B2 in the leg. It stumbled a little, but kept walking.

“Uh, what are you doing?” the foreman asked nervously.

“Then this shouldn’t faze them”, Din snarled and kicked the next droid in the thigh.

“Uh, sir?” the B1 stammered. “Excuse me! Excuse me! Sir!”

Din’s next kick was powerful enough that the B2 lost balance. It fell to the side and dropped its cargo.

A red light in its head started to blink. The next moment it knocked Din to the ground, pushed aside the startled foreman and did a runner. I pulled out my blaster and send a few shots after it, but hitting a running target is never easy. Especially when it’s already dark and the target happens to be a rather quick droid. Din jumped back to his feet and chased it.

“Re-certified, huh?” I snarled at the foreman before I joined tonight’s version of tag.

“You should have left them alone”, I heard its voice fade behind me.

Like most battle droids, our rogue was fast. It dashed through the building, making for the exit of the docks. As Din and I followed it, I realized the building was leading out to a public area. The entire block seemed to consist of small shops, bars and restaurants lining streets.

They were full of people.

Like a bulldozer the battle droid crashed right through them. The few times we lost sight of it, Din and I merely needed to follow the startled screams. We fought our way through the crowd as well, jostling and pushing people aside, hell-bent on not letting this rogue get away.

Unfortunately, it had other ideas. As we were advancing, he threw a heavy container at us. Din dodged it, I evaded it via jetpack. Still, it kept us at bay, darting sideways, crashing speeders and throwing power units at us. We managed to duck in time, but without the beskar we would not have gotten away from the resulting explosion so easily. If anybody else was hurt, we had no time to pay them any attention. We were in hot pursuit and could not afford to slow down if we did not want to lose our rogue droid again.

“Keep going!” Din yelled and dashed off into an alley on the right side.

Kalevala maneuver. Got it.

For a few endless moments I followed the droid on my own, then, in a truly spectacular fashion, Din jumped back on the street through the window of a restaurant. In a shower of glass splinters he came down on the droid and knocked it off its legs. Both fell to the ground. I stopped sharply and drew my blasters. Din scrambled to get back on his feet. The droid approached him menacingly, giving me just enough time to take aim.

Both of my shots got him straight in the back. With a whizzing noise it fell, the lights going out.

Grimly I exhaled and put my blasters back into their holsters. I had a shrieking crowd behind me, a glass-littered Mandalorian with a fallen battle droid before me and, just to top it all, constable droids showing up.

“This is a crime scene. Thank you for standing back”, they told the crowd while sealing the area. “This is a crime scene. Thank you for standing back. This is a crime scene. Thank you for standing back…”

I grunted impatiently and went to check on Din. He seemed fine, though rather out of breath. To be fair, so was I. We both had worked up quite a sweat during our chase. I helped him up and together we checked the remains of the droid for any clues while the constable droid held off the crowds.

We did not have to look long. As we combed through the scrap metal the droid had become, something in a different shade of silver caught my attention. Curiously I pulled it out and looked at it.

“I found a spark pad”, I informed Din, holding it up.

“What’s it say?”

I looked at the engravings closely. “The Resistor.”

“Sounds like a droid bar”, he muttered suspiciously.

“And there’s an address.” I sighed. Putting Din among even more droids seemed like a really bad idea to me at the moment. This might well cause another incident.

“Let’s check it out”, he agreed darkly, not soothing my concerns in the slightest.

We briefly told the constable droids what had happened and they promised us in return to take the remains of the battle droid to the left. Soon we were able to leave the crime scene, and went to our next destination.

“So”, I stated briskly as we walked down the streets to the address we had found. “What is it you are not telling me?”

“What are you talking about?”

His gruff manner told me he knew perfectly well what I was talking about. And that there was actually something to talk about.

“It’s one thing not to like droids”, I said patiently, not willing to let him get away. “But beating them up at the first opportunity? That’s a bit strong, don’t you think?”

“Not with battle droids”, he retorted angrily. “For them, disintegration is hardly strong enough.”

I tilted my head at him. Despite all the time we had spent together, he had never before spoken like this. Even his voice was different. It sounded angry, hurt… defiant. Like the voice of a much younger man.

My eyes narrowed. Din too was Mandalorian. Among us survivors of the Purge the question was not whether we had a trauma. The question was which of the many occasions had caused it.

“This is about Aq Vetina, isn’t it?” I asked bluntly.

Din’s head jerked around to me. “What’s that got anything to do with it?”

“Battle droids”, I said simply. The last time he had mentioned them to me was when telling me they had killed his parents on Aq Vetina.

Din let out a hissing breath, his hands clenching into fists. I observed him closely and waited. Sometimes you had to open up the old wounds in order to get all the pus out.

“We ran through the streets”, he finally said in a monotonous voice, worse than any furious outburst. “Away from them. B2 super battle droids. My father carried me. My mother shielded me. They shot everyone within sight.”

Although I had asked for the story, I felt a dizzying nausea spreading in my stomach.

“They hid me under a hatch and closed it. It was completely dark. All I heard was the noise from outside. The shots, the screams.”

I breathed out as quietly as possible, trying to release my tension without disrupting him. The scenario he was describing was straight out of a nightmare.

“I heard a huge explosion, then the hatch was opened. A battle droid looked down. When it saw me, it took aim.”

Now I was the one balling her hands into fists. I had never liked the Separatists, though Death Watch had had its own share of war crimes. Still, there were things even I had refused to do. Occupying cities for strategic reasons or for sheer survival was one thing. But ordering my forces to shoot helpless children in cold blood? No kriffing way!

“And then, suddenly, the droid was hit. I saw a Death Watch warrior blasting it to pieces. When he pulled me out, there was no sign of my parents anymore. Just debris and dead bodies. And Mandalorians”, he added, a certain awe in his voice.

I knew how children responded to heroic Death Watch Mandalorians saving them from murderers. I had shepherded kids to safety when Pre Vizsla had Maul’s crime syndicate attack Mandalore to discredit Satine. I remembered the gratitude on their little faces, the hero-worship in their eyes. It had been the only thing that made me feel good about Pre’s entire charade, though I had not really deserved their thanks.

Well, at least now I knew why Din Djarin was so aggressive in his dislike for droids.

“I understand”, I said finally, looking at the name of the street crossing ours. Only one more block to go. “Let me do the talking in there.”

“Why is that?” Din asked suspiciously

“Because I wanna get the information fast and get to the fleet.” A little white lie to avoid the real problem.

“So do I. What’s your point?”

So much for that.

Your childhood trauma is getting in the way, was the first honest answer popping up in my mind. During my Death Watch times I would have spoken it out without hesitation. Nowadays I was less brutal and more mindful of my friends’ feelings.

“You kicking droids is really not helpful”, I said as diplomatically as I could.

“I figured out which one was malfunctioning, didn’t I?” Din retorted stubbornly.

I rolled my eyes in exasperation and stepped into an alley, much less lit than the main street. “You did it your way, now let me do it mine, okay? This is the address.”

Like a perfect gentleman Din opened the door for me and let me enter first. I wondered if he was realizing he was rubbing me the wrong way and tried to make some amends. But before I could ponder the issue further, I stood in the most exotic environment I had seen on this planet so far.

I had never before seen so many different droids in my life. There were the usual suspects of astromechs and protocol droids, but also various B1 battle droids and specimen I had never encountered. They all were sitting or standing in the bar, having drinks and talking like organics might have done at the end of a long day. The only difference was that they did not really drink but had the fluids transferred from their respective mugs into their bodies by tubes.

A cheerful, synthesized tune played in the background and some of the droids were actually moving according to the music. Others were fixing little repair jobs on their bodies with tools provided at the bar. There was not a single organic within sight. Once more it felt like we were in some bizarre world with familiar elements, yet put together as randomly as a dream.

Once we came in, the chatter and the music abruptly stopped. All eyes were on us.

“I don’t think they get many of our kind here”, Din muttered dryly.

The silence lasted. Every step we took towards the bar, various eyes and lenses followed us. A hush lay over the droid crowd, as if they saw their doom coming in with us.

With one of us being Din Djarin, they might not be too far off.

“Can I help you?” the bartender droid finally broke the spooky silence as we reached the counter, still littered with various tools.

“That depends”, I said calmly, taking in my surroundings. The droid guests kept a respectful distance from us. “Is this The Resistor?”

“This is”, he agreed.

Without saying a word Din tossed the spark pad on the counter, for the time being actually leaving the talking to me.

“That spark pad was found on a rogue battle droid”, I told the bartender, looking him straight in the eyes.

“We give out lots of spark pads”, he replied, showing me a box full of identical pads for proof. “What are you getting at?”

“There has been a string of malfunctions that all point to this oil can”, I said pointedly. If he wanted frank words, he could have them.

“You can check my registry”, the bartender replied in its cool politeness. “We are in full compliance with Planetary Hierarchical…”

He did not get any further. In the blink of an eye Din had grabbed one of the tools on the counter and activated it. It came to life with a hum, sparking with electricity.

“If you don’t start answering questions”, he growled, “I’ll yank your memory circuit and dissect it back at the lab.”

Not again…

Several startled noises came from the droids. A protocol droid with its astromech friend slowly backed off towards the exit. Angrily Din pointed his tool at them, the electricity crackling.

“Nobody leaves.”

This was getting out of hand. The mission was starting to seriously push Din’s buttons. I barely recognized the calm, collected Mandalorian I had befriended. This angry man, blinded by hatred, was a complete stranger. I knew how easy it was to take the wrong turn in this state. How quickly a self-styled defender could turn into an outright terrorist.

“A word?” I said tensely, hoping I could talk some sense in him.

“Stay where I can see you”, he barked at the frightened droids before turning away with me for at least some semblance of privacy.

“What are you doing?” I asked, upfront.

“You’re wasting your time”, Din growled. “You can’t reason with droids.”

“Their behavior is programmed”, I remembered him, barely able to conceal my impatience. “All they do is reason.”

Din snorted. “They’re also programmed not to harm organics. How’s that going?”

Good grief, listen to us, bickering like an old married couple! As nice as it was being more open with each other, it also meant less inhibition to squabble.

“Look, you are not helping”, I once more tried to put my foot down. “Just because the malfunctioning droids happen to visit here doesn’t mean that this one is in on it.”

As if to solidify my words, the bartender droid chimed in. “I want to help.”

Din whirled around to him. “You want me to pull your hearing sensors too?”

If he didn’t stop making threats, I might just have to…

The droid bartender spoke again, refusing to back down. “We are worried that if these horrible incidents continue, we will be…”

“You’ll be what?” Din asked harshly.

“There are concerns among my customers that we will be replaced.”

“By what?” I chimed in.

“Humans.” For a droid he sounded very serious. “Most of us have been refurbished and reprogrammed. Some droids on Plazir date back to the Separatists.”

That explained why I had never seen them before. While Mandalore had been neutral, thus allowing both Republican and Confederate ships access, the latter had kept their droids mostly to themselves.

“The New Republic would send them to scrap”, the bartender explained. “But here on Plazir, they are given a second chance.”

“Well, these catastrophes don’t help your argument”, Din snorted.

“Exactly”, the droid agreed. “That’s why we need your help. We don’t want to be replaced.”

I could not blame him. Neither organics nor droids liked the idea of being fired. Or killed, for that matter.

“We still have a lot to contribute”, the bartender insisted. “Human life is so short. They don’t ask that much of us.”

I sneaked a look at Din. This must have been the longest time today he actually let a droid talk. But he actually kept his peace, neither arguing nor threatening.

“Organics created us”, the droid stressed. “It’s the least we can do.”

His customers chattered in unison. Even though I did not understand all of their codes, it was pretty clear they were agreeing with him. I had to admit I had never taken the time to look at the problem from the droids’ point of view. Battle droids probably were as distrusted as former Imperials or Death Watch. Like Captain Bombardier, the Nite Owls and me.

And all this organic and droid flotsam managed to find a home here on Plazir-15, this completely strange and yet surprisingly endearing world. I understood why they would feel the need to protect it. Why, despite Din suspecting them of conspiring, they would want to help us. If there was no conspiracy among them, they must be terrified, as far as droids could be, wondering when they would start malfunctioning themselves.

I cleared my throat. “How about we sit down together somewhere quiet and compare notes, then?”

“There is our computing center”, the bartender agreed.

“That okay with you?” I asked Din. He had let the droids talk unmolested, so either he had seen the light or been stunned into silence by the droids’ declaration of solidarity.

“Sure”, he replied, his voice neutral. For the moment it was good enough, certainly better than random threats.

Together we followed the droid into the computing center. In stark contrast to the rest of Plazir-15, we were not greeted by an aesthetic view, colorful lights or soft music. Instead, it was merely a very functional and very bleak room. There was no window. The only light came from screens and the occasional LED. Even imperial cruisers were more homey.

Only a droid would have this kind of office and find no fault with it.

Before we had to spend more time than necessary in this droid cave, I showed the bartender the list the Ugnaughts had given us.

“Do you have a record of what each of the suspects ordered?”

“That is not how it works here”, it replied. “There is no selection of beverages as with organics. Here, droids are served Nepenthé.”

“What’s Nepenthé?” Din asked.

“It is a viscous lubricant that protects against mechanical wear while delivering program refreshing sub-particles.”

“So Nepenthé reprograms the droids that drink here?” Din asked.

“It patches the programming as the commands of the mainframe change”, the droid explained.

I nodded in understanding. Every software needed updates, and on Plazir-15 droids could get it while socializing in a bar. It was not the strangest thing I had learned today.

The droid checked its registry and cross-referenced it with our list. “It seems the malfunctioning droids all imbibed from the same batch of Nepenthé.”

I took a deep breath. Finally we were getting a connection between all the incidents.

“The batch could have been tampered with”, Din stated and I nodded in agreement.

“So maybe it’s like food poisoning for organics”, I speculated. “Make omelets from a batch of eggs infected with salmonella and everyone who eats it falls sick.”

“An adequate comparison”, the barkeeper said politely.

“We need to get a sample of a malfunctioning droid”, Din declared. “To see what kind of programming the sub-particles were actually doing.”

“Right, we’ll need a lab for that”, I agreed and gave the droid barkeeper a nod. “Thank you for your contribution. We will do what we can to ensure your and your clients’ safety.”

Din grumbled something, but did not openly disagree. Perhaps he too had accepted the rogue droids had been poisoned. Or he was still astonished about droids wanting to help humans.

Well, sometimes the obvious enemy isn’t the real one.

When we left the bar, it was late. While night life did exist on Plazir-15, most of the shops and office buildings were closed and dark. We looked around, then at each other.

“What do you wanna bet at this time of the day the lab is run by droids?” Din asked. For once he did not sound aggressive or enraged at the thought. Just weary.

“Not gonna bet against you.” I stifled a yawn. “To be fair, I could do with some rest.”

Ever since our departure from Arumorut I had mostly ran on adrenaline, desperate to save the Nite Owls. And then we had been roped in for an investigation, which included a lot of running back and forth and chasing rogue battle droids. Knowing that the Nite Owls were not in immediate danger of getting ambushed, I allowed myself to realize how tired I was. The last nap I had gotten had been in hyperspace between Nevarro and Vlemoth Port.

“Let’s call it a day, then.”

Din too looked rather worn out. He had not been able to rest much either. Getting stunned didn’t count, and he had thrown himself through a window today. We both could take a pounding, but the times where we were young and energetic enough to chase evildoers all night were long gone.

I nodded. “If we get back to the palace now, we might have a chance of tucking Grogu in ourselves.”

“Miss him already?” Din teased gently as we went back to the hyperloop pods.

I smiled weakly. “He does grow on you.”

Luckily there was the reliable hyperloop pod to take us back to the palace. We barely spoke on the way, just leaning into our seats and letting our thoughts wander. I looked out at the nightly skyline of Plazir-15, the shadows of buildings illuminated by countless, colorful little lights, reflecting from the domes. The city seemed to sparkle, like a chest full of precious jewels.

Despite all its strangeness of this world, lights in the dark always gave me a sense of peace and quiet. With our progress in the investigation I could almost imagine Din and I were on our way home from a long day of work, back to our child.

The palace was soon within view, looking like it had come straight out of a fairytale. The dome was glittering in the moonlight, soft hues of light illuminated the windows from within.

“Looks like they might still be up”, Din observed as we got out of the pod and went to the by now familiar entrance.

“Then we should contact them”, I decided. Might as well keep our hosts in the loop, so they knew we had made progress.

The first being we met in the palace was a guard. When we asked him for an audience with the duchess, he produced a palm projector and contacted her. Within moments, her blue, shimmering holographic image flickered up from the projector.

“M’lady”, I greeted her briefly. “We have made some progress with our investigation.”

“I’m so glad to hear that, Princess Kryze.” Her smile was so hopeful it almost hurt. “Have you two eaten already?”

The moment she mentioned it I realized just how ravenously hungry I was. Apart from the drink the Ugnaughts had given us, we had both eaten nothing at all for several hours.

“No”, I admitted with a sigh. “We have not.”

The duchess nodded as if she had expected nothing else. “How about you join us for dinner, then? Just the five of us, no courtiers. You can relax and tell us what happened today.”

Din nodded in my direction and I agreed to the suggestion.

“We ran into a few difficulties, though. I would like to freshen up first”, I said bluntly. I had sweated through my flight combination during the chase, and Din had been wearing his helmet all day through. We were definitely not presentable.

“Yes, of course. I will tell housekeeping to do your laundry and provide you with fresh clothes for dinner. So, see you in an hour.”

It was a deal.

The guard brought us to the rooms assigned to us. They turned out to be a spacious apartment with two bedrooms, each with an adjoining bathroom respectively, and a sitting room, all decorated in the lavish, yet pretty Plazir-15 style. It was very different from Mandalore’s geometric patterns and architecture, yet it still gave me Sundari palace vibes.

“Housekeeping will be with you shortly”, the guard informed us before bowing out and leaving us to our own devices.

“What do you wanna bet housekeeping is gonna be a droid?” I asked Din with the hint of a smile.

He uttered a pained groan, though he sounded more resigned than frustrated. “There is no getting away from them, is there?”

I gave him a solidary pat on the back. “Let’s get the grime off, shall we? No need to smell like them as well.”

Each of us disappeared in the respective bedroom. I looked around briefly. The main color in the room was blue, which I liked very much. Pillow and blankets on the spacious bed sported the same shade of blue as the curtains. I briefly opened them a little, just to see what was outside and was pleased to see a balcony out there, offering me a lovely view over the city. Too bad I did not have the time to truly enjoy it. Time was ticking.

There was a laundry basket close to the door, and as soon as I had stripped off my armor and clothes, I dropped the flight suit in there. The armor went on a chair. Nobody had told us how quickly housekeeping would arrive, so I decided to clean myself up while waiting. With some luck, I would have a stack of fresh clothes waiting for me once I came back.

Having a proper bathroom was wonderful. I spent much more time in the shower than I had in years, scrubbing myself clean with a passion, enjoying the luxury of warm water on my skin instead of the Gauntlet’s sonic shower and washing my hair. A look on the chronometer eventually told me I only had fifteen more minutes before our appointment. Feeling much more like myself, I dried off, put on a fluffy, blue bathrobe hanging there and went back to my bedroom to check on the clothes situation.

Housekeeping had been there indeed. I spotted the traces as soon as I opened the door. My boots had been cleaned and polished and set up neatly beside the door. There was also a stack of clothes on the chair. I stepped closer and suddenly gasped. The chair!

It was the very chair where I had earlier placed my armor. Only it was not there anymore. It was gone.

For a moment I was paralyzed with shock, just like I had been in Sundari all these years ago when I found my armor missing. My hand flew to my mouth, naked horror flooding me.

Mother’s armor… No, please no, please no...

Then I saw it. It sat in a neat pile on the shelf over the door.

I took a shaky breath. The droid had not taken it, merely put it away nicely. Stepping closer I saw the shiny veneer on it and realized with a sinking feeling the armor had not merely been put away. It had been seasoned as well, probably treated with polish and whatever shine they had on Plazir-15. It was a nice gesture, no doubt, and my steadfast beskar had certainly deserved a few hours in the spa. But it also inevitably meant I could not wear it for the rest of the evening without staining every piece of clothing I wore underneath.

I groaned. My armor was like a second skin to me. Not wearing it felt plain wrong. Uncomfortable. Unsafe. Not because I was afraid I might get injured, mind you. This was the point where Satine had gotten it wrong. Every warrior got used to the idea of getting hurt. We did not enjoy it but it was part of the job.

No, what really scared me about going without beskar on my body was how light I felt, like a leaf a gust of wind could carry away. My armor grounded me physically, helped me to keep my feet firmly on the ground. Without it I felt like on a planet with low gravity. Every step seemed too powerful, every motion carrying too much force. I would never forget the awkwardness in Sundari when I tried to move without my armor and felt like – well, like a physically challenged jellyfish.

There was nothing to be done about, I realized with a wince. Tonight’s dinner and sleep would be without armor. Resigning myself to my fate of looking and moving awkward for the rest of the evening I went to the pile of clothes the droid had left and unfolded them.

“Oh no, you didn’t!” I groaned, almost dropping everything to the floor. This had to be a bad joke.

I could have dealt with the fact that my usual flight combination had been replaced with something in the fashion of Plazir-15. My clothes sorely needed a wash after all the sickleraptors, pirates and battle droids of the last days. But did the replacement have to be a kriffing ball gown? I had not worn a dress since I had walked out on my sister.

I had to admit, though, that the color was nice. The blue of the skirt and the embroidered, silver-rimmed bodice were just slightly darker than my headband. I bristled a little at finding the dress sleeveless, but on the chair I discovered a thin, tightly fitting turtle neck in deep black. I breathed a sigh of relief. No warrior worth their name would expose more skin than strictly necessary, even in their downtime. It was a lesson we all learned in basic training – even a simple layer of cloth was better protection than nothing. Even if you did not expect to be caught in crossfire, clothes offered protection against words, gestures, stares.

Satine had understood that. She too had sought protection behind her elaborate clothes. They had become her armor instead of beskar.

Quickly I put on the turtle neck, wriggling my way into the tight fabric. Critically I looked at myself in the mirror while I adjusted the collar. Even practical me, more concerned with whether clothes hampered me or not, had to admit it did wonders for my figure, clinging to my body like a second, beskar-free skin.

The dress came next. I had just stepped into the skirt and pulled the bodice up, when I heard a knock at my door.

“Housekeeping”, a mechanical voice announced.

“Come in”, I called, holding my dress in place while fumbling in search for buttons or zippers.

No luck so far. This was getting annoying. Hopefully the droid was going to tell me they had washed my clothes in record time and I would be wearing them for tonight.

To my disappointment the copper protocol droid with silver eyes carried no familiar flight suit. Before I could ask why it had come here, it stepped up to me.

“I’m delighted to see you are ready, Lady Kryze. I shall lace you in now.”

I jerked around. “Lace me in?!”

Only then I realized the armada of hooks and ribbons on the back of the bodice. What the kriffing kriff…!

“Of course, Lady Kryze”, the protocol droid replied politely. “This dress closes on the back. Human anatomy is not suited for doing it yourself.”

Good grief! What was the point in making clothes you could not put on by yourself? Did the inhabitants of Plazir-15 try extra hard to depend on droids? I would be damned if I allowed random strangers, be they organics or droids, let their fingers creep all over my back. I might just end up being the cause for the next droid malfunction.

“Not gonna happen”, I declared grimly.

I had not needed help getting dressed since I was a toddler, thank you very much. Truth be told, I was close to ripping the damn thing off my body again. I saw no point in wearing stuff that was infantilizing me.

“Why don’t you just bring me something practical?”

“My apologies, Lady Kryze. The duchess insisted you would be given clothes befitting your royal status.”

Right. Special treatment for the princess again. I drew in a hissing breath. While the duchess had doubtlessly meant well, I was now well and truly trapped. Kriffing politics!

“I see”, I said in a strained voice, barely biting back some choice words. “In this case I will ask my companion for help, thank you very much.”

“As you wish, Lady Kryze”, the droid said in the same polite voice. “Will you require assistance to style your hair?”

“Ab-so-lute-ly not”, I said between clenched teeth. They might dress me up like some kind of doll, but if they dared to touch my hair, possibly weave foxgloves through it, I would kill them. Plain and simple.

“Very well. I shall wait for you outside then, to escort you both to the duchess’ quarters.”

With a little bow the droid took its leave. Cursing softly under my breath I held the bodice against me with one hand, lifted the floor-long hem with the other hand to be able to make a few steps without an accident and went over to Din’s room.

“Din?” I knocked on his door more forcefully than strictly necessary. “Are you decent? I need a hand.”

I heard the familiar noise of a helmet being put on, then Din’s voice. “Come in.”

With some gusto I pushed the button to open the door, holding the bodice to my chest with my other hand.

Of course that meant I had no hand left for the hem of my gown.

The moment I marched in, I managed to step on my dress and stumbled. I let out a startled yelp, instinctively throwing up my hands to cushion my fall. I did not fall, though. Instead I landed softly in the arms of a very startled Mandalorian, whose quick reflexes had spared me the ultimate humiliation. Swiftly my hand moved to my chest, not because I was swooning but to hold on to the bloody dress. By now I would gladly have set the whole damn thing on fire, had it not been my only option save my birthday suit.

Only when I looked up in anger and shame I had time to realize why I had not gotten bruised by slamming into Din Djarin. Like me he was not wearing beskar. Instead they had given him trousers and tunic made from shiny, silver-gray fabric, decorated with silver buttons and epaulets. They looked very much like a dress uniform and went surprisingly well with his helmet. Also they really suited him, bringing out his broad shoulders and his strong legs. I felt a short surge of envy that his outfit could be put on by himself and still allowed him to at least look like a warrior. With me, they had not been so gracious.

“Are you alright?” he asked with concern.

“It’s that stupid dress!” I growled, holding on tightly to the bodice to prevent it from slipping. “I swear you need a kriffing diploma to walk in this! I have a mind to just rip the hem off and…”

My angry voice trailed off as I realized I was still in his arms. He was not wearing gloves. His hands were right there on my upper arms. I could feel the warmth of his skin through my thin sleeves.

He had not let go of me. Instead he seemed rooted to the spot, as astonished as if he had seen a Mythosaur.

“You… you look…” His voice died.

My cheeks flushed with mortification. Without my armor and in an outfit that would not let me move the way I was used to, I must be utterly ridiculous. Some kind of court jester who fell to the floor on purpose to make other people laugh.

“Look what?” I asked defensively, bracing myself for mockery or outright horror.

“Like your sister.”

At these words I became very still, not even noticing anymore he still held me in his arms. I drew in a shaky breath, feeling my lips tremble at this unexpected statement.

“How do you know what Satine looked like?”

Din shuffled his feet a little, as if embarrassed. “I looked her up on the holonet. I… I wanted to see what she was like. To understand why she did what she did. To understand” – he cast me a furtive look – “to understand you.”

My lips moved without making the slightest sound. My heart was beating so rapidly I risked a look down at my chest, just to see if my pulse made the dress heave. Indeed there was a visible tremor in the cloth. Why, or why could I not wear my armor and hide such tell-tale signs underneath?!

Quickly I looked away, by chance glancing at the work station on his desk. The screen showed a still of Satine in her iconic dress of blue, sea-green and purple, to my relief without the foxglove headdress. While my gown thankfully was not cut like a supersized blossom, it was definitely inspired by the New Mandalorian style. I could see where Din was coming from.

“So”, I finally managed to whisper, my voice refusing to rise any further. “What do you think she looked like?”

He slightly lowered his helmeted head, looking almost bashful. “Beautiful.”

I swallowed hard, suddenly not sure we were actually talking about Satine anymore.

“Thank you… for saying that, I mean”, I amended hastily, tucking at my dress. “Could you do me a favor and close the laces at the back?”

Din coughed, as if he too had swallowed and it went down the wrong way. “You – you want me to lace you up?”

Maybe it was the lighting in the apartment, but I could swear I detected a rosy tinge in the silver of his helmet.

“The alternative would be the droid…”

“On it”, he said without hesitation and walked around me. I stifled a smile. Helping me into my dress was apparently less terrifying than letting a potentially malfunctioning droid do it.

As I waited for him to start, I realized how much I had come to trust him. I hardly ever took my beskar off voluntarily, though whether today counted as voluntarily was still highly debatable. The occasions where I had done so and then turned my unprotected back on someone I could count on one hand. It had certainly never been like… this.

Skillfully Din went to work. Without his gloves on, his fingers were deft and nimble. Every once in a while they brushed my clothed back, sending surprisingly pleasant shivers through me. I held as still as I could, savoring every tiny sensation of his hands on me. The Force knew what would have happened if he had touched my bare skin like this.

I would see stars, I thought dreamily. In the best possible way.

“Done”, I heard him say softly. “How does it feel?”

I almost answered “Wonderful”, but then realized he needed to know whether he needed to adjust the laces or not. Carefully I rolled my shoulders and tried to move my arms. Reluctantly I had to admit there was an advantage to these laced dresses – they could be adjusted to the wearer’s size. In Sundari Satine had given me clothes which technically should have fit me since she and I were of the same size. She had not known that thanks to my warrior training my back and shoulders were broader than hers. I would never forget the outright mortification of ripping one of her dresses just because I had reached for a glass on a higher shelf.

It was not going to happen tonight. Din had done a good job.

“This is perfect”, I assured him with a warm smile. “Thank you.”

“No worries.” He cleared his throat and once more did this rather cute bashful turning to the side. “Would you… I mean… do you need help with your hair?”

A slight blush crept into my cheeks. Goodness, what was going on tonight? First he went all aggressive because of the droids and now he was as soft as he usually was with Grogu. It warmed my heart to see his caring side emerge again.

And he did have a point. While my hair was short enough to dry quickly, it was still unkempt and rather fluffy. Of course I was perfectly capable of doing it myself, but if Din Djarin volunteered to run his ungloved fingers through my hair, I was more than game for it.

“That… that would be very helpful, thank you”, I managed to say, trying to keep a happy, head-splitting grin at bay. “I’ll need some hair oil, though. Otherwise my hair will just get all electrostatic.”

Without missing a beat Din went to the bathroom and returned with the little bottle.

“Have a seat”, he invited me, pointing at the chair at the desk.

I sat down in front of the workstation from where my sister’s holographic image smiled at me, frozen in time, younger than I was now. It must have been a slight flicker in the projector, but for a moment it looked like she was winking at me. With a softer smile than I had ever given her in our adult life I winked back at her.

Then Din’s fingers touched my hair and all thoughts of Satine vanished in an instant. Carefully he massaged the oil into my hair. I let out a soft sigh of bliss and closed my eyes. Force, this felt so good! Din took his time, moving gently and occasionally letting single strands run through his fingers. For him, too, it must be an extraordinary experience. The Children of the Watch did not take their helmets off in front of each other. Din had probably never before touched another Mandalorian’s hair.

He had eased me into his world. Now I showed him a few perks of mine.

I could almost feel my worries melt away under his gentle massage. The world shrunk until it only consisted of the two of us anymore, Din standing close behind me, my back almost touching his chest. There was something very soothing about him taking care of me like this. My shoulders relaxed, the tension dissolved. The events of the day faded away to a mere background noise. They were still there but no longer troubled me. I was safe. We all were safe.

Strand by strand Din coaxed my too light and flighty hair to stay in its place, to be where it was supposed to be. And just as he tamed my hair, he soothed my humiliation and awkwardness about the whole armor situation. Somehow his caring ministrations helped me feel my body more keenly, to get a sense of what I could do without the additional weight of beskar. I started to feel whole again, as if my essence had been scattered all over Plazir-15, and was now cajoled back into my body by Din’s care.

Slowly my battered confidence returned, and with it the conviction that I would not need my armor to keep it together. I would neither be too light nor too clumsy, even without my beskar. Din was there, ready to lend a hand if I needed it, and to ground me. I would be alright.

Almost too soon the oil was spread. Before I could regret this, though, Din started to brush my hair and the world was back to being good. Now that it was sleek and smooth, it was easy to brush out the small knots the wind and the sweat had caused. I did not mind the occasional clumsy pull and fumbling. This was not about getting the perfect hairstyle. It was about being close and taking care of each other. To be brave enough to be vulnerable and to be rewarded with tenderness.

Is this why you forsook beskar, Satine? To encourage people to be tender?

It certainly encouraged Din. He could not have been more considerate, had he been romantically involved with me. It was as if he was trying to prove that despite his outbursts of temper today he was still the same person, the warrior who was both strong and gentle, who would support and cherish me. Every stroke of the brush restored the harmony between us, the unique state of unspoken trust. I would not be surprised if by the end of the grooming session our hearts beat in the same gentle rhythm.

“All done”, I heard him say softly.

“Thank you.” My body almost humming with tranquility, I got up and turned around to him, allowing him to see the miracle he had worked with me. “This felt really good.”

Almost without my own doing my hands slipped down to his. Bare and unprotected our fingers intertwined, for the first time without gloves. There were callouses on his palms, very similar to my own ones, the mark of every Mandalorian working with their hands. And his hands felt so warm, so wonderfully warm…

A sharp rap on the door shattered the Moment into pieces. “Lady Kryze, Warrior Djarin, it is time to go”, the housekeeping droid announced from the other side.

We both exhaled at the same time, half embarrassed, half amused at this untimely interruption.

“I hate droids”, Din muttered, though without any venom.

“Starting to see your point”, I admitted with a rueful smile. “Let’s go meet up with Grogu.”

Chapter Text

The droid led us through the now rather empty hallways of the palace. The lights had been dimmed for the night time. Instead of their former white brightness they now shone in a mild orange hue, creating comfortable shadows and rendering everything they touched soft and gentle. It gave me courage to act on my feelings. Some things were easier to do at night than in broad daylight.

Cautiously I reached out for Din’s hand. He tensed for a tiny moment, then our palms touched and his fingers laced through mine. Something tingled in my belly, as if the touch had woken up a swarm of butterflies. I felt Din’s hand tremble slightly in mine. Hardly daring to look at each other we walked on, our hands nearly pulsing with warmth and carefully concealed excitement. I felt even lighter than I already did without my armor, ready to fly without my jetpack. Had the door to the royal hall not appeared around the next corner, I might just have floated away.

The droid punched in the code and the door opened, revealing the hall. It was empty of visitors now, but the careful lighting drew the viewer’s attention to the lush plants instead. I was impressed how much you could change the atmosphere of the room merely by adjusting the lights a little. Instead of an empty, uninviting space it now looked like a cozy little conservatory, with little nooks and spaces to admire the beautiful plants. A place to explore in the evening, to get a little privacy with someone special, to hide from the world…

“There you are!”

The duchess walked towards us with a warm smile. Grogu on her hip squealed happily and jumped straight into Din’s arms. He had to let go of my hand in order to catch his foundling, but I forgave him on the spot. My face broke into a huge smile at seeing the little one, and if I stepped into Din’s personal space to embrace his foundling between us, I could still attribute it all to my surprisingly maternal feelings. Grogu certainly did not mind me coming close and cooed softly against my cheek. Din’s free arm came around us both, and for a moment I could imagine we were more than just Clan Mudhorn and Bo-Katan of Clan Kryze. We were a unit. A clan of three.

From quite far away I heard the voice of the duchess. “You make such a sweet little family, the three of you! Small wonder he is such a happy little chap.”

Common courtesy demanded its due and I reluctantly broke the embrace to greet our hostess.

“Thank you for watching him, M’lady. It was quite a rough day out there.”

“I can imagine.” She looked at us with compassion. “Come, let’s sit down. You must be so tired.”

Once more I was reminded of Satine when she greeted me after my arrival in Sundari, gently fussing over me and insisting I get something warm in my stomach. This time, though, I could appreciate the kind gestures without second-guessing them, without the poisonous doubt Pre Vizsla had fostered in me.

I followed her to the table, which was set with flat bowls and glasses. Captain Bombardier, already seated, rose from his chair to greet me.

“Welcome back, your grace. Please tell me you have good news.”

He indicated a bow and gave me a jovial smile. Perhaps it was the different lighting of the room, but as I looked at him I suddenly realized how forced the smile actually was. On close inspection it was more of a grimace, a desperate attempt to mask a growing, unspeakable dread. My stomach clenched, all the former lightness gone as completely as a streak of moisture in the merciless sunlight of Mandalore’s wastelands. My warrior instincts picked up the same signals they would have sensed during a hostage situation.

This was not the suave, smooth consort I had met earlier today. This was a man backed into a corner, terrified and at a loss what to do. I had seen this expression before. Satine had looked like this when her power slipped away, when Pre Vizsla undid everything she had worked for and when her people finally turned against her, denouncing her pacifism as ignorance and weakness. I still saw her wounded look, her eyes filled with unspeakable terror at seeing everything falling apart and felt nauseous at the thought of having to witness this sentiment all over again.

“Some”, I assured him, clearing my throat and forcing myself to smile back. What a pair we must make, pulling up the corners of our mouths for appearance’s sake! “We have actually found a trace, but won’t be able to follow it up until tomorrow morning.”

“Oh.” Some life returned into his features and he pulled out a chair for me. “I’m curious to learn more, Princess Kryze.”

I sat down, remembering just in time to smooth out the gown beneath me, and Captain Bombardier pushed my chair in a little, like the perfect gentleman. His wife received the same courteous treatment, along with a quick kiss he stole from her neck. She giggled in response, leaning into him for a moment. Out of habit I was about to roll my eyes, just to realize I actually did not feel like it. Not after having experienced myself earlier how lovely it was to just accept little brushes of affection. To draw strength from the knowledge that someone had your back and would do anything to keep you safe and comfortable. It was like having a comrade-in-arms, only so much more meaningful.

How did you ever manage to give this all up, Satine?

The five of us settled down at the table, Grogu claiming his rightful place on Din’s lap. Dinner was served by the protocol droid who had escorted us here. He placed a steaming pot on the table and filled our bowls with a purple soup. I smelled beets and cream, along with several spices I could not even name.

“I hope you don’t mind that in the evening we prefer to have something light. There will be only soup for dinner.”

The duchess gave us a big smile without any trace of an apology. I managed to tame my knowing grin into a gracious smile. The lady had done her homework. Soup had to be the only food a Child of the Watch could consume in company without having to remove their helmet. Very considerate of her, I had to give her that. For all her giggly behavior and simpering she had a good head on her shoulders and a big heart to match it.

There were no spoons, so it was acceptable to drink from the bowl. It also made life easier for Din. As I knew from my time with the Tribe, it was much easier to pour some soup in your mouth with a helmet on than trying to fiddle with a spoon, though he would still be the slowest of us. To give him time to eat in peace, I started my report of the day, how we had tracked down a rogue battle droid and found The Respirator. How we suspected a bad batch of Nepenthé to be the cause of all the trouble.

The duchess and the captain hung to my lips while I recounted our adventures. Occasionally they exchanged quick looks, though I could not say for sure if it was gazes of hope or plain fear between them.

“The constable droids have secured the battle droid remains”, I finished my report. “Tomorrow we’ll check in with the lab, see if they can isolate the programming sub-particles.”

“Excellent, excellent.” Captain Bombardier nodded eagerly. “You have already discovered more than we had dared to hope in such a short time. I just know you will solve this puzzle.”

Not that I minded compliments, but it felt odd to be showered with praise like this from someone I barely knew. It always made me wary, suspecting they were trying to manipulate me, a leftover from Pre Vizsla’s manipulations. So I refrained from answering and busied myself with my dinner. Still, I could feel the duchess’ eyes on me, searching my face. I kept my expression tightly under control. A warrior quickly learns to hide behind a blank wall when necessary, to show no weakness in her defense and to sit things out.

Luckily Grogu was his usual adorable self and quickly managed to draw all attention to himself merely by cooing and pushing his already empty bowl towards the pot again. The duchess and the captain eagerly came to his rescue and the rest of the dinner passed in peace.

“I have shown this little one a few dejarik moves today”, the captain told Din Djarin as the protocol droid cleared away our dishes. His jovial beam was firmly back in place. “What do you think about a father-son team against me?”

“Playing against a former Imperial?” I could hear Din’s slight grin. “I’m in.”

I could see the appeal for him. So far his interactions with Imps had been limited to Moff Gideon and his cronies, and they were not the kind of people to play games with. He must be curious to test his strategic knowledge against someone from the former enemy camp.

I did not expect Captain Bombardier’s tiny flinch though, the spasm passing over his face. He covered it up quickly enough with a booming laugh, but he was not fooling me.

“Princess Kryze”, the duchess addressed me, her voice a little too tense for the occasion. “Will you take a walk with me in the conservatory?”

Seeing that both Din and Grogu were getting ready for the game with Captain Bombardier, I saw no reason to refuse her. “Of course, M’lady.”

We got up from the table and as soon as we were side by side, she linked her arm with mine. I was rather surprised by the gesture but did not pull away. Maybe her strange resemblance to Satine rendered me more compliant. I kept reminding myself this duchess was not my sister, yet at the same time was delighted whenever I found another parallel.

She drew me away, like Satine had done in Sundari when wanting a quiet word, and into the welcoming nooks and shades of the plants.

“Over here, my dear. We have such lovely foxgloves in this nook…”

Of course. It had to be foxgloves. Appreciating the irony with a pained smile I followed her, already stringing together some half-hearted praise for that blasted plant in my head.

Turned out I did not need them. We were barely covered from view when I saw her composure break. The polite mask of the hostess shattered into pieces and I got a glimpse of a face crumpling with distress.

“No surveillance here”, she whispered to me. “We can talk freely.”

“Are you alright?” I asked with some alarm, wondering if the protocol droid had gone rogue as well and giving his employer food poisoning.

She shook her head violently. “No, I’m not. The last days have been so difficult.”

Had she been indeed Satine, I would have put my hands on her shoulders to comfort and ground her a little. Instead I tried to look sympathetic.

“What is it, M’lady?”

She threw a furtive glance at her husband. He sat opposite of Din and Grogu, looking down on the dejarik board and letting out a booming laugh.

“This is taking a toll on him”, she confided in me quietly. “He tries to hide it for my sake, but once he thinks he is alone, he falls apart.”

Here was another reminder I was not dealing with Satine – I was fumbling for words. With my sister they had always come easy, even when I had suffered my way through holonet conversations about how awesome Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi was.

“I’m sorry to hear that”, I said awkwardly, wondering what the kriff I could say or do. What she expected from me.

She had asked me to investigate. To ask questions. Perhaps that was what I could do.

“What does he do when alone?”

The duchess lowered her eyes. “He shuts himself away from me. I can hear him pace the floor in his study, I can hear his sighs, and I want nothing more than to comfort him. To tell him we will be alright. But” – her voice started to tremble – “how am I supposed to lie to him?”

Oh kriff. Relationship trouble. I was so not the right person to ask for advice! I barely had any experience on that front. Most of my life had been spent fighting, and with my aversion to letting down my guard and taking off my armor it left little space for romance. I was fairly sure the occasional panicky we-almost-died-today one-night stand did not count.

I understood the feeling of wanting to soothe a beloved person though. This was something I could relate to.

“It’s hard to feel helpless”, I ventured cautiously.

“It is”, she agreed vehemently and I breathed a tiny sigh of relief. So far I had not messed up while moving through this uncharted territory. “I feel so alone!”

Forget the relief. Here came the next obstacle.

“Surely you have some friends…?” I offered clumsily.

The duchess made a sound very close to a sob. “Princess Kryze, I have lost quite a few of them when I chose Captain Bombardier as my husband. You have no idea how much opposition I met.”

I inhaled sharply. Suddenly I was back on very familiar territory.

She was wrong. I had a very clear idea what it could mean for a leader to pick an unpopular spouse.

“I tried to make them see”, she continued miserably. “He has worked so hard to atone for his past and for a while they were at least silent, if not approving. But now…” She bit her lip, clearly struggling for composure. “Commissioner Helgait says the recent attacks have made people very anxious, suspicious even. If we can’t find out the reason behind the malfunctions, they will accuse my husband.”

Inadvertently I gazed over to Captain Bombardier as well, remembering his forced smile, the fear he emanated.

“Because a former Imperial might try to worm his way back into power”, I spoke out what she was insinuating. “First by seducing the duchess, then by building a droid army.”

“Exactly.” She nodded vigorously. “He was officially in charge of the droids’ reprogramming. Anything that goes wrong will be laid at his door.”

“He would make the perfect scapegoat”, I agreed quietly.

“It could get him imprisoned, or even exiled.” The duchess’ lower lip trembled. “And I might be forced to…”

She swallowed hard, but I knew what she was thinking. After all, I had had political training as well, though not nearly as much as Satine. Mandalore’s history was full of tragic love stories between members of rival clans or warriors and outsiders. Most of them ended with lots of blood and the lovers dead, either by their foes’ or their own hands.

“You would have to either divorce him or abdicate”, I stated miserably.

Tears glittered in her dark eyes. “He is the love of my life. I can’t give him up.”

This was the decision my sister must have faced, I realized with a stab of sadness. I had often wondered why she had foregone her personal happiness with Obi-Wan Kenobi. I had put it down to the Jedi order’s rules to not enter attachments, but it must have been a two-way street.

Satine knew how many Mandalorians hated the Jedi. She would have realized it was going to be impossible to make Kenobi her consort. People would have turned against her, would have mistreated and disrespected him. And the warrior clans would have tried to kill him out of revenge for perceived past wrongs. Satine’s standing among our people had been difficult enough even without this kind of marriage. Choosing a Jedi as her spouse would have been a death knell to her goal to keep Mandalore at peace.

Captain Bombardier’s status here was just as precarious as a Jedi’s on Mandalore. A former Imperial was bound to attract some antagonism, especially if he managed to win the duchess as his wife. Malcontents might well be plotting against him, just because he was the only Imperial within reach they could punish.

“That’s why you wanted us to investigate”, I said softly, without any accusation. “It was not about us wearing arms. It was because we were outsiders. You could be certain we were no part of some internal conspiracy.”

The duchess looked at me miserably. “I’m sorry we lied to you but the walls have ears. Yes, you are right. I strongly suspect there is a conspiracy against Captain Bombardier.”

“It would seem this way”, I agreed darkly.

I remembered how adamantly the captain had insisted that he had personally overseen the reprogramming and that all had been well. His enemies would use this against him. Giving freshly reprogrammed droids manipulated Nepenthé would severely damage the captain’s reputation and give rise to all kinds of suspicion and rumors.

“I’m afraid there might be a conspirator in my inner circle”, the duchess stated unhappily. “Someone I trust. Had I told you everything, word might have gotten back to them. As long as they don’t know I suspect a conspiracy, they might just carry on as usual and make mistakes.” A shiver ran through her. “Oh Princess Kryze, it’s terrible not to know who I can trust!”

“I know”, I replied quietly, reaching out for her hand and squeezing it.

I began to understand why she was confiding in me, a total stranger. A leader could not easily confide into subordinates, never knowing for sure who would one day turn this knowledge against her. She needed an equal. A princess with a legitimate claim to the title of Duchess of Mandalore was an equal, someone who fully knew the hardships of being in charge. A sister duchess.

For some reason she seemed to draw courage from my hand in hers. “I don’t want to be afraid of my own shadow”, she declared, a little more confident. “I just want to live the life I want with the partner I want.”

Don’t we all…

Her dark eyes searched mine beseechingly. “Please, I’m begging you, find out who is behind this! With all the recent incidents people are getting restless. It won’t be much longer until they come for him. You two are our only hope.”

She seemed almost guilty when saying these words. In her opinion they placed a burden on my shoulders, a burden that was by all accounts her own one. A pressure on me to succeed, to not fail on any account. She clearly felt awful doing so. Nothing but sheer despair could have caused her to pass her own trouble on to someone else.

Little did she know I was able to carry burdens. Growing up as part of the royal family meant to carry burdens from the beginning on. I had been ready to share Satine’s burdens as well, only we had found no way to share once politics got between us. To the duchess, the marriage to Captain Bombardier meant the world and she assumed she had just put the world on my shoulder. To me, who had felt the burden of an actual world, Mandalore, on my shoulders for years now, it was but a small thing. Time-consuming, yes. An irritation when I was so pressed for time to save my Nite Owls. An inconvenience. But it was not the world. Not by a long shot.

“I will do all I can to prove his innocence”, I assured her quietly, squeezing her hand. “You have my word, Sati… M’lady.”

“Thank you.” She gave me a sweet, though wobbly smile. “And I will do all in my power to help you get Mandalore acknowledged.”

I looked down on our intertwined hands. I had not been able to help the last duchess of Mandalore with her complicated love life. But I might be able to make a difference for the duchess of Plazir-15 and her sweetheart. This time, a beleaguered duchess would have a warrior by her side. This time, I would help.

“Unbelievable!” Captain Bombardier exclaimed before laughing a real laugh for the first time this evening.

We turned around to the men. On the dejarik board Din and Grogu’s holographic K’lor’slug was bringing the captain’s holographic Bulbous down by fastening its suction cup-like mouth on the Bulbous’ poison gland, stopping the latter from releasing its toxic gas. It was a rather comical sight, and the duchess burst out laughing.

“I’ve never seen anyone use a K’lor’slug like this!” she gushed, fast walking over to the table. “What a clever way!”

“Grogu’s idea.” Din was every inch the proud father. “He is a natural.”

I smiled softly. That’s my kid.

We did not stay much longer after the game ended. Grogu was blinking heavily, and Din and I were rather exhausted after our investigation. With the promise to bring Grogu over before we left in the morning, we bid our hosts goodbye. Grogu sleepily snuggled into my arms and leaned his tiny head against my shoulder. Without my beskar I could feel his warmth and softness nestling against my body and instinctively lowered my face to gently nuzzle his fuzzy head. He made a content little sound, his lids drooping. By the time we were out of the door and in the corridor, he had fallen asleep in my arms.

The protocol droid waiting outside brought us back to our room. The corridors had darkened down considerably, but we could still see enough to follow our guide. I was glad I did not have to pay attention to where we were going. My talk with the duchess occupied my mind, and I found it hard to focus on anything else.

Din stayed close beside me, never letting the droid out of sight. I wanted to assure him that this droid probably had not frequented the Resistor lately, but then realized there might be more sabotaged Nepenthé around than we knew of. So I let him be, knowing his wariness was mostly a sign of his affection for Grogu and me. I would not berate him for this, as long as he did not start to needlessly brandish weapons and threats again.

We reached our apartment without incident and the droid left us. Din made sure the lights were dimmed before I entered with the sleeping Grogu in my arms.

“Bring him over to my bedroom”, he told me in a whisper. “He can sleep with me.”

I looked at him thoughtfully, remembering the day we had had and how much we all needed some rest and comfort.

“You have been in your helmet all day”, I eventually replied gently. “Get some air on your face. I’ll bunk with him for the night.”

“Are you sure?”

The very fact that he did not protest gave me an idea how exhausted he really was.

“I got this”, I assured him.

The worst that could happen was Grogu having a nightmare. I should be able to handle it. If not, I could always pass him over to Din. Until then, he could get a good dose of sleep.

As quietly as possible the two of us entered my bedroom. The big bed had more than enough pillows, and Din used some of them to build a little nest for Grogu on my bed. Carefully I put the little one in and covered him with a blanket. Both Din and I stayed for a moment, just to take in the sight of him. There was something incredibly tranquil about watching a sleeping child, hearing his deep breaths and seeing the peaceful expression on his face.

This will be all over soon.

The thought crashed down on me like an ice-cold wave. I exhaled as if I had been punched in the gut. In disbelief I stared down at Grogu’s tiny, sleepy form, then up at Din, hovering protectively around us. This little family thing we had built between the three of us was not going to last, I realized with painful clarity. Once I had taken back command of the Nite Owls and joined them with the Tribe, I would be joint leader with the Armorer. Everybody and their siblings would clamor for my attention.

How was I supposed to even spare enough time for a foundling like Grogu? I would have long nights and early mornings. I would miss so much as he grew older. And Din – would I even have the time to sit with him every once in a while? Share my thoughts, have a meal, grow closer?

Feeling my throat tighten up, I tucked Grogu in. Din briefly placed a hand on his foundling, then the two of us tiptoed out again. I felt as if I left something precious behind. Not just Grogu, but my reprieve, my vacation from my duties. My safe space with these two. My time with a family.

“How did the captain seem to you?” I asked Din in the living room, to stop my thoughts from getting caught in an endless loop.

“Tense”, he answered immediately without the slightest hesitation. “Like a target expecting the bounty hunter.”

I felt a wry smile tug on the corner of my mouth. Very fitting.

“I thought the same. The duchess is deeply worried about him.”

In quiet words I told Din what the duchess had confided to me. He too lowered his head on hearing the accusations the captain might face if we did not solve the case soon.

“Didn’t think I would ever feel sorry for a former Imp”, he said softly when I had finished. “At least he wasn’t one of the murderers.”

“People might not care”, I replied sadly. “Those who suffered under the Empire are bound to hate it with a vengeance. They’ll regard him as a symbol, not a person.”

Truth be told, there were Imps who I would not forgive either. Had I met some who had participated in the Night of a Thousand Tears, if only as blameless quartermasters, I was fairly certain I would not be in an overly forgiving mood.

“He is married to the duchess,” Din replied thoughtfully. “She is their leader. Why don’t they just trust her judgment?”

Oh, my loyal, innocent Child of the Watch! I knew that very instant that, should the Armorer ever choose a mate, he would not for a second question her decision.

Or mine, the tiny voice in the back of my head whispered, before I resolutely shut it down.

“I have seen it happen before”, I sighed. “I really can’t stand dictatorships, but there is a downside to democracies. Everybody has an opinion and blurts it out, no matter how harmful or stupid it is. People think because they voted someone into office they get a say in how the heads should lead their lives. Who they should or should not be with.” I gritted my teeth when remembering Satine’s heartbreak on a particularly difficult holocall. “Who they should love.”

Din watched me closely. “Are you taking this personally?”

Trust Din Djarin to throw my own words back at me when I least expected it.

My first instinct was to deny it fiercely, claiming I could not take things personally I had not experienced myself. Then again, we had been through so much already it felt simpler to just tell him the truth.

“My sister had the same problem”, I sighed. “While she was on the run with the two Jedi, she fell for the younger one. She loved him until the end, but our people would never have accepted a Jedi as Duke of Mandalore.”

“So she gave him up”, Din concluded, sounding strangely heavy-hearted. Maybe he was starting to realize, despite all the Death Watch propaganda, what Satine had truly gone through.

“Yeah.” I nodded. “She was aiming for unity. With this in mind she couldn’t afford to turn all of the Mandalorian clans against her for the sake of a spouse.”

Din let out a deep, almost shuddering sigh. While I knew he was a caring, empathetic man I was a little bewildered by his strong feelings about my sister’s plight. It was tragic, no doubt, but not nearly the greatest tragedy of her story.

“I… I don’t think she was unhappy though”, I ventured, somehow feeling the need to reassure him a little. “Her unmarried status helped her with diplomatic maneuvers. The rich and the mighty of the galaxy all presented themselves as suitors to her. As long as there was a chance she might marry one of them, they kept up good relations with Mandalore. She made the best of it.”

“This is the Way”, he said gravely, slightly bowing his head.

For some reason his words felt very bleak and hopeless. I could only imagine he must be completely tired. Everything felt like doom and gloom when you could not get enough sleep.

“Let’s call it a night, shall we?” I suggested gently. “We have some conspirators to catch in the morning.”

“Sure”, he agreed quietly. “Good night, Lady Kryze.”

I felt a strange ache in me to hear him call me that. Maybe he too had caught up on our time as a clan of three coming to an end. He would want to establish the old boundaries between princess and warrior again before we confronted the Nite Owls. It was the sensible thing to do. Still, it felt like a bereavement.

Struggling to stay calm, I touched his bare fingers with mine for a last time. He made no move to resist, but I could feel his walls were up again. He had withdrawn and I must not delay the inevitable out of selfishness.

“Good night”, I replied in a choked voice and withdrew as quickly as I could without stumbling over my dress.

In my bedroom I took a few breaths in an attempt to calm myself down. I had to focus on the mission. Reclaiming Mandalore was within reach for the first time in years. I must not blow up this chance just because I could not have everything. I was not a child anymore. This was life. I had to set priorities.

But as I dressed in the wonderfully sweet pajamas provided by housekeeping and climbed in bed right next to Grogu, all I could think of was that this might be the last night I got to watch over his sleep. I heard his soft little wheezes as he slept, peacefully like any child, and felt the overwhelming urge to stay in his life, to hold him close to me as long as I could. To use every minute I still had with my little family to create memories. Snuggling up close to him, I carefully took Grogu in my arms, buried my nose in his fuzzy little head and felt his fluttering little heartbeat against my hand.

I had hoped to stay awake for a little, to just have a few more moments, but after the exhausting day I did not stand a chance. I was asleep before I could even feel sorry for myself.

The morning came, and with it my clothes came back. I gladly shed my pajamas for my flight suit and put on my armor again. The melancholy of last night faded away as I put on one piece after the other, cuirass, jetpack, vambrace, greaves and boots. Bit by bit my armor grounded me again, helped me to focus on the task at hand. I started to feel like myself again.

Housekeeping had left a basket of freshly baked pastries and a pot of caf in the anteroom. I brought them to the table in the living room, put a tray with a fair share of it in front of Din’s room with a brief knock and the words “Breakfast is here!” and went to check on Grogu.

He was fully awake when I came into the bedroom, wriggling out of pillows and the blanket. He cooed happily at seeing me and I picked him up with a smile.

“Good morning, sweetie. Let’s have breakfast.”

With him on my hip I crossed the living room. Din’s tray had vanished, so Grogu and I sat down at the table to have breakfast together. He made his way through the pastry basket with amazing speed, but was always willing to share, handing me baked goods with an encouraging babble when he thought I might like them. Most of the time he was right.

All too soon everything was eaten and my caf drunk. Din came out of his room fully dressed and armored, bringing the empty tray with him.

“Ready to catch some conspirators?” he greeted me.

I smiled in relief. His strange mood of last night had dissipated as well. I could bid him good morning with an honest smile, and with Grogu around there was no time for sadness anyway. He always managed to put smiles on our faces.

We both were eager to get our job done, so we brought Grogu to the duchess and Captain Bombardier and left as quickly as we could. If her fears were true, we were running out of time. The captain’s name had to be cleared. The conspirators had to be stopped. It was the only way to save the Nite Owls. If the conspirators managed to enforce a change of government within the next days, my brothers and sisters would take assignments again. And then all would be lost.

Off to work we go…

The lab was part of the security complex we had already visited the day before, when speaking with Commissioner Helgait. It was located on a different floor though, meaning another ride on the elevator, though not to the lowest level as last time with the Ugnaughts.

The part of the lab we needed bore an eerie resemblance to a morgue. It was manned by a lab technician, a strong woman with short hair. Once we showed her our chain codes and explained our mission, she walked over to the drawers. A push of a button opened it and a stretcher came out, bearing what was left of the battle droid we had brought down yesterday.

“These are the remains of the latest malfunctioning droid.”

Something spherical soared over to us and lowered itself on the battle droid. I froze inwardly. It was an IT-O unit, an interrogation droid. The Separatists and later the Imps had loved to use it for mind probes and to torture prisoners. It had been given a paint job here on Plazir-15, wearing white now instead of the imperial black. Still, being in the same room with such a thing spooked me.

So far it was not doing anything scary though. It was merely assisting the lab technician, collecting a sample of the Nepenthé still lingering in the battle droid’s circuits. Once it was done, the tech took the sample and walked over to the work console.

“We’re looking for programming sub-particles”, I reminded her.

“Yes”, she confirmed and put the sample in the slot. “Let me isolate them.”

Din and I walked over as well and stood behind the tech to see what was going to happen. The sample vanished in the inside of the machine. The console came to life.

“All right, let’s see if they give us a reading”, the tech stated, fingers dancing over buttons and levers.

A moment later a beeping sound announced data was coming in. The tech looked at the screen and nodded slightly.

“The particles are definitely present.”

“What are the chances that they’re still active?” Din asked.

A whirring noise came from the IT-O hovering in the background. Din and I turned around just in time to see a red light flashing on the sphere. It extended two arms, suddenly looking very much like your standard torture droid.

“Get down!” I screamed, knowing exactly what these arms were. Laser canons. Either bolts like blasters or thin blades of various lengths.

Of course it had to be blades.

Din and I managed to dodge the green lasers. The lab tech was not so lucky, getting hit in the shoulder and dropping to the floor, groaning. I rolled in the same direction, getting the console between me and the droid, and drew my blasters. Unfortunately it was hard to fire from behind the console without making myself a target. The droid came closer, buzzing and cutting everything in its way into pieces. It was a mere matter of seconds before it was face to face with us. Desperately I got up to get a better aim, only to be grazed by the green laser. With a yelp of pain I dropped back to the floor, waiting for the droid’s final strike.

Suddenly the thing changed course. It turned away from us and went to the left instead. I looked up, and there was Din Djarin, holding the activated Darksaber in his hand. With a swift movement he swung the ancient weapon and cut the rogue droid in half. In a rain of sparks and electric buzzing the droid fell to the floor. Din kept the Darksaber activated, looming over the two burning halves. Only when the last of its lights went out and flames licked all over the edges, he switched the weapon off.

I glanced at the tech huddling beside me and breathing heavily, but otherwise seeming alright. Exhaling audibly I got back to my feet and gave her a helping hand as well.

“They’re still active”, I summarized dryly, just in case someone had not noticed yet.

The tech stumbled back to her console, obviously desperate to get back into some kind of routine after this dramatic intermezzo. She pushed a few buttons and pointed to the cellular-like structures appearing on the screens.

“These are the sub-particles”, she explained, zooming in to enlarge the picture. Din and I watched with interest as she hovered over a specific area.

“Curious…”, she muttered, squinting her eyes.

“What?” Din asked immediately. He was clearly on the edge after this new droid malfunction.

“They’re actually nano-droids”, the tech stated in disbelief.

I frowned. This was unexpected. “How did nano-droids get into the Nepenthé?”

As the tech zoomed in even further, Din pointed at something I could not clearly identify. It looked different from the rest of the material.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“The striations?” The tech shrugged. “Just an aberration in the metal. Probably malleability limitations at this scale.”

I leaned in closer to get a better view of the monitor, and then it struck me. These striations looked far too regular...

“No”, I said as it dawned on me. “It’s writing.”

Din got closer to the screen as well. “Rotate the perspective.”

The tech acquiesced. As soon as the image was rotated, I could tell Din, the clever bounty hunter, had had the right instinct. The seeming aberrations formed letters, clearly recognizable as Galactic Basic.

“It’s a chain code”, the tech said in surprise.

“If it has a chain code”, I reasoned with mounting excitement, “then we should be able to determine its point of origin.”

“In theory”, the lab tech tried to dampen my mood. “Let me see what I can find out.”

She accessed a database and started to cross-reference the chain code, reminding me vividly of Greef Karga when looking for Axe Woves’ chain code.

And just like on Nevarro, we got a hit fairly quickly.

“Yes, here we are.” The tech pulled up the data. “They were originally manufactured by the Techno Union. Been in cold-storage for ages.”

My eyes narrowed. The Techno Union had been very active during the Clone Wars. While claiming neutrality to retain their seat in the Republic Senate, it was an open secret they had supported Count Dooku and his droid army. Most likely they had had a seat in the Separatist Council as well. Thanks to their claims of neutrality they had at least sat in the Council of Neutral Systems as well, which, irony of fate, was headed by Satine at the time.

“The chain title says it didn’t arrive on Plazir through Droid Acquisitions”, the tech continued. “How strange…”

“How did it arrive?” Din inquired.

“They were requisitioned by the Security Office.” Her tone suggested mounting disbelief.

“Is that unusual?” I asked.

She turned around and looked me straight in the eyes.

“It’s illegal”, she stressed. “There’s no record of this transaction on the government registry. These droids were ordered by an individual.”

The atmosphere in the room grew tense. All three of us knew what that meant. We were finally on the track of our culprit.

“Is there a name?” Din’s voice was as calm as always, though very grave.

Endless seconds passed as the tech pulled up this piece of information. A personal file showed up, complete with a picture.

“Our head of security”, she said quietly. “Commissioner Helgait.”

Slowly Din and I turned towards each other and exchanged a long look. Commissioner Helgait. The trusted friend and advisor of the duchess.

Neither of us managed to say a word. I patted the tech’s shoulder as a mixture of thanks and commiseration, then Din and I turned on our heels and made for the door.

It was with some apprehension that we entered the elevator again to go to the surveillance room. While it was good to finally know who was behind all the trouble, I felt a depressing sense of déjà vu.

“Always the same story”, I said with a deep sigh. “No matter how well-meaning the leaders, there are always troublemakers.”

I should know. I had once been a troublemaker myself.

“It ends today”, Din said calmly. “Once we have Helgait in custody, the duchess can pick a worthier successor.”

If only it was that easy.

“Who is to say the successor won’t stab her in the back as well?” I asked sadly. “As soon as you are a public figure, you attract enemies.”

My sister had been in the duchess’ place and had been betrayed by those she trusted. Apparently every Satine had a plotting Almec lurking around somewhere.

“She can always put good friends in charge”, Din suggested. “People who deserve her trust.”

Nervously I wrung my hands. How to describe the absolute dread of betrayal to someone who was himself completely loyal and could count on an equally loyal tribe? The worst Din had experienced from his people were two challenges from Paz Vizsla and a banishment for breaking their most sacred rule. All of it had been completely open, without plotting and scheming behind closed doors.

“Sometimes even old friends turn against you”, I whispered, my voice almost breaking.

“Some won’t.” Din wrapped his gloved hands around mine, gently stopping them from fidgeting. “That’s a promise.”

Startled, I looked up. It suddenly dawned on me I had not really spoken of the duchess or Satine anymore. I had spoken about my own experience, about my heartbreak over Axe and Koska suddenly turning against me. Din was really more perceptive than I gave him credit for. He had realized it before me and tried to reassure me it would not happen with him.

Our time so closely together was almost over, yet we still had these few precious moments. Carefully I leaned forward, ready to withdraw immediately, should he show any sign of discomfort. He stayed where he was, his shielded eyes on me. My heart beating as loud as an Akivan drum, I gently rested my bare forehead against Din’s helmeted one. I heard a soft gasp escape him, felt his fingers clutch mine tightly as we shared our first, real Keldabe kiss.

“Thank you”, I told him quietly. “For being… a friend. Through all of this.”

“Always”, he whispered back, pulling my hands to his kar’ta. The symbol of the heart on Mandalorian armor.

The elevator gave a ring, telling us we were nearing our destination. Very reluctantly we broke apart. It would not do to arrive in the surveillance room in such an intimate moment. There were things I wanted to keep to ourselves, away from prying strangers.

The door opened with a hiss, spitting us out right in the surveillance room. It looked very much the same as yesterday. Had we been in a holoshow, the villain’s den would have oozed doom and gloom and some dramatic music would have played in the background.

As always, life does not work this way.

Said villain was sitting in his usual place, his back towards the turbolift, his eyes on the screens. He did not turn around when we came out of the lift.

“Commissioner, we have some questions for you”, I stated firmly.

It did get his attention. He sneaked us a brief look over the shoulder before holding out a hand in a warding gesture.

“Sorry”, he drawled in his ancient voice. “I have to check the data farm for anomalies.”

Ah, he thought we were still at the part where he pretended to be innocent. Tough luck. Neither of us was in the mood to fool around.

“We know about the Nepenthé”, Din brusquely brought him up to speed. “And the nano-droids.”

Now we really had his attention. He squinted at us, looking coiled like a snake ready to strike. An ancient snake, but still.

“They didn’t malfunction”, I said loudly enough for the entire staff to hear. “You programmed them to disrupt and attack.”

“You’re coming with us”, Din growled, in full bounty hunter mode.

We had everybody’s attention now. Security officers turned around from their screens, looking at their superior in disbelief.

Pushing himself up from the chair with his arms, Helgait rose. For a tiny moment I hoped he would just come quietly and not cause a scene.

I should have known better.

Swiftly he pushed the big red button of the failsafe and threateningly held his hand above it.

“Everyone, freeze!” he yelled, gesturing wildly with his free hand. “If I trigger this failsafe, it will convert the planet’s docile workforce back into battle droids and unleash them upon the unsuspecting citizens of Plazir!”

Din and I gave each other a look of sheer disbelief. What the kriff did the old man think he could achieve with this stunt?! Would he really massacre his own people for… yeah, for what exactly?

“Don’t make me do it”, he added with dramatic flair.

For all his threats and posturing, I was fairly certain Din and I could take him out. It was not the first hostage situation for either of us, and he was old. I could clearly see his hand shaking over the switch.

“There’s no way out, Commissioner”, I informed him as a gesture of goodwill to spare him further humiliation. “Give yourself up.”

“Give up?” he scoffed in a way that made me expect a traditional villain’s cackle. “I never give up. I didn’t give up to the corrupt Republic, I didn’t give up to the Empire, and I won’t give up to you.”

Corrupt Republic…

I had heard that before. A long time ago.

“You’re a Separatist?” I asked in disbelief.

Good grief, which block of frozen carbonite had he escaped from? To think we still could find such a fossil more than 20 years after the end of the Clone Wars!

“Separatist is a pejorative term”, he retorted, miffed.

Hang on, did this sneaky saboteur who threatened to kill an entire population actually insist on political correctness?! This was getting more absurd by the second.

“I support democracy”, he went on rambling. “Count Dooku was a visionary.”

Frankly, I had heard enough. Someone who supported a Sith lord had lost his marbles and needed to be taken out of commission. All I needed was to be quick…

“He was cut short in his prime”, Helgait continued his tirade, looking to his co-workers as if courting their support. “By the Jedi enforcer…”

My arm came up quickly. The electricity dart from my vambrace hit Helgait in the shoulder and electrocuted him. He fell backwards to the floor like a statue. I waited for a few seconds, hoping that the shock had not given the old man a heart attack. Then I heard him groan and relaxed somewhat.

“Politics”, I groaned, rolling my eyes. My least favorite part of being in charge. “Anyone got cuffs here?”

Now that the danger was neutralized, the co-workers came back to life. One of them dashed to a panel at the wall and pulled out a restraint kit. Din, very experienced in securing prisoners, swiftly moved to apply the cuffs.

“What count was he talking about?” he whispered to me while we waited for Helgait to be able to move again.

“Count Dooku was the leader of the Separatists in the Clone Wars”, I informed him quietly. “And a Sith on top of it.”

I could hear a snarl creep in Din’s voice. “So he was in charge of the droid army?”

Battle droids had killed his family. Helgait hero-worshipped the man who had commanded them. All the complicated politics the commissioner had touched on could be reduced to these simple facts.

“Very much so”, I confirmed.

The good thing about arresting someone in Security HQ: you have plenty of constable droids at your disposal. Accompanied by them, we frogmarched Helgait out of the building. His former employeés were kind enough to give us a lift to the palace, so we did not have to squeeze our old prisoner into the hyperloop pod. The constable droids floated behind us as we escorted our prisoner to the throne hall.

The duchess, Grogu and Captain Bombardier were with their host of guests, playing some kind of ball game. Laughter and cheers greeted us when we came in, only to replaced by silence once people noticed us.

The duchess looked at the cuffed Helgait, then at us in open confusion. “What are you doing with Commissioner Helgait?”

“We found the cause of your malfunctions”, Din stated bluntly.

I could see the duchess’ eyes widen with horror, she gave a startled gasp. “Is this true?”

She was addressing Helgait. Despite his cuffs he stepped up to her respectfully, his head held high. “I’m afraid it is, M’Lady.”

I had to hand it to him, he had guts.

“Despicable”, Captain Bombardier hissed, glaring at Helgait.

I could well understand his disgusted response. The commissioner’s ministrations had undermined the captain’s reputation and trustworthiness. Had this gone on a little longer, it would have been him standing here in cuffs and disgrace.

“If that isn’t the Quacta calling the Stifling slimy”, Helgait spat back, naked hatred flaring in his eyes.

“I beg your pardon!” the captain exclaimed, offended.

The duchess gave a little gasp, staring at Helgait in hurt and disbelief. Satine must have looked like this when realizing that her trusted prime minister was about to torture Korkie in order to force her to abdicate.

Helgait’s hard stare did not soften at all when he looked at the duchess. “This planet is unrecognizable since he arrived”, he said accusingly.

The captain took a deep breath, clearly fighting to keep his temper. “I had a feeling you hated me.”

“I’m disappointed in you, Commissioner”, the duchess said quietly. Her eyes wore a look of complete and utter betrayal. Once more I felt like watching an alternate version of Satine handling a situation.

Claiming to be disappointed instead of being openly furious – check.

“You served my family well. But Captain Bombardier is the love of my life.” She put a hand on her husband’s shoulder. He returned the affectionate gesture, looking at her gravely. “And I know his heart is true.”

Falling in love with a man who her own people regard as the enemy – check.

“Sure, he’s made some mistakes in the past, but who here among us has not? Is there no room for a little bit of forgiveness in a galaxy so vast?”

Appealing to people’s willingness to forgive the wrongs of the past – check.

I could only agree with her, though. The Force knew how much I myself needed forgiveness. Why not give it to other people who had not harmed anyone and merely happened to be on the wrong side?

“I am sorry to have disappointed you, my lady.” Helgait had the decency of looking honestly sorry. He might not give a fig about Captain Bombardier, yet clearly had some loyalty left for his mistress. “Perhaps someday I can earn such forgiveness from Your Grace.”

“Perhaps”, she replied quietly. “As for now, you must live in exile on the moon of Paraqaat.”

I heard muffled exclamations from her guests, saw Helgait squeeze his eyes shut and flinched involuntarily.

Bundling dissenters off to the next available moon – check.

Sometimes it was uncanny how history repeated itself.

The constable droids escorted the commissioner out. Captain Bombardier looked at his wife full of sorrow. She returned his gaze, then made an effort to put her mask back on.

“And as for you, Lady Bo-Katan Kryze and Din Djarin of Concordia”, she addressed us, “I grant you audience with our deployment of Mandalorian privateers.”

After all the action of the last hour her announcement felt almost anticlimactic. Rushed, one might say, as if the duchess was dying for all the unpleasantness to be finally over. Being a well-bred princess I still lowered my head in thanks. She might also just want to speed up things for our sake, knowing the Nite Owls were still in danger.

“I also give to you both our highest honor, the key to Plazir.”

At her gesture a droid stepped closer, bearing a tray with a huge key on it. The duchess took it and presented it to me on both hands. I accepted the monstrous thing with a gracious smile and stifled a laugh. Finding a place for this in the Gauntlet would be an interesting task. And, with all our skirmishes and adventures, keeping it intact would be even more interesting.

“You will always be welcome in our domed paradise”, the duchess finished, smiling warmly at us.

“M’Lady.” I bowed my head to her while stepping back with the key in my hands. “M’Lord.”

She fondly gazed down at Grogu. “And to this little one, I grant knighthood.”

A servant handed her a long sword, making me wonder briefly how this huge thing did not fall under their arm ban. Even if it was not sharp, you could have bludgeoned someone to death with it.

Of course she did not do this. Instead she tapped Grogu on both shoulders with the blade. “You are now a knight of the Ancient Order of Independent Regencies.”

I grinned openly at this heartwarming spectacle. He might not have made it to the rank of Jedi Knight, but he had still managed to become a knight, all thanks to cuteness. Not so bad for a Mandalorian foundling. Relations between Mandalore and Plazir-15 could have begun much worse than with a key to the city and a knighthood.

“Go in peace, brave travelers” she said with a grateful smile in my direction. “Until our paths meet again.”

“M’Lord”, Din said formally as he stepped up to them and picked Grogu up. “M’Lady.”

My two guys returned to my side and despite the growing apprehension at the thought of confronting Axe Woves I found myself smiling. No matter what happened, these two were with me, were my support and my armor. We could do this.

I could do this.

Chapter Text

For hopefully the last time today, Din Djarin and I boarded the hyperloop pod, this time again accompanied by Grogu. While I was happy to be reunited with the little fellow, I felt the weight of my task drop down heavily on my shoulders as the hyperloop pod sped off and left the palace behind. I looked out at the window without really seeing either the city or the landscape passing by. In a few minutes I would face the Nite Owls again, see the very people who meant the world to me and who had still abandoned me. Now that the moment of truth was nearing, I realized I was not ready in the slightest. In fact, I was fairly sure I would not be ready before we arrived.

The further we went, the harder my heart started to pound. Every beat felt like some shaky substance was pumped through my body, causing it to tremble occasionally. I could easily identify the symptoms as battle jitters. They always happened before fights, when the time was drawing near but had not fully come yet.

I usually did not get them before facing friends, though. This part was new, and it forced me to consciously acknowledge what my body was already screaming at me: I was not looking forward to any of this, no matter how much I needed to do it. Axe and I had parted on such bad terms. I had no idea if I would even manage to be civil to him once we were face to face. And what was the point of civility anyway? I was deceiving myself if I thought speaking to Axe nicely would change his mind about leaving command to me again. Why was I even wasting my energy on such pointless musings?

“You are worried”, Din observed gently.

Had I not known better, I would have suspected him of force-reading my thoughts. In a way I was glad he was the one to address the subject. Even with him I was still hesitant to talk about my feelings, always wondering if I saddled him with unnecessary burdens. It was kind of him to give me an opening, to acknowledge I might want to talk about it and to offer a sympathetic ear.

“I keep telling our people we should stop fighting each other.” I looked down at my hands miserably. “Now I’ll be forced to initiate a fight, and my opponent is a former friend. I hate to go against my beliefs.”

They were hard-won, baptized in my sister’s blood and tempered in the fires of Mandalore. Bending them now, even when it would ultimately save lives, felt like I was failing Satine and our people all over again.

“Perhaps it won’t come to this”, he suggested. “There might be other ways to convince them. You were chosen to see the Mythosaur. That should mean something to them.”

“Not sure this will cut it.” I stared out of the window. “My people have… kind of moved away from the old beliefs.”

Or, as Paz Vizsla had rightfully pointed out, they had fallen from the Way.

“Now approaching landing field three”, the PA informed us.

“They’re Mandalorians”, he tried to ease my worries. “You’re their leader. They’re going to follow you.”

I would have smiled fondly at his innocence, had I not felt so apprehensive.

“I’m not their leader anymore”, I said quietly. “Axe Woves is.”

And, as we both knew, in Mandalorian culture there was only one way to replace a leader.

But what if it all went wrong? What if the Nite Owls had come to prefer his command to mine? Axe was charismatic and very capable, which was why I had picked him as my second-in-command in the first place.

In many ways he was the very image of a Mandalorian, with all our strengths and flaws. He was an experienced fighter, a good leader and almost fearless in combat, earning him the nickname “Battle-Axe” among us. But he was also proud to the point of arrogance, stubborn and unwilling to let go of old grudges. Once he had made up his mind, he followed his goal with an unshakable, single-minded determination. It made him a fierce warrior, a formidable opponent and a dangerous enemy.

During our years on the prowl I had valued him as a powerful ally and reliable brother-in-arms. Now his strengths and weaknesses would be pitched against mine.

Din studied my face. “Then what’s your play?”

I wished I had an answer. This was always the problem with planning. You could map out a strategy, hammer it into shape and adjust it until it fit you like a well-forged armor. On paper or on a datapad’s screen it would look all nice and neat, and you would march into battle absolutely convinced that you had all your bases covered.

Rookie mistake.

The thing about battle plans is, they don’t involve feelings. Only very few of them even take feelings into account. It is all very well to say you will stick to the plan like a good little warrior. But what will you do when you actually confront your fears and recognize reality is much worse than you thought? When you realize with painful certainty that you can’t win and that all you can hope for is to put on a good show? When your own heart betrays you and refuses to let you act the way you should? How to plan for this event?

Axe and I had sparred often and had always been well matched. Armed with Paz Vizla’s training I stood a good chance of taking him out in single combat. Still, it was by no means a guarantee of victory. Even when overpowered Axe was unlikely to yield. I might be able to reclaim my fleet from him, but I could not make him follow me if he had made up his mind. He would fight me every inch on the way, refusing to back down.

He might force me to kill him in battle.

The pain at the thought was almost unbearable. I was trying to unify our people, and this fight might just tear us apart even further. For all that I knew, I might be able to win this battle but not the war.

With a heavy heart I stared into the distance. “I’ll know when I get there.”

Because only once I knew for sure how my feelings responded to this mess of a situation, I would have a chance of coming up with something. I would have to rely on my gut feeling instead of a strategy.

Here goes nothing…

By the looks of it, we were crashing the camp-warming party.

We had heard from Clan Awaud as well as Captain Bombardier that the Nite Owls had only been here for a few days, and the sight of their camp confirmed it. It was not really a camp yet. Some boxes were out but all in all it looked like everyone had slept in the parked ships most of the time. Right now, most of them were hanging out outside, sitting on boxes and eating together. While this was promising, meaning they had not really made up their minds about permanently staying here, I also felt a strange ache. I had missed eating with my brothers and sisters. Dinners with Din behind the curtain were nice, but they lacked the warmth of sharing a meal with a group of friends.

Heads raised and turned as the three of us made our entrance. Almost immediately I spotted Koska, easy to find by the signature cross braids on her forehead. She looked in my general direction, then averted her eyes and turned to Axe, who just lowered his cup of caf. I saw the look they exchanged, how they braced themselves, and knew with absolute certainty they too had dreaded this day. The day where I would come back and claim what was rightfully mine. The three of us had always responded very similarly to certain situations.

Reckoning time...

I had no intention to march right into the middle of the camp though. If things got nasty, I’d better not get caught in a crowd. Instead Din and I slowed down once we reached the first parked ship and came to a standstill. Several Nite Owls shifted uncomfortably. The air grew thick with tension. They must know I had not come here with a happy message of peace. Though technically I had, what with my alliance with the Children of the Watch and everything. But right now I was confrontation incarnate, and the Mandalorian version of confrontation was bloody and messy.

The first of them were stirring, cautiously taking a few steps in my direction, though not enough to cover the distance. I suppressed a bitter smile. Good to know they still regarded me as a force to be reckoned with but kriff, it hurt to see how hesitant they were. Not even the slightest sign of welcome, of happiness at seeing me.

Axe’s dark eyes settled on me, full of knowing and yet completely remorseless.

“Have you come back to join the mercenaries?” he asked as cheerfully as if I had merely returned from lunch, still sitting on his box.

Under different circumstances it would have been a good ice-breaker. As it was, his comment was probably meant to throw me off course.

He had no idea I was not following any course here. I was acting, for once, on my instincts.

“I’ve come to reclaim my fleet”, I stated flatly, not showing how much I needed to hear his reply. How much his own words would determine my course of action.

Bring it on, Axe. Give me the key to beating you.

“It’s no longer your fleet, is it?” Axe scoffed. “I’m now in command and grown quite fond of it.”

Despite the playful tone of voice his eyes had gone as hard as durasteel. I knew that look, had seen it countless times when he stared down Imps. He was not budging. Not in the slightest.

A cold calm filled my anxious stomach, stilled all the squirms and trembles and froze everything into solid clarity. He was looking at me like he would look at an enemy. The enemy treatment it was, then.

In a way it was a relief. I no longer needed to give a damn about his or my feelings. The path was clear, and it was the only way. Slowly I started to move again, walking in his direction calmly and purposefully.

“Then I challenge you”, I coolly uttered the traditional words, “one warrior to another.”

He did not reply immediately. For a fleeting second I saw his shoulders slump, as if he too had held on to the desperate hope it would not come to this. We had been so close once. This was so wrong. We should not be fighting each other. Mandalorians were stronger together.

The quiet moment between us passed and I straightened up. Axe had made it clear he was not going to step down voluntarily. There literally was no other way. Might as well get it done as quickly as possible.

“Do you accept my challenge?” I asked with a hint of steel in my voice.

His face hardened as he got up. We both sucked at talking about how we felt, but battle was a language he understood fully well. He moved forward a little, just so the boxes would not get in the way and gave me the cold stare I knew so well.

“I do.”

My eyes narrowed as I firmly planted my feet on the ground. This was it. The actual moment of truth, and as predicted, the battle jitters had gone. This was routine, despite facing down a former friend.

For a moment we just stood there, never leaving each other out of sight. Then, as fast a viper, Axe fired a rocket. Had I had the time for it, I would have grinned fiercely. His standard maneuver to start a fight.

I had practiced to counter this move countless times with Paz Vizsla.

The rocket had barely left his vambrace when my jetpack catapulted me in the air, straight towards Axe. I got the fierce pleasure of seeing his jaw drop in shock as I kicked down on him with a force, sending us both tumbling on the ground. I heard several gasps from the Nite Owls and for a brief moment saw Koska’s face, looking completely distressed.

Then I was back on my feet, Axe on one knee, and everybody else faded into the background.

His knife was out as he came at me, and I drew my blade as well. Without hesitation we went into hand-to-hand combat. I nearly got his throat, but he bent back just in time and and gave me a solid punch in the face. Luckily it was his free hand, otherwise it would have been the shortest duel in my history. As I came back up, I paid him back in kind, sending him down on the ground.

Another sequence of horrified gasps from the Nite Owls. Koska looked as if she had to force herself to not interfere. It was the perfect moment to jump on Axe’s back and stab him in the neck.

Had it been Moff Gideon, I would have done so without hesitation. A former friend still deserved some respect. I let Axe get up again, gave him time to turn around to me and focus again. Since I had to do this, I would do it the honorable way.

According to his furious snarl, Axe did not appreciate the gesture. He might even regard it as a mockery of his Tough Guy persona.

Like a charging bull he went forward and tackled me, knocking me off my feet and crashing me into the next Gauntlet. Stars of pain exploded in the back of my head, for a terrifying moment I struggled to breathe. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Din flinch and literally responded with a knee-jerk reaction, pushing Axe away from me.

He was still on his legs though and as I was struggling to get back on all fours, he swung his blade at me, murder in his eyes. Still scrambling, I managed to dodge. He came after me, slash after slash, and as I frantically got back on my feet, his fist caught me right in the jaw. With a groan of pain I stumbled backwards, only to get a solid kick in the stomach. Once more, I hit the ground with a force, but luckily my armor cushioned the blow. I could still breathe. Quickly I rolled over my shoulder, stood up and just in time dodged another rocket from his vambrace. It smashed into one of the boxes instead, and I heard Grogu whimper with worry.

The frightened noise flipped a switch in my brain. Red, hot fury seared through me at the thought of this power-hungry traitor scaring my little friend. With a battle cry worthy of our ancestors I jumped, propelled forwards by my jetpack, and tackled Axe to the ground. This time I was the one who got on her feet more quickly. When he was still trying to get up, I threw myself at him and caught him in a choke-hold. With more force than strictly necessary I pulled him up to his feet from behind, my blade precariously close to his jugular.

I don’t deny it, this very moment I hated his guts. He had betrayed me, had stolen my fleet and had managed to get an entire Mandalorian clan mad at the Nite Owls. And to cap it all, poor Grogu had to witness all this nastiness.

“Do you yield?” I spat.

I should have known what his response would be.

Instead of giving up, like any sane person with a knife to their throat would, Axe powered up his jetpack with a furious scream, pulling us both up in the air. Despite the quickness of his maneuver I still had enough time to curse my own naivete. Axe was a wild card, completely unpredictable except for one thing: he did not do yielding. As long as he could still move, he would fight.

We crash-landed on a Gauntlet, making quite a spectacle of ourselves. The spectacle got even worse when Axe once more landed a punch in my face and sent me over the edge. Feeling myself tumbling down, I fired my whipcord and caught him. So instead of just me, we both fell down.

And unlike me, Axe had not expected it. While I used my jetpack to brake the fall and land on my feet, he slammed into the ground. It gave me enough time to get some space between us, so when he was up on one knee again and used his flamethrower on me, my shield was out, protecting me from the onslaught.

And frankly, I had enough.

While he was still busy directing his flame towards me, I catapulted myself in the air with my jetpack. Seeing me flying towards him, he frantically turned off the flamethrower to ready himself for hand-to-hand combat again.

He was a heartbeat too late.

I slammed into him and brought him down on his back. Swiftly I straddled him, preventing him from using his arms and poked my vibroblade right under his jaw. If he tried anything funny now, he would impale himself.

“Do you yield?”

My voice was barely more than a hiss but my snarl should get the message across that I was done playing around. And this time I should have him suitably pinned down to at least make him consider the option.

“You’ll never be the true leader of our people”, he spat at me.

Despite my fury at Axe I had to acknowledge his guts. I knew him well enough to see he was frightened. His eyes kept darting towards my blade at his throat and shivers ran through his body. The usual outcome of a Mandalorian duel for the loser was death. He was afraid and he had every reason to be. Yet even faced with death his spirit was as unrelenting as always.

“You won’t even take the Darksaber from him.” He threw Din a scornful glance. “He’s the one you should be challenging.”

Always the obsession with the Darksaber, I thought furiously. No matter how hard I worked, how valiantly I fought, no matter how many victories I won against the Empire, they would forever measure me against the Darksaber. It was always about the outer trappings, never about the wielder’s true worth. Blind loyalty towards an object instead of a person.

Who were the real cultists here?

“Enough Mandalorian blood has been spilled”, I hissed into his uncomprehending face and gave him an angry shake. “By our own hands!”

And just in case he still did not get it, I released him and got back to my feet. I was not going to cut his throat, and it was infuriating he did not even know this much about me.

But truth be told, the gapes of the Nite Owls did not improve the situation either. What the kriff had they come to think of me? That I would slaughter my own clan members to prove a point? My mistakes might have contributed to my sister’s death but I had never ever killed my clan, and since the Purge no other Mandalorian either.

I glowered at them, feeling the sore need to give them a sound dressing-down. Satine would have been great at it. She could have unleashed a thunderstorm of words on them, smiting them with both her righteous anger and acid remarks. As for me, I could merely sum up my feelings on the subject with one single sentence.

“Mandalorians are stronger together.”

Axe got up as well, his face as grim as before. “But a misguided zealot possesses the blade. One, I might add, who has not one drop of Mandalorian blood in his veins.”

I could have punched Axe in the face for this piece of spite. So that was his line of argument. Din was no Mandalorian by birth, so by challenging him I would not spill Mandalorian blood.

Since when was blood important to Mandalorians? We had always welcomed foundlings and outsiders who chose to take the creed into our clans. Where had Axe gotten the absurd idea that Mandalorians by birth were better than Mandalorians by creed? The latter worked hard to learn and honor our traditions. The former had merely become Mandalorian by sheer luck of the draw, and more often than not we had made a royal mess of things.

Clan Kryze had steamed in their own juices for too long, I thought grimly. We had stuck together after the Purge, and had been forced to close ranks in order to survive. But the sentiment of protecting our own and preserving our traditions should never have turned into looking down on other Mandalorians. I had made many mistakes in my life, but at least this could not be laid at my door. Even when I myself was still prejudiced against the Children of the Watch, I had offered Din Djarin to join us. I had never regarded him as anything but Mandalorian.

“Din Djarin took the Creed and chose to walk the Way, just as our ancestors did”, I retorted with some heat, looking around among the Nite Owls pointedly. If Axe wanted to invoke tradition, he should bloody well embrace all of it and not just the shard about each clan for themselves.

Which he had happened to twist into something unrecognizable, something un-Mandalorian. He had no right to call Din a pretender.

And frankly, even if this had not been about Din, I would not have stood for this kind of racist shit.

“He is every bit the Mandalorian that they were,” I declared, letting my gaze wander over the members of Clan Krye, before it settled on the addressee of my warm defense. “Certainly as much as any of us,” I said softly, full of respect and admiration.

Only I saw the tiny shift in his posture, the silent thanks he was giving me. To everybody else he remained unmoved, hidden behind his armor and helmet.

“But according to our ways, the ruler of Mandalore must possess the Darksaber”, Axe insisted. He opened his arms in an almost frustrated manner, vividly reminding me of Paz Vizsla arguing with a stubborn Ragnar.

He was not going to give in. He would never accept a Child of the Watch as the ruler of Mandalore. Once more the Darksaber was becoming a bone of contention between Mandalorians instead of unifying them. To a certain extent I could understand his clinging to our tradition. With our planet ravaged and our culture threatened by extinction, we had to preserve whatever we could. Still, to me tradition without common sense or deeper meaning was merely an empty shell. A mere outer trapping.

“Then she shall have it”, Din replied with grim determination.

Axe snorted in disgust and I felt my heart sink. Not this again. I had asked him not to bring the subject up anymore, and it had all been for nothing. Din stepped towards me, no matter how much I silently willed him to stop. This was not helping. It would only make things worse, convincing the Nite Owls that I did not deserve to be the leader. That I was trying to sneak back into power.

“This belongs to you”, Din stated, holding out the hilt to me.

My loyal friend with the heart of gold, I thought sadly. I wished I could tell him how much his support meant to me, yet there was no way I could accept. This was a mistake I would not repeat.

“It’s not a gift to be given”, I said softly. “No matter how well intended.”

“It’s not a gift”, Din growled and for some odd reason it felt like he had been dying to say these words.

He moved towards Axe Woves, facing him and the others. He still held the hilt in his hand, so they could see it. I frowned. What was he up to? He was not going to make me fight him for the blade in front of everyone, would he? The thought nearly choked me, but I forced myself to be reasonable. If there was one thing I could count on, it was Din Djarin doing the honorable thing. And no matter what he thought he was doing, forcing me into a duel after I had just gotten out of an exhausting fight was not the honorable thing. At least on the fighting front I should be safe.

Din raised his voice, speaking loud enough for everyone to hear him. “While exploring Mandalore, I was captured. And this blade was taken from me.”

Wait a minute, he had been actively disarmed by the cyborg? I blinked. So far I had thought he had merely lost his weapons when the trap snapped shut.

“Bo-Katan rescued me and slayed my captor”, Din continued. “She defeated the enemy that defeated me.”

I stood rooted to the spot as I finally understood the argument he was making. If I had defeated the creature that took the Darksaber from Din Djarin…

I was not the only one who put the pieces together. I saw Koska’s eyes widen with realization.

“Would this blade then not belong to her?”

Understanding was dawning in several faces. You could almost feel how the tide was turning. Even Axe Woves, for once, seemed to follow the simple logic of a Child of the Watch.

It was a technicality, I thought in disbelief. I had simply not known how he really lost the blade in the ruins of Sundari…

“Would it not belong to her?” Din insisted.

Still aghast, Axe nodded. “It would.”

Nite Owls exchanged glances, but no longer suspicious or hostile. They looked… accepting. They were actually accepting the verdict.

Accepting me as the legitimate wielder of the Darksaber. As their leader.

Din turned to me again and held out the Darksaber. “I return this blade to its rightful owner”, he said softly, and despite the helmet I could feel his warm gaze on me.

I looked down at the familiar hilt, too stunned to speak. During all these years of my frantic, obsessed search for the Darksaber I had imagined this moment countless times, when I could finally claim back leadership and set things right again. In my fantasies it had always been a moment of fierce triumph, a validation of everything I had done. A moment when my insecurities were finally obliterated and when nobody could question my competence anymore.

Nothing had included me winning the Darksaber on a technicality. Or my closest confidante pointing it out to me after months of silence on the subject. Let alone the Nite Owls accepting it like it was a matter of democracy.

It was strange, it was new, and it was absolutely frightening. I was not prepared. I was not ready. I knew my shortcomings would not magically disappear just because I held an ancient blade in my hand. Me having the blade would not rebuild Mandalore. It would not disperse the tensions between Din’s and my people. It would not clear me of the blame of the past.

But if I had gained something during these last months, it was resilience. If I made an effort, I could actually achieve something. Things could improve.

I could handle the unknown.

I reached out and took the Darksaber. For a brief moment Din and I held on to it together, like a whispered promise of a burden shared. Then he gently withdrew his hand and gave me a respectful nod, stepping behind me.

I looked down at the hilt. Reverently, with all the respect due to this ancient symbol of leadership that had once belonged to my foster father, I pressed the switch. With the familiar hum the Darksaber sprung to life, and for once nobody, not even myself, objected.

Which did not mean Din was going to get away with this stunt.

Once the question of leadership was settled, I threw myself into disabling the chain code trigger. Din joined me with Grogu as I made for the cruiser, playing right into my hands without knowing it. Only a skeleton crew was on the bridge, consisting of Kyo and Mel from the Nite Owls. It gave me a slight stab to see how they had changed during my absence. Kyo had grown a goatee in the meantime, making him look like Bail Organa’s younger decoy with almond-shaped eyes. Mel, our youngest warrior, who had become Kyo’s foundling during the Purge and vividly reminded me of a teenage Korkie, was slowly starting to grow a peach fuzz on his cheeks. They jumped to attention once they saw me and gave me the warrior salute, but their faces were wary.

I returned the salute before making straight for the commander’s briefing room behind the bridge. The doors opened with a hiss and a quick look inside told me the room was empty.

Good.

As soon as the door shut behind us and we were by ourselves, I turned to face Din Djarin, my eyes ablaze. “Did you plan this all along? To give me the Darksaber eventually?”

“It was yours.” He leaned back, looking relaxed. “I never managed to master it anyway.”

“I thought it fell off when you got trapped!”

“No, I did get disarmed”, Din said seriously. “My captor took it from me.”

“I didn’t know that!” I persisted. “You never told me.”

He seemed to think for a moment, then nodded. “You’re right. I didn’t.”

“Why?” I demanded angrily, cutting straight to the point. “Were you testing me? Wanted to see how long it takes me to challenge you for it?”

“No!” He seemed outright shocked by my assumption. “You have proven your honor time and time again. I know I can trust you.”

The honesty in his voice soothed my ruffled feathers somewhat. “Then why?” I asked, much calmer than before.

“At first I forgot to tell you”, he replied simply.

I stopped my pacing and just gaped at him in disbelief. “Forgot?” I repeated incredulously.

Din just shrugged. “I’ve been disarmed several times. I don’t keep count.”

Thank the Force we were talking in private! Had he admitted to his ignorance in front of the others outside, they would have denounced him as the dumbest idiot who ever wore a jetpack. Even I who apart from Grogu knew him best here, could scarcely believe how little store he set by the Darksaber. To my people it was the ultimate – and only – symbol of leadership. To him it was a weapon out of many, acquired by accident and never mastered. Despite knowing what it meant to the rest of the Mandalorians, he had neither ambition to seize leadership, nor the wish to even keep it.

I rubbed my temples. This man would never stop to surprise me. “You could have told me after the sickleraptor attack.”

He might have forgotten on Mandalore, but seeing how he had pushed me to take the Darksaber after the fight, at this point he could not have been ignorant any longer.

“I would have, had you let me”, he countered dryly.

This comment well and truly took the wind out of my sails. I remembered only too well how I forbade him to bring up the subject again. Maybe he had not tried to push the blade on me after all. Maybe he had simply tried to reason with me, only I had been too exhausted by the sleepless nights full of sickleraptor attacks to realize it.

“Fair point”, I conceded, somewhat deflated. Then I remembered something else from that scene in the forge. “Did you tell the Armorer?”

“I did”, he admitted. “While you took care of the injured.”

Hear, hear. “What did she say?”

Din looked at me unflinchingly. “That I should respect your wishes and wait until you are ready.”

Ready to talk about the Darksaber again or ready for leadership?

I did not ask Din aloud. He could not know the Armorer’s mind. I wondered if anybody did.

“So I won the Darksaber on a technicality”, I tried to put my confusion in words.

“No”, he said gently. “You won it by merit.”

Out of old habit I was about to brush him off. Then I started to see what he meant. Ever since it became a symbol of leadership, the Darksaber had caused our people to fight. They had constantly been challenging and killing each other for its possession. It fostered the division I had come to loathe so much instead of being a symbol of unity. My way of winning it had been highly unorthodox, but it was strangely fitting. Instead of going against my beliefs, I had gotten the Darksaber because I had stuck to them.

My respect for Din Djarin increased. While he might have given me the blade earlier already, the gesture had been much more powerful in front of a whole host of Mandalorians. He had chosen his time well.

“You are smart”, I said with some appreciation.

Din inclined his head with a hint of pride. “This is the way.”

“This is the way”, I agreed cheerfully. “Come on, let’s disable a trigger.”

Together we marched on the bridge. By now Koska had joined Kyo and Mel. She gave me a cautious nod when we approached, but I was too anxious about Clan Awaud’s surprise package to give her much thought.

“I need the crew roster for the cruiser”, I told her curtly. “Including the chain of command.”

It was clearly not what she had expected me to say. Looking somewhat confused she stepped to a terminal and started typing.

“Here it is”, she said after a moment and turned the screen to me. “What do you want with it?”

My eyes raced over the roster until I found the line that truly mattered. I looked at it as grimly as if it was Kad Solus himself.

“Delete Axe as commanding officer and enter my chain code.”

Koska looked at me with some astonishment. “Come again?”

“Do it!” I snapped, too much on the edge to humor her. It had to be done before we could move the cruiser, or all would have been in vain.

“Yes, Ma’am.” Koska forced her words out between gritted teeth, typing as furiously as if trying to stab the keyboard. “Should I also delete him from the database? Erase all his logs and files? Purge him from your memory?”

My head jerked around to her. “What the kriff are you talking about?”

Koska shook with anger. Her chin rose, her dark eyes faced me accusingly.

“Isn’t it enough for you that you wiped the floor with Axe and got him to step back in front of everyone? Do you now have to humiliate him further, marking your territory like this?”

My hackles rose with a vengeance. First Axe went all racist, now Koska behaved like I was the latest crime lord in town. We had been friends once. How had it all come to this? Had I even known them?

“You are so clueless”, I said in a dangerously low voice. “You have a chain code trigger with Axe’s name on it sleeping in the systems. Do you have any idea what we went through to find you all in time and defuse the damn thing? Don’t you dare accuse me of pettiness while I’m trying to save your asses!”

Koska blanched. “A – a chain code trigger? How – who would – ”

Despite my anger I noted that unlike me Koska immediately knew what a chain code trigger was. She must have picked up a few things during her time as a mercenary.

“A saboteur, sent by Vera Beroya”, I said pointedly. The name should ring a bell here if Beroya had truly fought with Axe via holo channel. “Skinny, blue and green armor, big chip on his shoulder, now gone without a trace? That would be him. Fed the cruiser a chain code trigger to blow Axe up.”

Koska swallowed hard and started typing again. “Putting your chain code in now.”

In tense silence I watched her progress, saw how she exchanged Axe’s chain code with mine and had the computer sort out the new crew roster. It felt like watching someone trying to defuse a bomb and praying to every god listening that nothing would explode.

“Done”, Koska finally whispered.

I felt myself slump back in relief when I saw the updated crew roster. My name and chain code had replaced Axe’s in the function of commanding officer. The chain code trigger had nothing left to latch on to. Kad Solus’ scheme was thwarted.

I allowed myself to feel the relief of finally laying down a burden that had nearly choked me for days. I dropped my face in my hands and took several shuddering breaths. We had done it. My Nite Owls were safe.

“It’s over”, Din eventually said gently, and I looked up.

He stood next to me and watched me, his demeanor oozing support. Within view of the skeleton crew he had made no move to touch me though, and I appreciated it a lot. The leader was allowed to have a brief moment of respite, but PDA while on duty was just not what I did.

With a sigh I rubbed my forehead and squared my shoulders again. Speaking of work, I’d better get some done. There was a fleet to inspect and a headcount to be made.

“Right. Let’s see how everyone is doing.”

Din nodded in agreement, clearly as eager to leave the cruiser behind as I was. Somehow it still felt contaminated, dangerous. Not safe.

“Bo…” Koska’s voice sounded very small. Reluctantly I turned to face her again.

The tough mask had dropped. Instead I saw her vulnerable features, the slightly trembling lips and misty eyes.

“I’m so sorry…”

Exhaling deeply I went over to her. Whatever her reason had been to leave me, she had not trusted me anymore as the leader. Rebuilding this would not be easy, so I better got started.

“We’ll talk later”, I assured her as gently as I could manage and briefly put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m too exhausted now.”

It was a plausible excuse after my fight with Axe, and Koska accepted it without question. I gave her something that might have passed as a smile, then walked away as fast as I could without looking like I was on the run. I was not ready yet to deal with our messy separation.

Little did I know what else the Force had in store for me today.

Back outside we took a walk through the camp. Moving between the Nite Owls I made a quick headcount to see if anyone was missing. Din was still with me, curiously studying the congregation of Mandalorians.

“So much blue and gray…”

“The heraldic colors of House Kryze”, I replied as we slowly made our way through the camp. Our banners had been blue and gray as well, with the golden coat of arms.

“Are they all your relatives then?” he asked, slightly astonished.

“Clan Kryze is different from other clans.” Explaining Mandalorian history to Din and Grogu had become a second nature to me. “After the Imps took over, I formed a resistance cell in the name of Clan Kryze. We recruited Nite Owls, former Death Watch warriors, members of other Houses and single individuals. Many painted their armor blue and gray to show their allegiance.”

“So you are not related to them?” he deduced.

“No, or just very remotely. Of my family there is no one left but me. Everyone you see became part of Clan Kryze by choice.”

Which made their defection only harder to stomach.

Din’s thoughts took a completely different track. “Like the Tribe.”

Well, that was one way to think about it.

I finished mustering the fleet, and I had to grudgingly admit Axe Woves had done a good job. Clan Kryze was strong in numbers, healthy and well, the ships in good shape. They were still a force to be reckoned with and ready for take-off. Still, there were stares and whispers I did not particularly like. From the way they behaved, one might think they had been wronged instead of me.

I was about to find a quiet place to share with Din and Grogu in order to get away from the stares and find some much needed rest, when someone behind me cleared their throat.

“Bo…”

It was Axe, using my nickname as if he had every right to it. As if he was still a friend instead of a power-hungry schemer. I let out a silent breath before turning around to face him.

“Yes?” I asked as neutrally as possible.

Beside me Din shifted his weight slightly, as if readying himself for battle. Judging by Axe’s glare, the gesture was not lost on him either.

“Can we talk?” he asked stiffly and jerked his head in Din’s direction. “Without him?”

Stoically Din remained where he was, merely turning his head to take in my response. There was no way he was going to let Axe send him away without my consent.

Truth be told, I was sorely tempted to tell Axe to go scud. His betrayal and his nonchalant behavior about it hurt me more than I cared to admit. I was in no mood to forgive and forget.

Nevertheless I knew it was the sensible thing to talk to him. Mandalorians were stronger together, and Axe and I were no exception. As a team we had been an unstoppable force. At odds we might well tear Clan Kryze apart, rendering the retake of Mandalore a pipe dream once more.

“I got this”, I assured Din.

He nodded his assent and Grogu babbled. The child eagerly pointed towards a few colorful butterflies, circling a blooming bush.

“Want to go there?” Din asked him and Grogu’s eyes lit up. Making happy gurgling noises he steered his pram towards the butterflies and his father went with him. Axe and I remained behind, looking at each other cautiously.

“Let’s take a walk”, I proposed tersely. Should things go downhill between us, moving would be a way to release tension.

Side by side we made our way through the camp. It did not escape me how our fellow Mandalorians glanced at us. They seemed anxious, especially Koska, as if expecting more animosity between us after our duel. For their sake at least I had to try and mend fences with Axe. If I could not even heal the rift between us both, there was not a snowball’s chance on Mustafar for Clan Kryze working with the Children of the Watch.

I did not really know how to begin, though. It felt plain absurd to be at odds with Axe. For years it had been him, Koska and me, the three sworn friends. We had been a great team and achieved a lot together. I simply could not understand what had driven him to oppose me. As much as our traditions needed to be preserved, I valued friendship and loyalty higher than the Darksaber. It was painful to realize he would only respect me once I waved the damn thing.

Axe too did not seem quite sure how to begin. Eventually he pointed his chin at the butterfly bush where Din sat watching Grogu.

“So… is he your bodyguard now?”

Quite a conversation starter, especially with the unmistakable sneer.

“He was there for me when nobody else was.” I kept my voice free of accusation, merely relaying the facts. “When the Imps bombed my castle and hunted me down, he spirited me to safety. He treated me as a friend, not an outcast.”

As expected, Axe immediately latched on to the part unfavorable to him. “We never cast you out!”

“Oh, you didn’t?” I turned on him angrily, my hackles rising fast. “Wait, that’s right! You merely stabbed me in the back and stole my fleet!”

“Stabbed you in the back?” Axe colored with temper. “Is that what you think of me? For kriff’s sake, Bo, I thought we were friends!”

For a moment I was on the brink of explosion. How dare he call himself my friend after this betrayal! I almost told him to shove his friendship where the TIE bombers don’t go, but managed to rein myself in. It would not do to antagonize him. I needed him on my side. Still, I was not sure how much crap I was willing to take from him.

“Fine, let’s start again, old friend”, I hissed between gritted teeth. “Tell me your side of the story.”

Axe glowered at me but nodded stiffly. “Fine.”

He did not speak immediately, as if struggling to find the right words. It was a tiny relief he seemed to find the situation just as difficult as I did. Even when not at each other’s throats, we both were awful at talking about our feelings. Give me single combat any time.

“You were a good leader all these years”, he finally conceded. “You had a vision, you were resourceful, and I would have followed you anywhere. Until this mess with the Darksaber.”

“The Darksaber or Din Djarin?” I answered flatly, folding my arms before my chest. I had better address the bantha in the room immediately and not start an elaborate dance around it.

“Both”, Axe admitted without hesitation. His dark eyes bored into mine as if he was trying to read my mind. “You refused to challenge him for the blade even on Gideon’s cruiser. Why?”

“Oh, dank farrik”, I said wearily as I remembered his disparaging comments about Din. “You thought there was something going on between us, didn’t you?”

For a moment Axe seemed on the point of agreeing with me, then thought better of it and shrugged it off.

“Doesn’t matter what I thought. He held the key to uniting our people, and you didn’t give a kark.”

There was no mistaking the bitterness in his last words. I frowned as I understood the implication.

“So that was your problem with me? You thought I didn’t care about Mandalore anymore?”

“What else was I supposed to think?” he countered. “Koska and I tried to talk to you, but you shut us out. All you did was sit around and brood.”

With a sinking feeling I recognized some parallels between his observations and my own experience during the weeks between Grogu’s rescue and my exile on Kalevala. The failure of reclaiming the Darksaber had kick-started my crisis, throwing me into the abyss of awful memories and past failures. In the throes of raw emotions my ability to communicate my feelings was even worse than usual. I had indeed withdrawn from my friends, though not out of disinterest for Mandalore.

“You had lost your drive”, he continued, encouraged by my lack of rage at his words. “Our people needed a leader, and you failed to deliver. An army can’t march on vague promises, Bo. They need a full stomach. That’s why I removed you from command.”

I bit my lip. Not a single reference to the Darksaber. Instead he was giving me rational reasons, and I had to admit his logic was rather sound.

“You do have a point”, I conceded with a sigh. While I was still having a hard time reconciling our two different perspectives, at least now his behavior made sense.

Axe looked at me closely. “I didn’t mean to kick you out”, he insisted. “I hoped you’d take it as a wake-up call to get your act together. Instead you withdrew completely.”

I winced under his assessment, acknowledging the truth in it. Feeling angry, betrayed and humiliated I had left them to sulk on my throne. From an outsider’s perspective it must have looked like I had abandoned everyone. First I refused to reclaim the Darksaber, then I neglected my troops. I, on the other hand, had believed Axe used my failure to promote himself.

If it was true what he said, he had removed me from command to protect Clan Kryze. He had taken charge because I had been spiraling down. Rather than letting our people go down with me or watching them desert the force one by one, he had kept them together under his leadership. As mercenaries they had been able to put their skills to use and to receive a steady income. He had taken care of them when I could not. This reason I could respect and understand.

“You were not entirely wrong”, I said quietly. “I was in no shape to lead. Seeing Gideon… losing the Darksaber all over again… it brought back bad memories.”

“I know.” His voice was full of sympathy. “I was there, remember?”

I did remember. He had been my escort when Moff Gideon and I had our fateful meeting. He knew what had happened and what it did to me.

“I couldn’t talk to you or Koska.” My voice was barely a whisper now as I struggled to remain calm. “I was… trapped in my own mind. There was no way out.”

I had pushed myself too hard on my quest to reclaim the Darksaber and Mandalore, I thought sadly. Never giving myself time to grieve or to heal, I had soldiered on with a dogged determination, turning more and more ruthless on my quest until I was almost back to my Death Watch self. When it did not work out, my strength had already been too taxed to sustain me. With neither purpose nor faith to cling to, I had broken down completely, and my friends had been unable to help me.

Axe tried a smile, though it looked slightly forced. This had to be the longest time since the Purge that we talked about our feelings. Most of the time we avoided it, trying to keep it together instead of pulling each other down.

“Looks like you figured it out”, he ventured. “You seem okay again.”

He was right, I was doing much better than before. It had needed a tiny Jedi child and his father’s plight to rally me. They had brought me in touch with my roots again, leading to me seeing a Mythosaur and living in a Mandalorian community once more.

But I was also feeling better because Axe and I were finally sorting things out. A lot of my anger had evaporated during our talk. Axe did not bother to lie to anyone. If he said he had acted out of concern for the squadron, I believed him. We had been through the Purge together, saved each other’s necks, got drunk together and celebrated our victories. He had no reason to refuse me his support unless he saw no other way.

“You needed me to kick your ass before you believed it?” I asked wryly.

“I had to be sure you were back on track”, he said simply. “Not just trying to get us accept the zeal… Djarin as leader.”

With this new information I could understand why Axe had put up such a fierce battle. He deeply distrusted the Children of the Watch. Me showing up with Din must have confirmed his worst fears: that I had gone off the deep end and joined a sinister cult. Small wonder he had refused to yield and taunted me to challenge Din instead. He would never have accepted a Child of the Watch’s leadership over Clan Kryze.

“You looked out for the squadron”, I summarized. In his own prejudiced way, but still.

“Owed them this much.” Axe swallowed, a shadow passing over his face. “Especially Sabrina.”

Axe… Tough Guy, you keep them together, alright? I’m counting on you.

These had been Sabrina’s last words to him, and he had done exactly what she had asked him to. He had not fought me out of hunger for power. I could see that now. Axe had acted like a good second-in-command while the leader was out of commission. I could not blame him. When it came to taking care of our troops, there was no room for sentimentality. He had made sure Clan Kryze got the best leader possible. Once he could be assured it would not be someone from the alleged enemy camp, he had stepped back and accepted my leadership again.

I cleared my throat, finally ready to admit it. “I owe you an apology. I should have known better than to accuse you of backstabbing. Had I been in your place, I would have done the same.”

This time his smile was genuine. “I’m sorry too. I should have realized you needed help. Instead I kicked you when you were already down.”

His words warmed me. In his own way he was as good a friend as Din Djarin, only their way of showing it was different. Din was the supportive one, someone to trust and lean on to when things got rough. His kindness had kept me going, his honor had inspired me. Axe was the one for tough love, unafraid of making himself unpopular by words or action. If he saw something amiss, he remedied it with his usual, single-minded determination. In my situation I had needed support, but with me shutting him out I could hardly blame Axe for not realizing it.

“Apology accepted”, I assured him. “I didn’t know myself what would have helped. What do you think you could have done?”

His eyes sparkled with humor. “Oh, you know, getting a professional. Dragging you to a therapist.”

I laughed out loud at the thought of Axe Woves of all people trying to convince me to get counseling. “I keep telling you we should rope in some New Mandalorians!”

This made him laugh too. It was an in-joke between us to demand the inclusion of the pacifistic New Mandalorians for all the tasks we were unwilling or unable to do ourselves. As long as they made no derogatory comments about us warriors, they had a lot to contribute.

He became serious again, stopping in his tracks. “Koska told me what you did today. Thank you for… for looking out for me even though you hated my guts.”

“I never hated you enough to want you dead”, I said simply.

“So… friends again?” he asked, extending his hand to me.

With a smile I grabbed his lower arm and he grabbed mine in return. “Friends, as always.”

Axe’s face split into a huge grin. “Good to have you back.”

“Good to have you back, Battle-Axe”, I retorted, grinning just as broadly.

It was good indeed to bury the hatchet and return to our former friendship. Another ghost haunting me could be laid to rest.

We walked at a leisurely pace now, the tension and awkwardness gone. To my joy I could see our relaxed stances being mirrored by Clan Kryze. They too picked up the changed atmosphere between us, and their relief was almost palpable. It felt like dark clouds had finally disappeared and sunshine was back in the camp.

“Nice move with the Darksaber, by the way.” Axe sounded almost appreciative.

“Believe me, I didn’t see that coming”, I snorted. “When I rescued Din, it was just lying on the ground. I didn’t think that counted.”

“Since he was disarmed by force, it does.” Thoughtfully Axe looked over to the bush where Din and Grogu had gone. “Good reasoning for a cultist. Didn’t think he’d use his head for anything else than wearing a helmet.”

“He is a sensible, honorable man”, I retorted sharply. “There is more to him than meets the eye.”

Axe looked at me from the side. “Please tell me you didn’t get married to him!”

“What? No!” I said, somewhat aghast. “We are friends and trust each other. Otherwise… nothing has happened between us.”

At least nothing obvious, but I was not going to bare this part of my soul to Axe. We were only starting to get along again, after all, and my feelings for Din Djarin were as difficult to pinpoint as my needs during the crisis.

“Alright…”, Axe drawled, but thankfully let it go when I showed no reaction. “So you’ve been with him during the last months?”

“His tribe took me in after the Imps bombed Kryze Castle to the ground.” Before he could launch a tirade about the Children of the Watch, I quickly continued talking. “Apart from their helmet rules, they are good people. Very loyal and very brave.”

Axe did not look convinced. “How do you know they didn’t just butter you up? Trying to curry favor with the princess.”

“Because they don’t care about outer trappings”, I said simply. “Many of them don’t even know the old houses.”

Axe muttered something under his breath. I was sure I discerned the words “primitives” and “under a rock”. Despite feeling offended on behalf of Din and the Armorer, I refrained from commenting. Axe was a proud Mandalorian and completely unused to the old families not being recognized. He would have a hard time getting used to the ways of the Tribe.

“You can’t win their respect by flaunting your status”, I pointed out calmly. “Only by proving your worth.”

“Good for them to respect you.” He gave me a lopsided grin. “Looks like you have a talent for taming zealots.”

“They are not Mythosaurs to be tamed, alright?” I rebuked him. “They are people. Mandalorians, like us. I forged an alliance with their leader. We managed to win a colony for our people on Nevarro.” I looked at him earnestly, hoping to make him see how important this was. “Together, we would be enough warriors to retake Mandalore.”

Axe furrowed his brows, clearly not overly enthusiastic. Remembering my original reservation about the Children of the Watch, I gave him time to think without interruption. Old prejudice could not be overcome within a few minutes.

“Would we have to stick to their stupid helmet rules?” he asked eventually.

“No.” This concern could easily be remedied. “I kept mine on at first, but their leader eventually told me to remove it. She is willing to compromise.”

“Well, that’s a first”, he muttered.

I refrained from giving a sharp reply. He might take a while to get used to the thought, and he was probably not the only one. If I wanted my people to give this alliance a try, I would have to walk a careful balance. On the one hand their concerns needed to be listened to and taken seriously. On the other hand I could not allow them to constantly belittle the Tribe.

“Are you willing to do a first?” I asked frankly.

Axe frowned again, but his answer came quickly, without hesitation. “Not sure if I can trust them, but if my commander decides to work with them, that’s good enough for me.”

Inwardly I breathed a sigh of relief. Axe promising not to start a fight with them on first sight was a huge step in the right direction.

“This is the Way”, I stated, then, on seeing his face, quickly added, “to reclaim Mandalore. Mandalorians are stronger together.”

Kriff, I had spent too much time with Din and the Armorer lately. Their way of talking had rubbed off on me. No need to freak out my already uneasy second-in-command. He would hear this phrase a lot during the next days even without me.

“That’s the real reason you didn’t challenge Djarin, isn’t it?” Axe looked at me thoughtfully. “You didn’t want to irritate his people.”

I kept my face under control. For Axe Woves this was surprisingly insightful, even though he only scratched the surface of the truth.

“You know how I feel about Mandalorians fighting each other”, I replied, neither denying nor confirming his words. “I won’t have more Mandalorian blood on my hands.”

“Weren’t you worried he would try to take over?”

It was a question I had asked myself countless times on Kalevala. Only after joining Din and Grogu on their adventures I had finally been able to put my vague impression in words.

“He doesn’t care about leadership.” My voice grew softer as I spoke about Din Djarin. “That’s why it was so easy for him to give me the Darksaber. All he wants is to raise his child and have the respect of his people. We both hope to unify the tribes and return them to our home planet. Turns out we are really good at working together.”

Axe accepted my assessment with a shrug. “I’m not complaining, as long as they don’t lord it over us.”

This was as much as I could hope for for time being, and I did not push him any further.

By now we had walked around camp in a big circle. I looked around for Din and Grogu. They were still at the bush, and to my delight Grogu was using the Force to let butterflies soar towards his father. His excited giggles carried through the camp and suddenly I realized how much my stay with the Tribe had made me accustomed to having children around. In our camp there were none. We were warriors, not a family unit.

Perhaps we could change this once we joined forces with the Tribe. Our colony was ideal for families with children. Reclaiming Mandalore would be a long, arduous task. Until it was fully inhabitable again, the next generation could be raised in the comparative peace of Nevarro.

“I want to go back to Nevarro as soon as possible”, I told Axe while we both walked slowly into Din and Grogu’s direction. “You guys haven’t been here for too long, have you?”

“Couple of days. Breaking camp won’t be a problem”, he assured me. “You wanna go tomorrow?”

Tomorrow sounded better than I had expected. “If you can pull it off?”

There it was, finally, this confident, brazen smirk that was so much Axe. It was a beacon to his friends and had kept Koska and me going when things were hard. Also, it was the signal to every Imp still standing to run as fast and as far away as they could.

“Challenge accepted.”

Chapter Text

As I parted from Axe, feeling better about him than in months, I realized Din was watching us. I had been too immersed in talk to notice it, but he had clearly paid attention. It was only natural, though. I had seen how he had been received by the Tribe when returning from Mandalore and my welcome by the Nite Owls had been even worse. Small wonder he was still watching my back, making sure nobody tried anything.

“Did he give you any trouble?” were his first words when I joined him and Grogu at the butterfly assembly. “You got loud there for a moment…”

Oh. He must have heard my startled response to the marriage question. Come to think of it, how much had he actually heard?

“No, he just got something wrong.” I felt a blush spread on my face and quickly dropped down in the grass. “He… made an assumption about us that needed to be corrected.”

“Did he, now?”

There was a hint of a growl in Din’s voice. It started to dawn on me that he had secretly harbored a grudge against Axe for the last few months. Someone as loyal as Din would regard abandoning your leader and taking her fleet as unforgivable, no matter how solid Axe’s reasoning might be for a Nite Owl. Of course I was touched by Din’s fierce loyalty to me but it did not really help my case of defeating Axe’s suspicion of… of marriage.

“Don’t worry, I got this”, I gushed out, far more quickly than I would usually have, silently begging the Force to make him stop asking questions. My cheeks turned pink with embarrassment.

Din looked at me maybe a little too long. I hoped I was just imagining it in my silent mortification.

“But you two are good now?” he finally said, thankfully not pressing the issue.

“Yeah.” I relaxed a little. “We sorted things out. Made up.”

Grogu cooed happily and came waddling over. I did not resist when he settled down on my lap.

“Good.” There was real satisfaction in Din’s voice. “Mind you, Paz will be disappointed. He hoped with his training you would reduce Woves to ashes.”

“Poor Paz.” I grinned at the thought, putting my arms around Grogu. “He has a lot of shocks coming during the next days.”

For example, a force of Mandalorians who would greet him by taking their helmets off. The thought was both amusing and concerning. I suddenly realized what a huge gulf separated the Nite Owls from the Children of the Watch. I had been willing to make compromises when they took me in and had managed to build bridges with them. Unlike me, though, the Nite Owls would not depend on the Tribe for shelter and provisions. They had no need to make things work, apart from their duty to me as the leader.

“This is not going to be easy”, I stated the obvious. “Not sure if Axe manages to get them all ready to leave by tomorrow, but even if we had a few days, they wouldn’t be ready to meet your people.”

“I’ve been thinking the same”, he admitted, sounding even more serious than usual. “Mine aren’t ready either. That makes you the one person both sides trust.”

I lowered my gaze, looking down at Grogu. He had force-persuaded a butterfly to sit still on his palm and now held his new friend out to me, giggling with excitement. It was a beautiful specimen, yellow with blue stripes.

“Very pretty”, I told him absent-mindedly before focusing on the issue at hand. “About the trust thing – I’m not sure the Nite Owls are there yet. I was gone for several months, and everyone thought I had abandoned them.”

He made a startled move. “Is that why Woves seized command?”

I nodded sadly. “You saw what I was like on Kalevala. It had been going like this for months. Axe did what he thought was right, to keep the forces together.”

Din let out a heavy sigh. “I see.”

“Now I have waltzed back into their lives”, I continued, gently rocking Grogu, “but the doubts and the conflicts are still there. Can’t let it fester.”

“No, absolutely not.” Din sounded deadly serious. “You have regained command, now you have to bond with them again.”

“Yeah, that won’t be done with a few rounds of Capture the Flag.” Especially Koska and I needed to reconnect. “Guess I’ll have to pull a Mandalore’s daughter again.”

“You mean the night before the final battle against the Alamites”, Din inferred. “Where Mandalore’s daughter walks from one fire to another, sits with her brethren and encourages them.”

“Yes.” I nodded decisively. “This is the right course of action.”

Not because I felt the need to prove to anyone that I was the modern version of Mandalore’s daughter. My reason was much simpler. By talking to them I could hear their concerns and address them. I had a chance of easing their worries and prepare them for the meeting with the Tribe.

I could patch up the rift between us. I had to, so we were at least a united front when we arrived on Nevarro. Like the Armorer had said, I could bring our people together. For that, I would have to get to work. Then I realized the logistic stuff we still had to sort out and sighed.

“If we are taking off tomorrow, we should get the Gauntlet here. I don’t want to go back to the palace for the night and leave the others behind.”

“Right.” Din squared his shoulders. “I’ll get the Gauntlet. You stay here and take care of your people. They won’t mind if I’m gone for a while.”

I will, I almost answered, but stopped myself just in time. We had work to do. There was no time for me to embarrass myself and sound like a sappy teenager who could not manage on her own for five minutes.

“Don’t stay away too long”, I said instead, relieved that I managed to sound all business-like. “They are going to meet your people and you are the only Child of the Watch around. They need to get used to you as well.”

His shoulders relaxed and I heard a smile in his voice. “Don’t worry. I’ll be there.” Then he looked at Grogu. “How about you, buddy?”

Grogu snuggled up to me in my arms and gave his father a satisfied coo.

“Alright.” Din chuckled softly and brushed Grogu’s face with his gloved hand. “I’ll see you two later.”

For a moment his hand lingered over my arm as well, then he stepped away from us both. I suppressed a sigh. After our lovely evening in the palace Din had withdrawn again, erected the walls and shields between warrior and princess. I understood he did not want to distract me from my task with my people and that he was merely respecting my take on PDA during duty. There were plenty of good reasons to explain his careful distance.

Still….

I watched him walk away, back to the hyperloop pod, the sun glistening on his silver, unpainted beskar. What would it be like between us when we returned to the Tribe, when Nite Owls and Children of the Watch would have to make a serious effort to work together? Would he still insist on keeping his distance, thinking he was an unwelcome distraction to the leader of both groups? Or would he see that in order for our people to unite, the two of us would have to stand together, to be the bridge between the two worlds?

Grogu squirmed in my arms. As I looked down to him, the child’s dark eyes were fastened on me with an expression I, strangely enough, had no trouble identifying. A certain frustration, thrown together with burning insistence.

“You are right”, I admitted with a sigh. “He won’t see it by himself. I’ll have to tell him.”

There was not much time to agonize over how and when to talk to Din. As it happened, my Nite Owls were breaking camp and every hand was needed to get everything packed up. I joined them in their heroic task and soon we were battling boxes, canisters and supplies side by side. Nothing like helping a few old friends out with their move to rekindle companionship.

It was hard to stay mad at each other while we worked together trying to fit boxes in cramped freight holds, searching the entire place for missing items and carrying heavy explosives around that must not be shaken too much. If you wanted to learn teamwork, you just needed to join a Mandalorian force on the move.

I could tell that my presence helped to calm my brothers and sisters down. If they had worried about me pulling a full princess on them and lording it all over them, this worry could be laid to rest. I was as hands-on as always and did my best to not interfere when they found solutions on their own. It was just a few friendly remarks I could share with them over the work, but they did a lot of good. Noela, a young warrior with her blond hair in two braided pigtails, actually grabbed my hands in thanks after I had helped her with the afore-mentioned load of sensitive explosives.

“So glad to have you back”, she declared with a beaming smile, squeezing my hands. It was rather heartwarming.

Also, Grogu threw himself into the work with a passion, babbling happily as he levitated a box right into the cargo hold. It was quite an ice-breaker, for the Nite Owls clapped and cheered him on. I counted it as a remarkable progress, considering how traditionally paranoid our people were when it came to Jedi. His undeniable cuteness took the edge off his powers, and his seemingly young age appealed to my people’s protective instincts. They took to him like a dianoga to water, and it led to several cheerful conversations between me and them. Grogu was a safe topic for all of us, and after a few hours I was sure he had been adopted as the official mascot.

The one person I did not seem to be able to get closer to was Koska. Whether on accident or purpose, she never ended up in the group I was working with. I had hoped we could team up, use the tasks to bond again, yet for some reason it simply did not work out. I wondered if she was even more insecure than me now. I had never been a natural at initiating conversations about feelings, certainly not my own. Thinking back on what I had seen and experienced with Koska, I could not help but realize she was even worse at it than me. I could, at least for a while, clamp the feelings down and keep on functioning. Koska, on the other hand, picked up fights whenever something struck too close to home. When the rage and pain became too strong, she took it out on others, like she had done with Boba Fett back in the day.

This was the reason she was avoiding me, I realized with a sharp pang. She was trying not to lash out. There was every reason to expect she had a bunch of feelings about the last months, and now she had to find a way to handle them without trying to beat the living daylights out of the legitimate leader. For her, this was a serious predicament, and truth be told, I was rather clueless myself how to remedy the situation.

After an hour of hard work, we all decided it was time for a break and have something to eat. To my relief the Nite Owls had gotten some good food from the duchess and Captain Bombardier. No ration bars but fresh fruit, bread and cheese as well as some local meat dishes. The food was set up on one of the boxes we were going to carry in last, so that we could help ourselves like at a buffet.

As soon as our impromptu table was set, Grogu made eager noises and wiggled to get a better look up there. I took him on my hip and a plate in my free hand.

“What would you like?” I asked him, encouraging him to make his own choices about his meal.

Purring like a happy cat, Grogu pointed to the bread first, then to the meat, then to every single other plate containing food. I let out a slight laugh, amused at my own naivety. I should have known better by now.

“Right. A little bit of everything, of course.”

Valiantly I tried to fill his plate with just one arm, but it was a hopeless cause. His wiggling in my arms got so excited that I dropped the spoon, and it was sheer luck the plate didn’t follow straight.

“You are incorrigible”, I admonished him and put him down on the ground. “No food for you until I have found your spoon.”

Of course the box was situated in the higher grass with plenty of hiding spaces for spoons. Grogu apparently saw no reason to help me out, even though it meant foregoing his food until the treasure was retrieved. Cursing softly under my breath I went down on my knees and felt around while the little rascal toddled around on the grass cheerfully, apparently without a single care in the world.

It could not have been more than a few minutes until I finally found the spoon, but on an empty stomach it was eternity. Holding the errand silverware tightly in my fist I got up again and made a point of grabbing a plate for myself as well, filling them both to the brim. With one of them in each hand I looked around for the kid. Being Grogu, he had not stayed where I put him down. Instead he had made for the next Nite Owl he could see, making tiny, waddling steps in their direction.

My eyes widened. Not just a random Nite Owl. Grogu was making a beeline for Koska Reeves. She sat on a crate with a caf in her hand, her helmet sitting beside her.

By now I should probably not have been surprised to realize Grogu was taking matters in his own hands. He often did when the adults around him did not perform according to his wishes. As I was watching in disbelief, he let out a happy cry to alert his target and then catapulted himself through the air into Koska’s arms. She gave a start but caught him, her reflexes as good as always.

“Hello there”, she said in surprise.

Grogu cracked a huge smile at her and babbled eagerly. Slowly Koska returned the smile. It lit up her face, let it shine from the inside. I had not seen her smile like this in a long time, I realized with a flash of sadness. Somehow, in the harsh years during the Purge and the hunt for the Darksaber, she had lost it.

“You remember me from Trask, don’t you?” Her voice was glad, joyful.

“Why wouldn’t he?” I asked gently, slowly coming closer. “You saved him from drowning.”

Her smile became more careful but it stayed on her face. “I wasn’t sure how much he would recall. Kids forget things…”

“Not this one.”

Grogu, still nestling in Koska’s arm, looked at me intently, his eyes narrowing briefly as if trying to communicate something. Then he eyed the food I had piled on the first plate and made an almost purring sound. I could not say whether he had used the Force to communicate his intention to me or if we just happened to have the same idea.

If Koska did not know how to initiate a talk, I would have to do the honors. And Grogu had just given me a fantastic opening to start a conversation about a completely harmless subject.

I perched down on a box by her side and held Grogu’s plate out to her. “Want to feed him?”

She looked at me first, then at Grogu. Right on cue he cooed, looking as cute as a button. He was not allowed to be so cute, I thought, stifling a grin. He turned grown, battle-hardened Nite Owls into adoring fools. But right now it played into my hands.

“Um… yeah, sure”, she eventually relented and took the plate out of my hand.

Balancing it on her lap, she chose a piece of meat and carefully held it out to Grogu. He made an almost meowing sound, pretending butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth and eagerly accepted the treat. Koska smiled again, happy at this little success. It was nice to see her carefree for once. I let her savor the feeling a little longer and seized the chance of having both hands at my service to get some food in my stomach. A Nite Owl marched on her stomach, and having emotional talks was just as exhausting as a physical fight. Besides, Koska might have stopped feeding Grogu, and he would never have let me live that one down.

Strangely enough, I was done more quickly than him. Usually he gobbled his food down and would present Din and me with his empty dish before we even could have finished our first portion. I had a strong suspicion he ate more slowly on Koska’s lap to give me a head start with talking. As long as he wasn’t done, there was a good chance Koska would not simply drop him and dash off. There was a certain besotted look in her eyes, and I thought it only fair to warn her.

“Careful with this cutie”, I said with a grin, putting my plate aside. “It’s almost scary how much he grows on you.”

“I can imagine.” She gave Grogu a fond smile, fishing for another treat on the plate. “I thought he had gone with the Jedi…”

Right, Koska had last seen Grogu when we both helped Din Djarin rescue him from Moff Gideon’s cruiser. She too had witnessed how the Jedi had taken him away.

“He chose his father over his training”, I told her. “Too Mandalorian already to become a proper Jedi, if you ask me.”

“Is that so, hmm?” She tickled Grogu under his chin when presenting him with his food. “Hard to imagine him in beskar.”

“Don’t let his looks fool you. In sparring training he kicked a more experienced foundling’s ass.”

Between chewing and swallowing, Grogu managed to look extremely smug. While there were no hard feelings between him and Ragnar left, he was clearly still very pleased about his win.

Koska was quiet for several breaths. I could feel the apprehension radiate from her like radio waves from a pulsar and admittedly, I was not feeling overly comfortable myself. I had been able to start the talk with Axe because of my sheer anger. It was a good motivator as long as it didn’t blindside me. Koska leaving me behind as well had not caused the same helpless fury. I had felt sadness instead, pain, a deep loss. With her things were far more personal than with Axe, meaning in this upcoming talk both of us risked getting hurt. Nobody likes getting hurt and warriors usually try to avoid it. Only the reckless ones, like Axe Woves and Paz Vizsla, storm straight into the fire. We others see it as a last resort.

Then I could see her square her shoulders, as if deciding to bite the blasterbolt.

“Was that while you were with the Children of the Watch?”

Alright, we would approach the subject cautiously then. I would move slowly, like I would have done with a frightened foundling. Like I had when pulling her out from under the ruins of her home, courtesy of Clan Saxon.

“Yes”, I replied gently. “I trained them to operate as military units. Sometimes the foundlings too.”

Anxiously I waited for her response. Unlike my talk with Axe, this conversation felt much more fragile. Axe could take as well as he gave. Koska, despite all her exterior fierceness, was far more vulnerable, and I simply could not know what would push her over the edge right now. It was a bit like walking on the frozen grounds of Carlac, when you never quite knew what hid under a layer of snow and ice. When every step could send you tumbling into a snowdrift or breaking into a frozen pond.

“So…” She moistened her lips with her tongue and made a point of looking at Grogu. “Must have been hard to get used to their lifestyle.”

“It was… different”, I admitted softly, “but they were very welcoming. Happy to have me, actually.”

Koska flinched as if I had hit her. Her fingers searched around on Grogu’s plate, just to find it empty.

“That’s… good for you. I suppose.”

Her voice sounded strained. She had sounded like that in the past when bracing herself for impact, and then it hit me why she was acting so scared. She thought I was just waiting for the right cue to explode into her face. To accuse her of betraying our friendship and leaving me when I had needed her most. To mercilessly point out how a bunch of total strangers had joyfully welcomed me into the fold while my old brothers and sisters in arms had deserted me.

I sat very still, my brain racing. I needed to continue the talk in a way that soothed her worries and at the same time addressed the bantha in the room. Chancing a glance around I could tell the other Nite Owls had picked up the atmosphere between us. Those who had sat in the vicinity had discretely moved further away, to give us time and space. I started to feel a serious bout of performance anxiety, knowing they all depended on Koska and me resolving our issues. The safest thing seemed, as usual, to stick to stuff we had in common instead of the things that separated us.

“I met survivors of the other clans there”, I offered. “Members of Clan Vizsla, for example.”

Pre Vizsla had already been dead when Koska joined the Nite Owls, but his clan had still fought at my side, recognizing me as one of their own.

“Did you?” Koska bravely soldiered on.

And suddenly I knew what to tell her to coax her out of her shell.

“And Clan Eldar.” I felt a huge smile bloom on my face as I looked at her. “Koska, Sabrina’s kids are there. And her sister.”

With a gasp of surprise she turned to face me, her cautious mask shattered by the revelation. “What? Laurana and the little ones?”

“Yes, all three of them”, I assured her happily. “You have no idea how glad I was to see them.”

“Of course I have an idea!” she burst out. “Burning stars, I was so sure they were…”

I could see various emotions flicker over her features, some of them good, others more gloomy. One I clearly identified as guilt. Not really surprising, seeing how we all owed our lives to Sabrina’s sacrifice.

“Sabrina’s girl still loves stories about the Nite Owls”, I told her. “She asks me for new ones all the time.”

Koska’s free hand withdrew from the plate. Instead it tightened around her helmet, as if she needed its solidity to ground herself.

“Look…”

She was visibly struggling for words. I felt for her. The Force knew how long she had swallowed her feelings of grief and loss. Ever since she joined the Nite Owls, after Clan Saxon had killed her family, she had rarely spoken of her feelings and preferred fierce sparring sessions to get it all out of her system. After the Purge she had stuck to the same maxim as most of us – no sob stories, or everybody is going to fall apart.

By now I knew it was not the healthiest coping mechanism. Sharing these so-called sob stories with Din Djarin had helped me out of my crisis. I doubted Koska had had someone she trusted enough to let her guard down. After breaking away from me, she might have had Axe by her side, but would have tried to be strong for his sake. It must be difficult for her to pull all these feelings out of the cellar into daylight after all this time and to put tags on them. Just as it was rather overwhelming for me to realize that I, with my rather limited competence, was by far the most qualified person in camp to help her out.

Guess we are going to figure it out together.

“I’m sorry for earlier”, Koska finally forced out. “You had every right to stake your claim. You won fair and square and you have to take control, I really get it. I just…”

Once more she paused. Luckily I knew her well enough to figure out what she was struggling to say.

“You just didn’t expect it to be my first course of action”, I said softly.

“No”, she admitted, looking up at me, her face marked by a rare vulnerability. “All these months I hoped you would come back and we could…” She hung her head in frustration. “Oh, I hate going all New Mandalorian!”

Despite the situation I felt a grin tug at the corner of my mouth. It was an old Death Watch joke. Whenever stuff came up that had to be solved by talking about feelings instead of just blasting it into next week, we would call it “going New Mandalorian”. It held a kernel of truth too, seeing how Satine had always tried to solve everything by talking things out and analyzing people’s childhood traumas. While we Nite Owls had broken away from Death Watch, the ensuing civil war and the Purge left us little time to develop new words and phrases. Some things just stick.

“What’s it gonna be?” I asked playfully, feeling on much more familiar ground. “Sappy? Touchy-feely?”

Koska rolled her eyes at me but returned the grin, if with some embarrassment. “Sappy.”

I made myself more comfortable on my box, pulling up my left leg and slinging my arm around it. “If it makes it easier for you, I’ve gone sappy several times during the last months. Including bawling my eyes out because someone handed me a tissue.”

A flash of guilt crossed her face and I winced slightly. Here went the first foot in my mouth.

Trying to cheer her up again, I amiably bopped Koska’s shoulder with mine. “Do your worst. I promise, you won’t out-New Mandalorian me.”

“Wait and see”, she snorted, but I saw the hint of a smile tug at her mouth. Looking down at Grogu in her arms she took a deep breath.

“I never stopped regarding you as my friend”, she said quietly. “I could understand, sort of, why you didn’t challenge Djarin on Gideon’s cruiser. It would have been wrong.”

I nodded vigorously, glad to see we were on the same page here. Attacking a father who had just broken his own heart by giving his child away to a stranger would have been low even for Death Watch standards.

“But the months afterwards were” – she struggled for a moment, biting her lip and thinking hard – “very difficult. You didn’t seem like yourself anymore.”

“I wasn’t”, I admitted freely. “Or rather, I was the worst version of myself.”

Koska nodded sadly. “At times I wondered if you would ever come back. You know… like with these people in the civil war who fell into a coma and wouldn’t wake up again.”

Despite my efforts to remain strong for her I could not suppress a flinch. Ouch, this one hurt. It was really close to home, considering how I had spent entire weeks on my throne in Kalevala like someone in a catatonic state.

“I felt I had lost you even before we left”, she said simply. “Then you came back and I hoped we could patch things up. Instead you went all commander on us.” She sighed deeply. “I know now you had to disable the chain code trigger, but earlier I thought…”

Her voice broke and she squeezed her eyes shut. Slowly I began to understand why she had acted so strangely on the cruiser.

“You thought I had recovered by going all Death Watch again. Bulldozing my way back in and not giving a kark about anyone else.” Small wonder she had been angry. “You wanted your friend back and felt cheated.”

Koska lowered her eyes to Grogu, not saying anything. She nodded once.

“I’m here now”, I said quietly. “And I’m listening. Tell me why you left.”

“I… I don’t know how to say it!”

She sounded furious and helpless at the same time. Koska Reeves, who had put Boba Fett in his place, apparently had found her master. Words. Feelings. And, if my suspicion was correct, memories. I well remembered the shadow of guilt on her face when I mentioned Sabrina’s family. If Axe had felt a compulsion to fulfill Sabrina’s dying wish…

I braced myself and took the plunge. “This is about Sabrina, isn’t it? About her last words to you.”

Koska turned away, clenching her jaw. It was her way of fighting a lump in her throat, forcing tears back. I had struck a nerve there.

Koska, you there, right? Take care of our girl for me.

How often had she heard Sabrina’s words in her mind? How long had this last request of our fallen friend haunted her?

“I failed.”

I barely recognized Koska’s voice. It was a whisper, a touch of a breeze on a brittle leaf.

“What do you mean?” I asked in a low voice, hardly daring to breathe for fear of breaking the fragile moment between us. This was such difficult territory for both of us.

Koska was silent for so long I started to worry I had driven her away for good. Then Grogu, who had been completely quiet during our exchange, silently nestled into her and wrapped his tiny hand around her fingers holding on to him. I could hear her exhale softly, and saw from the corner of my eyes how she slightly leaned into him. I knew from experience how soothing it was to feel the small, warm body right next to mine.

“She told me to take care of you, and at some point I couldn’t do it anymore.” Koska sounded exhausted. “Nothing I did or said seemed to make any difference. I had no idea how to help you and it was weighing me down. You were somewhere in your own world and I was so tired of trying.”

Who wouldn’t have been…

“It ate me up from the inside. At some point I started to resent you”, she choked out. “And I felt so bad about it because I knew you hadn’t chosen this and weren’t being difficult on purpose… but I kept thinking that it was all so kriffing unfair…”

She broke off, looking so guilty that I felt a surge of anger on her behalf.

“And you were right. None of it was fair”, I said fiercely. “It wasn’t fair I could not open up to you anymore. It wasn’t fair we were wiped out and it wasn’t fair that Sabrina had to sacrifice herself for us. And it also wasn’t fair that she asked you to do something impossible.”

“It wasn’t impossible”, Koska weakly protested. “Just… difficult at times.”

“You were not responsible for my well-being”, I pointed out almost harshly. “I was, and I did a shoddy job of it because I simply didn’t know what to do. There was no way you could have known.”

“I kept thinking I should have known. As your friend.”

I could tell some of my words did hit home, even though Koska was not ready yet to forgive herself. But she spoke of these thoughts in the past, letting me hope she did not harbor them any longer. At least not as strongly.

“You knew me better than others, agreed. That’s why you still had patience with me while Axe was already throwing the towel.” I put my hand on her shoulder and waited until she reluctantly faced me. “I had shut you out. You tried your best under the circumstances and put on the emergency brake when I started to pull you down as well. It was the right thing to do.”

“But Sabrina said…”

“Forget Sabrina’s words!” I said with some heat. “She should not have saddled you with such a burden, and if she had had time to think, she wouldn’t have. She was faced with the Purge and her own death. Nobody can think clearly in such a situation.”

I knew I had not. I had only been capable of knee-jerk reactions. Sabrina’s knee-jerk reaction had always been to look out for the Nite Owls in general and for me specifically. She had never forgotten I had given up my sister and my home in Sundari for her sake, had always tried to make up for it.

“Sabrina is gone.” It was painful but just as real as the destruction of Mandalore. “I will always honor and cherish her memory, but we must not let her last words twist us into something we can’t be. She would never have wanted that.”

Koska took a shaky breath. She didn’t reply but her free hand came up to mine on her shoulder. I laced our palms together and squeezed her fingers.

“Remember all these safety procedures they have on the commercial flights? Where the attendants tell you what to do in an emergency?”

This apparent non-sequitur made her blink in confusion. “What? I mean… yeah, I do, but how…”

Admittedly, stuff like how to fasten your seat belts and how to put on life vests had us Mandalorians regularly roll our eyes in exasperation. Still, there was one important piece of advice I had never forgotten.

“During a loss of cabin pressure the oxygen masks fall out”, I explained. “Remember what they always stressed as the most important part? Put on your own oxygen mask first and only then help others with theirs.”

Understanding dawned in her face. “You mean…”

“It works in real life too”, I confirmed. “You can’t help anyone if you yourself are suffocating.”

She nodded slowly. “I get what you mean. But I still don’t like leaving friends behind.”

“I know you don’t and I really appreciate you trying not to”, I said honestly.

During my exile on Kalevala I had often questioned Koska’s motivation. Despite my withdrawn state I had realized Axe was breaking away from me. Koska, on the other hand, had been on my side all the time. Until suddenly she wasn’t anymore. Her desertion had come out of the blue, and in my angry state I had blamed Axe for turning her against me. As usual, things were not really that simple. I could see that now. I had taken Koska for granted instead of realizing how much she sacrificed for my sake. Eventually she had left a horrible situation she could not remedy, and to her credit had not done so lightly. I could respect and acknowledge that.

“I’m glad you told me”, I said seriously, squeezing her hand. “You did the right thing. I’m really sorry I hurt you this much. I didn’t mean to.”

“I know that”, she replied almost fiercely. “We have been friends for how long? This wasn’t you in the slightest.”

Which didn’t make it less hurtful, but I could tell Koska was trying to preserve both her and my dignity here. Talking about her feelings was already taking a toll on her and she needed to keep it on a level she could handle. Which was fine by me. We needed to get some stuff out of our systems before we met with the Tribe. The deep plumbing could wait for later.

“I’m back now.” I amiably bopped her shoulder with mine. “And ready to retake Mandalore with you and the Children of the Watch.”

“Good.” She gave me a wry grin. “Big enough dose of New Mandalorian for you?”

Koska clearly wanted the talk to end. While I had found some peace in sharing my troubles, she was still at the stage where it was sheer agony to face all the skeletons in her closet. She might come to terms with it, given some time. In my experience things did get better once you had sorted through the bones. The beginning sucked, though, and I was more than willing to grant her a reprieve.

“Sure.” I grinned back. “Unless you really want us to hit rock bottom. You know, dance our names, craft stars to wish upon, shower our reflections with positive affirmations…”

“Urgh!” Koska doubled over and pretended to throw up in her helmet. “Just kill me already!”

I laughed out loud. “Told you I would win!”

A warm smile lit up her features. “I’m really glad you are back. The others are, too.”

“I got that feeling, yeah.” I looked over to Noela, who just enthusiastically threw a pigtail over her shoulder while fuelling a Gauntlet. “It… was surprising.” Before Koska could even try to reassure me, I trod on. “I wasn’t a good leader when you left. It’s only natural you’d all prefer Axe.”

She shook her head emphatically. “Bo, you know I love Axe to pieces, but he simply isn’t you. He can get the job done and our bellies filled, no question. But he isn’t very inspiring. He couldn’t give us a purpose worth fighting for. “

I blinked, barely grasping what she was saying. “You… you think I’m inspiring?”

Koska gave me a look of sheer disbelief. “With anyone else I’d think they were fishing for compliments. You really don’t know that?”

Mutely I shook my head, my thoughts racing. Inspiring? Me? Most of the time I was a complete mess who could barely keep it together for herself.

“Oh, for kriff’s sake, Bo!” Koska rolled her eyes. “This is the very reason Sabrina asked me to take care of you. Because she knew the effect you can have on people.”

Honestly, I was flabbergasted by this turn of the conversation. I knew by now I did a good job as commander of the Nite Owls and had done really well with the Tribe. Nevertheless I had always put it down to my experience and training, not to something like… charisma.

“You had no clue, did you?” She snorted good-naturedly. “Fine, if nobody ever told you, I’ll take this one for the team.”

Uh, oh…

“Bo-Katan of Clan Kryze”, Koska said formally and loud enough for anyone in the vicinity to hear, “you are an inspiration. You are a brave warrior and a great commander. When everything was falling apart around us, you gave us hope and a purpose. You have suffered as much as we have, and yet you always come back and do the right thing. It’s a privilege to call you a friend and an honor to fight by your side. I swear on my name and the names of the ancestors that I will follow you to the Children of the Watch and back to Mandalore.”

My cheeks were hot enough to power an entire Gauntlet for several hours. My throat was too tight to speak and tears burned in my eyes.

“So will I”, a voice sounded. Axe stepped forward, giving me the warrior salute.

“So will I!” Noela almost rushed forward, beaming at me.

“So will I”, Kyo echoed.

“So will I”, Mel agreed with his father.

“So will I.” Ella nodded at me.

“So will I.” Jake.

“So will I.”

“So will I.”

“So will I.”

All of them. Every single one of them.

When Din Djarin came back a little later, he found the Nite Owls sitting around a great crackling campfire, his son playing with Axe Woves and Ella. Mandalore’s daughter sat among her brethren, encouraging them with her stories, and on seeing him, with a smile beckoned him to sit by her side.

Chapter Text

Needless to say, I did not get to do The Talk with Din that night.

With the Nite Owls around me there was no opportunity to speak in private. At some point Grogu started to doze off and Din, caring father that he was, took him into our Gauntlet to tuck him in. I might have followed him in there, only I happened to be comparing notes about Clan Awaud with my brothers and sisters. This was too important to interrupt merely for sorting out my confusing life, so I stayed where I was and paid attention.

It was not a big sacrifice on my part, though. I had missed the Nite Owls and was happy to be reunited with them, basking in the glow of our restored bond. We shared the drinks they still had, passing bottles and canteens around in the flickering light of the campfire and I felt myself drifting back into memories of countless nights spent like this, among my comrades in arms, staring into the flames and watching sparks ascending into the night sky. No matter how troubled I might be, a Nite Owl camp at night always managed to give me peace.

On the downside of it, I got so wrapped up in this familiar little cocoon that talking to Din completely escaped my mind. By the time I thought about it again, it was high time to get some sleep. Tomorrow we would set out to unite with the Tribe and I would need my strength for that. Maybe tomorrow we would find time to sort things out a little better, I comforted myself as I lay down on my bunk and pulled the blanket over me. Yes, definitely. The camp was packed up and ready to leave by noon. There would be plenty of time in the morning to talk to Din.

Tomorrow sounded good.

With hindsight it was glaringly obvious how much I had been kidding myself.

Tomorrow turned out to be as chaotic and stressful as any moving day. For all our experience in packing the camp still resembled an anthill turned upside down. Nite Owls were running back and forth with some urgent last-minute errands, shouting to each other about stuff on their checklists and making seemingly random changes about who was piloting which Gauntlet. No matter how well a move was planned, something always went unaccounted for until it was almost too late. I should have seen it coming a parsec away.

To my mortification I was no exception. In the middle of a briefing with Axe I realized I had not contacted Clan Awaud yet. If I really wanted Vera Beroya to send us a few warriors of her own, they needed rendezvous coordinates. I had to tell them to meet us on Nevarro. So instead of finding time to speak with Din, I hastily withdrew into my own Gauntlet and dashed off a message to Clan Awaud. With all the rigamarole going on outside and with me being needed in a briefing I was in no mood for a proper holo call. A recorded holo message would have to do.

In very curt words – I was still not impressed by Kad Solus’ stunt and therefore not in the mood for smalltalk – I let Vera Beroya know that my mission had succeeded. The Nite Owls were safe and I expected her people to join us and the Tribe on Nevarro as soon as possible if they were still interested in beskar. I was fairly certain they were but it couldn’t hurt to remind Vera Beroya firmly that it was in her own best interest to work together.

Just as I was about to finish my report, another idea struck me and I lifted my eyes to the camera once more. “Should you happen to come upon more Mandalorians during your assignments, feel free to send them our way. We have a thriving colony on Nevarro and plan on retaking Mandalore soon. It will give Mandalorian freelancers something to do while keeping them out of your hunting grounds.”

Rather pleased with this final argument, which I was sure would carry some weight with the competitive leader of Clan Awaud, I made it back to Axe in order to continue our briefing. But my thoughts kept drifting all over the place. Nite Owls and Children of the Watch were teaming up and now we might get some support from Clan Awaud as well. Former Death Watch and Old Mandalorians working together sounded really amazing to me, even if it would just be a few watchers in the beginning. But who knew, once a proper cooperation agreement was established maybe some members of Clan Awaud would actually choose to stay with us and rebuild our planet.

The thought stayed with me even when the briefing was done and I was finally free to seek out Din Djarin. I could not help but wondering about the possibilities that were opening up before us. Janine Solus turning her back on them had proven not all members of Clan Awaud were completely satisfied with their life style. There might be more people like her who dreamed of a different life than that of mercenaries, yet so far had lacked options. I knew I would welcome them with open arms. Old and New Mandalorians alike, I realized with a wistful sigh. The New Mandalorians – if there were any left after the purge – might not be warriors, but they were creative, clever and dedicated. We would need all of that in copious amounts. For once our people had a chance of being truly united over a common task instead of constantly squabbling about conflicting beliefs and ideologies. It was everything Satine had ever wanted.

Every single Mandalorian counted in such a big endeavor. Rebuilding our planet would require an enormous amount of willpower and strength. Mandalorians were stronger together. Which reminded me I still needed to convince a certain Mandalorian that the two of us were stronger together instead of being separated by outer trappings like royal titles.

And that I had probably just missed my slot, for when I finally found him, the Nite Owls had roped Din in for a repair job on a Gauntlet that someone had managed to miss until now. While Ella and Jake could do their work standing, Din had all but disappeared under the Gauntlet on his back, only his head and arms poking out. The morning sun was gleaming on his unpainted beskar as he carefully screwed and wedged reluctant parts together. Grogu was standing beside him right next to a toolbox, closely watching his father’s work.

“I’ll need the hydrospanner for this part”, I heard Din say.

None of the Nite Owls made an attempt at handing him what they wanted, as if they were glued to their own work. I frowned and was about to step up when Grogu rummaged through the toolbox and brought out the spanner. So far I had not known it was possible to coo triumphantly but the little one pulled it off without an effort.

“Well done!” Din praised him proudly and the two Nite Owls close by smiled fondly.

Finally I realized what was going on. Din was using this opportunity to teach his son about tools. Ella and Jake had not ignored him. They had stood aside and waited for the kid to figure it out by himself. I could not help the smile on my face. It was such a father-son thing to work on something together, to pool your resources and celebrate your success. Seeing Din and Grogu do it was outright adorable.

I could not possibly disturb them now. They needed their time and space just as much as everyone else. As glad as I was about Din and Grogu having accompanied me here, I still felt bad about saddling them with my responsibilities. Without me they could just have been a normal Mandalorian and his foundling, happily reunited after a long separation. Instead I had to enter the picture, turning their lives upside down once more and dragging them across the galaxy to sort out my messes. While they had come with me out of their own free will and no doubt out of love and loyalty, I still felt bad for them. In a way, I was an intruder. Where I went, my troubles tended to follow. With a deep sigh I withdrew into the Gauntlet again. Might as well complete the preflight configurations and make sure I did not miss another task for today.

Right. No talk before take-off, then. Well, it was not the end of the world. There would be time on Nevarro. We would be able to talk later. Not hyperspace, though. I had no idea how long our talk would take, but I instinctively knew I would not operate well on a deadline. It would be better to wait until we just had time to ourselves. We had found it in abundance with the Tribe. We should be able to find some time there.

Yes, later sounded good.

Thanks to me playing remover for the Tribe, I could do the descent on Nevarro in my sleep now. I knew where turbulence was likely to occur, I knew when to slow down so as not to make the inhabitants of Nevarro City jump out of their skin with sudden, roaring spacecraft noise. They would be startled enough by the huge shadow of the former Imperial cruiser blackening out the sun, I thought with a slight grin. Hopefully the gigantic Mythosaur skull painted on the bottom side would give them a clue who we were.

Should talk to Greef Karga about a proper control tower and landing procedure for Mandalorian crafts, I thought as I piloted the Gauntlet towards the western lava flats. We might cause quite some traffic during the next weeks.

The wide area between the lava flats and Bulloch Canyon, stretching out beneath us, was flecked with the shadows of Gauntlets, stolen transporters and the huge cruiser, marking the land as our own. Strangely enough it did feel like coming home. Had I not known we would soon leave again to reclaim our true home, I would have felt very content and happy to come back to Nevarro, a safe space where my people could thrive.

Nevertheless I was nervous. I had thought the confrontation with Axe was the worst I would have to go through and I was glad it was over. Yet now it occurred to me that the first proper meeting between Nite Owls and Children of the Watch was about to happen, and that a million things could go wrong before they reached even the remote possibility of an understanding.

The very thought of Axe Woves meeting Paz Vizsla created a sound pounding in my temples. This was crazy. Two factions of our people who hated each other’s guts, and I seriously expected them to play nice? What crazy fantasy had I been indulging in? They were both descended from Death Watch. Neither of us was known for playing nice. Even with the Darksaber I could not guarantee everyone would be behaving themselves.

Something soft and warm landed on my lap, then I heard Grogu’s soothing coo. The little one must have sensed the onslaught of my dark thoughts and tried to make me feel better. Admittedly, feeling his small body close to mine grounded me somewhat. I was the leader of this entire Mandalorian mess. I did not have the luxury to come apart at the seams now.

“You are brooding again”, Din stated the obvious from his seat. He would know by now how Grogu would reach out when I was worried. Or maybe he had just gotten really good at reading me.

“I hope these two groups get along”, I sighed as I piloted the Gauntlet down into orbit. “They’ve never met, and what little they know of each other, they hate.”

“They will if they wanna survive”, Din said bluntly.

His answer was so down-to-earth that I did start to feel a little better. Nothing like a bit of common sense to put things into perspective again. We could not afford to indulge in our petty dislikes if we wanted to rebuild our planet. As long as everybody kept this in mind, we might actually be able to pull the first meeting off without anyone trying something stupid.

More familiar territory appeared beneath me, and soon enough I could see the tents of the Tribe’s camp rise on the flats. They became more distinguishable as we came closer, and when I started the landing procedure I was finally close enough to the surface to see colorful spots moving there. The members of the Tribe were coming out of the camp to watch our approach, and now I could actually recognize several warriors by their color scheme. Laurana and Mark Eldar, easy to distinguish by their sea-green cuirasses, stood side by side, waiting for us to land. Paz Vizsla, Toru and Kaya Mari almost formed a vertical line in moving towards us. More came out and in the assembling crowd I spotted Ellis Tindale, Janine Solus and Lin Tsue. Loé, Chu, Rhys and Asla. Ragnar and Ayk. Paz Vizsla. The Armorer. Friends and comrades.

For me at least. For the Nite Owls they were the sinister enemy, always hiding their faces and their true intentions.

I tried not to think about what the Tribe might feel at seeing the fleet steering towards them. Every Mandalorian with a little knowledge of the Clan Wars was bound to be anxious at seeing the sky darkened with another clan’s ships, unsure whether they were friends or foes. If I knew Paz Vizsla at all, he was already preparing for an assault on the camp.

One by one the Gauntlets followed my maneuver of slowly turning before settling down on the ground. Even the gigantic cruiser was parked with something akin to elegance. I released a breath I had not been aware of holding. We had landed an entire fleet without squishing our soon-to-be hosts or crashing one of their tents. So far, so good. I turned around in my seat and looked at Din Djarin, trying to steel myself.

“Let’s do this”, I said softly, giving Grogu a final squeeze and handing him over to his father, before opening the Clan Kryze channel. “Nite Owls, helmets on.”

No matter what Clan Kryze thought about the Tribe’s helmet rules, we needed to show we were at least willing to compromise. It would be easier to convince them of our respectability if we honored their customs first and then introduced them to ours.

At least in theory. In reality I was well aware what kind of offense my people would commit by removing their helmets in front of the Children of the Watch. All it took was one single fanatic to lose it and push everyone over the edge.

I really hope the Armorer knows what she is doing.

I stepped out of the Gauntlet, Din and Grogu by my side. Some Nite Owls had already left their ships and waited for me, their helmeted gazes never leaving the Tribe. Paz Vizsla stood in the front row with Ragnar by his side, flanked by Chu, Loé and Toru. He had folded his hands in front of him, which gave me a slight reassurance. This wasn’t one of his fighting stances. He had stood this way when telling Ragnar to listen to my instructions during training, so if nothing untoward happened, it would be wait and see from his side. Encouraged by his silent gesture of trust in me and my Nite Owls I walked towards him, flanked by Din and Grogu on my left and Axe on my right. Koska and the others followed behind me in quiet, measured strides.

As we came closer, I saw Paz lean towards Ragnar, gently touching his son’s arm. The boy nodded, put an arm around a smaller kid and started to lead the youngest foundlings to the nearest tent. I felt a wry smile under my helmet as I realized what was going on. Paz’ stance was unchanged, so he was not acting out of concern a fight might occur. He was sending the kids away to spare them the offensive sight of a group of Mandalorians taking their helmets off. Maybe he thought they were too young to be exposed to such shamelessness.

Inwardly I counted down the seconds until the fateful moment. My features needed to be in complete control. I must not show a singe trace of hesitation once our helmets came off. The Tribe deserved respect, but so did we. There was nothing to be ashamed of.

I stopped a few paces in front of Paz Vizsla, Axe close beside me. The Nite Owls stopped with me.

Axe had barely sat eyes on Paz when he already reached for his helmet and took it off, his face in his usual scowl. I had to consciously remind myself he was doing nothing wrong by removing a piece of armor in order to greet our hosts and allies. It was what common courtesy demanded in our culture. Still, I could almost feel the shudder passing through the members of the Tribe as one by one the Nite Owls followed Axe’s example. I held out a little longer than my brothers and sisters, carefully watching both sides to see what would happen. So did Din at my left side, as wary as I was. The Children of the Watch looked back in silence, their emotions unreadable behind their helmets.

Finally I also took off my helmet and gave Paz a nod. There was a barely visible movement of his head in reply, but I could tell I didn’t have his full attention. His stare was fixed on Axe, who in turn was giving him the glare usually reserved for Imps. Paz’ gloved hands clenched into fists and I felt my stomach clench as well.

Kriff. Hate on first sight between the two biggest pigheads I knew.

A metallic sound rang through the charged silence. The Armorer was approaching, beating her hammer and tongs together over her head, the Mandalorian equivalent of hitting a glass with a spoon in order to get everyone’s attention.

Thank the Force it worked. Both Clan Kryze and Children of the Watch turned to her and I felt my shoulders slump in relief.

“Welcome, fellow Mandalorians”, the beautiful voice greeted the Nite Owls. “We invite you to make camp.”

I could swear I heard a collective, relieved exhale from both sides. Axe finally broke eye contact with Paz in order to seize the Armorer up. Clan Kryze as a whole paid close attention to her, clearly torn between suspicion and an almost unwilling fascination. I well remembered how awed I had been to find a surviving armorer after the Purge. It worked to everyone’s advantage. I could tell they were relaxing their watchful stances somewhat. They did not feel quite safe yet, but no longer expected a sudden outbreak of hostilities.

“Let us prepare a feast for our guests.”

Her words were addressed to the Tribe but I knew her eyes were on me. I felt an appreciative smile bloom on my face. Nobody would feed the enemy. Offering food was a universal gesture of hospitality and peace. It should soothe some worries on the Nite Owls’ side and give the Tribe something to do. I nodded at her in greeting, my eyes twinkling. Hers were hidden, as always, but the sunlight gleaming on her helmet as she bent her head in greeting was all the twinkling I needed in response.

People around us dispersed. The members of the Tribe went to prepare the feast or get back to the foundlings. The Nite Owls slowly started to trickle back to our ships in order to unpack what we needed to make camp here. Axe though was once more locked in a staring duel with Paz Vizsla, his scowl deepening. I exchanged an annoyed glance with Din. He gave me a slight nod, a sign he had taken everything in and come to the same conclusion.

There are moments when being the leader means being a glorified nanny, I thought, miffed. I made a point of bopping Axe’s shoulder with some gusto and he finally moved to come with me, but not before giving Paz a sardonic smirk. Paz’ face remained concealed, but his body practically telegraphed his thoughts.

Later for you.

To me relief he followed the Armorer and so the two top dogs were separated, at least for the moment.

“Mando!” I heard a familiar voice exclaim happily. As I turned around, I spotted Greef Karga making a beeline for Din, beaming all over his face. He was wearing his usual statesman robes and I suspected he had come straight over from Nevarro City on seeing our fleet descending in the Mandalorian camp. “Welcome back, my friend. Welcome back.”

They shook hands cordially. I would have loved to join them and thank Karga in person for his invaluable help, but right now I had more pressing business to attend. I was still debating with myself whether Axe deserved a dressing down from beskar nanny when the communicator in my vambrace beeped.

Grateful for the distraction I pushed a button and found a new text message had arrived. It was a rendezvous confirmation from Vera Beroya. She had gotten my update on the situation and had sent out a Gauntlet with a few warriors. To my relief she had sent their chaincodes along, so no impostor could infiltrate us, should anything happen on their way here. I briefly checked their identities. The leader was Vera’s very own cousin Tim Beroya, accompanied by his husband Baihu, one Ann Lone and two Solus’, Fang and Dan. It gave me a grim pleasure to see Kad Solus was not among them. A wise choice by Vera Beroya. His life would not have been worth a credit among the Nite Owls. We tended to make short work of people who tried to blow us up.

According to Vera’s calculations they would arrive in the early evening of our time zone. Well, that was good news. Clan Awaud was still officially interested in a business alliance and therefore willing to invest a little manpower.

“Lady Kryze.”

I turned around. Greef Karga had walked up towards me together with Din and greeted me with a huge smile.

“I see your venture was quite successful.”

“Your help was invaluable”, I assured him, warmly shaking hands with him. “It won us some new allies.”

Karga looked as happy as if I had bestowed a knighthood on him. “I’m so glad I could be of assistance! So there will be more of your brethren joining us here on Nevarro?”

I could almost see the gears turning in his head. More Mandalorians meant a big chance for the small world of Nevarro. The rest of the planet could be settled and cultivated with more people around, and Mandalorians could provide security as well. Crime syndicates, pirates and imperial warlords would think twice about messing with a world inhabited by the fiercest warriors of the galaxy.

“I’m expecting one more Gauntlet tonight. Clan Awaud”, I added for Din’s sake, who nodded in understanding. “There might be more, during the next weeks.”

“They are as welcome as any of your fine people”, Karga assured me, ever the thoughtful host.

I just hoped he would remain as enthusiastic when his streets were filled with Mandalorians. Considering how eager Vera Beroya and her clan were to get rivals out of the way, there might be an entire flood of Mandalorians pouring in on this unsuspecting world. Many people were generally willing to help refugees but quickly lost their enthusiasm when said refugees had difficulties to integrate themselves into a foreign system and seemed to just lurk around.

“If you are amenable, High Magistrate, we can work out landing procedures and safety protocols to make sure Nevarro City isn’t overwhelmed”, I politely suggested. With all the organizational stuff on my plate I was not really enthusiastic about adding politics, but I had to look at the bigger picture here.

“Of course, Lady Kryze.” He nodded understandingly. “I have had some first, very productive talks with your Armorer already, to make sure our two people can live as good neighbors. If more people are coming, we can re-negotiate.” His eyes flicked over to Din Djarin. “Listen, will it be alright for you if I borrow Mando and the little critter for a while? I have something back in Nevarro City I would like to give them.”

Din looked at me expectantly. I knew this very instant he would abandon Karga’s side and stay with me for as long as I liked, should I ask him to. But I could also tell he genuinely enjoyed the magistrate’s company and admittedly, it was a rather beautiful bromance to behold.

In a way, Din leaving camp might make my task easier. Instead of constantly worrying about catching him for a talk, I could get as much preparation out of the way as possible in his absence and then be at my leisure to talk to him during the feast. Once everyone had eaten, there should be a quiet moment for him and me to sort things out. Until then, I would succumb to the buzz of camp life and get some organizational stuff done.

“Sure, take them along”, I told Karga. “I’m sure you’ll have a lot to talk about.”

The high magistrate stepped a little closer to me, his eyes twinkling with mirth. “I gave Mando a little present already”, he whispered conspiratorially. “With you in mind. Don’t miss out on it!”

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. “In this case I won’t”, I replied playfully before turning to Din. “See you later.”

“Of course, Lady Kryze.” He gave me the warrior salute but refrained from doing anything else while we were in public.

I kept my eyes on him as he walked away from me, accompanied by Grogu in his pram. While I knew better than expecting him to be all openly affectionate with me, I felt a strange hollow sensation in my chest. I was already missing our close relationship from Plazir-15. During our time there I had sincerely started to hope we might…

Grogu stopped his pram as his father and Karga were scaling a dune and turned back to me. For a moment his intelligent dark eyes lingered on me, then one of them closed for merely a moment. The other stayed open, giving me a mischievous look.

He was winking at me. The kid was planning something and wanted me to know it.

Someone in the camp called out to a comrade, pulling me out of my thoughts. I straightened up and told myself to get my act together. The Nite Owls needed to unpack – and unwind – and I absolutely needed to bring the Armorer up to speed. She didn’t know yet about Clan Awaud sending some watchers over. Might as well prepare her for another possible clash of cultures.

I saluted Grogu with two fingers at my temple and resolutely walked back into camp. There was work to be done. The Talk could wait for later.

“The Old Mandalorians are still alive?”

I had just finished giving the Armorer my report on everything that had happened since we parted. We were sitting together in the forge, close enough for our knees to almost touch. Her voice was as calm as always but I could detect a hint of excitement in her demeanor.

“Yes, Clan Awaud from Concordia”, I confirmed. “The original house seems gone, so now the clan consists of the descendants of Nam Beroya’s people, some of Janine Solus’ relatives and a few others. They don’t want to get involved in politics, but they are interested in beskar. So they are sending a few of their own here to give us a hand, if necessary.”

She looked at the blue flames of the forge thoughtfully. “When Janine Solus joined us, I gained the impression her people were gone. She seemed lonely. Bitter.”

I perked up my ears at that, though admittedly, lonely and bitter were sort of the default settings of us survivors of the Purge. Nobody would question her over this attitude, if only to avoid another sob story.

“She never told you her clan was still alive? That’s odd”, I mused, wondering suddenly if she was an outcast. “Sounds like bad blood.”

“It does indeed”, she agreed. “We need to find out before the envoys arrive.”

“Kriff, that would just be it”, I muttered, shaking my head. “A clan feud erupting on the very evening of our return to Mandalore. I’ll go talk to her, find out if we should make preparations. With some luck it’s just some misunderstanding and we can actually join forces with the Old Mandalorians.”

The Armorer did not reply immediately. She looked at me in silence, her golden helmet perfectly still. A few months ago it would have unnerved me. By now I was much less skittish, more at ease around her. In a way she felt as familiar as Satine by now, even though she was so different from my sister.

“I knew you would be the one to unite our people”, she eventually said simply, reiterating her trust in me. “You have struck a spark that will light the fire of our hearts again.”

For once I did not recoil from praise. While I was still my own harshest critic, I was reasonably proud of the outcome of my search for the Nite Owls. Not only had I brought them back but also won the Darksaber without having to violate my principles. Clan Awaud’s cooperation, limited as it may be, was a beautiful cherry on top. I had achieved all this through hard work and while I could not have done it on my own, the success felt deserved.

“I couldn’t have done it without the Tribe”, I said softly, returning praise where it was due. “Or without your support.”

She was the one who had welcomed me into the covert. She had believed in me and chosen to take the risk of entrusting leadership to me. Whatever I had achieved during the last months, it had been thanks to her having my back.

“I merely gave you a spark. The rest was your doing, Lady Kryze.” I heard a soft smile in her voice. “Once the flame is lit, everything is possible.”

I gave a somewhat sheepish smile, feeling a deep warmth inside me. The Armorer’s good opinion meant so much. Deep inside I would probably always remain the young girl who longed for a pat on the head and the words: “Well done, Bo-Katan.”

“When do you think should we leave for Mandalore?” I asked her eventually.

“As soon as possible”, she replied without hesitation. “Tensions will run high with two tribes around and no common work to unite them.”

I felt a little stab of nervousness at her words. “What kind of soon are we talking about?”

“Tomorrow”, the Armorer answered promptly.

I knew I shouldn’t have asked. If I had kept my mouth shut, my workload would not just have been increased dramatically.

“Our people’s hearts are stirred now”, she explained calmly. “You need to strike the beskar while it is still hot.”

She was right, of course. Two tribes of underemployed Mandalorians who happened to hate each other’s guts out of tradition was a fail-safe recipe for disaster. Throw in some Old Mandalorians to spice things up, and Nevarro could turn into a war zone. We needed to act as long as everyone could still agree on a common goal. A few days of mutual annoyance would quickly disperse any notion of cooperation. Especially considering what dirty looks – or postures, respectively – Axe and Paz had already been trading. People on both sides might follow in their footsteps. Sometimes being the leader meant working on a tight schedule in order to prevent catastrophes.

“Tomorrow it is”, I agreed heavily.

I should not be an ingrate. Retaking Mandalore was all I had wanted since the Purge. It had taken me years, and, literally, sweat, tears and blood to get so many Mandalorians to join me. Now that I was within reach of getting our planet back, I must not give in to a bad temper just because it was not going to be a cake walk.

Or because I simply found no time to talk to Din Djarin.

One step after the other, I told myself fiercely before I could start to actually mewl in self-pity. First, get out of the Armorer’s forge.

My body obeyed, like a good soldier should. I stepped out into the open again, blinking against the bright sunlight. It did not help that it was reflected on countless armors and helmets. The camp was literally brimming over with Mandalorians, now that the Nite Owls had arrived and started to settle down a little.

Second, find the people you need to talk to…

I found Janine Solus in one of the tents, finishing the repair of an air conditioner. Asla from the Shriek-hawks was with her, double-checking Janine’s progress with a manual. Patiently I waited while Asla ran a few final test before nodding in satisfaction.

“Looks good. I’ll go install it. You get a break now”, she told Janine quite pointedly while lifting the device up.

While Janine made no movement indicating a reaction, I was fairly certain she was rolling her eyes behind her pale red helmet. Or had it once been purple? It was hard to tell with the color so bleached out, and both hues were popular among Clan Awaud.

“Good that you are on break”, I said crisply, no doubt earning myself a cross look from Janine but feeling free to ignore what I could not clearly see. “I need to talk to you.”

She folded her arms as if bracing herself. I had yet to meet someone feeling at ease when hearing someone needed to talk to them. It usually spelled trouble.

“How bad is it?” she asked bluntly, cutting right to the chase.

“Clan Awaud is coming”, I answered in kind. “Vera Beroya is sending five of her warriors, as envoys for the Mandalore mission.”

Whatever she had expected, it was clearly not this. She exhaled deeply, her body seeming to deflate.

“Dank farrik”, she muttered under her breath. “Who is it?”

I pushed the button on my vambrace and showed her Vera Beroya’s list. “The Solus ones are your kin, aren’t they?” It was a rhetorical question. We both knew how clans and their names worked.

She nodded reluctantly. “Fang is my father, Dan my brother. Haven’t seen them since I left Vlemoth Port.”

“Should we be worried?” I asked frankly. “About a feud between you?”

I sincerely hoped not. After waging war on my own sister and paying a terrible price I would not be able to watch more siblings fighting each other. Besides, any kind of conflict between Mandalorians could turn the already fragile situation in camp into a thermal detonator on a countdown.

“Feud?” Her head came up at that. “No! That’s not what happened. Just a difference of opinions.”

“Could you guys sort it out?” I asked cautiously. I really didn’t want to pry into a family’s affairs but I needed to know where we stood here. It was my job to keep my people safe.

“I left.” Janine shrugged. “They know I’m not coming back. You could say we have a truce. Not looking forward to having another round of discussions, but I’ll survive.”

I felt myself wince slightly in sympathy. Clan Kryze had had their own share of awkward family reunions. We had been divided by politics, though. Both Clan Awaud and the Tribe were notoriously apolitical, apart from the usual Mandalorian dislike for the Empire. Janine’s split from her clan must have been the result of some other conflict.

“Right.” I cleared my throat. “So if there is no bad blood between you guys… would you be my intermediary for them? It might help to smooth things out.”

“Sure”, Janine replied flatly and very, very unenthusiastically.

I looked at her thoughtfully, then decided to try and dig a little deeper. The Armorer had said Janine had been bitter and behaved like she was completely alone. I wanted to know what had happened.If she told me to shove it, I would. But who knew, she might seize the opportunity to tell her side of the story. Sometimes being the leader meant listening to your people, both to gather information and to make sure they were alright.

“Arumorut looked like a thriving Mandalorian colony to me. Why did you leave?” I asked gently.

Janine stared at the tent canvas as if it was the most interesting thing she had seen in her life. The silence drew on for so long that I already contemplated giving up and leaving, when finally she spoke again.

“Because Clan Awaud’s life is empty. They don’t believe in anything. All they want is money.” She looked down on her gloved hands. “They could not give me what I wanted.”

Janine sounded as if she was talking to herself rather than to me. I wondered if she had agonized over her decision before finally making her choice. If she had presented her arguments to herself, testing them from all angles, before reluctantly facing the rest of her clan.

“What did you want?” My voice was almost a whisper, so as not to disturb her train of thought.

“A meaning in my life”, she answered without hesitation. “While I was with them, I was but a shadow in armor. As a mercenary you are taught to not lift a single finger unless you get paid for it. Nobody asked if I wanted that. I felt my clan did not really see me.”

“I met some of your clan”, I ventured carefully. “Avin Solus and his son, Kad Solus.”

“Oh, Kad.”

I could almost see the snarl behind her helmet, then her voice changed. When she spoke again, it was a surprisingly accurate imitation of Kad Solus’ voice, though heavily laced with disdain. No doubt she was quoting him.

“I’ll get right to it. I don’t like taking these pity jobs, there’s a high risk of getting killed and an even higher risk of not getting paid.”

I could not help a surprised laughter. “You do sound like him.”

She snorted, reverting back to her own voice. “He likes to show how tough and jaded he is. Maybe it helps him to forget he himself was a pity job once.”

“Oh?” I asked curiously. “How come?”

“He was a slave on Tatooine for the first five years of his life”, she explained. “When we got an assignment to finish off a trafficking crime syndicate, he warned us of an ambush. Once we had dealt with the slavers, Uncle Avin took Kad in as his foundling. I guess now he is over-compensating to show how well he has been brought up. To prove he’ll never need pity again.”

“Trying to fit in with the foster family to show his gratitude”, I muttered, more to myself. I knew a thing or two about this phenomenon.

“He is all about getting an even deadlier gun, the sharpest knife, the most precise rocket…” Janine made a dismissive gesture with her hand.

Another one who valued outer trappings more than actual worth, I thought with a sigh. I was no great judge of character, but while I acknowledged Kad Solus’ loyalty to his clan, after the stunt he pulled on the Nite Owls I was not quite convinced of his honor. The honorable thing would have been an open challenge instead of sneakily installing a death trap in a ship full of unsuspecting people.

“It takes more than combat gear and an inflated sense of self-importance to make a Mandalorian”, Janine continued. “It takes honor, loyalty, character. These are the things that truly matter. You can’t buy them with credits.”

“I can see what you mean”, I agreed with her. “That’s why you joined the Tribe?”

She nodded. “To them the old values actually mean something. They don’t just pick those they like and ignore everything else.”

My cheeks burned with shame. During my Death Watch times I had done exactly that, focusing on glorifying martial prowess without caring much about our ancient code of honor.

“I wasn’t that different, at a time”, I muttered, making a point to not look at her.

“Eventually you chose to be different”, she said without a hint of judgment. “Just like me.”

I studied her in silence. I remembered how easy it had felt to switch sides, from Death Watch to Satine. A single choice had done it. If only I could have undone every atrocity I had committed with Death Watch just as easily...

Better not go down this path just now.

I cleared my throat, trying my utmost to look composed. “I suggest we met them together when they arrive. I need to go now, organize the trip to Mandalore.”

Janine nodded. “Let me know if I can help with anything.”

I was about to turn around and leave, when a last thought struck me. “Anything I should keep in mind for talking to them?”

“With Clan Awaud, it’s all about contracts. They’ll fulfill their part of the bargain, nothing more and nothing less. Make your expectations clear and stick to them.” Janine leaned slightly forwards, a fierce smile in her voice. “Don’t let them walk all over you.”

I smiled back just as grimly. I had worked too hard for all of this to let some mercenaries take it away from me. “Not gonna happen.”

If I got to see another inventory list at my funeral, it would be too early.

As I had found out the hard way on Plazir-15, moving a troop of people on short notice was a logistic challenge at best and a nightmare at worst. The Nite Owls had kept good track of their stuff and knew how to pack quickly and efficiently. Still we had had our hands full to get everything done and shipped quickly. With the Children of the Watch, chaos reached a new level.

The Tribe, while having been constantly on the move as well, had mostly done so on short notice. More often than not they had barely scrambled away from a new attack with nothing more than what they had on their backs, scattered all over the galaxy and only managed to get back together months later. Making inventory for them could have been thought up by a particularly sadistic Imperial torturer. While the Armorer had done her utmost to get some order in the provisions and boxes random families or individuals had brought along, every day worries had kept the Tribe occupied. Like, fighting pirates or getting simple stuff done, like taking care of their children and providing the camp with electricity. By the time I returned with the Nite Owls, anything resembling inventory lists had disappeared under a huge pile of everyday life chores. Things we assumed to exist had been dismantled and repurposed. We had never even gotten around to see what equipment had survived our battle with the pirates.

Cursing under my breath, I set the Shriek-hawks to work. They at least knew how to do military inventory and worked fast and diligently. Also I told Jake, the Nite Owls’ quartermaster on the cruiser, to get our spare jetpacks and beskar overalls ready for handing out. We would need volunteers of the Tribe to go to Mandalore with us, and after I had spent months among them, I knew exactly how dire their jetpack situation was. I well remembered how difficult it had been to get fuel for their outdated packs and how both Ragnar’s and later the Shriek-hawks’ lives had hung in the balance because of the shortage. This simply would not do on Mandalore. I would need teams to go into orbit every once in a while, seeing we could not even communicate through the atmosphere. Without a ship, if things really went scud on the planet.

Here the beskar overalls came in as well. They were light, tightly fitting spacesuits, enabling the wearers to fly from the planet surface to a ship in orbit without succumbing to the cold and vacuum of space. Needless to say, the impoverished Tribe was severely under-supplied in this area, and since they trusted me with their lives I would protect them as best as I could.

No more deaths because of negligence, I vowed to myself as I helped Jake getting things ready by updating our own inventory lists, while at the same time cross-referencing them with what the Shriek-hawks found in the Tribe’s supplies. Not on Lady Kryze’s watch. The losses will start on their own anyway once we set foot on Mandalore, either through accidents or mistakes. Keep the numbers as low as possible.

And that was only the military equipment. Once we were done with that, we had to think about what supplies and tools to bring to a barren planet in order to even survive there for a few days.

We Nite Owls and Shriek-hawks literally spent hours preparing everything, and it was bone-breaking, exhausting work. More than once I felt like just sliding down, giving up and feeling like an utter failure once more. It was so much work. A huge pile of it, and I simply seemed unable to catch up. Had I not known that my people counted on me, that they were eager for this project to go ahead and succeed, I might have thrown the towel out of sheer frustration. The thought of them inspired me to soldier on, to increase my efforts and to tackle each problem on the way as fiercely as if it had been personally responsible for the Purge. The Armorer had had a point, I realized as I worked my way through the jungle of planning. Once the flame was lit, everything was possible.

As long as you get the spark going in the first place and have lots of kindling in store to continue…

At some point much later Jake came over to me. His usual butterscotch skin tone was pale enough to look yellowish, he had bags under his dark eyes and his short, kinky hair looked as if he had tried to tear it out several times today. He looked as knackered as I felt.

“’S as good as it gets”, he informed me, putting a final list in my hand. “Should work out. I hope”, he added, stifling a yawn.

I ran a brief glance over the list, which astonishingly enough seemed complete. Too tired even to feel relief I looked out of the window. The sun had gone down already and the sky had turned a deep blue, littered with the first hints of the brightest stars in the sky. My brain was in shambles and I could swear I would break out in hives if I had to sign one more supply list today.

“Let’s call it a day”, I agree with a sigh. “Off you go. Last one turns out the lights.”

Which implied already I would be the last one.

Once Jake was gone, I looked down at the last Datapad in my hand and listlessly dropped it on the desk, where it bounced off just to fall into the trashcan. I did not even have the energy to get up and take it out again. All I wanted was to put my head on my arms on the desk and close my eyes for a moment.

As I found out the hard way, this was exactly what I did. Only not just for a moment.

Much later than just a moment I was rudely awoken by a faint, but very familiar voice yelling: “Grogu! You can’t go in there!”

I might have considered sleeping on, seeing the voice clearly belonged to Din Djarin and not to some dangerous intruder. But then to my astonishment I heard a regular metallic stomping noise and a droid voice stubbornly repeating:

“Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes…”

My head flew up from the desk, I scrambled back to my feet, still slightly disoriented from sleeping. The noise and the metallic voice came closer and closer. Was Din on a droid hunt once more and the poor creature was making a run for my office?

Before the thing, whatever it was, could break through the door I quickly pushed the button to open it, my hand close to my blaster.

“What the kriff --”

My words died on my lips. My eyes went huge.

In the corridor before me stood an IG-series assassin droid. This alone would have brought the blaster in my hand in the blink of an eye, but to my astonishment it had a little pilot in its chest. Two familiar dark eyes twinkled at me from the booth, two tiny hands held on to controls.

“Grogu?” I yelped in disbelief.

The kid beamed at me and repeatedly pushed a button. “Yes”, the robot affirmed. “Yes. Yes.”

So that’s where this voice had come from. I blinked, trying to shake off the last remnants of sleepiness to comprehend the situation.

“How… what?!”

“Grogu!” Din rounded the corner, throwing his son a look so annoyed it made it through the helmet. “Sorry for that, Bo. He was not supposed to just barge in here.”

Bo.

It was as if a flip was switched in my mind. A lever that had been set on Lady Kryze for ages was now determinedly shifting to Bo, a much more relaxed mode. The leader who had to organize a recon mission on short notice took a step back and made room for the woman, exhausted from a long day but brimming with joy at seeing two of her most favorite people.

Grogu’s eyes twinkled at me mischievously as if reading my thoughts. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

Din groaned in exasperation. “Grogu, stop it!”

The child beamed at me happily. The only sign he was paying any attention to his father was his repeated slap of the other button, resulting in a stream of “No. No. No. No. No.”

My eyes went back and forth between father and son with every “yes” and “no”, and suddenly I burst out laughing. This was so absurd it was bordering on hilarious.

“This… this is a kriffing assassin droid”, I managed to get out between guffaws. “How did he even--”

“Karga”, Din muttered sourly. “He thought it was a great idea to repurpose IG-11. Grogu jumped at it. You should have seen the commotion he caused in town!”

Grogu’s face was a picture of innocence. As if to show how well behaved he was, he let the IG unit walk around at a reasonable pace, let it pick up my dropped datapad and gingerly put it back on the desk.

“He seems to be doing fine”, I loyally commented. “It might make communication with him easier.”

“Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes”, Grogu punched happily.

I suppressed a huge grin. There was no suppressing the warm rush of affection for the child though. If I knew the little fellow at all, he had barged in here with a mission. He was doing his utmost to fulfill his unspoken promise to me from hours ago and I very much appreciated it. Also, the means he resorted to were just plain amazing. The little fellow walked around in a decommissioned assassin droid happy as a clam, drove his father crazy while showing off to me, and all just because he wanted us to get some time together.

“He stole a fruit from a stand and completely ruined it”, Din groaned. “Crossing the market was a nightmare!”

I cocked an eyebrow at him, my smile almost lazy now. “You didn’t feed him before you went out, did you?”

“I… “ Din paused and all of a sudden managed to look rather sheepish. I bit back another snort of amusement. Unbelievable I had caught this experienced father on the wrong foot.

“Mandalorians march on their stomach”, I teased him. “If you have deserters, improve the supply lines.”

“Yes”, Grogu punched, making an almost cackling noise. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

With a fond smile I reached out and cupped the kid’s cheek with my hand. He had well and truly earned himself a snack for dragging his father here while no one but me was around.

“See the door over there, right next to the fire extinguisher?” I pointed down the corridor. “Behind it is a crate with my personal food storage.” Which meant a decrease of food in this crate would not compromise Jake’s inventory lists. “Help yourself to all you want.” I lowered my voice conspiratorially. “If you can do it without leaving a mess, I’ll give you special permission to take your new vehicle to Mandalore.”

Grogu squealed in excitement and I would have bet my Gauntlet it was his version of “Challenge accepted”. With long strides the IG unit marched towards the door and a moment later vanished from sight.

Din let out a deep, long-suffering sigh.

“You are not helping”, he grumbled, not overly happy with my support for Grogu.

“Don’t be mad at him”, I said softly, stepping back into my office and letting him enter as well. “I needed this laugh.”

Something in his stance softened as he came along and cast a look around. There was still a moderate mess on my desk and a rather treacherous spot of saliva where my head had been. Grogu’s antics might well have saved me from waking up in my own drool in front of a bunch of Mandalorians searching for me. That would have been a humiliation I could well live without.

But I had needed more than just a laugh. I realized it as I got closer to Din without even thinking about it. My body seemed to follow a traction I had not consciously picked up yet, a pull as strong as a gravitational force. And I was not the only one. Din too moved towards me. Like partners of a binary star system we were drawn to each other, inevitably and unhesitating.

“How are you holding up?” Din asked gently, his right hand tentatively coming down on the crook of my left elbow.

His touch melted the walls I had erected around myself during the day, like the warmth of the Darksaber melted durasteel.

“Surviving”, I said quietly, reaching for his elbow as well.

He made a soft humming sound, his gloved thumb lightly stroking my covered arm. It felt so good to be able to drop the mask with him. Nevertheless, I didn’t want to get into too much detail about the drudgery of the last hours. Living through it once was quite enough, as far as I was concerned.

“Comes with the territory”, I muttered vaguely. “It’s a rather big task, rebuilding Mandalore.”

“Mandalore is more than just buildings on a planet. Don’t look for it out there.”

Din stepped closer and to my surprise placed his free hand, the left one, almost on my cuirass. He did not quite bring it down, though, letting it hover right above the hexagonal shape of the kar’ta, often read as a symbol of the heart. “It’s in here.”

While his hand didn’t make contact and the beskar would have shielded me from his touch, I could feel my face heat up at this intimate gesture. He had never been this bold before. Had he, too, realized that time was running out?

We had spent so much time together during the last months. Being apart just felt wrong, as if a crucial part of myself was missing. Din too must have felt the absence, so much more pronounced after all that had happened between us on Plazir-15.

Before he could start having second thoughts I braided my fingers into his, desperate to feel him close. Our hands met just inches over my kar’ta, holding on to each other like two pieces of a lock.

“That… that’s what Nam Beroya said as well”, I managed to stammer against my rapidly fluttering heart. I wouldn’t have been surprised if my heartbeat had made it through the cuirass.

Din’s voice was barely more than a whisper. “Did he?”

Without even thinking about it I inched even closer. Had he not worn his helmet, I would have felt his breath on my face. The crook of my elbow, where his other hand rested, had never felt so sensitive before. Every tiny movement of him there send little tremors through me, spreading with each heartbeat.

“Yes, decades ago, when taking his leave of Concordia”, I breathed. “I saw him put his fist to his heart and heard him say Mandalore was in there.”

Din stepped slightly closer as well, filling the space between our bodies. His hand over my kar’ta had not moved. Maybe because I was still holding it in place with mine.

“He pointed at the wrong heart, then.”

My eyes started to tear up, I nearly choked at the enormity and generosity of what he was saying. Did he really think I embodied Mandalore, our entire world, our culture? Was that how he perceived me?

If anyone was the noble embodiment of a true Mandalorian, it was Din Djarin. From him these were no empty words. He was no flatterer. He only spoke out when he was sure beyond any doubt.

There was a slight shiver to his breath. “Mand’alore.”

I did not feel the flip switching in my mind this time. The lever did not move from Bo to Mand’alore. It might, at some point, in different company. But not with him. Never with Din Djarin. He might show me respect by calling me by my title, but with him I would never be anyone else but Bo.

My hand slipped off his arm, snaking around his waist instead, and my heart skipped a beat as he returned the gesture. I tilted my head back in a wordless invitation, saw his slowly coming down, our foreheads getting closer and closer…

“Bo-Katan?”

Janine Solus’ voice from outside ripped through our magical moment like the sickleraptors through the Tribe’s curtains. Din jerked back his arms as if he had been found snogging during a military drill. I practically stumbled away from him, a picture of caught embarrassment. My cheeks were crimson and I could only hope the darkness outside would cover the blush. And that I would get my breath back under control in time.

“Yes?” I snapped in the general direction of the door, my voice unusually shrill.

“Clan Awaud has arrived.”

I almost hissed in frustration. “Of course they have.”

All of a sudden the situation between Din and me felt extremely awkward. He had lowered his head and was staring at the ground, as rigid as a statue. I had no idea what to say or do to resolve the unexpected tension between us. The magical moment had passed. Maybe it was better if I withdrew and went about my duty. We could talk more later.

“I’ll see you at the feast”, I said quietly and slipped out before he could reply.

Janine waited for me outside, ready to lead me to the newcomers. I gave her a stiff nod, having a very hard time not to resent her for her untimely interruption. If this was any indication what my life would be like when I tried to keep Din in it, would we only ever have these brief interactions? Stolen moments that could never quench our thirst and leave us starving for more? Always “later”, always “tomorrow”. How was this supposed to work out?

A binary star indeed. Always circling, never touching.

I felt a familiar throbbing behind my temples and gritted my teeth. I really did not need a headache for the meeting with Clan Awaud. Though, admittedly, my current mood would be very helpful in making sure they did not cheat me.

Janine and I got to the new, black Gauntlet in town just in time to see the ramp lowering and five warriors walking out of the ship.

The one in the front wore the classic male helmet in black with a red-framed visor. On his black pauldrons he wore Clan Awaud’s crest in red, the greaves were black with red accents as well. Had his cuirass and vambraces not been silver like Din Djarin’s, I might have felt a very vivid flashback to the Mauldalorians. They also had favored a red and black color scheme. One other wore red armor with silver accents, two sported lime-green cuirasses like Janine, Kaya and Lin, only with matching helmets and blue accents. The last warrior, the only one wearing a traditionally female helmet, was clad in purple armor with red accents.

All of them wore blasters of various sizes in various holsters, each brand the most efficient model on the market. When they had stepped off the ramp, they stopped and activated the chaincodes in their vambraces, permitting me to scan them. I quickly compared them to Vera Beroya’s information and nodded in satisfaction when every identity checked out.

“Welcome to Nevarro.” I offered them the warrior salute.

All five of them returned it and, like on command, took off their helmets. A knot in my stomach I had not even realized until now dissolved. One might think among the Children of the Watch I had grown more relaxed around people in helmets. Still, having been shaped by my own culture for decades I still instinctively felt safer when Mandalorians showed their faces.

Now that this hurdle was out of the way, I had leisure to study the faces before me. Tim Beroya, in the black armor with red accents, had olive skin and wore his curly black hair short. His stern face with the dark brown eyes was framed by a closely cropped beard. The man in red and silver turned out to be his husband Baihu Beroya, dark-skinned and his long black hair in cornrows.

In contrast, Janine’s father Fang Solus sported the striking white hair, very fair skin and red eyes of an albino. That explained why they had timed their arrival after sunset. He would have had to cover himself completely during the daytime in order to avoid a nasty sunburn. His son Dan, Janine’s brother, was shorter than me but stout and stocky. Unlike his father he had copper skin and brown hair. I saw Janine, the only one still wearing her helmet, give them a stiff nod which was returned just as tensely.

Ann Lone, the only woman of the five, was a Twi’lek hybrid. Her skin had a slightly blueish hue, and instead of hair two very short lekku fell down to her neck, just fitting under her purple helmet.

“Bo-Katan Kryze”, Tim Beroya greeted me curtly. “We have come to ensure our leader receives the promised payment.”

“The beskar”, I replied just as curtly. “Well met. Tomorrow we will leave for Mandalore. Tonight we offer you hospitality.”

Now it was their turn to relax a little. Once hospitality was offered by a Mandalorian clan, only the lowest ruffians would still attack the guests. It would completely destroy a clan’s reputation and no upstanding Mandalorian would ever interact with them again. During our long history of infighting, hospitality sometimes had been the only way to at least have a temporary truce between warring factions.

“When is the mission briefing going to take place?” Tim asked, all business.

“Tonight, when we assemble the different teams.” I looked at them frankly. “I suppose you will come down to the surface with us in order to protect your interests.”

“Correct”, Tim Beroya stated, folding his arms. “Just so we are clear, we are not here to play the heroes or to volunteer as canon fodder. We will do what is necessary to help you gain access to Mandalore and the beskar mines. If you and your people do anything stupid though, don’t expect us to pull your areca nuts out of the fire. We don’t take charity cases.”

I could see Janine stiffen and truth be told, I was not impressed by Beroya’s attitude at all.

“The planet’s surface is partially unstable and littered with predators”, I said coolly. “You’d better tell me now what you regard as stupidity and what classifies as a regular accident for you.”

His eyes lingered on Janine, an unmistakable sneer forming on his face. “I think it’s stupid to go on dangerous missions with weapons from the stone age. What’s the point of having warriors if they can’t fend off the most basic predators?”

Janine clenched her fists and I too felt a spark of anger. It was all about outer trappings again. Clan Awaud knew neither the Tribe nor the Nite Owls, yet passed judgment merely based on which weapons we wielded. I would not stand for this kind of trash talk.

“This warrior and a handful of her people have taken back this planet from a heavily armed pirate king”, I said icily. “They have proven their worth to me. You haven’t. As far as I know, you could be a troublemaker Vera Beroya wanted to get rid of. So don’t mistake my offer to her for me begging to have you.”

Sometimes being the leader meant setting clear boundaries and putting people in their place. It was not the most enjoyable part but I would not let a bunch of weapon snobs belittle my people.

“I’m not going to risk my life or my people if one of yours gets in trouble because of inferior equipment”, Beroya snapped.

“You are on thin ice then, seeing your people don’t even have beskar armor anymore”, I said bitingly. “I don’t care which toys you bring to the playground. I care about getting a job done well.”

Tim Beroya’s jaw clenched visibly. “Before we do any job, we want security. This is your cause, not ours, so you’d better make sure our blood doesn’t get spilled.”

“Then there are two ways this can work out”, I retorted, even in my own ears sounding a lot like Satine had when having a hard time not to openly snarl. “We can integrate you in our forces, treat you as comrades-in-arms and just face the dangers together. Or you stay in Mandalore’s orbit to make sure you are completely safe and protected. Nowhere near any action.”

Seeing the Old Mandalorians had left our home world to remain warriors, I had a feeling the latter option would not go down well with them.

Tim Beroya’s eyes flashed angrily, proving my suspicion was right. “I will be not be treated like a frightened foundling!”

Stop behaving like an entitled brat, then!

My face hardened. Time to lay down some rules. “You want security? I can’t give you any. What happens on Mandalore is beyond my control. Nobody can foretell what kind of dangers we’ll face. But I know that I will do my utmost to protect my people’s lives.”

My eyes locked with his. “I can’t afford bringing people along who are unable or unwilling to shoulder the burden. What you call stupidity – risking your life to save a comrade – is what I call common decency. If I can’t trust you to watch our backs or lend us a hand in an emergency, the deal is off.”

I was dead serious here. A warrior needed to be able to trust their comrades. When things got rough, you needed to know your brothers and sisters would bail you out of a tight spot. Facing danger might actually be the decisive factor to bring the Nite Owls and the Tribe closer together. Nothing like saving each other’s neck to cement a friendship and build trust. Refusing to help comrades, though, almost counted as treason in our book. There was no reason whatsoever to drag such people along and invite trouble.

Tim threw me a calculating look. I could almost hear the gears turning in his head.

“This is nothing personal, Bo-Katan Kryze”, he finally said. “But you need to understand that I too must protect my people. We don’t usually work on promises. We make contracts and we stick to them. This is a rather unprecedented situation.”

“Agreed”, I acknowledged his point, forcing my voice to sound calmer. “Which is why maybe both of us have to get out of our comfort zone. You can’t get your usual contract security because we simply don’t know what we might have to do to survive on Mandalore. I can’t give my people our usual security of working with only those they know and trust. Those are luxuries we simply can’t afford right now. I’m afraid we’ll just have to trust each other at least to a certain point.”

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly in dry humor. “Not my strongest suit, to be honest.”

I snorted in agreement. “Believe me, not mine either.”

He exchanged a long look with his husband. Eventually Baihu gave him a subtle nod and Tim’s hard features softened a little. I felt almost sad to see their silent exchange. Knowing someone so intimately, being so close to each other that you could communicate without words – would Din and I ever have this?

“How about this, then.” Tim faced me openly. “If one of your badly armed people is stuck in a hole and a predator comes closer, I will try to pull them out with my lariat or fire at the beast. What I will NOT do is jumping down there and throw myself into the maw for them. Better?”

“Perfectly acceptable.” Despite his low opinion on my people’s equipment I could definitely live with his suggestion. What I wanted was a helping hand in need, not someone committing suicide on our behalf. “In exchange I will give you my word to not put your people on the frontline unless you volunteer for it.”

“Sounds reasonable”, he replied, holding out his hand. “Deal?”

“Deal.” I grabbed his lower arm and he took mine as we shook hands.

It felt as if an entire world breathed a sigh of relief at Mandalorians getting their acts together instead of ripping each other apart. Sometimes being the leader meant negotiating and finding a compromise. The latter wasn’t my strongest suit but I was willing to give it a try as long as it meant we could rebuild our home world.

I hope you are watching, Satine…

“I will see you at the feast”, I told Tim Beroya and turned to Janine Solus. “Would you show them around camp?”

“Of course”, Janine replied, pointedly staring at her relatives. With her helmet still on, it was a tragic waste of a perfectly good glare. “See you later, Bo-Katan.”

I just nodded and walked away, starting to feel rather exhausted. Now I just needed to finish my own preparation for tomorrow, I thought with a yawn as I went back to my own Gauntlet. And brood over the abrupt ending of my conversation with Din Djarin before I could even think about talking to him again.

And stay awake long enough to give a mission briefing at the feast.

To say the feast was awkward was the understatement of the century.

To be fair, the Tribe had not been stingy. A huge roast was slowly turning on a rotisserie spit, smelling delicious. The Nite Owls and Clan Awaud had also brought a sound appetite and were not unhappy at all to fill their bellies on fresh meat.

The real problem was that we were the only ones eating.

Thanks to their helmet rules, none of the Children of the Watch could join us in the meal. Which, at a supposed banquet, was quite a handicap. All they could do was sit – or stand – and watch us. There was literally nothing more unnerving than eating a good meal while the hosts keep looking at you, their faces unreadable behind their helmets.

Knowing how I responded to the situation, even though I was familiar with the Tribe, I could tell it triggered all sorts of responses in my brothers and sisters, none of them good. Eating with a foreign clan who didn’t join in the meal? Perhaps they were trying to poison you! Being watched by people who would not let you see their own faces? Who knew what judgments and evils they were trying to hide!

At the same time there was resentment. No matter what the Armorer had said, we could not help feeling that we were being shamed for showing our faces. It did not make for a good atmosphere, and I saw our youngsters, Mel and Noela, whisper to each other in discomfort. Axe and Koska were clearly trying to look at ease, but Koska was tense and Axe had found his favorite new glare target, Paz Vizsla, rather quickly among the Tribe. What was supposed to bring us closer together served merely to reinforce the gulf between us. The tension between the groups could have been cut with the Darksaber.

This would not do. I had to do something, to remind them why we were all here. It was time to bring us all together at the same table.

With purpose I strode into the middle of the camp and raised my voice to give the mission briefing.

“Mandalorians”, I addressed them all. “It is time to retake our home world.”

I had everyone’s attention. The members of the Tribe who had so far been as still as statues, started to move closer to me, hanging on my lips as I spoke, no longer caring if they ended up right next to apostates. The Nite Owls sat up straight and Clan Awaud stopped their quiet talks with each other.

“Even though the planet is not cursed, there are still dangers”, I reminded them, slowly walking in a wide circle to make sure everyone felt included. “Dormant species have been awakened from the bombings. The remaining magnetic interference has made it impossible to scan the surface from above atmosphere. Which is why I’m proposing that we leave Nevarro and move the fleet into orbit above Mandalore.”

Fleetingly I looked over to the Armorer. She stood not too far away from Axe, listening calmly to my words. I had shared my ideas for resettling Mandalore with her a few weeks ago. She had approved of them, so I felt secure in her support when I continued.

“We send down a small recon party. We’ll scout the surface, find out what remains of the Great Forge, and establish a safe perimeter. Only then, will we bring down the others.”

I let my gaze wander among them. Everyone was listening intently, there was barely a whisper in the crowd. By now a few brave souls had dared to mingle, among them Laurana Eldar. She was polite enough to at least drink in company which made her look somewhat approachable. Toru had ended up next to Noela. She didn’t look quite as uncomfortable as before which was promising. Maybe we really just needed a common goal to move past our old prejudices.

“I need volunteers from both tribes”, I ended my mission briefing and braced myself for the uncomfortable silence bound to follow after this announcement. No matter how motivated people were, there were always a few moments of hesitation before the first one would break the spell.

Patiently I waited. Helmeted heads were put together, some shaking briefly but firmly. I clasped my hands before my body and forced myself to breathe evenly. This was a moment where I could neither speed things up nor force anybody’s hand. They had to make their own choice, and seeing how many families the Tribe had, they could not afford to make their decisions lightly.

“I will go”, I heard a familiar voice and saw Din Djarin stand up. “Grogu as well.”

The little one cooed affirmatively. I let out a quiet sigh of relief. Thank the Force for my steadfastly loyal Clan of Two!

From the corner of my eye I saw Koska rise and tuck her helmet under her arm.

“I will go.” She smiled at me warmly, and I breathed against the sudden tightness of my throat.

“I will go.” Axe. There was no way he would stay behind if Koska and I were going.

“I will go.” Paz Vizsla, glowering at Axe as if the former had uttered a challenge in speaking first.

This is going to be interesting…

“I will go.” Jake, the Nite Owls’ quartermaster.

“I will go.” Mel, our Nite Chick. He looked so much like Korkie, ready to follow Satine wherever she went, that I had to close my eyes for a moment.

“I will go.” Kyo of Clan Kryze. Of course he would not leave his son alone.

“I will go.” Cal of the Shriek-hawks.

“I will go.” Asla, immediately following her brother-in-arms.

“I will go.” Noela of the Nite Owls.

“I will go.” Rhys of the Shriek-hawks

“I will go.” Hiro, the final Shriek-hawk. All four of them ready to fight by my side.

“I will go as well”, the Armorer’s beautiful voice rang out.

My nod to her almost turned into a grateful bow. With her by my side it would be easier to keep our people together despite their glaring differences.

Fang and Dan Solus, Ann Lone and the Beroya husbands said nothing but nodded silently in my direction. Of course they would be coming. It was their reason to be here, after all.

“The volunteers are to report to the Nite Owl quartermaster for mission-specific equipment.” I worded the order as diplomatically as possible, not wanting to shame the Tribe for their lack of supplies. “We will have the flight plan ready by sunrise and assign each warrior a position on a ship.”

Once more I turned around slowly, so I could look at as many people as possible. It was important to me to let all those who stayed behind know that they too were part in our endeavor.

“As long as Mandalore is not secured, Nevarro will be our headquarters of operation”, I told the crowd. “The foundlings will stay here where they are safe, with their guardians. Once we have retaken Mandalore, we will start to build a supply chain from here.”

I well remembered how bad Laurana had felt about not being a better fighter. Nobody needed to feel ashamed or excluded just because they were not part of a very dangerous mission.

“Wherever you choose your home, whether on Nevarro or on Mandalore, you all are contributing to the rebirth of our world”, I said softly. As I looked around, my eyes found Din Djarin in the crowd. Deliberately I put my hand on my kar’ta, still looking at him. “Mandalore lives in here. In all of us.”

In the flickering shadows I saw Din solemnly bow his head at my words. I gave him a warm, but tired smile.

It would be our last interaction this evening.

I didn’t stay in the center of the crowd once my speech was finished. As soon as I had answered a few questions from my people I got out of the spotlight and withdrew into the shadows of a tent. It had been a long day and I longed to be away from the crowd just for a few minutes. Ironically enough this might have been a good time to talk to Din, only I did not have the heart to do it. Even under normal circumstances I found it hard to put my feelings into words. Now I was worn out from trying to diffuse the tension between the different fractions of Mandalorians and could not have done it properly if my life depended on it. The day had been hard and everything felt so kriffing complicated. I was too overwhelmed by it all to do complicated. I longed for something simple. Some quiet.

Just a short break, I told myself, leaning my back against a sturdy tent pole and closing my eyes for a moment. Just until I feel more like myself again.

“Bo-Katan?”

I turned around at hearing the young familiar voice. Despite my fatigue a huge smile tugged at the corner of my mouth as I saw the slender figure in the purple helmet.

“Boan.”

Behind her I spotted Laurana nodding in greeting, her helmet a white spot against the dark. A moment later Sabrina’s daughter threw herself at me and nestled to me like she had waited to do so an entire lifetime. I wrapped my arms around her and held her tightly, realizing how fond I had grown of the girl. Even though we only spent comparatively little time together, a bond had developed between us. It was new and tender, not quite secure yet, and so I carefully loosened my grip on her after an appropriate moment, giving her the chance to disengage herself from me.

She didn’t let go. She stayed where she was, her helmeted face buried in my chest. I looked up nervously, hoping Laurana could give me any indication what was going on. But judging from the way she tilted her head, she too was surprised at the girl’s desire to stay in my arms.

Something changed. Instead of tensing up, as I had often done during prolonged physical contact in the past, I felt myself relaxing into the embrace. This was easy. It was neither a chore nor complicated. Ever since Ragnar’s rescue Boan and I had felt comfortable around each other. She had asked me for stories a couple of times and had been openly happy to see me without my helmet. I had trained her and given her flight lessons. We had become friends, as far as it was possible between a teenager and an adult.

“So good to see you, kid”, I said softly. “Is everything alright?”

She nodded, her head still half tucked under my arm. “I beat Ragnar in training yesterday. He’s been a real pest since.”

There was no mistaking the pride in her voice. When I had first seen her during sparring training, she had been overpowered within moments. Since then she had worked harder, and apparently it had paid off.

“That’s my girl! Well done”, I praised her warmly.

She lifted her head and took a deep breath. “Bo-Katan… can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” I looked down at her curiously. “What is it?”

From the corner of my eye I saw Laurana withdraw quietly. Whatever her niece was going to ask of me seemed to be something personal. When Boan spoke again, her voice was very serious. Under the purple helmet her face must be grave now.

“You and the others are going to Mandalore, right?”

“That’s the plan”, I agreed. “We want to scout the area and set up camp there, so we can build our home anew.”

The girl nodded slowly. “I know you are going to be very busy, but if you have some time to spare… could you do me a favor?”

“If I can, of course”, I answered cautiously. “What do you need?”

Boan lowered her head. “The others say you and Din Djarin found armors down there…”

I could feel my scalp tingle uncomfortably at the memory of the cyborg cave and its ghoulish interior. Nevertheless I kept my features and my voice steady.

“We did indeed.”

The girl shuffled her feet. “I know it’s a long shot… really silly of me to even think it… but if you chance to find a piece of Mother’s armor…”

I inhaled softly. Of course. Boan was old enough to remember that on Mandalore armors had stayed in the respective family for generations.

“I remember Sabrina’s armor well”, I said gently. “It was mostly gray and the pauldrons were horizontal. The visor of her helmet bore a blue frame. If I see it, I will recognize it.”

Boan’s head came up. “You will keep a look-out for it, then?”

“I will”, I promised solemnly. “You have my word I will check every armor we find.”

“Thank you.” There was a slight tremor in her voice. “I’m working as hard as I can to become a warrior quickly. Then I can join you on Mandalore and look for myself.”

I smiled sadly. “Look for the armor or your mother?”

“Both”, she replied with determination. “When I’m old enough and pass the tests – will you have me as a Nite Owl?”

For a moment I was back in the past, a bright-eyed girl who met a Nite Owl for the very first time and asked her the very question Boan had just asked me. Hearing these words from my friend’s daughter made me feel somewhat old, but also quietly proud.

“I will personally make sure that you are ready for the tests when the time comes”, I vowed softly. “I’ll coach you through the maneuvers until you can do them in your sleep.”

Boan took my hand and squeezed it. Her voice nearly broke as she spoke again.

“Thank you.”

“Not for this.” I owed my life to her mother. The least I could do was helping the daughter to find her own way.

Silence fell between us, but it wasn’t unpleasant. I had talked so much today that I was grateful for some rest and quiet. For a long time we stood side by side, our hands still joined, and looked out into the night. Snippets of conversation traveled on the wind, some of them in Mando’a. While the fires were slowly burning down, it was actually easier to see things now. The eastern horizon was illuminated by a pale light, getting brighter by the second. The moon was about to rise.

“Almost like home”, I heard Boan whisper. With her free hand she pointed at the moon. “Could be Concordia.”

“I grew up there”, I told her quietly. “With Clan Vizsla.”

She nodded seriously. “Did Mum tell you how she always spent the last evening with us before a separation?”

“No?” I looked at her closely. Sabrina had often spoken of her children, though never about their little rituals.

“She would sit with us”, the girl said softly. “Out on the balcony. We would wrap up in our blankets, sit under the stars and watch Concordia. Until Ayk and I fell asleep.”

I smiled in the dark. It was nice to learn more about my lost friend. “Did you try to stay awake?”

“All the time”, she acknowledged. Against the moonlit sky I could see her slender shoulders slump. “I never wanted to go to sleep. I knew once I slept, morning would come and then she would have to go. And there was no telling when she would be back.”

I swallowed hard. “Did she also do that before – before you two and Laurana went to Concordia?”

“Yes.”

Her answer was almost a whisper. Had I not stood so closely to her, I would have missed it.

My heart broke at the thought of two little children sitting with their mother, struggling to keep their eyes open to have a few more moments with her, unaware that she would never come back. Once I had been the bereft foundling and I remembered only too well how it felt. No child should have to go through this kind of pain.

Gently I disengaged my hand from hers and instead put my arm around her shoulders. “Would you like me to sit up with you tonight?”

Boan turned towards me with a jerk, gasping softly in surprise. “But… you are the leader for the mission…”

“Which means I’ve had a busy day and would love to do some stargazing. And leader or not, everyone gets to do the vigil at some point.” I gave her a smile. “Got any blankets?”

As I settled down with Boan on the crest of the hill closest to the camp, wrapped up in capes against the cold of the night, I felt a strange peace settle over me. So The Talk with Din had not happened and things had gotten a bit weird when we were interrupted. Well, it was not the end of the world. Din was not going anywhere. We were going on a mission together to resettle our planet. There would be plenty of time to have a chat with him. If I had learned anything from my past, it was that things could be worked out with time and patience. On Mandalore we would have both.

Right now a young girl needed this little ritual more than I needed my talk. Sometimes being the leader meant shelving your own wishes and taking care of those who struggled. All of us survivors struggled and occasionally needed our comrades in arms to have our backs. Mandalorians were stronger together, after all.

Let the mercenaries and self-proclaimed hotshots sneer all they want about so-called charity cases. Let them brandish their outer trappings and brag about their equipment. It takes more than combat gear to make a Mandalorian. According to our old traditions the most important things for every clan were foundlings and forge.

Tomorrow I would go for the Great Forge. Tonight I would take care of the foundling.

Chapter Text

When I opened my eyes, I looked straight into the slumbering face of Sabrina Eldar.

She looked a lot like she had during our first meeting when we both had been young girls, clear copper skin, jet-black hair with a blueish hue. I blinked in sleepy confusion. Of course I kept dreaming of her. Losing a close friend in such a tragic manner will give anyone nightmares for years to come. Even as the years dragged on and the dreams slowly started to lose their original horror, they kept being interspersed with memories of Sabrina before the Purge. It made them more bearable but still heartbreaking. Seeing Sabrina asleep in front of me, all peaceful and quiet, only hammered home what had been stolen from her. The heart-shaped face looked so incredibly young and innocent…

With a deep sigh I reached out to touch her hair, careful to not disturb her rest. It fell down to her chin in waves and felt much softer than in my memory.

I miss you so much. I wish you were here.

But something was off. The longer I looked at her, the more I started to see little things that didn’t quite add up. Of course dreams are notoriously inaccurate but in a dream I was perfectly fine with accepting these inaccuracies. If I realized things were wrong though, it was a sign I was waking up. The thought was underlined by the fact that I started to hear noises I could immediately place as signs of camp life. Military commands of the Nite Owls. The buzzing of generators. Children’s voices.

I was on Nevarro. I was awake.

By all rights Sabrina should start to fade back into the world of dreams, revealing herself as a mirage, a piece of my imagination. But the face before me stayed as clear and real as before, and so did the little imperfections. Now that I was sure I was awake, they stood out even more strikingly.

Sabrina’s hairstyle of choice had been an undercut, not a bob.

Sabrina had always worn a jewel in her right nostril.

Sabrina’s face was round, not heart-shaped.

If I was an adult, she was way too young.

My lips silently parted in surprise as my mind finally caught up with what I saw. It wasn’t Sabrina’s face I saw. It was Boan’s.

My hand flew to my mouth, I squeezed my eyes shut. Goodness, she looked so much like her mother! Even the little differences merely served to underline the strong family resemblance.

Several pieces slotted into place. My last memory was sitting up with her, but after my straining day I must have been out very quickly. If Boan had taken off her helmet as soon as I was fast asleep, in order to have some air on her face or just to sleep better…

“Bo?” I heard someone call out. “Are you up?”

Blinking I sat up. A warrior in the colors of Clan Kryze came up the hill where Boan and I had spent the night. As the figure came closer, I recognized Koska. Apparently the camp had woken up and she was coming to get me. I still had some things to do, after all.

Then my gaze fell on Boan again and started. She was not wearing her helmet and Koska was getting closer. The girl had taken the Creed in the Tribe’s version. Nobody was allowed to see her face.

I did the first thing I could think of. With a swift movement I took off my cape and quickly covered the sleeping girl’s face. While I had seen her without her helmet, I could at least protect her special privacy from the Nite Owls’ clueless eyes.

“There you are!” Koska just came climbing over the hill crest. “Just wanted to tell you that we have started with the flight schedule and to distribute the warriors on the ship.”

“Kriff!” I cursed, jumping up. I had been supposed to supervise all these processes. “You should have woken me earlier.”

Koska rolled her eyes with a good-natured snort. “Axe took care of it. Really, Bo, unwind! You needed the rest.”

“I’m the leader…”

“… which means you are allowed to delegate”, Koska finished mercilessly. “Don’t give the kid a bad example about not accepting help.”

Kid…?

I turned around with a sense foreboding. Yes, Boan had woken up. Yes, she had pulled my cape off her face. And yes, she had done so without putting her helmet back on first.

Oh kriff.

Before I could so much as think of how to solve the situation, Boan’s still sleepy gaze darted to Koska’s pauldrons. “You are a Nite Owl too!”

Koska’s eyes widened as she took in the young features. I smiled weakly.

“Boan, meet Koska Reeves, my sister-in-arms. Koska – Boan Eldar.”

Finally my friend found her voice again. “You are Sabrina’s girl! Stars, you look like her!”

I managed not to flinch at her innocent exclamation. At the very latest now the kid would realize what was off.

She did. Her hands flew to her face, she let out a soft cry. Her head dashed around, in search for her helmet.

“Over there”, I said weakly, pointing at the missing item, now buried under my cape Boan had just dropped on it. She practically dashed over there, dug up the helmet and put it back on with shaky hands.

“Oh.” Koska gave me a sheepish look. “The helmet thingy?”

“Din Djarin got banished for it”, I agreed gravely.

I did have hopes the Armorer would not be as strict with a young girl, especially not now. I had already been allowed to remove my helmet and we were on the verge of retaking Mandalore. The times were changing. There was a possibility that things would change too.

“You’ve got to be kidding me! Not on my watch!” Koska huffed, looking incensed. She made a protective move towards Boan. “Your mother saved my life. I’m not going to dishonor her by ratting out on her daughter.”

“Nite Owls don’t betray their own”, I agreed. “Or those who want to join them.”

“But the Tribe!” Boan wailed miserably. “They will be so disappointed! And… oh no, what is Auntie going to say?”

“She is going to say good morning”, a gentle though rather dry voice replied.

The three of us whipped around. None of us had realized Laurana Eldar had climbed the hill. With hindsight it was logical, of course. Camp was waking up. My people looked for me, Laurana looked for her niece. The latter hunched her shoulders guiltily.

“What happened?” Laurana asked, not unkindly. Seeing she often took care of the small foundlings, she probably had a lot of experience in wheedling the truth out of misbehaving children.

Boan hung her head in shame. Her voice was so muffled I could barely hear her. “I took off my helmet for the night. Then I slept longer than Bo-Katan.”

I could see Koska tense by my side. No doubt she expected a fanatic exploding with rage or at least giving the girl a very harsh talking-to. She had clearly not expected Laurana sighing deeply and then putting an arm around her niece.

“Done is done. We’ll find a way.”

Something inside me relaxed. Laurana knew both worlds. She had joined the Tribe to keep Ayk and Boan safe from the Imps and after the Purge had chosen not to remove her helmet so the children didn’t see her utter heartbreak and despair. She was no fanatic, not by a long shot.

She looked in my direction, giving me a greeting nod. Then her eyes fastened on Koska.

“I’ve seen you before”, she said slowly. “On Mandalore.”

I smiled slightly. With her two signature braids crossed over her forehead, Koska was rather memorable. “Laurana, you remember Koska Reeves, don’t you?”

“Of course.” I heard Laurana’s smile as she came forward and took Koska’s hand in hers. “The Nite Chick with the broken wings. You have grown.”

Koska gave a soft gasp. Her lips trembled as she looked at Sabrina’s sister, desperately searching for something familiar despite the white helmet. I could not help thinking she looked like during her first meeting with Laurana.

It had been shortly after I pulled her out from under the crashed walls of her home. Koska had been the only survivor of Clan Saxon’s bombing, barely older than Boan was now. Seeing how badly she was injured, Sabrina had suggested to take her to the nearest available physician, which happened to be her younger sister. Laurana Eldar might be a pediatrician who got her degree during Satine’s reign, but even then Mandalorian medical students were taught in basic training how to run field hospitals and patch up warriors quickly. Satine had not overly liked this remnant of the old times in the new schedule but eventually agreed that it was a rather practical skill to have. Even if Mandalore never saw another war again, Mandalorian doctors might be sent to other battlefields to offer relief to the wounded, and then they needed to know what to do with limited resources.

Laurana had tended to Koska for days. She took care of the broken bones, bathed her wounds in bacta and soothed her when she was young, frightened and in pain. She was the first non-helmeted face Koska got to see after being rescued.

The irony of Laurana not removing her helmet any longer was not lost on me.

Despite her obvious awkwardness at being met with a smooth beskar surface instead of a familiar face, Koska managed a wobbly smile. “I never thought I would see you again. After… you know…”

Laurana nodded gently. “It was quite a surprise to see Bo-Katan again. I’m glad so many Nite Owls survived.”

“Only thanks to your sister”, Koska whispered, looking upset and guilty. She had been the last one to be carried to safety before Sabrina’s sacrifice.

I swallowed nervously, remembering how recently Laurana had heard from me how her sister died. I was not sure how ready she was to talk about it. To my utter relief, though, she reached out for Koska’s shoulder and squeezed it.

“Don’t blame yourself. The choice was hers”, she said gently. “This is the Way.”

“This is the Way”, Boan echoed seriously and I murmured it along with her.

For once Koska didn’t say something snarky about the beliefs of the Children of the Watch. I felt vividly reminded of the moment when Din Djarin had honored my father with those very words in the ruins of Sundari, when I had realized he was paying him the highest compliment possible. Koska too seemed to get what Laurana and Boan were saying. Or at least she realized it would have been incredibly rude to insult them when they honored our fallen sister-in-arms.

“Speaking of the Way”, I tried to prevent everyone from slipping into the sorrows of the past, “what are you going to do about the helmet situation, kid?”

Boan looked down, thinking hard.

“It would be the honorable thing to tell the Armorer”, she finally said quietly.

“It would”, I agreed with her, torn between pride in her honesty and sadness that she might have to face the same ordeal as Din Djarin.

Laurana cleared her voice. “Times are changing, Boan. There is no longer just one way. Maybe the Armorer will allow you to walk both worlds. Like Bo-Katan does.”

Koska looked at her with unmitigated surprise. Then, slowly, her face lit up in a warm smile. “You really are Sabrina’s sister.”

I could almost see Laurana’s sad smile behind her helmet before she turned back to her niece. “Let’s go back, shall we? The Nite Owls will be very busy before they leave. We don’t want to distract them.”

Boan hesitated, her eyes going back and forth between Koska and me. “Can – can I help you Nite Owls?” she offered cautiously. “I know how to break camp…”

Of course she did. She had seen her fair share of quick departures.

“Sure. You can come with me”, I invited her with a smile.

Laurana cleared her throat. “Bo-Katan, Greef Karga has sent us medical supplies for the trip to Mandalore. I have done an inventory already and prepared medpacs but need some help to bring them to the ships.”

I nodded. “Koska, would you…”

“Sure”, she agreed, not looking at all unhappy at having some more time to get reacquainted with Laurana. “I’ll catch up with you two later.”

Down in the camp Axe seemed to have things under control. Everything was going smoothly, people did what they were supposed to do and everyone was on schedule. I smiled lightly. He was a good second-in-command. I was glad to have him back.

“Morning”, I called over to him and he returned the greeting. “Thanks for getting thing started.”

“No worries. You looked ready to pass out yesterday. Glad you got a good kip.”

Then he spotted Boan behind me and rolled his eyes, though in a rather good-natured manner. For those who knew him.

“You got a shadow.”

“A future apprentice”, I informed him and let Boan step beside me. “Axe Woves, meet Boan Eldar, Sabrina’s daughter.”

Axe’s hands went still, the dark eyes narrowed piercingly. “For real?”

He was oozing distrust. I knew he still expected the Children of the Watch to show their true colors, and in his mind their true colors were black and red, probably topped with horns, fangs and yellow eyes. He would need time to get rid of his old prejudice but I still found it rather annoying he would doubt my word.

“Yes, for real”, I said firmly.

I seemed to give Boan some confidence because she straightened up. “I want to join the Nite Owls once I’m old enough.”

“Nite Owls take their helmets off, though”, Axe pointed out, folding his arms.

The girl hesitated a moment too long with her reply. A huge mistake with a Mandalorian who had taught himself to sniff any trace of weakness.

“A-haaa!” Axe crowed, a huge smile blossoming on his face. “Now we are talking!”

Boan looked ready to disappear into a hole with mortification. I put a hand on her shoulder and threw Axe an exasperated look.

“She feels bad enough already without you bothering her.”

“Bothering her?” he exclaimed, not even hiding his grin. “I’m bloody proud of her, Bo! Bet Sabrina would be, too!”

“If they remove their helmet before others, they become apostates”, I tried to make Axe aware of the dilemma Boan was facing.

She nodded vigorously. “I didn’t mean to… it was an accident!”

“Seems to happen a lot around you, Bo”, Axe grinned, his eyes glittering mischievously.

I frowned in confusion, then felt myself blush slightly. Right, Din Djarin had taken off his helmet in my presence when saying goodbye to Grogu on Gideon’s cruiser. But really now, this was old news and had not happened because of me! Unusually determined to wipe the smirk off his face I threw him a look that would have caused former Prime Ministers of Mandalore to have little accidents in their armor. Too bad it was too undignified for the leader to openly bicker in front of an audience…

Boan, though, had no such qualms. Despite the helmet the heat of the look she threw Axe was palpable.

“She didn’t do anything! Don’t blame her for my mistakes!”

“Jumping to Bo-Katan’s rescue, little Eldar?” Still grinning, Axe cocked up an eyebrow. “Hmm, I’m starting to see the family resemblance. Peace, girl! You can leave your bucket off for good, as far as I’m concerned. Your secret is safe with me.”

“It won’t happen again”, the girl insisted with the righteousness of the young, “and I have to tell the Armorer that I broke the Creed.”

Axe cleared his throat. “Too bad. The Armorer said a few moments ago she wants to see Bo-Katan. Might be a bad time to tell her about apostasy. You wouldn’t want to distract your leader so shortly before our departure, would you?”

I rolled my eyes at him, mouthing too obvious in his direction. But Axe was in full rascal mode and pretended to not see me.

For what it was worth, his maneuver did seem to throw Boan for a loop. “I… I can’t just not tell her! The Tribe has a right to know that I transgressed!”

Axe shrugged. “What they don’t know won’t bother them.”

“But once the Armorer asks if I removed my helmet…”

He grinned wolfishly. “She won’t while she is on Mandalore with us, right?”

Boan paused, seeming honestly confused. Until now she had probably thought the Nite Owls were as strict as the Tribe when it came to rules. Little did she know how we often we had only survived because we bent the rules or blatantly ignored them.

“Listen, girl.” Axe’s voice shrunk into a whisper. “I get it. You had to do as you were told in order to survive. No judgment here.”

Liar, I thought in amusement. But at least a sympathetic liar.

“Just remember”, he continued, looking at her intently. “The rules are there for us, not we for the rules. If they make sense, follow them. If they don’t, follow your hunch. We are starting something new here and it will only work if we all can adapt a little. Besides” – now the roguish grin was back in full force – “once we reclaim our planet, we’ll have the Living Waters back. That should help with your little problem, right?”

She slightly tilted her head, thinking about his words. When she spoke again, there was hope in her voice.

“If we can get to the Living Waters again, I can be forgiven…”

“Exactly.” Axe looked almost proud. “Let’s face it, right now nobody is hurt by not knowing you took a quick breather. It’s not a big deal. If you make a big deal of it by telling everyone, people will be upset and distracted.” He leaned down to her as if confiding a dreadful secret in her. “The big Vizsla fellow is already itching for a fight with me. I don’t think I can stomach him if his mood gets any fouler.”

Now it was my turn to grin roguishly. Look at our Battle-Axe trying to make Sabrina’s daughter feel better! I was so going to take a Tough Guy Card from him for this…

Boan shifted her weight a little, lost in thought.

“Alright”, she finally said quietly. “I’ll wait until you all come back. For the sake of the mission.”

Axe patted her shoulder, a real smile on his face. “I think you might just make a passable Nite Owl, girl.”

“Speaking of Nite Owls.” I cleared my throat. “We have work to do. Boan, if you still want to help, you can go and lend a hand to Mel and Noela.” I pointed at our two youngsters who were doing the necessary pre-flight outside checks of our ships.

“Yes, of course.”

The girl nodded eagerly and went over to our Nite Chicks. As soon as I was alone with Axe, I treated him to a beatific smile.

He scowled suspiciously, already seeing the writing on the wall. “What?”

“Fraternizing already?” I smiled smugly.

“You wish.” Axe glared at me, though I knew him well enough to see it was merely for form’s sake. “Just doing my duty to Sabrina’s kid.”

My eyebrows rose in amusement. “What would this duty be, then?”

“Being a bad influence”, he countered immediately. “Job description for the embarrassing uncle.”

“Riiiight…” I drawled, having a hard time not to laugh into his face. But I was too glad seeing him warm towards someone from the Tribe to start a real tease attack. It was a relief, after all, to see he didn’t despise all Children of the Watch on sight.

There wasn’t much time for poking fun at Axe anyway. There was still a bunch of stuff to do before we could leave. The Armorer and I sat down for a last time to compare notes. Koska and Laurana were taking care of the medical supplies, I saw them talk and laugh animatedly. They seemed to have found common ground rather quickly. Boan, Mel and Noela completed the outside checks of our ships, comparing notes and looking rather companionable. It gave me hope that our people could grow together if both sides made an effort.

Once the preparations were finished, the Armorer and I did a quick head count to make sure all our volunteers from last night had shown up. Unfortunately we had to cross off Janine Solus from our list. During the night she had come down with a fever and there was no way I was taking a sick woman to such a dangerous planet. Instead Lin Tsue and Kaya Mari both volunteered to take Janine’s place, and eventually both ended up coming with us. Soon they were wearing brand new space overalls under their trusted, battered armors and we had more seats in the ships occupied than we originally thought. I was not complaining. There was strength in numbers on a desolate, dangerous planets and as long as there was space in the ships, I was more than willing to take some extra hands along.

Eventually the hour of our departure came. I hugged Boan goodbye, once more reassuring her I would keep my eyes peeled for traces of her mother. I said my farewells to Laurana and promised her pretty much the same thing. I was not fooling myself, though. I simply had no idea where on Mandalore Sabrina had gone down into the flames. If we didn’t find her armor in the cyborg’s cave, we might as well search a haystack without knowing if there even was a needle left to find.

The members of the Tribe who accompanied us took their leave of their loved ones as well. Paz Vizsla embraced Ragnar. From where I stood I could clearly hear the boy imploring his father to let him come along and heard Paz gently but firmly refusing him. Asla said goodbye to her girlfriend, Cal to the raptor chicks.

One by one the ships rose into the air, Gauntlets and formerly imperial transporters in formation around the cruiser. Nevarro disappeared underneath us, behind us, as Nite Owls, Children of the Watch and Old Mandalorians set off for their common ancestral home.

This trip to Mandalore felt much faster than the last one.

No time seemed to have passed at all between us entering hyperspace and leaving it again close to Mandalore. Like last time I felt apprehensive, only the reasons differed. I had been worried for Din Djarin and mortally afraid of facing the destruction the Imps had wrought on my home planet. This time I was worried how our people would take it. The Nite Owls as well as the Tribe volunteers of the scouting party were born Mandalorians. I well remembered the anguish, the heart-wrenching pain and wordless grief at seeing the ruins of Sundari and would gladly have given the Darksaber away if I could have spared my friends this experience.

At least we were not going to Sundari this time. It would be Keldabe instead, or rather what was left of it after the Clan Wars. For once the destruction of a Mandalorian capital was not the fault of the Imps. This one was on us, the warring factions of the traditionalists and the New Mandalorians. The city had been razed, so when Satine’s people won, they had shifted the seat of power to Sundari. The Imps would not have found much to bomb in the Keldabe area save a few buildings, so apart from a glassy surface we should be spared the haunting sight of a ghost town. Even more important for us, the Great Forge had been close to Keldabe. As the former capital, Keldabe’s coordinates had been taught to every born Mandalorian and it was the best starting point to look for a subterranean forge. Especially on a planet which had been robbed of any landmarks.

Carefully we moved the fleet into position in orbit. Concordia was hanging in the sky above us. I dearly hoped it was a good sign, a reminder that Nite Owls, Children of the Watch and Clan Awaud all had been there once. A sign of unity against the ever present threat of division.

As I had told the others in my briefing, for the time being we would only send a scouting party down, consisting of the volunteers as well as the Beroya husbands and Dan Solus. They were already assembled in my Gauntlet, Din and the scouts in the dropping area, the Armorer and Grogu in his IG-unit in the cockpit with me.

“Scouting party descending to surface”, I announced on the Clan Kryze channel as I started the landing procedures.

We broke away from the formation of ships and began our descent towards the clouds. This time I knew what to expect of the atmosphere and had warned everyone in the Gauntlet to buckle up or hold on tight.

“We’ll lose comms shortly”, I informed the Armorer who gave me a curt nod of understanding. Bracing myself for turbulence and storms, I piloted the Gauntlet into the clouds.

The ship rocked back and forth like an obstinate horse. Rain crashed against our windows, thunder rolled and lightnings crashed around us. The warriors in the dropping area were too disciplined to yelp or scream, but I did hear gasps and occasional groans after particularly hard bumps. The alarm was beeping non-stop, telling me what I already knew: that the atmosphere was still rather disturbed, that there was no way to scan the surface and no way to reach anyone in orbit. It was the final seal on us being on our own down here.

And then the clouds ripped open like the last time and revealed devastation, the huge craters the bombs had torn into the surface, blackened, burned buildings. With a deep sigh I opened the hatches in the dropping area.

I knew the precise moment our warriors caught their first glimpse on the burned, shattered world underneath us. A sharp breath was taken by several throats, just to be followed by an eerie silence. In my anxious state I was sure I could hear their hearts freeze in their chests for a moment.

I was not imagining the soft gasps though. Noises that sounded like stifled sobs.

“It’s worse than I thought”, I heard Paz Vizla say, clearly making an effort to keep his cool.

“I was here when it happened”, Axe replied in a hoarse voice. I could tell just by hearing that he had squeezed his eyes shut behind the helmet, desperately trying to keep it together.

He too must have flashbacks, I realized with a sharp pang. Of fire, of loss, of utter helplessness.

This was going to be awful.

Then again, I had found some healing the last time I was here. Maybe doing something about the destruction would help the others to move on as well.

The cockpit door opened and Din Djarin came in.

“They’re ready”, he informed me quietly. Tensely I nodded and reduced the speed of the Gauntlet.

“Secure infil zone”, I spoke into the Clan Kryze channel while Din sat down in his usual seat at the guns.

A moment later the warriors unbuckled and dropped to the surface, igniting their jetpacks on the way down. I kept an eye on them while holding the Gauntlet steady, saw how they all landed on their feet at the ground, reached for their weapons and started their recon.

Their movements were stiff, they still needed to get used to the glassy ground underneath their feet. And to their senses struggling to cope with what they remembered and what they were actually seeing. Nevertheless they did their jobs, equally distributing the area they needed to check between them and scanning it for any threats. From above I couldn’t spot anything, but if I had learned something from my last trip it was that dangers on our changed world came from where you didn’t expect them. Eventually they formed a lose circle, their eyes outwards, their weapons ready.

“Gauntlet”, Axe’s voice sounded in the comm channel, “landing zone secure.”

Here we go, then.

I initiated the landing sequence and carefully piloted the Gauntlet down to the glassed surface. This time I knew what to expect and did not bother with putting on my helmet before opening the hatch. Din, Grogu and the Armorer left as soon as the gangway was out while I shut down the last systems. I had not planned it this way, but it meant I left the ship last and everyone outside had gathered to expectantly look at me.

Enter the royal princess… of a ravaged planet.

“Somewhere below is where our ancient capital once stood.” To my relief my voice was calm as I addressed them all. Walking down the gangway I continued: “We’ll survey the surface until we find the Forge and create a safety zone. Only then will we begin to bring down the settlers.”

I found Din’s gaze and we shared a grim nod. We both remembered all the traps and predators we had encountered the last time. There was no way we would bring settlers down here without making absolutely sure it was safe.

“We start scouting in that direction. Form up.”

Leading the way while Din Djarin secured the rear, I started to walk, following the rough course the Armorer and I had plotted together. Slowly a smile formed on my face as I put on my helmet. No matter what it looked like and what was waiting here for us, I was home.

We had been walking for a few hours. The sun was heading to the west and evening would fall soon. So far we had not found any trace of the forge in the bizarre, dream-like landscape of bottle-green rocks and glassy grounds. The light of the fading sun was reflecting from the surface, making it look like we were walking in a very shallow sea.

Nobody spoke. Every once in a while I made sure we were still complete but had no desire to fill the silence with words. It would have felt disrespectful. The others were clearly trying to come to terms with what they were seeing, remembering people they had lost, places that only existed in memory anymore. I for my part was grateful I didn’t have to walk through a darkened city again. Even the strange light and the glassy surface were better than that.

Suddenly Din Djarin stopped. His head turned to our right.

“There”, he pointed out. “On the horizon.”

When I followed his gaze, I realized a dusty cloud in the direction he was pointing. It was close to the surface, yet too small to be a gust of wind. Something was moving over there and if I wasn’t seeing things, it was heading towards us.

“Nite Owls”, I called out, switching on the rangefinder on my helmet.

“Flanking left”, Axe confirmed, getting in position behind a rock to my left. Koska took her position by my side. Paz Viszla got his canon gun ready.

Slowly a ship-like form revealed itself from the dust. It bore a mast with apparently four sets of sails, vividly reminding me of the wings of a dragonfly. It seemed to glide on the glassy surface – or did the strong beams on either side bear wheels?

Once it made its way out of the dust cloud, I finally identified the construction as a langskib. My heart beat faster. This wasn’t some antediluvian. Whoever was on this vehicle was intelligent and resourceful.

Friend or foe?

The rattling noise of the langskib moving across the surface and finally coming to a standstill drowned out all other sounds. Din protectively shoved Grogu in his IG-unit behind himself. Axe raised his gun, ready to counter any ambush. Koska and the Shriek-hawks had drawn as well. I kept my hands close to my guns, my fingers curling slightly, but not drawing yet. The Armorer too kept her hands by her sides.

The langskib was standing still now, a good twenty meters away from us. There were people on deck. I could clearly see them, dark figures against the bright sky. Making a first quick count, I figured it might be half a dozen.

“Do you have food?” one of them called over to us.

Okay, this wasn’t what I had expected but definitely better than an assault. Slowly I deactivated my rangefinder again.

“We do”, I called back cautiously. I did not want to give them an invitation to raid our supplies, but then again people were less likely to be hostile if you shared some food with them.

Again the voice carried over to us. “You wear the crest of the Nite Owls?”

“I should hope so”, I retorted, feeling more and more bewildered.

They can’t see that without rangefinders…

Beside me the Armorer moved slowly forward, quietly speaking out what my guts were desperately trying to put into words. “They’re Mandalorians.”

Survivors. Here. After all these years.

Oh Gods. Oh Gods…

Who was still here after the Imps bombed everything to the ground? Their toadies of Clan Saxon? The last vestiges of the Mauldalorians?

When the stranger spoke again, the tone was almost soft. “Is that the voice of Lady Bo-Katan Kryze?”

I exchanged a look with Koska, feeling a shiver run through my body. Then I straightened up and raised my chin, ready to face the music.

“It is”, I declared almost defiantly.

Three figures rose from the deck, using jetpacks to fly over to us. Even against the blinding sun I recognized their Mandalorian armor. Axe and Koska kept their blasters trained on them, though I gestured Koska to hold her fire until further notice. I needed to find out who these people were.

Once they had landed, they took off their helmets, revealing themselves as three men. I relaxed a little at seeing this familiar gesture of peace. They all wore scratched beskar armor, the paint flaking off, and their clothes were even more tattered than those of the Tribe. Three pairs of eyes locked on me like people in a storm would look at a beacon.

Their thin, weathered faces crumpled as they lowered their heads and offered me the warrior salute. The gaunt, bearded man to our right spoke first, his voice trembling. “We knew you would not forsake us, Lady Bo-Katan. We have failed you, but our blasters remain in your service.”

I cringed at seeing the fear and shame in his eyes. This was the kind of look Pre Vizsla had gotten from his Death Watch subordinates when they had screwed up. I really did not care getting it from my people.

“Failed me…”

If anything had a chance at failing me right now, it was my own words. How could any Mandalorian who survived the Purge think they had disappointed me? To buy myself some time, to confirm my identity and, most importantly, to return the gesture of goodwill, I took off my helmet and tucked it under my left arm.

“What’s your name, warrior?” I finally managed to ask the gaunt man, and thank the Force my voice didn’t die on me.

“Rab Kast, Mylady.”

The name Kast was enough to stiffen several people up. During the Siege of Mandalore, when we joined forces with the Republic to get rid of Maul, his forces had been led by Gar Saxon and Rook Kast. I remembered entering hand-to-hand combat with the latter, and she had given me a run for my money. She had been a bloody traitor to Mandalore. House Kast itself, though, had never declared war on me or House Kryze and I had no feud with them. Quite the contrary, several Kasts had joined me in the resistance against the Empire, though I didn’t remember the individual before me.

“Rab Kast”, I repeated, lifting my right arm to give him a respectful warrior salute. “Nobody who managed to survive the Purge failed me. I’m glad to see you alive.”

Then I turned my attention to the leader who had been quiet so far. He was a gray-haired man with dark brown skin, his face marked by hardships and sorrow. A scar split his left eyebrow and cheek, barely sparing the eye. He looked at me as if I was the rising sun after a long and dreadful night.

Something about him looked strangely familiar. Discretely I checked him for signets or marks on his armor, yet the harsh, unforgiving life on our desolate planet had eroded them all. Only the color of his armor remained. Golden pauldrons and cuirass, the color slightly faded. A matching helmet with a blue-framed visor. Vambraces in the same blue.

My heart skipped a beat. Blue and golden. The colors of my house. He was a captain of House Kryze’s guard.

There had been several captains in our guard during the years, but on searching his face, I suddenly remembered his name. My throat closing up, I took a step forward. Good grief, this one had served under my father…

“Captain Sam Archer”, I whispered. “It’s so good to see you.”

“My lady.” He bowed his head, but I could see his eyes going moist. “We never gave up on your return.”

Shakily I fumbled for one of my pouches. My fingers trembled so badly I thought I was going to drop everything, but then I found what I was looking for. When I opened my fist for everyone to see, the fading sunlight twinkled on a crystal orb bearing the carved crest of House Kryze.

Captain Archer’s face shone with joy. “You found it. I knew you would go there to honor your father. I left it there, hoping it would lead you to us.”

My face flushed scarlet. I did not deserve to be the carrier of his hope. When finding the crystal I had not even thought about checking the planet for survivors. I had merely assumed everyone had been killed off by the predators and the cyborg, the crystal being nothing but a last memento.

“And it did”, I heard Din Djarin’s calm voice say. “Lady Kryze never gave up on retaking the planet.”

A part of me wanted to protest hotly at this undeserved praise, seeing how I had wasted months by feeling sorry for myself instead of getting my act together. However, a glance at the captain’s face shut me up. He looked like finally he dared to hope again. After all the horrors he and his troop had faced here, it would have been outright cruel to take this relief away from him. I could beat myself up later in private. Right now, I had to take care of my newly found people.

Sam Archer scanned the not-Nite Owl warriors behind me, clearly looking for clan crests and other insignia to identify them. From his widening eyes I knew the exact moment he recognized Clan Awaud’s party.

“You found Old Mandalorians?” he asked almost in awe.

“We have a lot to talk about”, I said with a weak smile. “Permission to come on board, Captain?”

He pulled himself up to his full height and nodded gravely. “Permission granted, Lady Kryze.”

In my life time I have seen many marvels of Mandalorian craftsmanship and creativity. The domed cities spring into my mind, cleverly designed to host life in its multiple forms after most of the surface had been turned into wastelands. The translucent architecture with its glass walls, bridges and floors. Vera Beroya’s Clan Home, built in the style of a Mandalorian fortress.

But nothing demonstrated our people’s sheer resilience better than the survivors’ langskib. They had built it by hand, their only tools being whatever they had carried with them during the Purge, what they had found or what they had made themselves. Built entirely from scratch, it towered over us, proud and undefeated despite its weathered looks and, even more important, fully functional. It slid on the glass, its sails picking up the wind and moving it even faster. You could not have found a better earthbound vehicle to cross the surface if you tried. I could hear Paz Vizsla and Asla from the Shriek-hawks whisper in admiration of the design. The Tribe, who more often than not had to build camps from scratch, fully appreciated our brethren’s ingenuity.

We all had sat down at a long table on deck, close to the keel of the longskib. I had been placed at the head of the table and gave the survivors a brief sketch of our mission – to find the Great Forge and rebuild our planet. Hiro of the Shriek-hawks had quickly prepared some of our rations, so that we could treat the crew to some hot soup and drinks.

“How did you survive?” I asked the captain once I had finished my story.

“By luck,” he replied, his tone slightly bitter. “All of us. Rab, for example, was left for dead by the drones. I was covered by rubble. Others we found in the ashes once the fires finally died down. Their beskar had shielded them – to an extent.”

I had to force back memories of the scorching heat of the fires. It was an utter miracle they had not simply melted the survivors’ armors.

“But there was no way off planet”, the Armorer stated, her calm voice laced with an unspeakable sadness.

“No”, the captain admitted, his voice grave and tired. “They intercepted any ships they saw leaving. They took no prisoners. They bombed every surface twice over.”

I felt my guts churn. Din restlessly moved on his chair.

“They punished us”, Sam Archer finished bleakly, “as a warning to the whole galaxy because we refused to surrender.”

He looked in my direction during the last sentence, and so he got the full picture of my eyes growing wide with dawning horror. A nauseating cold settled in my body, making me shiver. This wasn’t real. This could not be happening. Was this what the Imps had told my people when they slaughtered them one by one? That I had let the massacre happen out of stubbornness?

“That’s not true.” I had to grit my teeth to prevent them from chattering. Rab Kast and Din Djarin turned to face me in utter disbelief. “I did surrender.”

The Mandalorians around me whispered, the survivors looking openly shocked. Even Paz Vizsla, despite wearing his ever-present helmet, seemed surprised while the Armorer stoically looked ahead without moving. Axe glared at the table and Koska briefly closed her eyes. They both knew the truth already.

But those to whom it meant something had not known. All these years, and they had not known. They had thought I allowed them to be bombed into annihilation instead of swallowing my pride and saving what I still could. Trust the Empire to spread lies and turn a people against each other.

That’s why the survivors had thought they failed me.

They had been convinced my last orders were to fight back the Imps or die trying. They had been worried I would berate them for being living failures instead of dead heroes. Had I not been so furious at Moff Gideon, I might just have broken down with grief. Instead, I hung on to my anger, refusing to give in to self-pity. I had to tell them the truth, needed them to know that they had exceeded everything I could ever have asked of them. They had survived the Purge under the worst possible circumstances. Nothing could have earned them my respect better than this accomplishment. They all deserved a kriffing medal.

Axe and Koska looked to me in sympathy, feeling the tension mount as much as I did. They had been there. They knew what I had tried to do and what it had cost me. Koska drew a breath and looked at me, clearly itching to speak up in my defense. While grateful for her support, I signaled her to not interfere. This was my fight, not hers. Koska nodded sadly, Axe visibly scowled. He said nothing but I knew him well enough. He was ready to kick anyone who dared to berate me in the teeth. Despite the ache inside me it was good to know he had my back. I had missed his fierce loyalty.

Time to face the music.

“After our forces were annihilated in the Night of a Thousand Tears and defeat was imminent, I met with Moff Gideon”, I started the painful tale of my greatest failure. “The ISB had reached out to me to negotiate a cease-fire. In exchange for submitting to the Empire and disarming, all remaining cities and Mandalorian lives were to be spared.”

Several faces froze. Captain Archer’s eyes took on a look of utter betrayal. I did not dare to ask whether it was because he finally realized the full extent of Imperial perfidy or because he felt utter contempt for my choice to surrender.

“That is how Moff Gideon came to possess the Darksaber”, I continued, almost choking on my words. “I didn’t trust him, but it was the only chance I had to save our people.”

Gideon had demanded the Darksaber in exchange for my people’s lives. While I fully knew I was giving up an ancient Mandalorian symbol of leadership and would be shamed for it, I also knew what I valued more than anything else. No outer trapping in the universe was more valuable than lives.

Not that it had worked out.

Letting my eyes wander to gauge everyone’s reactions, I saw the Armorer looking at me intensely. Now I understood what had surprised her when we talked during my cooking of pog soup. It was not the fact that I had failed. It was the fact that I had attempted negotiations. She must have believed the same as the survivors, that I had been so proud and selfish I’d rather sacrifice our planet and let our people die out than humble myself and admit defeat. I felt a small grain of gratitude that once she knew the truth, she had become my staunch supporter and ally.

Grogu too looked at me. His dark eyes were full of sympathy, having heard the story already. The survivors were unified in their disbelief. Clan Awaud’s response surprised me though. Dan Solus looked glum and Baihu Beroya’s eyes shimmered slightly, as if he was fighting back tears. Tim however gave me a grave nod and I saw a new respect in his expression. Here was one thing the mercenary and I had in common: we did not believe in pointlessly sacrificing our warriors. We sold their lives only as a very last resort and as dearly as possible.

“And then he betrayed me”, I brought the tale to its sorry end, “and we were helpless to resist the Purge of Mandalore.”

Gideon had lured me into giving him the Darksaber and then had continued the bombings until our entire planet burned. I had no words left to describe what this last betrayal had done to me, on top of losing the majority of my people and our home world. My silence spoke volumes in itself.

For a while nobody said anything. Captain Archer looked at me steadily, his posture tense, and I realized we were at a turning point here. For years he and his crew had believed to be disappointments to their perceived warrior queen. Now they had to wrap their heads around the news that I had not even wanted them to fight any longer. How many sacrifices had they brought in my name which now turned out to be completely and utterly pointless?

As if to diffuse the tension, Rab Kast pointed at the Children of the Watch. “How did these others survive?”

“We were hidden on the moon of Concordia”, the Armorer explained.

Sam Archer’s eyes narrowed, for a moment lingering on the all-too-familiar shriek-hawk signet on Cal’s pauldrons. “Are you Death Watch?”

“Death Watch exists no longer”, the Armorer corrected him firmly. “It shattered into many warring factions.”

The story of our lives…

“Our people have suffered time and again. From division and squabbling factions,” I said quietly. Not that I was crying over the end of Death Watch. The splintering was just so very typical for our people. “Mandalore has always been too powerful for any enemy to defeat. It is always our own division that destroys us.”

My head started to feel light. The Nite Owls and the Children of the Watch kept up a fragile peace to retake Mandalore, but their clash of cultures was not over by a long shot. Clan Awaud did their own thing and merely accompanied us to secure their own interests. And now there was another fraction of Mandalorians who had glorified me as some kind of war goddess, just to be disappointed in their assumptions.

How was I supposed to keep all these camps together?

My vision began to swim and I realized I was in dire need of a break. Excusing myself I left the table and walked towards the keel of the langskib. Just a few moments without scandalized stares. Just a few minutes to myself.

It was a beautiful night. The waxing Concordia shone it all its silver beauty. The light was reflected from the glassy surface and turned the surreal landscape into something from a dream.

Had it not been Mandalore, I would have been stunned by the otherworldly beauty of it all. Instead the view mercilessly reminded me what I had lost. What had I failed to preserve. It was almost enough to make me cry.

Then I heard the steps behind me. One person. I closed my eyes, forcing back tears.

Strangely enough, I knew who it was. I had lived with Din Djarin long enough by now to recognize the rhythm of his steps. Also he would be the only one to seek me out when I was in such a desolate state. Both the Armorer as well as Axe and Koska would stay away to give me space. Din, though, didn’t shy back from me in my vulnerable phases. On our missions we had made a habit of spending time together and taking care of each other. The habit was hard to break, even when traveling with a bigger force.

“I had no idea”, I heard him say quietly. His voice was emotional and I realized my tale must have gotten under his skin. “We were taught that everyone but us had forsaken the Way.”

Of course he had been taught this. The Tribe had been founded by a branch of Death Watch. They had a tendency to only teach their foundlings what suited their own ideology, even if in this case it was not as harmful as what Pre Vizsla had fed me. I still felt raw and sore from telling my tale in front of everyone though, and had no strength to speak my thoughts out loud. Instead of replying, I slightly inclined my head to show him I was listening.

“That you were selfish and uncaring”, he continued. “Now I understand.”

“You were right. I was selfish”, I bitterly replied. This really was not the kind of talk I had hoped to have with him here. “And this is what it wrought.”

Division. Distrust. Destruction.

If I had not fought Satine but instead helped her to unify our people, things might have gone differently. Death Watch would never have risen to such prominence. They would never have recruited a Sith Lord. We would never have needed the Republic’s help to capture him, thus paving the way for the Imperial occupation. We could have…

“We will rebuild it”, I heard his calm voice. “Isn’t that our history? For thousands of years, we have been on the verge of extinction, and for thousands of years, we have survived.”

Trust Din Djarin to always be the optimist. Unlike me, who saw millenia of pointless slaughter, he saw millenia of survival against all odds, a testament to the strength and resilience of our people. The survivors we had found here merely strengthened his faith and optimism. It got annoying at times how he insisted on the glass being half full, but I had learned to cherish his encouragement.

Nevertheless right now he missed an important point. The rebuilding was not what worried me.

“I don’t know if I can keep everyone together”, I attempted to clarify while turning towards him, trying to make him see. Our success depended on us Mandalorians to stick together, and it was not our strongest suit. My biggest fear right now was that it was all going to fall apart before we could even reach our destination. “There’s too much animosity. And this blade is all I have to unify our people.”

I took the Darksaber off my belt and showed it to him. It looked so ridiculously small and insignificant. It might be called a symbol of unity, yet it had always been the cause for discord and strife. For an outsider it must be an utter mystery why our people would follow its bearer. Truth be told, I started to ask myself the same question. How could a single weapon be the glue to keep our people together when it came with such a temptation to fight the owner? With a sigh I turned back.

“I only know of this weapon what you taught me.”

Din had come up to me and stood beside me now, a comforting presence amid the desolate landscape. Someone I could trust completely. My confidante. My equal. The only one I dared to be completely vulnerable with.

“To be honest”, he continued, “it means nothing to me or my people.”

From Din Djarin this was the official absolution for surrendering. He had been ready to just hand the Darksaber over to me without thinking twice. He completely supported my decision to trade it for our people’s lives, even respected me for it. The Children of the Watch followed the Creed which was much older than the Darksaber. The blade played no role in their beliefs. It was just another weapon to them, an unimportant outer trapping.

“Nor does station or bloodline.”

Another truth. The Tribe did not care about ancestry. Most of them were foundlings, not born Mandalorians. They respected good warriors and leaders, not people descended from royal families.

“What means more to me is honor”, he continued. “And loyalty. And character. These are the reasons I serve you, Lady Kryze.”

I turned back to him in surprise, my heart in my throat. His words were so full of admiration and love that I felt my heart swell. It was the most beautiful thing anyone had ever said to me. Not the talk I had expected to have, but one I had definitely needed. Somehow Din always found the right words to pull me out of my darkness. More than that, he inspired me to become my best possible self. His good opinion meant the world to me. I wanted to be the woman he perceived me to be, see her in the mirror every day.

“Your song is not yet written”, he added gently. “I will serve you until it is.”

I was close to tearing up at this renewal of his pledge. Finally there was an answer to the question I had asked him before the two of us set off to find the Nite Owls. The question why he had, out of the blue, pledged his clan’s loyalty to my house. He saw admirable traits in me and wanted to help me to become this amazing person I could not quite see yet.

I did not trust myself to speak. Only my eyes answered him, and I hoped they conveyed everything I thought and could not voice. Hopefully one day he would see himself as I saw him. Not one warrior out of many pledging his loyalty to his lady but her equal in every aspect. Her soulmate.

Din seemed to understand. He offered me the warrior salute, then turned and walked away like one of the Mandalorians of old, asking neither for a reward nor for gratitude. I swallowed the lump in my throat. If the song of Lady Bo-Katan Kryze was ever written, it better featured her brave knight in shining beskar.

He was right. I had more than the Darksaber to unite our people. I had the loyalty of the Tribe. I had the camaraderie of the Nite Owls. I had the reluctant respect of Clan Awaud and, with some luck, still held the hearts of the survivors.

Most important, I had Din Djarin.

I allowed myself a few more deep breaths after he had left me, then straightened up. Enough worries and what-ifs. There was work to be done.

Now that the most important news had been exchanged, it became pretty clear how desperately the survivors needed assistance. Their request for food had not been a joke. Hiro, Asla, Axe and Koska were busy making an inventory of ration bars, dried fruits and dinosaur turtle jerky to share with our starving brethren. Apart from food, the survivors also sorely lacked medical equipment. By the time I joined the others again, the Armorer had found out that down below the deck several survivors lay sick in their bunks and had organized for them to be brought upstairs. The deck was littered with sick and injured Mandalorians in dire need of a physician. Some wounds had been bound up, only to get infected. Several survivors were down with traumatic fever and Captain Archer was doing his utmost to give them some relief with the equipment we had with us. It was better than what they had, but not enough by a long shot.

The Armorer had already started to triage the sick, and I decided to work my way towards her from the other side. Now I wished Laurana had accompanied us. She could have made an actual difference here. We others could merely offer first aid.

Several heads of the newcomers turned at my sight. “It really is Lady Bo-Katan”, someone gasped as I cautiously passed them on my way to the far end of the ship. My red hair made me stand out of the crowd and apparently they had already heard rumors of my return.

At the far end of the ship, in a pale patch of moonlight, a warrior lying on a stretcher raised their disheveled head. Their leg was bound in a makeshift splint and they visibly struggled to keep themself supported on shaking arms. I saw dark eyes widen in the moonlight.

“Bo?” they croaked, half in hope, half in disbelief. A woman.

I froze at the spot. I knew that voice.

Something glittered in her face. A jewel in her nostril, twinkling in the silvery light of Concordia.

And then I ran, faster than I could have imagined, leaping over ropes and evading people in my way just to get to her more quickly. Behind me I heard Koska gasp and Axe exclaim in shock, but I could not pay them any attention. I had to get to her before she faded away once more, had to make sure she was real and not a mirage born out of my losses and regrets. Like someone possessed I dashed over to the woman, hearing myself scream her name like I had done so long ago during the Purge.

“Sabrina!”

I fell to my knees beside her and cradled her head in my lap. Her black hair had grown out of its undercut and was flecked with gray. She still wore her battered Nite Owl armor over patched clothes, her pauldrons horizontal, the paint scorched away by the fires of Mandalore.

Others we found in the ashes once the fires finally died down…

Her bare hand came up to my face, touching my cheek, my hair and the scar on my forehead, as if her eyes could not give her proof enough.

“Is that really you?” she stammered. The voice was hoarse, but I recognized it. It was as familiar as Satine’s.

“It’s me.” The world dimmed behind a veil of tears and for once I did not care if people saw me cry. With some effort I managed a wobbly smile. “I’m here, Sabrina. I got you.”

“Bo…”

Whispering my name she clasped her hands around my neck, and I leaned down into her embrace, resting my cheek against her feverishly hot one. I could feel her shake beneath me, felt her tears moistening both our faces.

“I knew you would come”, Sabrina sobbed, clinging to me as if I was her salvation. “I kept telling the others. You always came back for Mandalore.”

Words failed me. I just held her tightly as she cried, our breaths mingling, my hair falling down around us both and my face still touching hers.

Chapter Text

Whatever happened next simply passed me by. In my state of astonishment, disbelief and tentative joy I had neither eyes nor ears left for anyone but Sabrina. I only heard her sobs, saw her body tremble and felt her pulse throbbing against my skin, spelling out the impossible loud and clearly.

Alive. Alive. Alive…

I could not say how long I held her, just that at some point hands on my shoulders gently pulled me off. I must have protested because I remember Axe grumbling something along the lines of “Stop hogging her, it’s our turn” in the signature gruff voice he only put on when fighting back tears. Extremely reluctantly I let go of Sabrina, my eyes still fastened on her, until Koska pulled Sabrina into a tearful hug and blocked my view.

Finally I could spare some attention to the two shadows by my side. Din and Grogu had joined us, the latter still in his IG vehicle. Din, who squatted beside me, his hands still hovering on my shoulders, needed no explanation. He just put his left arm around me without saying a word. Almost choking with gratitude I melted into him and buried my face in the crook between his neck and his shoulder. For once I felt resentful of our armors separating my body from his and briefly thought about getting the beskar off to feel his warmth. I had no strength to act on the impulse, though.

I heard a soft, worried noise from Grogu, heard the familiar hissing of bacta spray being applied and heard Sabrina making a pained noise. For the time being I trusted my friends to take good care of her. I was still too raw from my confession to the survivors to be of any use right now. Din’s second arm wrapped itself around me, and I just let go of my last defenses, leaned into his touch and let the silent tears fall into the coarse fabric of his cape. There was only so much I could take within one single night.

An eternity later, when I finally managed to raise my hot, sticky face again, I saw three Nite Owls huddling together before me, three friends finally reunited. Axe had carefully propped Sabrina up into a sitting position and held her safely. In the meantime Koska fussed over Sabrina’s broken leg, cleaning and tending it, desperately trying to stay busy in order to escape her own avalanche of feelings. Sabrina’s eyes feasted on the two as hungrily as her starving comrades had on their pog soup earlier.

Now that I was no longer bent over her, I got a proper look at her and something in my chest constricted painfully. She was far too thin, her normally round cheeks gaunt and hollow. The hard years on a desolate planet had left traces on her face and sharpened her features as if sandstorms had rubbed away all softness and only left edges and angles. Her skin, tightly drawn over her cheekbones, was sunburned and littered with wrinkles more appropriate for a much older woman. The formerly shiny hair was dull and seemed almost brittle, making me wonder if it had been singed off in the fires of Mandalore and only reluctantly grew back. Strangely enough she made me think of the ruins of Sundari. While you could still find hints and traces of their former selves, they both were no longer what they used to be. They had changed, and I would have to explore their new, strange versions.

The splinted leg Koska was treating looked awful. From what I could see, it was a compound fracture, infected and very likely the cause of Sabrina’s fever. Her clothes were as shabby and dirty as those of the other survivors, only offering the barest protection against the chaotic weather of our savage world. When she reached out to cup Koska’s cheek with her hand, the ragged sleeve fell back and revealed a bizarre pattern of disfiguring scars on her arm. Burn marks, I realized with a bolt of nausea. She must have gotten them when she fell into the flames, when the fires ate away everything unprotected by beskar. I clenched my jaw shut, suppressing a sob.

No pity, I reminded myself as harshly as possible to keep myself from wailing out loud. Don’t you dare show her pity. She always hated that.

Cool beskar touched the back of my head as Din gently turned his helmeted head to whisper into my ear.

“She’ll be fine, Bo. Just needs a few rounds in the bacta tank. She survived. A true Mandalorian.”

I felt reminded of his comforting words earlier, when he expressed his belief in our people to bounce back from almost everything. To survive against all odds. Slowly, tentatively, I allowed myself to breathe a little easier again and nodded against his shoulder. He was right. Burn marks could be healed with bacta, as long as Sabrina got a couple of cycles in a tank. The cruiser had a fully functioning sickbay. All we needed to do was to get her there. We could heal the wounds she had gotten during the last years. At least the physical ones. As for the others...

We are SO going to need some New Mandalorians!

I looked at Sabrina again, worriedly searching her features for an obvious sign of PTSD. I had no doubt she suffered from it, the question was just to which extent. Right now, though, she seemed almost at peace, were it not for the slight glimmer in her eyes. It was her one unchanged feature, the spark of mischief which had always linked her close to Axe. Against all odds she had the advantage over him and Koska at the moment. She had already gotten the first storm of emotions out of her system when holding on to me. So I was not surprised when, turning her face to Axe, Sabrina treated him to her signature teasing grin.

“Got something in your eye, tough guy?”

Axe, who was indeed blinking hard, snorted. “Stop cutting onions!”

A broken giggle escaped my sore throat. How I had missed the banter between my friends!

By now Rab Kast had joined us to hand Sabrina some soup. He smiled weakly at our little family reunion and gently took the bacta spray from Koska. “You talk to your sister. I can do this.”

I had expected Koska to be reluctant to give up her activity, seeing it kept her from facing messy emotions. But she surrendered her post without protest and instead moved to Sabrina’s side, huddling as closely to her as possible without inconveniencing her.

“How did you survive?” she croaked out the question we were all dying to ask. “We all saw you die. Your jetpack exploded.”

“No, you didn’t and yes, it did.” Sabrina’s face darkened slightly, while greedily spooning soup into her mouth. “My jetpack caught fire in the explosion of the bomber. I did a Fallen Phoenix.”

My eyes widened. The Fallen Phoenix was a maneuver Ursa Wren had developed during our battles with the Mauldalorians. Getting their jetpacks to explode had been my favorite way to bring them down, and of course the enemy had quickly picked it up to pay us back in kind. To keep us one step ahead of them, Ursa had come up with a technique to quickly discard our jetpacks, even mid-flight. A simple push of a newly installed button, and the jetpack would come off. Needless to say it was quite dangerous, but when facing a choice between going up in flames or breaking a few bones thanks to a fall, most of us went for the fall. This, at least, you could cushion to a certain extent.

“You dropped your jetpack while flying through an inferno?!”

Axe seemed to have a hard time deciding whether to be aghast or deeply impressed. The daredevil in him clearly applauded the sheer recklessness of the maneuver, though usually he was more at ease with pulling such stunts himself than watching his friends doing so. Talk about double standards.

Sabrina grinned again. “Sorry. I know you wanted to be the first one to do it. Although – not sorry at all.”

Axe let out a noise between a shaky laugh and a gruff snort. “You’ll be sorry soon enough! Making me mourn a bloody jetpack!”

Slowly the pieces started to fall together. We all had seen the explosion of Sabrina’s jetpack but none of us had actually seen her going up in flames. If she had gotten rid of it, she must have dropped like a stone, out of our view, just mere fractions of a second before the explosion. With all the fires raging high up in the sky, the flickering flames, the black smoke, the far too bright light and our eyes aching and tearing up, I could easily see how we had been tricked into thinking her dead.

Into thinking it was pointless to come search for her.

“Well, hitting the surface was not exactly a picnic either”, Sabrina countered, making a face. “Hip ‘s never been the same since.”

Rab Kast looked up from her injured leg, his gaunt face tight and serious. “She was a ball of burns and splinters. If the captain hadn’t been trained as a field medic, she would have been paralyzed. Assuming she had survived her burns.”

My throat closed up. For a moment I just slumped against Din, shivering with horror and self-loathing as the full terrible truth hit me like an anvil. Gods, she had been badly injured, trapped here after the bombings with nothing to live on, fighting for survival every single day while I, at times, was merely one planet away. She and all the other survivors had starved, died of infections, gotten eaten by predators and bled to death by cyborgs while I sat in a snug castle, feeling sorry for myself. It would have taken just one short trip…

“No. No. No. No. No.”

With a start I looked up. Grogu stared down at me from the IG-droid, repeatedly punching the “No”-button.

“No, what?” I asked with some irritation.

Grogu’s dark eyes narrowed, piercing right through the walls I had erected around me. It was uncanny how stern the small child could look. “No. No. No.”

“Whatever that is, it is right.” Despite the fever Sabrina’s voice sounded as sternly as Grogu looked. She practically glared at me, reading me like a book. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for this!”

“Who else then?” I asked harshly. “I did not even think of coming back and looking for survivors!”

“And you were right not to!” she retorted. “The Imps kept a fleet in orbit for ages, shooting everyone who came closer. Blame them if you need someone, but stop torturing yourself!”

Din exhaled audibly. “She does that all the time, doesn’t she?”

“Damn straight”, Koska muttered and Axe nodded darkly.

And to think I had worried how Nite Owls and Children of the Watch were supposed to bond.

“You don’t understand!” I protested hotly. “I could have gone down…”

“We on Concordia didn’t go down here either”, Din cut into my words. “Everyone thought the planet was dead and poisoned. To say nothing about imperial hunters.”

I hated to admit it, but his words did put things in perspective. Concordia had been even closer to Mandalore than Kalevala, and neither fraction had been able to stay in the Mandalorian system after the Purge. If I was to blame for failure to render assistance, so was the Tribe.

Strangely enough the thought helped. I was not quite ready to absolve myself from all blame, but at least I did not have to shoulder the guilt alone. Others had been around too, who could and would have helped, had they only known. Still, there was no way of knowing if we had actually been able to make a difference. With the Imps hunting survivors, we all had had to save ourselves before we could even think of finding others. Also, no one had doubted the efficiency of an imperial cleansing. It was a miracle anyone down here had survived.

I was so occupied with the still rather foreign concept of something being not my fault, I almost missed Sabrina’s reaction to Din’s word. She dropped the now empty soup bowl and practically threw herself forwards, almost shaking off Axe’s supporting arm and grabbing Din’s wrist.

“You are from Concordia?” she gasped, her eyes wide. “Were you there during the Purge?”

“I was”, he confirmed. “Our tribe hid away there.”

Sabrina took several shaky breaths. “Did you, by any chance, meet a Laurana Eldar there, with two children?”

I felt my eyes grow misty again as Din placed his right hand on Sabrina’s and squeezed it gently. “Laurana and her two foundlings are members of my tribe”, he told her gently. “They live in our settlement on Nevarro.”

Sabrina’s face crumpled. She pressed her free hand to her mouth, stifling a sob.

“Laurana married one of my brothers-in-arms. He joined her clan and goes by Mark Eldar now”, Din continued in his kind voice, patting her hand. “Ayk knows everything there is about shriek-hawks. And Boan is training to become a warrior, so she can come here and find you.”

I love this man.

The realization was as unexpected as finding surviving Mandalorians on the glassed surface of our planet, but I didn’t doubt it for a second. Now that the thought had hit me, I knew it to be true with every fiber of my being. To have been true, for quite some time now. I loved this man, loved his kindness and his thoughtfulness. Neither me nor Axe and Koska had even thought about mentioning the other surviving Eldars, too shocked to be faced with this one. Din on the other hand, a father himself, understood best how desperately important it was to Sabrina to hear about her children’s fate. While she was a complete stranger to him, he instinctively did the right thing by her. Just as he had done the right thing by Grogu. By me.

What was not to love about him?

Sabrina was openly crying now. “My baby… and my little girl…”

“She wants to become a Nite Owl when she grows up.” Din’s gaze wandered over to me and I could hear the smile in his voice. “Like her big role-model.”

Sabrina took a sniffling breath, clearly trying to get herself back under control. “I don’t think I caught your name…”

Still holding me with his left arm, Din raised the right one to his chest and gave my old friend the warrior salute. “I’m Din Djarin. Clan Mudhorn, House Kryze.”

Almost in sync, three Nite Owl heads jerked towards me. Axe, Koska and Sabrina gaped at me in astonishment. For a moment it seemed as if they had never been separated and were still perfectly attuned to each other. It was almost comical.

“He pledged his loyalty to you?” Axe burst out in disbelief.

“You didn’t say a word!” Koska complained.

“Is he your boyfriend?”

Sabrina’s response definitely took the cake. I felt my face flush and suddenly realized what it must look like with Din’s left arm still around my waist. To my sorrow, so did he. The arm was gone in the blink of an eye, and I almost physically ached at the loss of contact. I wished I could answer with yes, but this would have to be settled between Din and me first.

“Clan Mudhorn pledged their loyalty to House Kryze, yes”, I informed them somewhat tensely. After some hesitation I decided to take the plunge and added: “To me personally.”

Axe and Koska shared a knowing look, hers smug as if a point had been proven in her favor, his grumpy. Sabrina’s eyes grew wide with interest and she looked at Din more closely.

“What’s your deal with the helmet?”

“I walk the Way of the Mand’alore”, he said simply.

Sabrina frowned. “Huh?”

Axe rolled his eyes in annoyance. “Child of the Watch”, he translated curtly.

Her eyebrows shot up at that. “Are we that desperate now?”

“No.” I smiled softly. “We are that smart now.”

Koska looked deliberately neutral, Axe snorted and glowered at no one in particular. Sabrina’s eyes darted between them and us, clearly registering the strange dynamics and barely hidden hostilities. When she looked at me again, I saw the sympathy in her face. She could tell how difficult it was for me to keep them all in line.

Grogu saved the tense situation. With a determined coo he jumped out of his IG unit and slowly waddled over to Sabrina. Rab Kast had just finished treating her leg and Grogu leaned over the wound, studying it closely.

“Brave one, aren’t you?” Sabrina smiled at the cute face with the big eyes and floppy ears. “Not squeamish at all.”

I let out a short laugh. “Oh no, not this one. He has been on extractions and expeditions already.”

“Don’t forget the war of the crime lords on Tatooine”, the proud father chimed in.

I frowned. “I wasn’t there.”

“Oh.” He shook his head slightly, looking a little perplexed at his mistake. “You’re right.”

Sabrina’s eyes twinkled mischievously. If I knew her at all, she was gearing up for assault.

“Anyway, what happened to your leg?” I asked quickly, desperate to dodge this specific blaster bolt. I was not going to have myself cross-examined without even being able to talk to Din first.

Thankfully it was a perfect subject to draw everyone’s attention away from me. Axe and Koska immediately turned to Sabrina again, concern written all over their faces.

“Trinitaur attack”, she grumbled. “Big bugger, breaking through the surface and smashing everything with his tail. Hit me with a rock. Should be a nice puzzle exercise for a surgeon.”

“Trinitaur?” Axe echoed, aghast. “They died out eons ago!”

Sabrina just snorted. “Guess this one missed the memo.”

Rab Kast nodded seriously. “We don’t know how these things came back. Maybe radiation from the bombings. Or they were already inhabiting the wastelands before the Purge and nobody noticed.”

It was a possibility, I had to admit. Our lives had been spent in the domed cities. There had been little reason to enter the harsh wastelands. I made a mental note to speak to Cal, our local expert on wildlife. As a scientist who had studied Alamites he might have seen traces of other species in the wastelands.

Grogu cooed once more and let his little hand hover over Sabrina’s wound. It didn’t look as awful anymore now that Koska and Rab had treated the infection with bacta spray, but it was still open and clearly painful. My leg ached in sympathy at the sight of muscles and pale bone. Thank goodness I no longer felt faint at seeing such wounds. Pre Vizsla had been known for eradicating any squeamishness in his forces.

“What is he doing?” Sabrina asked skeptically. She looked tense, ready to tear herself away from Grogu if he dared touch her wound.

The child closed his eyes, on his face the signature concentrated look when he used the Force. I looked at Din curiously and he nodded softly.

“Trying to help you.”

Frowning she looked at the tiny hand hovering over the injury. Then she blinked, her eyes widening. Rab Kast’s jaw dropped.

Under the three green fingers skin started to regrow, slowly spreading and stitching the wound back together. I felt my usual sense of awe when watching Grogu using his Jedi abilities. At times it was so easy to forget how impressive these powers were. We could literally watch the injury closing up, leaving nothing but unblemished skin. The leg was still at a strange angle, the bone still broken, but at least Sabrina was no longer in danger of sepsis from an infected wound. She gasped in disbelief, touching her leg gingerly.

“Wow”, Koska whispered, deeply impressed.

With an exhausted yawn Grogu sat down on the ground, and I felt a rush of gratitude and affection. Gently I reached out for him and pulled him in my lap.

“Thank you, sweetie”, I whispered, nuzzling his fuzzy head.

He smiled and cuddled up to me, looking very much like a sleepy loth cat. I searched my pouches and finally managed to find a cracker among my rations, which I handed to him. He happily accepted my reward, munching greedily.

Always keep your friendly neighborhood Jedi’s blood sugar up…

Sabrina’s eyes darted back and forth between Grogu, me and her leg. “How… what just happened?”

“He is a Jedi child”, I explained gently. At least Sabrina had made good experiences with Ahsoka and would be less prejudiced than, say, Clan Awaud. “He had the opportunity to become one of them, but chose his father instead.”

I smiled at Din warmly. Sabrina took in the sight, then cocked an eyebrow at Axe. He was smart enough to just shrug, non-committing.

“We need to talk”, she stated firmly. “A lot.”

“We do”, I agreed. “But not tonight. We had a long journey and you look ready to pass out.”

While I was as eager to hear her story in full as she was to hear mine, we had a long, tiring mission ahead of us. Finding the Forge was just the beginning. Securing it and starting to rebuild our civilization would be exhausting. It would just not do to start pulling all-nighters out of sheer curiosity. We all needed our strength, especially our wounded brethren.

Right on cue Grogu in my arms let out a big yawn and blinked. Din cleared his throat.

“I better find a place for him to sleep. It’s way past his bedtime.”

Rab Kast got up at these words. “I can show you where to bring him”, he offered. “He’ll be protected under deck.”

“Yes, please”, Din gladly accepted and held out his arms for Grogu. Somewhat reluctantly I handed the soft, warm bundle in my arm over to him, not before breathing a quick kiss on the child’s head.

“Good night, sweetie.”

He cooed in response and waved to me as his father carried him away, following Rab Kast downstairs under deck. I didn’t realize I followed them both with my eyes until Axe coughed very deliberately. Quickly I turned back towards my Nite Owls.

“Two of us should go to sleep, one stays here with Sabrina”, Koska suggested, spreading a blanket over our injured friend and sitting down by her side. “Dibs.”

I grinned slightly. No idea if Koska was being selfish in staying with Sabrina or caring by making sure I got some sleep, but it was a smart maneuver. It certainly forestalled any discussions on the subject.

“Suit yourself, then. I’m turning in.” I knelt down to be on eye level with Sabrina. “Will you be alright?”

She grinned wryly, despite her obvious fatigue. “Bacta spray and friends are luxury, Bo. I’ll be fine.”

I was loathe to leave her, but it wouldn’t do to occupy even more space. The entire deck seemed covered with the wounded, and it was already hard for their caretakers to maneuver between them. Biting my lip, I took Sabrina’s face in my hands.

“Promise you will still be there in the morning?” Call me childish, but I needed some insurance after waking up countless times just to remember she was gone.

To my relief, Sabrina understood. “Promise”, she said hoarsely. “As long as you don’t disappear on me.”

“Not a snowball’s chance on Mustafar”, I assured her, hugging her tightly.

Sabrina rested her forehead against mine, taking several deep breaths. Somehow it was comforting to see she felt as insecure about us being together again as I did. Yet she was here, her body warm and solid and real. She was alive and she would be okay. It was more than I had ever dared to hope.

“One more thing, Bo…” she breathed into my ear.

“Anything”, I whispered back, savoring the simple joy of having my friend back.

“About the boyfriend…” A soft laugh tickled my ear. “You never said no.”

Once I was sure my cheeks had stopped glowing, I left Sabrina in Koska’s care and looked around for the Armorer. She had continued the triage almost all the way over to us. Quietly, so as not to disturb anyone, I joined her. For once I did not feel guilty for having left the work to someone else. I simply could not have torn myself from Sabrina’s side any earlier.

“How is your friend?” the Armorer asked, her voice calm and kind.

“Stable, thank the Force”, I sighed. “But badly injured.”

“As are many of her brethren”, the Armorer agreed heavily, looking down the deck littered with sick survivors.

A strange, screeching noise rang through the night air. We all froze. The survivors flinched, several of them reaching for their weapons.

“Predators”, I heard Captain Archer whisper. “They hunt during the night.”

I felt reminded of the sickleraptors and fought down a shiver. If the Mythosaur was any indication, the primordial beasts here might be much bigger. Quickly I dashed up the stairs on the stern and looked around carefully. For once the glassy surface was an advantage. It reflected Concordia’s light, so we had light for miles. The landscape seemed calm and undisturbed. My experience with reptavians also let me search the sky for any flying menace. But there was nothing. If there were predators around, they were keeping their distance.

The feeling of alienation and surrealism grew as I looked over the unfamiliar landscape. This was just not the planet I had known. Nothing here gave me any clue as to where we even were or what had been here before. I felt like a stranger in a strange land. Only the survivors were attuned to this bizarre new world, knew its sounds and smells. We absolutely had to take some of them with us on our trip to the Forge. Without experienced scouts our expedition would not succeed. We might be able to spot Alamites in hiding but were completely clueless about the new species that had come up. Our mission here might be even more difficult than anticipated.

Moments passed and nothing happened. Slowly my heartbeat returned to normal as I let my gaze wander over the deck. Things had quietened down on the langskib. The Shriek-hawks had taken guard duty, so Captain Archer and his crew could focus on caring for their wounded. Paz Vizsla and Kaya Mari were just walking down the stairs to the lower deck, carrying something that looked like blankets. The Beroya husbands sat under the sails, comfortably slumped against each other back to back. Dan Solus, who had been talking with Rab Kast, pulled a blaster from his belt and handed it to the survivor, his face dark and serious. Maybe Rab had given him an update on the predator fauna on Mandalore to prompt him into this rare act of charity. Lin Tsue was soothing a whimpering survivor, supporting his head with her arm, so he could drink from her bottle.

Suddenly I realized just how tired I was. No matter how guilty or conscientious I felt, fatigue simply would not do. I knew by now I had a proclivity for pessimistic brooding if I didn’t sleep enough, and I was not keen on a repeat performance of my time on Kalevala. Not while my people’s lives depended on me keeping a clear head. It was time to call it a day. After reassuring myself with a last look that we were not under siege, I turned back to the stairs and climbed down to the deck to join the Armorer.

She was assisting Captain Archer in making his warriors more comfortable. Her whole demeanor was pensive. She too must harbor some guilt about not having come back earlier. It helped me to stop beating myself up. Thanks to my past I was quick to pin everything that went wrong on my old selfishness and pride, and to blame myself for not thinking about survivors earlier. I simply had not quite gotten the hang of forgiving myself yet. With the Armorer, though, it was different. Her I could give the benefit of doubt and when sensing her regret, I could clearly define it as classic survivor’s guilt.

If this was the case for her, the leader of her people, why should it not be the same for me? I was not innately worse than the Armorer. We both had done our best after the Purge to keep as many of our people alive as possible, we had been ready to bring sacrifices for their sakes and to hold them together. Our successes might have varied, but not our intentions to preserve as much of our lost culture as possible. There had been very valid reasons to not come back here. This had literally been our very first opportunity.

It was not our fault the survivors had suffered. They were our responsibility now, but if even they didn’t blame us, there was no reason for us to do so. On the contrary, wallowing in my guilty consciousness would mean making their sufferings all about me, an escape mechanism so I didn’t have to acknowledge the bleak pointlessness of their hardships. I could not dishonor them like this. Of course that didn’t mean everything I had done before the Purge had been perfect. But it did lessen the burden on my heart and let me breathe more freely.

“We’ll rest tonight”, I suggested to my fellow leader, “and continue at first light.”

She nodded her assent and gestured to the injured Mandalorians in their cots on the deck. “These here are too weak to continue. We must return to the Gauntlet and I will ferry them back to the fleet in the morning.”

“Agreed.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. The thought of dragging injured people with us was just too dreadful. Our task was dangerous enough as it was. For anyone not even strong enough to walk it would a suicide mission. I was glad the Armorer was volunteering to bring them back. I would miss having her around, but there was no one I would trust more with our people’s lives. With Sabrina’s life, especially. And she could always join us again once they were safe.

“Captain?” I called out softly.

On hearing me, Captain Archer, who had taken care of an injured warrior, got back to his feet and looked at me expectantly.

“Those of you who are well enough can join us in the search for the Great Forge”, I suggested, hoping he would agree to at least give us a few scouts.

“We can do better than that”, the captain replied calmly, exchanging a knowing look with Rab Kast. “We can bring you there.”

For the first time in hours I felt a surprised smile bloom on my face. Finally some stroke of luck!

“You know where it is?”

He nodded. “Many of us found shelter there after the Purge. But it was not safe to stay in one place for too long. We had to keep moving.”

I could well imagine why. Both imperial drones and hungry predators were drawn to groups of people. And who knew if after the bombings there had even been water close to the Forge.

“Thank you, Captain”, I said with heartfelt gratitude. “We’ll start in the morning. After breakfast”, I added, just to see his drawn face light up in a smile. From what I had heard so far, the survivors considered themselves lucky if they managed to secure one meal a day. Having breakfast and knowing there would be more food later counted as sheer luxury, and I was longing to spoil them a little after all they had been through.

“And after you and your warriors rested”, he agreed, once again the perfect host. “We have space in our storage area under deck, Lady Bo-Katan. It’s not much, but it’s protected from the wind.”

“That’s all I need,” I assured them, smiling wearily. There were worse ways to spend the night than with a roof over my head.

As I slowly made my way over to the stairs, I saw movements in the shadows there and a moment later my favorite Mandalorian emerged from them. Concordia’s light reflected off his silver armor, letting him gleam like the glassy surface. If he ever got stranded out here, he would be perfectly camouflaged at night.

He came over as soon as he spotted me. “Are you still busy.”

I shook my head. “Just turning in for the night. Where is Grogu?”

“Asleep under deck”, he answered softly. “Paz put up a few screens, so we can all sleep downstairs.”

And take off our helmets while doing so, I silently translated his words. So this was why Paz and Kaya had carried blankets downstairs.

“Can you show me?” I asked.

“Sure.” I heard the smile in his voice. “Come with me. I reserved us some space close to Grogu.”

Space for us… My heart did a little somersault at this choice of words.

Together we went down the stairs. Concordia’s light stayed behind us and once we had reached the bottom, it was almost pitch-black. The only light we had came from Din’s helmet. It felt completely natural to reach for his hand and let him guide me through the darkness. Just as naturally he brought his palm up against mine and our fingers interlaced. My palm prickled as if every single nerve of my body had abandoned post and moved over there. I had never thought a hand could feel this sensitive and cautiously stretched my fingers to make sure they were still covered in a glove.

They were. And his, holding on, were trembling slightly. I gave a little squeeze and made a point of looking around instead of him, to spare him any discomfort.

The survivors seemed to use this area under deck both as storage and as night camp. As we had found out already when sharing our supplies with them, they were going through a rough patch at the moment and therefore had little to store. Empty crates and boxes were piled up against the walls to stay out of the way. At least until Paz and Kaya had gotten their hands on them.

The Children of the Watch were private people. In order to get some privacy, they had strategically piled up boxes and hung up screens to create little, enclosed areas where they could remove their helmets in peace and get some sleep. We passed several closed screens, heard even breaths and the occasional snore. Peering into the darkness I finally spotted the area at the far end of the room, where screens had been hung up yet were still open. At least two of them were. A small third screen right in the middle between the two was closed.

Din tiptoed over, me still in tow, and carefully lifted the screen. In the tiny compartment Grogu was curled up in a blanket, snoring softly. I wondered how much of his fatigue was due to the long march and how much to Sabrina’s healing. Sometimes the use of his Jedi powers was followed by bouts of fatigue.

“So adorable when he sleeps”, I sighed happily.

“Mhmm.” Din nodded his assent. “He’ll be out for a few hours.”

“I could do with a few hours”, I admitted, shivering slightly. By now the fatigue was making me feel rather cold and by his brief sideway glance I knew Din had noticed.

“I think the place on the left is warmer”, he suggested, dropping the curtain on Grogu again and shone his light in the left compartment.

The temperature wasn’t any different, but the woolen blanket and several pillows looked warm and sturdy. I should be able to spend the night quite comfortably. But even as I took in the sight, I realized I didn’t want to be alone tonight.

Meeting the survivors and finding Sabrina again had shaken me to the core. While it was a thoroughly pleasant surprise to have my friend back, my thoughts were already playing crucifixion with my mind, painting a vividly colored picture of her sufferings and those of the other survivors. I might be able to tune out the guilt while awake, but when asleep, my terrors and self-accusations would have free reign.

“So.” Din cleared his throat a little awkwardly. “Will you be alright?”

My lips opened, but no sound came out. Of course the selfless thing would be to pretend all was well and to let him go. Then again, I didn’t want to lie to him. I was not really alright. I was upset and distressed and in love. Or, to summarize it, I was desperate for his company.

Din took in my stricken expression, then briefly glanced at the curtain. I acted on impulse, not even attempting to think things through. Before he could disappear behind the screen, I had stepped up to him and reached for his hand.

“Stay”, I whispered into the dark, hardly daring to breathe. “Please. I don’t want to be alone.”

I could hear him swallow hard. “You mean…”

He trailed off, oozing embarrassment, but I knew what he had tried to say. My cheeks flushed scarlet. It would be a lie to claim the thought of physical intimacy with him had never crossed my mind. I might keep such thoughts firmly locked up, but they were there and, at times, very active.

Still, it was not what I wanted right now. Apart from the occasional drunk slip-up I was no fan of hurried tumbles into bed. I had too much warrior training to ever be casual about taking off my armor. Call me a prude if you like, but show me a warrior who just lets anyone into a secured perimeter without making clear what is off limits and I’ll show you a dunce. I was open to the idea of a physical relationship with Din Djarin – very open, as a matter of fact – but only at my own pace, and his. Before we ever got so far, we would have to do a lot of talking to find out about each other’s preferences and boundaries. It was nothing that should be hurried just for some quick, superficial pleasure.

He meant too much to me. I would never treat him like a quick snack in between. Din deserved to be properly courted. That was, if he was even willing. Just because we had shared some innocent, intimate moments didn’t mean he was interested in a fully blown relationship.

“I just want to be with you”, I clarified softly. “Nothing more or less.”

For a moment he remained as still as a statue. I bit my lip anxiously, wondering if I had sounded too needy, if I had scared him off for good. Then he turned back to face me and let out a shuddering breath. Before I could worry any further, he pulled me into a tight embrace, his gloved hand resting on the back of my head. My arms came around him almost of their own volition. I leaned my chin on his shoulder and closed my eyes, sighing both with relief and pleasure at being so close to him. Over my sigh I almost missed his quiet words.

“Me too.”

If there had ever been a moment in my life where I just wanted to melt, it was this. I certainly did my best to melt into his form, loving how well we fit together. I had had a couple of awkward, uncomfortable hugs in my life, and this one was sheer bliss.

Eventually I yawned heartily, though, and Din gently disengaged himself from me. He stayed close to me, though clearly unsure how to proceed. I, however, had an idea.

There was an old Mandalorian way to show your partner how far you were willing to go. And if I knew it, I could bet my helmet on Din knowing it as well. The Children of the Watch were experts in our ancient traditions. It would give us both an idea where we stood with each other and take the tension out of the situation. I just hoped I remembered it correctly. Even when I first joined Death Watch, eager to restore the old ways and harboring a heavy crush on a handsome warrior – tellingly, I don’t even remember his name – I had not resorted to the old courtship ritual.

Gathering all my courage I pulled a Falling Phoenix and released my jetpack from my armor. My heartbeat roared like thunder in my ears as I carefully set it down on the floor. For outsiders it might look like I was merely taking off a piece of equipment. For Mandalorians familiar with the old customs it was so much more.

I’m voluntarily giving up my best means of escape. I trust you and I willingly agree to be in the same room as you.

Din’s head followed my jetpack as I carefully put it down on the floor, clearly taking in the meaning. He waited in silence until I was upright again. Then he reached to his back and took his own jetpack off as well, showing his consent to this first step.

Something warm and fuzzy uncurled in my belly. More than my gut feeling, even more than his own words this little gesture showed he really wanted to stay with me and not walk out. I nodded softly, acknowledging his action and performed what I hoped to be the correct next step in the ancient ritual.

In the same slow, non-threatening way as before I lifted my left forearm, so he could see it. His eyes were on me, not missing a single beat. My right hand moved to my left vambrace and deactivated it, shutting down the communicator and disabling all the weapons. Once it was completely disarmed, I took it off, then repeated the procedure with the right vambrace.

I will neither call for help, nor will I use my weapons against you. I know it won’t be necessary.

In the silence I believed to hear his breath hitch for a moment. Despite my nervousness I felt my playful side coming up. I had seen his jetpack and now was raising him two vambraces.

His hands only trembled slightly when he disabled his vambraces and took them off. My heart nearly melted in my chest at his tacit agreement, his willingness to be vulnerable with me.

Could I dare take just one more step…?

Without breaking eye contact with Din, I raised my final stakes for tonight and took off my gloves, first the left, then the right one. I placed them neatly on my jetpack and straightened myself up again, the meaning of the step hanging in the air between us.

My hands are empty. I have nothing in them save my wish to touch you. To feel you.

In the silence and stillness that followed I could have sworn I heard two heartbeats. My own, thundering in my ears, and Din Djarin’s, just as loud. As slowly as in a dream he lifted his right hand, moved it to his left and took off the first glove. I exhaled quietly in the dark as the second glove came off as well.

Calmly I looked at the improvised sleeping place on the floor with its thick blanket and pillows, and back at him. Then, hoping to exude confidence, I took the three steps to the almost-bed, slipped under the blanket and turned on my side, my back to him.

For an outsider it was a rejection. For Mandalorians it was an invitation and I nearly shivered with my own daring.

I am comfortable enough to turn my back to you. You are welcome to join me.

The seconds of waiting that followed were the longest of my life. I was fairly sure I had not misjudged his words and actions, but I was so badly out of practice at romancing. Strictly speaking, I had never really done it before. Stuff other Mandalorians had done during their teenage times and their youth had just not been on the menu for me. Being the foundling of an ambitious terrorist had quickly become a full-time job. I had never learned to trust in my own charms, or even how to handle rejection. Any intimate encounters had been quick in-between fumbles, a means to satisfy a mere physical need without any real interest in the other person. No investment, no risk, no connection.

Boards creaked under Din’s boots. A whole swarm of butterflies awoke in my stomach. He was coming closer, accepting the invitation. I longed to turn around, to watch him come to me in the night, but the very moment I entertained the thought I heard a very familiar hissing sound. Pressure being released.

My heart skipped a beat as it dawned on me what he was doing. He had just raised me a helmet.

“Din…” My voice failed me.

“I trust you, Bo”, he said quietly. “Completely.”

Even with his face, I thought, stunned. He was brave enough to render himself completely vulnerable and putting his fate in my hands. All I needed to do was turn around and he would become an apostate again.

Except that I would never do that to him. And he knew it.

A soft metallic clutter as he put his helmet down on the floor besides the sleeping place. Then the blanket rustled. He lay down behind me and turned on his side as well, his chest against my back, spooning me. An arm hand tentatively snaked around my hip and I hurried to cover his bare hand with mine, holding it in place so he would not even think of removing it again.

His head felt so soft against mine. From my brief glimpse at his back on Gideon’s cruiser I remembered he had short, dark hair, yet I had never seen his face. When we first met, I had tried to imagine it, then later had given up on it and just settled for a helmet with a voice. Now that he was close enough to bury his nose in my hair, all the old questions what he might look like came back. I tried to picture the shape of his nose, of his chin, his lips, just from feeling his face at the back of my head. So close, so intimate, for the first time.

“There is so much I want to tell you”, I whispered, my heart beating as rapidly as if I had just come out of hand-to-hand combat.

“And I you”, I heard, no, felt him say, his breath tickling my neck. “Once there is time.”

Part of me wanted to protest that we had time right now, but then I heard steps coming down the stairs and bit the comment back. Just because we were unseen by everyone else did not mean we could not be overheard. Paz’ screens were anything but soundproof. Apart from the fact that I was fading fast.

“Yes”, I agreed, snuggling up against his chest. “Then we will talk about everything.”

I heard a soft smile in his words. “Anything my lady commands.”

I smiled back, although he could not see it. “Good night, Din.”

“Good night, Bo.”

His limbs twitched slightly, tell-tale signs of sleep coming. I waited for a while, wanting to make sure he was truly asleep. Then, when his breath finally sounded even, I carefully lifted his bare hand to my face. In the dark I pressed my lips on his knuckles, pouring all my affection for him into this little, stolen kiss.

“I love you, Din Djarin”, I whispered into the night, my heart too full to keep it all to myself. “I love you.”

My leg twitched, announcing that sleep was going to claim me soon. Nestling into the warmth of my beloved, delighting in the rare feeling of his breath in my hair, I closed my eyes.

Whether I dreamed this night or not, I cannot say for sure. Mandalore as a whole was like a strange dream and as tired as I was, I simply could no longer tell imagination and reality apart. But I do remember that before I drifted off completely, a kiss, as light as a feather, touched my hair, followed by the whispering of a cherished voice.

“I love you too.”

Chapter Text

When I woke up, Din was gone.

The first thing I realized was how cold and lonely I felt in this makeshift bed without him. Also I was disoriented, wondering if someone had sounded the alarm and forgotten to wake me up. Then I heard a soft cry from behind a curtain, followed by Din’s soothing voice. Apparently Grogu had had a nightmare and his father had left my side to comfort him.

I lay still and listened for a while. Grogu sounded rather unhappy and I longed to hold the little fellow in my arms and comfort him. Still, I felt hesitant to barge into his little cabin. I didn’t want to make it look like Din couldn’t be trusted with comforting his own child. I was fairly sure he would come out and ask for my help if he needed it. So far he seemed to be doing fine, and I knew how much some one-on-one time with my father had meant to me when I was little. They would be fine without me.

At the same time I was fully awake now and felt too restless to get back to sleep. The memory of the words whispered into the night was as bright and searing as a beacon in the dark. Even if I had just dreamed his reply, it was a happy thought, making my heart sing with joy.

But truth be told, I did not seriously believe I had dreamed. Our encounters during the last months painted a very clear picture. I was not imagining his fondness for me, the question was just how to deal with it. I myself had not felt safe to utter these words until I had thought Din was sound asleep. What if he had thought the same thing and assumed I had not heard him? It might make him feel rather uncomfortable to learn this wasn’t the case and I hated the thought of making things awkward between us. This time there was no curtain behind which to hide our vulnerabilities. We would actually have to face each other, face our glorious, messy feelings, and something this important shouldn’t be done in a rush, quickly under deck before running out again to go back to work. We should take our time for it.

So this was the answer, I mused while taking up the vambraces I had discarded last night. For now I would not remark on our secret exchange from last night. I would get dressed and treat Din Djarin as always – no, not quite, I determined, fastening my left vambrace. There was no way I could go back to not knowing he loved me back. I would make an effort to be kind, to smile at him, to assure him without words how much I enjoyed his company. Show, don’t tell was the tactic of the hour. I wanted him to be at ease enough to eventually repeat his words at his own pace, in broad daylight and into my face.

The right vambrace came on as well. I was about to put on my gloves when the curtain to our little cabin was moved and Din Djarin looked in, carefully as if trying not to disturb me. Our eyes met and I felt myself beaming at him. “Hey.”

“Oh, you’re up.” He came in fully, closing the curtain behind him again. “Sorry. I didn’t realize Grogu woke you up as well.”

“He didn’t”, I admitted, feeling a slight blush creep into my cheeks. “I merely noticed you were gone.”

Strange how vulnerable I felt with the one person on this longskib who had stood by me unflinchingly no matter how bad I felt. Maybe because I knew now what I could lose if I screwed things up.

“Ehm… sorry?” he offered cautiously.

It was a relief to see Din looking slightly embarrassed. I was not the only one moving on uncharted territory. It was something we had in common. Something we would have to figure out together. Strangely enough, I was looking forward to doing it. With him. Together.

“Don’t worry about it. I always sleep lightly on missions.”

It just came with the territory. If you were out cold during a mission, you might well pay it with your life. The Nite Owls had learned in training how to find rest without sleeping too deeply.

I stepped closer and put my hands on Din’s shoulders. His hands wrapped around my upper arms, and with a single step he had covered the distance between us. I almost purred with delight at having his armored body pressed against mine. He was more courageous now, knowing his advances were welcome and cherished. Emboldened myself, I put a hand on the back of his helmeted head and gently pulled him towards me.

This time nobody interrupted our Keldabe kiss. While it was not nearly the same as feeling his bare face nuzzling the back of my head, I gloried in the intimacy. There was something solid and reassuring in feeling the cool beskar of his helmet resting against my forehead, a silent promise to be my rock in the turbulent days to come.

“Do you want to try and get some more sleep?” Din asked eventually, after minutes or possibly hours had passed. I could not be relied on measuring time correctly right now.

“No, I’m good. Once I’m up, I hardly ever go back to sleep.” I smiled weakly. “And someone upstairs might need to be relieved.”

Din hummed softly, for a moment hugging me more tightly. “I wish it was night again already.”

My body tingled as if I had overdosed on Corellian sherbet powder. Was this a promise our nightly snuggle was going to be a regular thing?

Bubbling with excitement, it took the self-control of years for me to not enthusiastically yell out: “Heck, yes!” Instead I barely managed to reply in a calm and clear voice: “Yeah, me too.”

From the next cabin, where Grogu was staying, I heard his familiar coos and gurgles. Light, tiny steps sounded, then a rustle of cloth. He had opened his screen.

“Looks like he is up too”, I grinned. “Where is his vehicle?”

“Upstairs.” I could practically hear Din making a face. “I’m not going to try out what he will do with it in close quarters.”

I laughed lightly. “Fair enough, but that means he’s going to want it.”

“Rather sooner than later”, Din agreed with a sigh. “Well then, might as well all go upstairs.”

When we reached the stairs, the sky had already turned brighter. Coming on deck I saw the dawn was breaking. The western horizon was still dark blue, but there was a promising red glow in the east. Just a few people were around. A lookout in the crow’s nest was keeping an eye on things. Several survivors clustered at the bow. I spotted Sabrina where I had left her last night, fast asleep and tucked in under her blanket. Her head was cushioned in Koska’s lap, who gave me a tired but completely content smile. As I walked over to her, I saw the steaming mug in her hand and recognized the mouth-watering scent of caf.

“How was the night?”

“Quiet”, she informed me. “No predators at all. The sick were rather restless, though. Sabrina’s leg was giving her some trouble. I’m completely out of painkillers.”

I resisted the urge to stroke our friend’s cheek, not wanting to disrupt her well-earned sleep.

“It’s like a miracle, isn’t it?” I mused. “Finding her again, after all this time.”

“Totally”, Koska agreed heartily. “Wanna hear of another miracle?”

“From last night? Sure.”

“See the lookout up there?” Koska pointed up to the crow’s nest.

In the sparse light I recognized one of the survivors, a thin man with short, reddish hair and a closely cropped beard. Even from below here his eyes looked wide and hungry, a signature look of Captain Archer’s warriors. His cuirass was as golden as Archer’s helmet.

“He is my distant kinsman.” Koska’s voice was as soft as back on Plazir-15 when speaking to Grogu. “Ned Reeves. We met once, as children. Last night, before Sabrina went to sleep, she asked if I was related to Ned. So I talked to him, and we compared notes.”

I felt my face light up with joy. “Oh, that’s great! I’m so glad for you. Did you know each other well back in the day?”

Koska shook her head. “As I said, we are very distantly related. Like, a common Reeves ancestor about 150 years ago. We just met once, during a clan meeting. But still…” She paused for a moment, as if trying to find the right words. “It’s kinda nice I’m not the last survivor of our clan. That there is still someone else. A kinsman.”

Although I was sincerely happy for Koska, I had to fight back a stab of pain. The Force knew how much I longed for someone else from House Kryze, a relative. How much I wished Korkie was among the survivors.

Koska took a sip from her caf, and I forced my grief back into a tiny corner of my mind.

“Is there any more of that?” I asked, partly to distract myself, partly out of appetite.

“Sure thing. Just talk to Barista Solus.” Her mug in her hand, Koska gestured over to the bow.

Following her move, I spotted Dan Solus at the bow, a camping stove with a pot of caf and several empty mugs beside him on the deck. Survivors lined up before him, eager for this luxurious treat, and he was kept rather busy with handing out the steaming beverage. I lifted an eyebrow in surprise. After Tim Beroya’s initial talk I had not expected Clan Awaud to even move a finger more than what they had agreed on. Yet Solus did not seem cranky or stingy at all. For all intents and purposes, he looked completely happy to play caf shop, occasionally smiling at the survivors and offering sugar and bantha milk.

Perhaps I had wronged Clan Awaud. Just because they all worked as mercenaries didn’t mean it was everyone’s dream life. I waited until the survivors had gotten caf to their hearts’ content before I too made my way over to the impromptu café.

“May I have one, please?” I asked, moving toward Dan Solus and holding out my mug.

With a nod he took it and poured some caf in it. “Some sugar or milk, Ma’am?”

“Just milk, please.”

He added some of the bantha milk and handed me the cup back. “There you go.”

I took a cautious sip and almost sighed with pleasure. This was, without exaggeration, the best caf I had had in ages. The flavor carried me decades back, into the palace of Sundari. To comfortable breakfasts with Satine and later Korkie. To early sunrises and late night watches on Concordia.

“Stars, this is delicious! Where did you get this blend?”

“Grew it myself on Vlemoth Port.” His smile was strangely soft. “Nam Beroya and his settlers brought the beans from Mandalore. A few got lost while they built the settlement and sprouted. I cultivated some plants.”

I swallowed hard. So this was an actual Mandalorian caf. Small wonder it had reminded me of my life here.

“I hope you have enough for everyone here”, I said wistfully. “This was such a good idea, treating the survivors to Mandalorian caf.”

Dan Solus’ face grew serious. “The least I can do for these poor fellows. Unbelievable they lived here through all these years.”

“A testimony to their strength”, I admitted.

“No kidding”, he agreed. “The stories they told me last night! They ran out of energy cells for their blasters after a while. Started rationing, fighting predators off with sticks and stones.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Makes you think twice whether it’s really the weapon that decides the battle, and not the warrior.”

Well, this explained why he had handed Rab Kast one of his own blasters last night. I felt the corners of my mouth lift slightly. Clan Awaud too seemed to learn a few new things on our ancient homeworld. Maybe at some point they would no longer look down on people who didn’t have the latest, most fancy weapons.

“A very interesting thought”, I complimented him, hoping it would encourage him to think further, especially regarding his sister. I well remembered the disparaging glances she had gotten from Clan Awaud, the snide remarks about her outdated weapons. Perhaps things would be different when Dan and Janine met again.

Trying to give him space, I let my gaze wander over the deck. Captain Archer and Rab Kast were enjoying their first freshly brewed caf in years, their gaunt faces blissful. Din and Grogu sat on some boxes, enjoying breakfast together. The Armorer sat with an injured survivor. Sabrina was still out cold and Koska had closed her eyes as well, trying to take a nap. The Shriek-hawks stood together with steaming mugs in their hands. For a moment I thought they had miraculously multiplied over night, as there were six instead of the usual four. Then two of the figures took off their dark blue helmets and I recognized Kyo and his son Mel from Clan Kryze. I blinked momentarily. With their blue helmets and armors the two Nite Owls were barely distinguishable from the four Children of the Watch.

They are not that different, after all…

A movement in the corner of my eye caught my attention. As I looked to the stern, I spotted Paz Vizsla. He stood with his hands on the railing, looking to the horizon where the dawn was slowly getting closer. He cut a rather lonely figure, standing all by himself. Usually Paz liked companionship and camaraderie. When his shoulders slumped slightly, I knew exactly what I was witnessing. A born Mandalorian like me, a descendant of Death Watch like me, trying to come to terms with our history and our changed world.

He should not have to bear it all by himself.

“Could I have one more for my friend?” I asked Dan Solus spontaneously, pointing at his spare mugs, and he filled one up for me without hesitation.

With two mugs of caf I walked over to Paz and joined him at the stern. He turned his head slightly as I approached. Silently I held out one mug to him and he took it with a grateful nod. Together we watched as the sun rose over the horizon. The pink tinge of the glassy surface slowly changed into orange, then golden. Where the light passed through the bottle-green crystalline structures, it got refracted, resulting in strange, greenish hues.

“I remember the sunrises on Mandalore”, Paz said quietly, staring into the distance. “Used to imagine what it would be like to see it again.”

There was a deep yearning in his voice, and I understood it only too well.

“It’s all wrong”, I stated the sad and obvious.

His bulky figure looked dark and gloomy against the brightening sky. “Even the light is different.”

“As changed as we are.”

He lifted his helmet a little at the chin and took a gulp of his caf. A deep, soft hum emerged from him, showing his appreciation for the caf’s quality.

A Child of the Watch and a Nite Owl watched in amicable silence how the eastern horizon slowly turned from blue to dark grey. A long time had passed since our planet had seen members of these two factions peacefully drinking caf together.

“Maybe at some point it will fit us again”, I offered carefully, not sure how far he wanted to go when it came to introspection.

Paz lowered his head. It was no easier for him to let go of the past than it was for me.

“Ragnar wanted to come along so badly.”

The change of topic was rather abrupt, but not untypical for Paz. While he could be emotional and thoughtful, it was always at his own terms.

“I heard him pleading with you.” Remembering the tales of the survivors I shivered slightly at the thoughts of foundlings on Mandalore. “You were right to leave him on Nevarro.”

“He was upset”, Paz stated. “He wanted to know why Grogu could come and not him.”

“Must have been hard to explain.”

Paz gave a slight shake of his head. “Grogu was here before. He knows what to expect. Those who know survive.”

I had to agree with his assessment. Grogu had held his own remarkably well on Mandalore after Din got captured by the cyborg. He had braved monsters and space to get back to me. Ragnar’s experience with monsters, on the other hand, was limited to almost getting eaten.

“Also he can heal us”, I assented. “A valuable skill.”

“I promised Ragnar to take him with me the next time”, Paz mused. “First I wanted to see for myself how bad it really was. If there was anything left from the stories I told him.”

He let out a deep, shuddering sigh, telling me what conclusion he had reached.

“There’s still the Living Waters”, I pointed out gently, placing a hand on his arm. “Our roots survived. Even the Empire couldn’t corrupt them.”

He turned away from the sky and looked at me instead. While I could not see his face behind the helmet, I could feel the hope in his demeanor.

“What are the mines like now?”

“As magnificent as before”, I said almost dreamily. “Darkened, of course, with some rubble, but not severely damaged. Apart from the pool, though. Part of its bottom broke away. That’s how Din fell into a chasm.”

“I remember you saying you had to pull him out.”

I heard Paz chortle under his breath and had to grin myself at the memory of me blurting out Din’s misfortune in front of the entire tribe.

“He was not having a good day the last time he was here. First the cyborg, then the drop…”

“I almost laughed”, he reminisced. “Only I thought you were Pre Vizsla’s killer.”

“I realized you were angry with me”, I admitted. “I just thought it was because I wasn’t one of you.”

“You are one of us”, he said simply. “Pre Vizsla’s foundling. Once part of the clan, always part of the clan.”

I smiled gratefully. “Clan Vizsla has always been kind to me. From adopting me straight on to the ceremony where the clans pledged their loyalty to me. During the resistance against the Empire.”

Pre might have manipulated me, but his clan had always stood by my side, both during and after my Death Watch times. It was very touching to know one of its few surviving members still acknowledged the old bond.

“Speaking of ceremonies”, he said thoughtfully. “Ragnar’s Creed ceremony was interrupted. I want him to have a proper one. At the Living Waters.”

My head came up at the thought. “That’s a great idea!” I exclaimed with some enthusiasm. “He could be the first to have a Creed ceremony on Mandalore again.”

The thought was uplifting. What better way to fill the old place with life again than having a Creed ceremony for a young warrior there? It would be a unifying event. The Children of the Watch would feel honored the first ceremony would be held for one of their own, while both Clan Kryze and the survivors would be happy to hold a ceremony for a member of one of the old houses.

“Under one condition though”, I told Paz. “The pool will have to be fixed first. He shouldn’t fall into the chasm like Din Djarin. Mythosaur or not.”

Paz’ head whipped around to me. “Mythosaur?”

Oh. I had actually let it slip. Then again, there was no need to treat it as a classified secret. Quite the contrary, my encounter with the Mythosaur might actually help to rise Paz’ spirits again.

“Yes”, I said softly. “When I pulled Din Djarin out of the chasm, I found a living Mythosaur there. The Armorer thinks it’s a sign that a new age has begun for Mandalore.”

Paz remained silent for so long I was starting to get worried. Did he think I was lying, bragging to him with a complete fabrication? Was he doubting my sanity?

When he finally spoke, his deep voice was shaking. “Only a chosen one gets to see the Mythosaur. Like Mandalore’s daughter.”

“So the songs tell us”, I agreed nervously.

He turned to face me completely. “Forgive me for ever having doubted you, Bo-Katan Kryze. I did question the wisdom of the Armorer to let you stay with us. I doubted her decision to let you remove your helmet. I still struggle with her choice to let your Nite Owls join us.”

I cleared my throat. “There is nothing to forgive. You had good reasons for each of these worries.”

“I should have trusted her”, he stated simply. “She does not change our ways lightly. If the Mythosaur honored you with its sight, you are our true leader. The only one who can unite our people. It is your destiny.”

I wished I could feel as certain about this entire thing as he did. Then again, Din Djarin too had given me his vote of confidence last night when he once more pledged his loyalty to me. Perhaps it was time to give a Child of the Watch a pledge of my own.

“I accept my assignment”, I promised him gravely and raised my right hand to my chest for the warrior salute. “Paz Vizsla, I swear on my name and the names of the ancestors that I will do my utmost to keep our people together as long as there is still breath in me. Mandalorians are stronger together.”

Paz lowered his head in acknowledgment and returned the warrior salute. “Bo-Katan Kryze, I swear on my name and the names of the ancestors that I will protect you as long as I live, so you can fulfill your duty. This is the Way.”

“This is the Way”, I echoed softly.

Behind us, the noise on deck had grown steadily. More feet walked over the boards than before, people called out to each other. A look over my shoulder confirmed that everyone had woken up by now. Mandalorians were going about their respective businesses. The survivors under Captain Archer’s command were getting the longskib ready and setting a course for the Gauntlet. The Armorer, Lin and Kaya delivered painkillers and some extra padding among the sick to prepare them for the trip back to our fleet. Din had just helped Grogu into his IG unit as the longskib moved with a jolt. Sabrina started up and looked around, blinking in confusion. Quickly I emptied my mug and put it back in one of my pouches.

“I gotta go”, I informed Paz, briefly touching his shoulder. “See you later.”

He merely nodded, both his hands wrapped around his mug. Swiftly I went down the stairs, watching where I put my feet. It was not easy to keep my balance while the longskib moved, and I just hoped I would get used to it during the day.

As I turned around to look at Paz one last time, he still stood upstairs against the railing, right before the rising sun. His armor was reflecting its beams so brightly my eyes started to tear up, his face was turned towards it as if greeting it in a friendly manner. As if he was becoming one with the sun, his body dissolving into light.

This is how I remember him. This was how he would appear to me in the years to come, looking pensively towards the horizon, leaning towards the light and heralding the new dawn of our beloved world.

Our way back to the Gauntlet was rather quick with the longskib. On foot we had taken several hours to our rendezvous point with the survivors. With their vessel it was a trip of barely an hour.

From the moment I had left Paz, I spent the short voyage at Sabrina’s side. Her awakening had been rather rude, and by the time I reached her, her features were contorted with pain. Koska was trying to pad our friend’s broken leg with blankets to shield it against the rocking of the longskib, but it seemed to be a mere drop of comfort in Sabrina’s ocean of agony.

“You know what sucks about painkillers?” she groaned instead of a greeting, her face ashen.

“No?” I asked nervously, kneeling down by her side.

“That I’m out of them?” Koska offered miserably.

Sabrina tried to grin but only managed a twisted grimace. “When they wear off, you realize just how much pain they were actually killing.”

I rummaged through my own medpack until I found the painkillers. Carefully I loaded the injector and then gave Sabrina a dose.

“How does that feel? Better?”

Her tight features relaxed, her tense shoulders slumped down a little, and she leaned into Koska’s support. A weak smile flickered over her face.

“Good enough to pilot a Gauntlet.”

I tensed and saw Koska look up in alarm. Her “Forget it!” and my “Nothing of this!” came out almost simultaneously. Sabrina gazed back and forth between us and frowned slightly.

“Just a joke, girls!”

“Not for us”, Koska hissed back, swallowing painfully. I knew she was seeing the same images as me, flashing before our inner eye.

Heat. Flames. A burning Gauntlet. A last promise.

“We thought you died, remember?”

Sabrina’s face fell. She lowered her eyes, murmuring an apology. I felt a strange ache in my heart. Despite our initial camaraderie it was quite clear there was a yawning gulf between us. The years she had spent stuck here while we mourned her ostensive death had changed us all. Our paths had widely diverted from each other and it would take work to bridge that gap again.

And once again, it was my job to be that bridge. Pushing away my own discomfort I reached for Sabrina and leaned my forehead against hers.

“No piloting for you while you are injured”, I said gently but firmly. “We will treat you in sickbay. You need a few cycles in a bacta tank.”

Sabrina sighed deeply, relaxing into my touch. “I should come with you”, she stated miserably.

The guilt in her eyes hit me like a slap. I could barely believe she felt this way in her current state. Was it possible that Sabrina felt just as helpless as I did at times and blamed herself for it? Even though none of this all had been her fault? I felt sick at the thought of her beating herself up for being stranded on a desolate planet. To make things worse, I well remembered how I had given myself hell for years as well, at times for things I simply had had no control over. I knew what she was going through because I had been doing the same thing. Guilt just kind of grew on you. It was so familiar that by now it was almost a friend, only guilt usually didn’t have my best interests at heart. Or hers, for that matter.

“And you will, as soon as you are better”, I said firmly. “Right now, Mandalore is trying to kill us all. We will need all our might to survive. Nobody wants you back in the game more than I, but I need you at your full strength.” I gave her a lopsided smile. “So if you really want to do your share, you’ll get the kriff better before you show your face again down here, understood?”

This actually made her laugh softly. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“We’ll put you on the first transport to Nevarro”, I promised, smiling widely. “So you can recover with Laurana and the kids.”

This was the best thing I could have said. Sabrina’s face lit up, her eyes glowing with joy. “Oh yes! I want to see them so badly. They must have been so worried.”

“Ayk and Boan never stopped believing you were still alive”, I assured her gently, remembering how Laurana had told me my appearance had given the children hope again. “They will be over the moon to have you back.”

“Me too”, she said wistfully. “I miss them so much…”

There was more she wanted to ask. So much more we wanted to tell. But time was not on our side. Far too soon we saw the familiar outline of the Gauntlet rise up into the sky ahead of us. As the longskib slowed down, I saw several survivors’ eyes glisten with tears at the familiar troop transporter, the first one they had seen since the Purge. A symbol of delivery, of reassurance that they could leave the planet again, get help and treatment.

“Such a beauty!” I heard the captain whisper almost in awe.

Once the longskib had stopped, we went to work. The Armorer made straight for the cockpit of the Gauntlet for the preflight preparations. We others helped the survivors to get on board, supporting those who could walk and carrying those who couldn’t. Axe and Koska managed to get Sabrina on a stretcher, so she could be transported with at least some comfort, and carefully carried her inside.

Taking our leave from her was hard, and I almost had to physically tear myself away from her. Absurdly, I feared letting her out of my sight meant she would disappear on me again. There would be no way to contact her once she was in orbit, no way of knowing she was safe and well. Chewing on my lip with distress, I finally cleared my throat.

“Take care of yourself, will you?”

She smiled weakly, the painkillers clearly wearing off again. I really must not delay. She urgently needed treatment.

“I will, if you do the same.”

I nodded with misty eyes, bending over her and kissing her cheek. She clung to me tightly for a second, then gently pushed me off.

“Go, Bo-Katan”, she said steadily. “Do your thing.”

Do your thing. The phrase she had always used when we split up during missions. Despite my grief at being parted again, it made me smile.

“I will. See you soon.”

Gathering all my strength, I turned around and walked out of the Gauntlet, furiously wiping my eyes. It was the right thing to let her go. There was no need for me to get all worked up. She would be fine.

I did not bid the Armorer goodbye. I knew she would join us again as soon as possible.

“Onward, Mandalorians!” Captain Archer’s voice rang over deck as everyone who would stay on the planet had left the Gauntlet. “To the Forge!”

The survivors accompanying us moved in all directions on the longskib, busy like a swarm of ants.

Mel, our Nite Chick, was lending a hand with the sails, as interested in moving vehicles as always. Rab Kast was starting the engines, a small smile on his gaunt face. The smile of a man who finally had a purpose again.

As the longskib started moving, I stood at the rails and watched the Gauntlet rising up into the sky. The Armorer was setting a course for the cruiser where the sick could be treated properly. My eyes followed the ship until it disappeared into the clouds, feeling as if it was carrying a part of me away as well. A part I had left behind for dead.

Only when Din by my side moved back unto the deck, I tore my gaze away. Sabrina’s fate was out of my hands now. She would be fine, better than she had been in years. The Armorer would see to that.

As for me, I needed to focus. Despite the bright morning, thick clouds were starting to gather in the sky. Throwing large shades they hung over us and covered the sun, on the one hand making it easier for us to see, without the landscape reflecting the light. On the other hand anything could lurk within the dark shades, and our lookout, Ned Reeves, grew more wary.

“Watch out for anything that moves”, Captain Archer told him, and as far as I was concerned, his order included every single one of us.

While the longskib moved much faster than we had on foot, the captain estimated we would need a couple of hours to reach the Forge. As soon as we all had found our routine on board and things ran more smoothly, there was time to kill. Apart from the lookout and a skeleton crew to keep the longskib on course, we others were not needed.

I could not lean back and do nothing, so I stayed on the stern and watched the landscape passing us by. One way or the other I had to familiarize myself with the territory again. This was our home, whether we recognized it or not. We had to learn the changed landmarks and draw new maps in our minds.

Still lost in thought, I started a little when Din nudged me gently. “Look at that”, he whispered, his chin pointing towards the deck. Curiously I looked down as well. Everything seemed peaceful there. The four Shriek-hawks were relaxing on deck, resting from their night watch. Koska, Mel and Noela sat on a few boxes, talking softly.

Then I spotted what Din meant and felt my eyes grow wide. Paz Vizsla and Axe Woves were sitting opposite of each other at a make-shift table, a game board between them. They took turns in moving their figures and then smirking at each other. At least I was sure Axe was smirking. With Paz it was hard to know. He had always seemed rather serious to me, little inclined to joking and laughing.

As I watched, Axe looked up and sighed. “You can’t move an Enforcer like that.”

“It’s a flank jump”, Paz countered. His posture was relaxed, radiating smugness. “And you’re about to submit.”

Ouch!

I flinched inwardly. Nobody told Axe to submit and got away with it.

I was not the only one. Noela and Mel behind Axe had put their heads together, whispering excitedly. No doubts they were hatching bets how quickly Axe was going to put Paz in his place. On Paz’ side of the table I saw Asla and Hiro tense up and exchange a meaningful look.

To my surprise Axe kept his voice reasonable as he spoke. He had promised me not to start a fight and so far he was sticking to it.

“But only the Wing Guard can flank jump.”

I could tell by now even Clan Awaud and the survivors had gotten interested in the exchange. There was a certain tension in the air. Centuries of internal warfare had let us Mandalorians develop a sixth sense for when trouble was brewing. Only the wary ones survived.

“The Enforcer moves like a Wing Guard when it’s flanking.” Paz too sounded completely reasonable.

Axe’s snort was anything but reasonable. “These primitives make up their own rules for everything.”

Koska grinned sardonically. Mel and Noela tried to hide their snickers.

I closed my eyes briefly. That’s it. Here we go.

As Axe was reaching out to move his figure, Paz got up from his seat and drew his vibroblade. The buzzing like an angry bee caught the attention of even the last Mandalorians who hadn’t realized anything yet.

Axe didn’t even pretend to be intimidated. He looked up at Paz, and from the sound of his voice I knew the familiar, contemptuous smirk was back on his face. “Seriously?”

Without even thinking about it, I stepped closer to the stairs leading down to the deck. Din mirrored my move and from the corner of my eye I saw Captain Archer coming closer as well. We all knew how quickly banter between Mandalorians could escalate.

Paz raised his shoulders. “Submit or fight”, he said coldly.

With a snort Axe looked around, his eyes briefly grazing Koska’s. “Can you believe this?”

No idea what and if she responded, but I, as a matter of fact, could believe this. For a member of the Tribe the situation was clear. Paz was offering Axe the choice between retreating and Blood for Insult. Surrender or fight, no room for negotiations.

Axe sat there as calmly as if he didn’t have a single care in the world. Then, like a flash, his jetpack catapulted him into the air. He aimed a kick at Paz – thank goodness he was wearing a helmet – and landed behind him, right next to a very startled Kyo. With a swift movement he had drawn his own vibroblade. Paz quickly covered the distance between them and with a roar went into hand-to-hand combat.

For a moment they were wrestling with each other, rather well matched. Paz was stronger, but Axe had experience. While they elbowed each other, accompanied by angry sounds and the clatter of beskar on beskar, neither could win an advantage over the other.

I watched the scene unfold before me, torn between anxiety for my two fighting friends and sheer resignation. Of all the people to clash, it had to be Axe and Paz. These two had been squabbling ever since they set eyes on each other. They were simply dying for a fight, and while I hated Mandalorians fighting each other, I knew enough of the two pigheads to understand they needed to get it out of their systems. Sometimes a sparring match could clear the air.

A sparring match? I heard Satine’s disbelieving voice in my head. Is this what you call it when people try to kill each other? Over a trifle?

“Should I step in?” Din asked in his usual no-nonsense manner.

With his and Satine’s voice both demanding some course of action, I went for the only option I could stomach.

“Neither side can step in”, I said wearily, knowing any interference by a third warrior would violate our dueling laws. If I did not respect our rules and broke them whenever it suited me, what were they worth? “It was bound to happen sooner or later.”

While I didn’t want to say it out loud, despite his attitude Axe had a point here. The Nite Owls could not be expected to conform to every detail of the Tribe’s culture. There was only so much adjustment I could reasonably expect without them losing their own uniqueness. A difference of opinion about the rules of a game might be a silly trigger but I’d rather let them have it out now than wait for a worse time. Like, when one of them was in serious danger.

Downstairs blows were traded. While the two were rather equally matched, Paz had the undeniable advantage of wearing a helmet. His face was protected against Axe’s blows. When Paz retaliated, though, his beskar hit Axe straight in the jaw. With a pained noise he went down and I flinched again.

In a sparring match this would be the moment to knock on the mat…

Axe crawled away from Paz, then, activating his jetpack once more, threw his bigger opponent off his feet. When they both were standing again, I saw with a sinking heart they were past all thinking. Both furiously slashed at each other, completely forgetting the trivial reason for their fight, letting their anger and ancient hatred fuel their attacks. When struggling for dominance again, Paz managed to grab Axe and threw him hard on the deck. Axe’s scream made my stomach clench.

I suddenly could vividly imagine how Koska had felt during my duel with Axe. What to do when you liked both fighters and could not bear to see either hurt? How to defuse such an explosive situation?

End this! Satine’s voice screamed in my head. Make them stop!

Mutely I shook my head. This approach was not going to work. If I ordered them to kiss and make up, I would just repeat Satine’s mistake, setting myself up as the imperative mother who told the squabbling brothers off and merely managed to alienate them. They would obey me for the moment, out of respect for my station, but it would fill them with resentment and anger. They would be at each other’s throat again at the next opportunity. Their conflict would not be solved, only stalled.

They had to choose to stop. It was the only way.

Axe did not look beaten. He got up again, chuckling darkly. Even Koska started to look worried. Noela and Mel had long since stopped smiling. They too knew Axe. They too read the writing on the wall. Once more he rose up into the air and tackled Paz.

He could not know that I had, for weeks, practiced his standard maneuvers with the very man he was fighting right now.

Paz was prepared. He slightly side-stepped and placed a well-aimed blow. With a cry of pain Axe crashed into the deck once more. Even the Shriek-hawks, who by all rights should be rooting for Paz, started to look uncomfortable.

Both warriors grabbed their weapons again, murder in their eyes and stances. With a furious battle-cry Axe dashed forwards –

– and was stopped by a droid hand on his arm. Another hand held Paz in check. Grogu had skillfully maneuvered his IG unit between the two brawlers, keeping them at arm’s length and separating them.

“No. No. No.”

I let out a sigh of relief. Thank you, sweetie!

Axe and Paz were struggling against the mechanical grip, still trying to get to each other. Axe’s eyes were ablaze with fury.

“No. No. No.”

Grogu kept hitting the button. Even from where I stood I could see his big, pleading eyes wandering between the two.

He too liked them both, I realized. Axe had helped to save him on Trask, and he had bonded with Paz during our time with the Tribe. He, just like me, did not want either of them to get hurt. But unlike me he could intervene without violating our dueling rules.

Slowly the beauty of his intervention began to unfold in my mind. Nobody would be angry at a little child trying to protect his friends. On the contrary, Paz would always protect the foundlings, and Axe would not want to traumatize a child either. Unlike Satine, the little foundling was also not enforcing obedience. The two could break free with some effort if they were dead set on killing each other. Instead he was giving them a chance to take a breath and think things through. A choice. His very presence demonstrated to them what they might destroy if they continued. The world of a child. The hope of our future.

I could almost watch the mist of blood lust dissolving between the two squabblers. I saw how they both took deep breaths, becoming aware of their surroundings again, remembering what we were doing here. Almost simultaneously they deactivated their weapons and put them away. Axe looked at Grogu briefly, then glared at Paz, but this time kept his peace. Without saying a word he walked away from his favorite enemy, back to Koska.

I could swear I heard every single person on deck exhale in relief. A warm smile appeared on my face as I looked at Grogu, the peacemaker.

“You taught your apprentice well”, I told Din softly. He slightly shook his head.

“He didn’t learn that from me.”

Grogu was all innocence, big eyes and cute face. I nodded slightly as I understood.

“The Jedi.”

“Yes”, Din confirmed. “Skywalker.”

A deep wrinkle appeared between my brows. “Skywalker? Was that his name?”

“It is.” Din looked at me closely. “Why do you ask?”

Slowly I shook my head. “I remember Ahsoka’s master. His name was Skywalker too. But… he was lost. During the purge of the Jedi.”

“Really?” he asked with some interest. “Was it the same one?”

I tried to remember the young man I had seen on Gideon’s cruiser, the one who took Grogu away. Now that I thought of it, there had been a slight resemblance. The same blue eyes and blond hair. But the face… no. Unless he had had a major facial surgery, I would have recognized Anakin Skywalker. To say nothing about the age difference.

“No”, I said with some certainty. “He was way too young.”

“Huh.” Thoughtfully Din looked down at the deck. “Ahsoka did say she was a friend of the family when I visited them…”

“A relative, then”, I concluded. Perhaps a nephew, seeing Jedi didn’t sire children.

A sharp whistle sounded from Ned Reeves in the crow’s nest and we all started. He was pointing ahead, to the right side.

“There, on the starboard bow!”

Those of us who had been sitting jumped to their feet and turned into the direction he had indicated. It was one of the big green crystalline structures ahead of us. A strange rumble sounded through the air, which was definitely not caused by the langskib. I narrowed my eyes. Either the shadows were deceiving me or –

– or the crystal was moving.

The survivors exchanged quick looks and put on their helmets. The Nite Owls followed suit. When in doubt, do it like the natives. Din dashed down the stairs to get on the deck. Putting on my helmet as well, I followed him.

We had gotten very close to the crystal now and yes, it was definitely moving. Like in an earthquake, soil, crystal shards and stones were crumbling down.

No, not like an earthquake, I realized, my blood freezing in horror. Like a molehill, when the mole comes out…

What broke through the surface with a deep roar was not a mole by a long shot. In the explosion of rubble and debris I merely managed to see a huge, gaping maw in a gigantic, reptilian face.

“Trinitaur!” Ned Reeves screamed.

For a few moments I was rooted to the spot, transfixed by the sight unfolding in front of me. My eyes registered the huge mountain of scales, spikes, claws and teeth, my nose took in the nauseating, reptilian stench. But my mind simply refused to process the information, could not believe I was actually looking a creature in the eye that by all rights should have died out eons ago.

Rab Kast tried desperately to turn the ship around, but it was futile. The trinitaur was as big as a moving mountain, there was no way to avoid it. From out of the rubble a huge tail broke free, looming over us.

Big bugger, I heard Sabrina’s voice in my head. Breaking through the surface and smashing everything with its tail.

“Abandon ship!” Captain Archer yelled.

Around me, Mandalorians hastily ignited their jetpacks. To my astonishment Paz Viszla and Axe Woves nodded at each other and moved to Grogu, each grabbing one arm of the IG unit.

“Let’s go!” Axe shouted and together with Paz he took off, Grogu safely between them.

“Come on!” Din grabbed my hand and went straight after his son.

The tail came down just as we all rose into the air, missing us by inches. It hit the longskib beneath us and smashed everything into pieces. With a huge fireball the motor exploded, tearing the vehicle apart. Briefly I wondered if the trinitaur would still try to eat the burning longskib or be repelled by the flames, but I was not going to stick around to find out.

Rubble and debris rained down on us as we made our escape. A burning board slammed into my arm and with a scream of pain I let go of Din, spinning freely for a few moments before I regained control over my jetpack. I managed to land on my legs and run blindly in the direction Captain Archer was gesticulating towards. It was a cave, an opening in one of the crystalline structures, rather similar to the entrance towards Sundari.

“This way! This way!”

Several survivors crash-landed, the Shriek-hawks were pulling people back to their feet.

“Hurry up! Faster!”

Cal – who else – stalled for a moment and looked at the raging trinitaur in wonder, his scientist heart doubtlessly brimming over at the sight.

“What a beauty!” he whispered with the same awe Captain Archer had had for the Gauntlet.

“Wacko!” Asla hissed in exasperation and pulled him with her. “Come on now!”

Frantically I looked around for Din. To my utter relief I saw him land just a few steps away from me, making for the cave as well and signaling me he was alright. As I looked ahead, I saw Paz and Axe had brought Grogu to the cave already. Good.

Moving as fast as I could, I realized I had Tim Beroya beside me, running to the cave like everybody else, but at the same time studying some data projecting from his vambrace. As I looked closer, I saw they were vital signs from both his husband and Dan Solus. When realizing my gaze, he shrugged.

“We always share each other’s vital signs. To know when to extract a comrade.”

“Smart move”, I had to admit. The mercenaries really were on top of their game. For them it was crucial to know when a warrior was too injured to be of any use on the battlefield. Despite my reservations towards Tim Beroya I did hope he did so out of loyalty to his brothers-in-arms and not merely out of self-interest.

My question was answered when we reached the cave and found Baihu Beroya there. The husbands shared a quick Keldabe kiss, then moved further inside, making room for the others coming in.

One by one we went in there, trying to escape the beast and the tremors of the earth caused by its fury. Inside, Din finally managed to catch up with his son.

“You good?” he gasped.

Grogu didn’t reply. He still had his IG under control, but his eyes were huge and frightened.

“We’re not far”, Captain Archer panted. “We need to go further down. Go, go, go. Go! Go, go!”

With the ground shaking beneath us and rocks falling down around us, we entered the labyrinth of the caves under the surface.

Chapter Text

In a way, the walk through the tunnels felt like the ruins of Sundari all over again. Bottle-green crystal formations, half-destroyed caves and lots of rubble. The heart-wrenching knowledge that all this had once been part of our civilization. That it had been smashed to pieces and would never be the same again, no matter how hard we worked and toiled.

But in Sundari I had had Din and Grogu with me. It felt wrong to not have them by my side.

While Captain Archer led his survivors and my comrades into the maze of the tunnels, I fell behind a little, watching them pass me by one by one. Nite Owls, Children of the Watch, Clan Awaud. Only when I finally spotted Clan Mudhorn, I felt myself breathe easier. They had not gotten lost.

With a light smile I joined them as they came up to me, feeling as if the world was in order again. I could handle monsters and sudden attacks, as long as my favorite Mandalorian and his son were alright.

Din, however, seemed somewhat surprised to see me. “I thought you would be with the captain and the others.”

“I was”, I confirmed. “I just wanted to make sure you and Grogu had made it in here safely.”

His voice, as he answered again, sounded very cautious, almost hesitant. “You stayed back for us?”

I looked at him in bewilderment. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

He hummed thoughtfully, staring ahead as he kept walking to catch up with the others. Grogu piloted his IG unit right next to him, curiously looking back and forward between us.

“I know how committed you are to our quest”, Din finally said gently. “By right, your place is in the fore. I don’t want to become a burden for you.”

“You two are no burdens for me!”

I was shocked and hurt he would think this way. To his credit he himself flinched slightly and held up an appeasing hand.

“Not a burden”, he corrected himself quickly. “Distraction. That’s what I mean. I must not become a distraction for you, Lady Kryze.”

Him calling me that made me pause. When it was just the two of us and Grogu, I would always be Bo for him. When he called me Lady Kryze, though, he was appealing to the commander of the Nite Owls, not to the woman he loved. For him there was a clear distinction between the two aspects of me.

For the first time it occurred to me that Bo and Lady Kryze, despite both being parts of me, could be completely at odds. Bo, the friend and lover, wanted to make sure her loved ones were safe and secure. Lady Kryze, on the other hand, knew for a fact at times good people would die for a cause, including loved ones. She did not like this grim truth anymore than Bo did, but she accepted it as part of the leader’s burden. Unlike Bo, Lady Kryze would do what was necessary to preserve as many of her people as possible. Including sacrificing some of them, if there was no other way.

The realization made me slightly nauseous. I reached for the tunnel wall with my free hand to try and support myself. Would I be forced to sacrifice Din and Grogu to make sure our people survived? Would I actually be willing to do it?

“I just wanted to make sure…” I heard myself stammer, my lips numb with horror at the very thought.

“Don’t.” In the dark of the tunnels, where no one could see it, Din’s fingers intertwined with mine. “I appreciate your care, but I am well. I can take care of myself and Grogu. The people who really need your attention right now are the survivors. They are not at the top of their game.”

“I can’t just abandon you two”, it burst out of me before I could stop myself.

“You don’t”, he assured me, squeezing my hand. “Regard as a form of triage.”

Triage. The process to determine who needed help most urgently. Mostly it was used by healers sorting their patients. Those with bad injuries got treatment first, while those with slight blemishes were trusted to hold on for a while.

While I was no healer, I understood the point he was making. Some warriors needed Lady Kryze more urgently than others. Din was content to serve Lady Kryze but didn’t urgently need her. If at all, he needed Bo, and even her attention he would only claim once Lady Kryze had done her duty. Officially we were merely bound by his pledge of loyalty. For the time being he had vowed to take care of me, not the other way around.

How did he do it, I wondered in silence. How did he always manage to find the right words to encourage me to do the right thing?

“Grogu and I will be alright.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “Don’t worry about us."

Once I was sure everyone was safely in the tunnels, I did a quick headcount. So far we had lost no one to the trinitaur attack, though several of us had gotten some bruises from flying rocks and exploding shrapnel. Our armors had deflected the worst of it though, and after a short bactaspray break we started our journey again, Captain Archer leading the way. The Shriek-hawks secured our backs as we moved further down.

A tense silence engulfed us. Nobody dared to make any more noise than necessary, fearing to wake up more predators. The trinitaur at the surface had been bad. A monster of its proportions in these cramped quarters would be a death sentence.

We couldn’t have spent more than ten minutes walking through the caves, when Captain Archer stopped. I walked up to him, finding him standing at the edge of a cliff. Down there at the bottom, rising up in silent majesty, were the furnaces of the Great Forge.

Considering the Imps had bombed every surface twice over, I had expected a pile of rubble, burst pipes and melted boilers. Having feared the worst after seeing the ruins of Sundari, I was surprised how well the forge had weathered the Purge. Mostly undamaged, just littered with rubble.

Axe was the first of us to take off his helmet, looking at the remains with wide eyes. Everyone save the Children of the Watch followed suit. Seeing the Nite Owls’ struck expressions, I got an idea what I must have looked like when seeing Sundari again.

It was a sight I could well have lived without.

“Where are we?” I heard Din ask carefully, clearly picking up the mood.

“This is what’s left of the Great Forge.” Axe’s voice was laced with grief. “This was once the heart of our civilization. But the fires have been extinguished since the bombings.”

It was not just the lack of fire that made it look so lost, I thought sadly. It was the eerie silence. The Great Forge had never been quiet. As long as our people could remember, it had been active, burning and ringing, processing and shaping our beskar. Even under Satine’s rule the Great Forge had never stood still.

But apart from the mournful silence of the forge, I felt something stir in me. Hope. Confidence. The forge was similar to our people – battered, but not beaten. It was not dead like Sundari, merely deeply asleep. Maybe in a coma, but not gone.

We could wake it up again.

Slowly we started to move on, following the path along the ledge and looking at the forge. It had been built to stand for millenia, and even the bombings had not toppled it. I let my gaze wander while we walked, but apart from superficial damage and some rubble on the ground, it really did not look so bad at all.

“You lived here?” Paz Vizsla asked Koska, who happened to walk beside him.

“We all did”, she confirmed.

“We never left”, Captain Archer chimed in. “Survived by migrating along the surface until the war ended. Some tried to explore below, but none survived.”

Small wonder, seeing things like the cyborg and the trinitaur were ready to devour anything coming within their reach. Thoughtfully I took off my helmet, wondering what other unknown monsters might be lurking in the depths beneath us. How to handle them or even approach them if the savvy survivors had not managed to get further?

A familiar noise ripped through the silence of the quiet forge. Startled out of my thoughts, I lifted my head, frowning. This was not the noise I associated with the Great Forge, but still, I knew it.

Din beat me to the chase. “Jet packs?”

We all turned around, facing the direction where the noise came from.

Something was in the air, moving towards us. A swarm of people, wearing jetpacks.

“More survivors?” Axe asked, torn between hope and disbelief.

But something was off. As they came closer, I could distinguish their armors. Mandalorian armors might follow classic patterns and might be restricted in terms of clan colors, but they are very individual pieces. Even members of official forces like the Nite Owls found ways to design and paint their armors, so no two warriors looked entirely the same.

These newcomers looked all the same. Homogeneous and faceless. In white.

All my battle instincts kicked in, some of them honed during the Clone Wars. I had faced such faceless, white-helmeted people before. Countless times.

“Those aren’t Mandalorians”, I hissed, putting my helmet back on.

Around me Nite Owls, survivors and Clan Awaud followed my lead. The Children of the Watch, their hands unoccupied with helmets, were already drawing their guns.

Thank goodness they did.

The moment the newcomers were within reach, they opened fire. It was merely thanks to Din, Paz and their comrades that the fire was returned immediately. Like a swarm of white insects our opponents swarmed between the cold furnaces, firing nonstop. With a groan a survivor right next to me went down. I hoped to all the gods who might chance to listen that it was not Koska’s kinsman. Passing us by in their flight, the enemies landed on a higher ledge opposite from us and showered us with laser bolts.

“They’re Imperials!” Axe yelled over the noise, having come to the same conclusion as me.

“Take cover!” Din shouted at Grogu almost simultaneously.

I heard the by now familiar clanking noise as Grogu steered his vehicle behind a rock. I had no time to spare him a glance, though. We were under fire, and unlike the Imps we were not in the air. Our only cover was some rocks, and that would only work sideways. From above, we were sitting ducks. They could take us down one by one.

By now we were shooting from every available muzzle. Koska got one of the stormtroopers – for I was fairly certain by now this was what they were – right at the shoulder. The trooper up on the ledge gave it a short glance, then just kept firing.

“They’re wearing beskar armor!” Axe, kneeling and shooting next to Koska, roared.

I felt hot fury sear through my blood. How dare these mudscuffers steal our beskar! Was it not enough that they had killed our people? Did they now have to dance on their graves, mocking them by imitation?

The blaster bolts came down on us like hail by now. More than once I got hit, just to have the bolt deflected by my trusty armor. All in all the Nite Owls and the Tribe were doing alright. The former had years of experience, the latter had recently undergone training. They knew how to cover each other and present as small a target as possible.

A look to the side told me the survivors were in trouble, though. While they did have experience in battle, they had been worn down by the harsh years. Two meals and some bacta were simply not enough. They were slower than us, their bodies not nearly as flexible. Several of them had already received burn wounds. I tried to think up a plan, quickly, to spirit them to safety, but the Imps had us pretty much boxed in.

I heard a keening sound from Baihu Beroya. When I turned to him, I saw him hovering over the fallen Dan Solus, whose armor sported several holes from the relentless blasterfire of our enemies.

“He’s gone”, Baihu moaned in a voice so grief-stricken I barely recognized him. “He is gone!”

What is he talking about? Dan is wearing full-body armor, he shouldn’t even…

Not beskar.

I closed my eyes in sheer anguish. Clan Awaud no longer had beskar armors. They used durasteel. It could not protect a Mandalorian from blaster bolts.

Clan Awaud linked their comrades’ vital signs to each other’s vambraces, to know how badly their brethren were hurt. If Baihu said Dan was gone, there was no reason to doubt him.

The friendly man who gave us caf…

“We’re pinned down”, Din yelled. “We need backup!”

Axe nodded fiercely while firing at the Imps. “I can make a run for the fleet and get us reinforcements.”

“No, it’s too far”, I vehemently opposed. This idea was so crazy only Axe could have come up with it. Going into orbit from here? There were more ways to die on the way than I could count within the few seconds of our exchange.

“I can make it”, he insisted. “It’s our only shot at taking the planet back.”

Before I could protest further, Paz Vizsla, of all people, chimed in.

“There’s a split in the ceiling there”, he called over to Axe, pointing his head upwards briefly. Without looking up I knew he was right. A ray of sunlight was coming in from above, indicating an opening. With the two biggest pigheads of our people agreeing on something, even I had to admit it was worth a try. It was not like we had many options here, and I’d rather not be mowed down by Imps while trying to retake our planet, thank you very much.

“I’ll lay down cover.”

Paz lifted his canon gun and started firing for real. Within moments he had brought several troopers down. Beskar armor or not, getting hit by a laser bolt of this size and power still felt like smashing into a speeder bike. At the very least it knocked the breath out of them, giving Axe just the moments he needed. Like a flash of blue and silver he was up in the air, effortlessly sailing past our enemies, and flew up to the crack, disappearing into the sunlight.

Good luck, Axe. Stay alive.

As if on cue, the troopers took to the air again. For an awful moment I thought they would be following Axe, but instead they landed on our path just a few steps ahead of us, firing on. Immediately Din and Paz rushed forwards, giving us cover to drag our wounded behind ledges and rubble. I barely managed to pull a survivor out of the line of fire before getting shot myself. With a groan I stumbled back and returned fire. Not a bad injury, I assured myself. Just a graze, deflected by my cuirass. Two survivors were not so lucky. The shots they received pushed them backwards and over the edge. I could hear their screams as they fell into the depths of the forge and knew with a sinking heart I would hear them for a long time to come.

But now that we were on equal footing with the Imps, the tide was turning. After all, it was us Mandalorians who were known for their prowess in battle, be it in the air or in hand-to-hand combat. Once we got close enough, the Imps’ weaknesses became obvious, and after our losses we were almost feral. The Shriek-hawks shot their lariats around the troopers’ throats and pulled them into the air, strangling them mercilessly. Din knocked an Imp down mid-flight and emptied what felt like an entire energy cell into him. Koska stabbed and slashed with her vibroblade, while at the same time kicking and hurling troopers out of the way. Paz put his canon gun to use, clearing a path for us.

We were winning, I realized with some fierce triumph. We were actually winning.

The thought must have hit the surviving Imps at the same time. Gathering together, they fired a few more shots at us, then turned around the corner of the path and fled.

“They’re retreating!” Paz shouted, and it was music in my ears. Immediately I was at their heels, following them and shooting.

“Advance!” I shouted and without hesitation my people followed me.

I could swear I could hear the shout “For Mandalore!” erupting from them and smiled grimly under my helmet. We were out for imperial blood now. We wanted to chase them back into the shadows like the vermin they were, eradicate every trace of them from our planet. Somewhere behind me I heard Din urging Grogu to keep up with us, but right now my focus lay on our enemies. I felt aglow with hatred. How long I had wanted to make them pay for what they did to our people!

The troopers were running, but were far from beaten. Every time we rounded a corner, they greeted us with blasterfire before turning tail again. The Beroya husbands answered fire with a fervor equal to ours, but made sure to stay covered all the time now. Several of us had suffered burn wounds despite our beskar, making the whole situation very dangerous for the remaining two with durasteel armors. We others were more than ready to provide cover for them, if only to get closer to the Imps.

Especially Din seemed unstoppable. He dashed ahead, clearing a path for us and despite being in full battle mode I could not help admiring his courage and his abilities. No born Mandalorian could have been more devoted to our cause than this foundling of Aq Vetina.

Into the tunnel we went, chasing our prey. Only, as we had run a few paces, we realized the tunnel no longer looked old. The walls had been fortified with what looked like durasteel. The rubble had been cleared away as well. It was… strange.

I felt myself slowing down as we ran further, Din and some survivors now leading the way. The further we got, the less the place looked like an abandoned tunnel. It looked sleek. The walls were completely covered with durasteel now, the tunnel subdivided by trapezoid door frames with light panels.

I had seen this style countless times. In ships, space stations and surface buildings.

It looked imperial.

The thought had barely crossed my mind when we passed another door frame and found ourselves at the end of a cliff again, flattened and paved with metal tiles. It seemed to be a space between two rocks, since we could see a stripe of blue sky ahead of us. Our prey ahead of us powered up their jetpacks again and flew up the crack, not heeding our shots in the slightest.

I felt my heart in my throat as a sneaking suspicion got hold of me. The place bore a striking resemblance to an imperial hangar. On the rock opposite of us I spotted landing platforms and, even more alarming, parked interceptors. This wasn’t some abandoned part of the Great Forge. This was a new, shiny imperial base, and it looked very inhabited.

To build something like this must have taken weeks. Months even, seeing the Imps no longer had unlimited manpower and resources. Just how long had they been hiding out here already?

“What is this place?” I heard myself say in growing alarm.

With a hiss, the door behind us closed. Startled I withdrew with the majority of our people, trying to figure out what was going on.

It was not a moment too soon.

I had barely stepped back when a blaster door fell down in front of us, separating me and my group from four warriors on the other side. Two Nite Owls, one survivor.

And Din Djarin.

For an endless moment our helmeted gazes met through the window in the door. “It’s an ambush”, I heard him groan in despair.

Then the troopers descended on him and the other three. We opened fire on our side, frantically trying to melt the door separating us. It was as futile as pelting it with pebbles. Our blasters did not even make a dent. The very point of blaster doors was to be blaster-proof.

The first Nite Owl on the other side fell. To my shame I could not pay him any attention. My eyes were glued to the man I loved, unable to look away or to care for anyone else. Din was caught in the middle of a desperate fight, outnumbered and outmaneuvered. He was using his flamethrower and blaster to keep the troopers at bay.

To his left and right, the survivor and the second Nite Owl crumpled to the floor, felled by blasterfire. Any moment it would be his turn to be shot before my very eyes, and I was unable to help him. I could do nothing but kriffing watch as my beloved was caught by imperial lariats. On my side the warriors ceased to fire, realizing the futility of their task. Grogu whimpered in despair.

Completely past any reason I threw myself against the blaster-proof window with a scream, slamming my weapon against it in a vain attempt to break through. I had to get to Din… I had fight by his side…

Despite being restrained by several lariats, Din bravely fought on, burned troopers wherever he could. But the cables were wrapped around him, held by the Imps. All the troopers needed to do was to switch positions, pulling the cables with them, and then his arms were tied. Like a swarm of carnivorous insects they came over him and brought him down to his knees.

Tears of rage blurred my vision. How could I have been so stupid? How could I have fallen for the old trick of luring the enemy forces into a trap? I had been so foolish, so dead-set on avenging our wrongs. Now Din was going to pay the price for my blasted arrogance.

They would kill him before my very eyes.

As I stood transfixed, unable to move, something landed on the edge of the cliff. A figure completely encased in black beskar, wearing a black helmet with red accents and a black, billowing cape, lined with red. Whoever that was, their flair for dramatics was even stronger than Greef Karga’s. My hands clenched around my blaster when I realized the black helmet sported several small, stylized horns. Who was this? A left-over Mauldalorian, helping the Imps to exploit our planet?

“Disarm him”, the figure commanded.

Three troopers bore down on Din, tearing the flamethrower and lariats off his vambraces and taking his weapons from him despite his struggles. They were going for humiliation, and I felt myself hiss in helpless fury. They were holding him down like a captured animal they planned on butchering, as the newcomer walked over to him slowly and with every attempt to look majestic.

The figure stopped a few paces away from Din, but was not looking at him. The helmeted face was turned to me and I felt a cold shiver run down my spine. Something was terribly wrong…

The helmet came off and revealed the face of Moff Gideon.

I heard Koska exclaim in fury, saw survivors flinch and heard Din growl with rage. As for myself, I was frozen. He could not be here. Cara Dune had taken him into Republican custody. He had been put to trial by the Republic and sentenced for his crimes.

Only he had not been. He had escaped them, he was here, and he was very much alive.

What a surprise, a cynical voice inside my head whispered. When could you EVER rely on the Republic?

“Thank you for gathering the Mandalorians into one place”, Gideon coolly said in my direction. His voice woke me from my trance. The hated, evil voice that had poured poison in my ears during the Night of a Thousand Tears. “You were a talented people, but your time has passed. However, as you can see, Mandalore will live on in me.”

Din let out another growl, struggling against his captors. My brave, loyal knight in shining beskar. He would not go down without a fight.

Don’t go down! Please, don’t go down!

A cheerful smile bordering on madness lit up Gideon’s face at Din’s response. He spread his arms as if to draw our attention to his new outfit. “Thanks to your planet’s rich resources, I have created the next generation Dark Trooper suit, forged from beskar alloy.”

He had not just taken our beskar. He had used it to fit out his forces. He must have been here for months, if not years.

Several puzzle pieces slotted into place. This was why Captain Archer’s scouts who went deeper into the forge never returned. This base was where the bombers on Kalevala had come from.

It would have been quite a blow to Gideon’s inflated ego, had he known my immediate response to this realization.

Not Thrawn. Thank the Force, it was not Thrawn!

Unfortunately this relief was immediately cut down by a much more pressing thought.

He has Din. For crying out loud, he has Din!

“And the most impressive improvement”, he continued smugly, “is that it has me in it.”

He preened like a peacock, adorned with borrowed – stolen plumes. The part of me not worried sick for Din wondered if this was a half-assed attempt at cosplaying a mixture of a Mauldalorian and Darth Vader. Had my beloved not been within his reach, I would have said something to that effect.

“You see, every society has something to offer”, he blabbed on, like a lecturer trying to make a point to his unwilling students. “The cloners. The Jedi. And even the Mandalorians. By aggregating the best of each, I will create an army that will bring order to the galaxy.”

He was insane, I thought in disbelief. Obsessed with possessing Mandalore’s outer trappings which he would never earn by merit. He would destroy an entire world just so he could plunder its treasures and pretend they were his by right. Even after he had killed our planet, he could simply not let it rest in peace. He had to come back and desecrate its remains. Appropriate our culture and twist it into something bizarre to fulfill his megalomaniac visions.

This was what Satine had feared me to become, I realized, cold sweat breaking out on my forehead. She had been afraid of me turning into this kind of monster, drunk on its own power to kill and insatiable in its blood lust. Committing atrocities just so I could adorn myself with meaningless trophies and crow in triumph over a mountain of dead bodies.

Never, Satine! I never wanted this!

“Why don’t we take your fleet off the board while we still have the element of surprise?” he asked as pleasantly as if he was offering us refreshments.

He might as well have emptied a bucket of ice over me. How did he know of our fleet? We had only assembled it a few days ago, and there was no way to exchange messages or even scan between orbit and surface. How had he kept track of my movements? Did we have a spy among us?

With a smile he signed to one of his troopers. “Activate the interceptors and bombers.”

“No!”

It took me a moment to realize the scream had come from me. Not the fleet! They had just received the survivors – Sabrina – and were taking care of them. They would be caught completely unawares. They would be bombed, showered in fire, falling to the planet in burning ruins and explode on the surface.

No, please! Not again!

On the other side of the cliff I saw troopers run towards their vessels. One bomber after the other was manned and powered up, their ugly wings spreading. The departure alert sounded as the vessels got ready for take-off. The all-too familiar noise of TIE engines, howling like beasts thirsting for blood.

Paz Vizsla let out a hissing curse, moving around like a caged tiger, desperate for something to do. But we could not. Gideon had well and truly trapped us.

“In but a few moments”, he announced like a show host, “the Purge of Mandalore will be complete.”

His gaze fixed on Din. A cold hand seemed to wrap itself around my heart. This was it. This was the moment where he also would complete his years of torturing me. My stomach clenched painfully. Any moment now…

But the killing blow did not come. Gideon made no move to shoot Din or cut his throat. Instead he looked at him calculatingly, like a loth-cat trying to assess the mouse’s remaining strength after a few blows.

He had spared Din on purpose, I realized with growing horror. He had singled him out for survival, so he could…

“Take him to the debriefing room.”

Helplessly we watched from behind the blaster doors as the troopers dragged Din away. He struggled, fought them for every inch, but he could not stop them. I pressed my palms against the windows as my beloved was taken out of my sight and wished I could force-choke Gideon into next week. I would never trust the Republic with the disposal of imperial scum again, I vowed furiously. If I wanted the job done, I had better do it myself.

“I should have killed you when I had the chance”, I spat at him. Even in my own ears it sounded pathetic. Inept.

“Bo-Katan”, Gideon exclaimed cheerfully, as if he had only just recognized me behind the window. “We have to stop meeting like this.”

“I’ll make sure of it”, I hissed. A promise I intended to keep.

Still, pathetic.

“Let’s skip the pleasantries, shall we?”, he mocked, clearly unimpressed by my toothless threats. “I believe this is the part where you return the Darksaber to its rightful owner.”

No doubt he intended to rile me further with these last two words, but instead something else happened. Something stirred at the back of my mind. A realization, followed by an idea.

He thought having the Darksaber handed over to him in surrender made him the rightful owner. It was a very imperial way of thinking. Destroy all you can, trample a culture into extinction and take what is left as a trophy. In his eyes this might actually count as having won the blade in combat.

It’s all about outer trappings…

I took the Darksaber from my belt and held it so both Gideon and my people could see it. A victorious smirk crossed his conceited face. He held out his hand, as if expecting the blade to magically manifest on the other side of a blaster door.

“Now, surrender the Darksaber, and tell these people that this planet is mine.”

My eyes narrowed behind my helmet as my estimation was confirmed. Gideon was obsessed with Mandalore. He demanded the planet for his own, he clad himself in beskar, and he craved the Darksaber even more than I ever had. The cynical voice inside me muttered something about the blade’s shape and Gideon’s need to compensate for something, but I shut it down and focused. Apart from his covetousness, his behavior was almost schizophrenic. He hated and envied us, yet at the same time tried to appropriate and imitate our culture in a grotesque way he called perfection. He thought he knew everything about us, yet he understood nothing.

One look at my brothers and sisters, and I knew I had their full backing. Surrender to Gideon was off the menu. He was not going to appropriate the Darksaber. Not this time.

If the plan doesn’t work, make another one.

“This is the Way”, Paz affirmed.

Like one force, my Mandalorians opened fire on the blaster door, Tim Beroya screaming in rage. Any Imp opening the doors now would run straight into crossfire. Under their cover I sprinted to the door locked behind us. Over the noise I heard Gideon bark a command, and while I could not understand the words, I had a quite good idea about the content. Something along the lines of “Kill these ungrateful colonials and get me my buzzing toy”.

I activated the Darksaber and plunged the blade into the door. Without effort it melted its way through the durasteel until I could feel the tip coming out on the other side. Once I had broken through, I started to cut a rectangle in the durasteel, creating our very own emergency exit. A small hole it was, then, just big enough to let someone of Paz’ size crawl out of this death trap. For a bigger door there simply was no time. Besides, it would slow the troopers down as well once they – doubtlessly – would start to follow us.

Behind me I heard the noise of the blaster doors open. Even more shots sounded than before, and I knew I had to hurry.

I finished the rectangle with a final, fiery line and gave it a sound kick. With a clanking noise the rectangle fell into the other room, opening our emergency exit. Quickly I put the Darksaber back at my belt and drew my blasters.

“Move out!” I yelled, firing a few shots myself and passed the first of my brothers and sisters. “Move out! Move out!”

Despite all the shots my command was passed on. One after the other the warriors started to withdraw. I stayed in the fray, but close enough to the hole to supervise their escape and give them cover.

“Fall back!” Paz shouted and let out a volley of shots. “I’ll cover the rear!”

He moved to the area beyond the blaster doors, letting his canon gun spit out a volley of shots. Now that the blaster doors were open, we had free range at the troopers. There was no trace of Moff Gideon, though. The coward had flown away and left his troops to deal with us. To my chagrin more of them were arriving. Now that we had disabled their trap, Gideon probably sent every available canon fodder against us to capture his prize. While he himself went to finish off Din, I thought, feeling as nauseous as if I had swallowed a batch of living kinor bats.

Slowly but steadily the room emptied as my comrades got out through the hole, one by one. Only Paz and I were left, together with an ever growing bunch of Imperials in beskar. We would need some luck to both make it out, but I was willing to take my chances.

“We’re clear”, I called to Paz. “Fall back.”

He remained where he was, firing and keeping the Imperials at bay. A cold fear brushed my heart.

“Come on!” I yelled, wishing for once the members of the Tribe would obey the bearer of the Darksaber as unquestioningly as Clan Kryze. “We’re not leaving you behind.”

Paz looked at the Imperials, then at me. Before I could even move a muscle he shot the switch panel for the blaster doors and they shut between us, leaving me on one side and him on the other with the Imperials.

“Go”, I heard him say in a steady voice. “There are too many.”

“No!” I screamed in horror and threw myself against the blaster doors. I could not lose more of my people. Not another brother-in-arms.

Not another friend.

A last time Paz Viszla looked at me. His demeanor was caring, almost soothing and I realized with painful certainty he did not see his horrified leader. He saw a scared foundling of Clan Vizsla, taken in by his kinsman decades ago. Someone he would protect with his life. Paz always protected the foundlings.

Once part of the clan, always part of the clan.

I sensed his devotion to Mandalore, to his brothers and sisters and his clan, which by a strange twist of fate included me. He had chosen his destiny, and like my father he would die defending our home world.

“This is the Way”, he said softly.

With that, he turned away from me and engaged the Imperials in combat.

In vain, I tried to break through the doors once more and to get to him. Then, with every fiber of my body screaming in anguish, I dashed back to the hole and climbed through myself. I could not help Paz anymore, so I’d better respect his choice and make his sacrifice count.

Young Ragnar, the foundling taken in by Paz Vizsla, was an orphan once more.

I barely saw where my feet carried me as I stumbled through the hole and ran back the way we had come. My head throbbed with rage and despair. Our fleet in orbit was unaware of the Imperial threat, and if Axe had not made it, there was no way to warn them. We were outnumbered down here, and the Imperials were killing off my brothers and sisters.

And Gideon had captured Din. The man I loved was in the clutches of a beast, and I had no idea how to help him.

I rounded a corner and faced a bunch of muzzles trained at me. A moment later I recognized the owners as my brethren and let out a sigh of relief. Luckily the feeling was mutual, and the blasters were lowered immediately.

“Thank goodness you made it out, Lady Bo-Katan.” Captain Archer breathed a sigh of relief.

Rhys of the Shriek-hawks, though, noticed the error in the picture immediately. “Where is Paz Vizsla?”

“He stayed behind”, I croaked out. My throat was so tight I could barely speak, and I could not for the life of me tell whether it was from running or from grief. “Closed the blaster doors on me… engaged the troopers… told me to go… ”

Several shaky breaths were taken. I lowered my head, half expecting them to call me a coward, to condemn me for leaving their brother behind, to blame me for his death. The way I wanted to blame and condemn myself.

“This is the Way”, I heard Rhys say quietly.

“This is the Way”, Asla, Hiro, Cal, Lin and Kaya repeated mournfully.

Despite my grief I started to feel a little better. They too understood it had been Paz’ choice, not mine. They were not blaming me.

“Listen”, I said urgently, “we have to move. The troopers are coming, and Gideon is attacking the fleet.”

“And Din Djarin…” Lin Tsue’s voice died in a groan, her hands covering her helmeted face for a moment.

Everyone froze. The thought of what fate awaited Din fell on them like a cold, wet blanket. I had to clench my jaws shut in order to stifle a desperate moan myself.

“Gideon will kill him”, Tim Beroya whispered. I had never heard such horror in his voice. Not for someone other than his own people.

“No.” I almost choked on my words but forced myself to speak. “Too easy. He will want to break him.”

Gideon would not kill Din straight away. By now I knew how his mind worked. He loved to draw things out, to gloat and to take as much pleasure as possible from the humiliation of his prisoner.

I heard Cal take a sharp breath. “He is going to remove his helmet!”

Of all the awful things Gideon might be doing to Din, this thought nearly made me tear up. I felt Cal’s anguish like my own, knowing what a violation it was to them. I wished I could say something to give him courage. The Armorer would have been able to rally him again with a few, well-placed words.

The Armorer was not here. I was in charge, for the Nite Owls by the grace of the Darksaber, for the Tribe by my own merit. It was my job to keep morale up. Gathering my wits, I grabbed Cal’s shoulder and squeezed it hard.

“Din Djarin will never lose his honor by someone else’s shameful acts”, I stated between gritted teeth. “Whatever mud Gideon throws at him, it will not survive the Living Waters.”

His head came up. He nodded and gave me the warrior salute, oozing grim determination.

“This is the Way.”

“This is the Way”, I reassured both Cal and myself. Despite the dire situation we were in, I felt a spark of pride at my little success. Perhaps the Armorer had been right with her assessment that I could walk both worlds.

It was at this particular moment that I realized Grogu was missing.

“Where is he?” I looked around frantically. While evacuating the warriors, I had made sure Grogu was one of the first to leave. “Where is the kid?!”

The others gasped, exchanging startled looks.

“He was right behind me!” Kaya exclaimed wretchedly. “A moment ago he was still here!”

I felt like I had been punched in the face. He must have given the others the slip while I was still with Paz. Din’s beloved child was somewhere in an Imperial base swarming with enemies. The very ones who had hunted him from the beginning on. The fear for Clan Mudhorn tore into me like claws, ripping me apart from inside

Time seemed to stand still as my mind went into hyperspeed, analyzing our options. Grogu was in grave danger, but so were we. A single individual, especially a force-sensitive one, might be able to avoid the Imps. A group of Mandalorians was not.

Leave the bereft foundling behind you, Bo-Katan, the Armorer’s beautiful voice spoke in my mind. You must take up the mantle of leadership like Mandalore’s daughter did. Our people need you.

But so did Din and Grogu. They too needed me. Moreover, I needed them.

I must not become a distraction for you, Lady Kryze.

A soft sob escaped my lips. This was not what he had referred to. It couldn’t be! He could not have known I would have to make a choice between his little clan and the rest of my people.

I can take care of myself and Grogu.

No, you kriffing can’t, I screamed back in my mind. You are captured and Grogu is the Force knows where! I can’t just leave you two behind!

You don’t. I could almost feel his warm hand in mine, reassuring and supportive. Regard it as a form of triage.

Triage. The process of determining who needed help more urgently.

Din was in Gideon’s clutches, and while I was close to tearing out my hair in despair at his predicament, he was not in acute danger of death. Gideon planned to toy with him, to torment him, to slowly break him into pieces. Much as I feared the ordeal Din was facing, he was strong. He would last for a while. He could buy us the time to save him. It would be horrible for him, yet Din might still have a few hours.

My warriors didn’t. Once the troopers reached us, they would be mowed down within moments.

This is the Way, I heard Paz Vizsla’s calm, almost soothing voice.

I squeezed my eyes shut, exhaling deeply. Paz had sacrificed himself for me and for Mandalore. He had fulfilled his promise to enable me to fulfill mine. His last stand would not stall the Imperial forces forever. I must not dishonor his bravery by tarrying and getting us all killed.

The choice was made.

Despite the horror, despite my desperate wish to help Clan Mudhorn, I allowed the lever inside me to shift. I let go of Bo – orphaned daughter, bereft sister, grieving comrade-in-arms and loving woman – and welcomed Lady Kryze instead, the level-headed commander and strategic thinker. She was used to surviving against impossible odds, living on hope alone and thinking up plans while running away from stormtroopers.

Only the shift didn’t stop there. The lever went further, to a place where it had never been – could never be – around Din and Grogu.

This was the moment of truth. I had to ensure the survival of as many of my people as possible. We had no time for individuals now. Those who broke away from the group were on their own. There was no way to know where Grogu had gone. I simply could not risk my remaining warriors for the small chance of him still being within reach. I had to look at the bigger picture here.

Lady Kryze was not enough this time. I needed to be the Mand’alore.

It would tear Bo’s heart apart, but the Mand’alore could accept single losses as long as the majority would live for another day. I pushed back my fears for Din and Grogu, sealed them in the remote corner of my mind where Bo had withdrawn to already, and focused on the task at hand.

“Back to the surface!” the Mand’alore ordered the others and broke into a run. “We need to get out of here.”

None of them disagreed. They followed me, and we dashed through the corridors leading back to the Great Forge.

Chapter Text

If I had thought my lowest during the last months had been my time on Kalevala, I was in for a newsflash – I could actually feel worse.

As I ran through the tunnels of the forge with what was left of my forces, every single one of my steps felt like a furious accusation, a reminder of my latest failures. Like a stomping rhythm the merciless words accompanied my flight.

We got ambushed.

Paz is dead.

The fleet will be destroyed.

Grogu is missing.

They have Din.

Every heartbeat was filled with regret, every breath as painful as being stabbed. It was not quite as terrible as witnessing the Purge had been, but it came kriffing close to losing Satine. Together with the fear for my people and the adrenaline of knowing that any moment the Imps would be after us, I had a cocktail in my blood that would have put any death stick within a few parsecs to shame. Had I allowed myself to stop and feel, it would have crushed me.

So the Mand’alore did not allow it. She had no time to feel. She had to think, assess, plan.

If the plan doesn’t work, make another one.

Luckily I still knew my way around in the forge. We had lived here for quite some time before the Purge. I was able to lead my little force without having to think much about directions, and that left me time to do some quick calculations in my hand.

Just like Din had suggested only a short while ago, I was doing triage. While running, I assessed the situation, taking an inventory of my warriors and resources and comparing them to Gideon’s. In hand-to-hand combat we could probably hold our own against the troopers. Unlike them, we had trained from childhood on how to fight while flying. More importantly, we knew how to hit our target even when flying. Unlike their clone predecessors, stormtroopers were notorious for missing their targets, and flying wouldn’t exactly improve their aim.

The bigger problem was the imperial squadron on its way to ambush our people in orbit. I had seen the force of TIE interceptors Gideon had sent after Din and me back on Kalevala. If the scum was sure he could take out our fleet, then he had an armada behind him. So my top priority, apart from getting out of Gideon’s base, was to warn our forces. I had to find a way to undermine the Imps’ superiority in space, and the key lay in exploiting their weakness.

Right now Gideon was drunk on his delusions of grandeur, believing he had everything planned out perfectly. He had enough troops to ambush us on the grounds, he had enough TIEs to shoot our ships into oblivion. He believed in outer trappings, in forces, ships and possessing the Darksaber.

I had once thought like him.

A fierce smile, similar to a snarl, briefly graced my helmeted face. I knew how to throw someone with this kind of mentality off course. I had had it happen to myself, not too long ago.

I needed something Gideon had not anticipated. Someone he did not even reckon with.

Paz Vizsla, one of our strongest warriors, was gone. Din was out of commission as well, another major player off the strategic board. But there might still be a spare one in the game, just as fearless as Paz and, in his own way, as reliable as Din Djarin. A wild card nobody, not even I, could predict.

It was time to unleash Battle-Axe.

Without stopping my run I pressed the comlink on my vambrace, praying he was still alive. “Axe, come in!”

I heard the typical whooshing noise when contacting a flying Mandalorian. Then Axe’s familiar voice sounded.

“I copy.”

I wasted no time in congratulating him on his survival. In the background thunder was rumbling, meaning Axe was making it through the clouds. Once he was out of the atmosphere, he would be out of reach for any transmission. I had to be fast now.

“Moff Gideon is alive. He’s gathered his forces and he’s using our home world as his base. They’re sending up fighters to destroy the fleet”, I relayed the important facts to him as quickly as I could. “Evacuate everyone! Use the capital ship as a decoy.”

I kept my orders as short as possible, leaving it to Axe to figure out the details. I knew how his mind worked. He was at his best when being given a rough structure and filling out the gaps by himself.

“We can’t beat them in the air”, I stressed. “We have to beat them on the ground.”

Through the ever-increasing noise in the background I heard Axe’s reply.

“Understood. I’m entering the upper atmosphere but I have my orders.”

I briefly closed my eyes. While it was too early to feel relief, at least now my brothers and sisters in orbit stood a chance. If Axe made it out, the Imps on the ground would not know what hit them.

Thunder roared while Axe’s voice grew fainter. “I’ll return... With the troops... Can you hear…”

The static noise drowned out both his voice and the thunder.

“Axe?” I called, increasingly worried. “Axe!”

No reply. He was out. I could only hope he had not been hit by lightning.

We rounded another corner. I pressed my back against the wall once I was sure the coast was clear and let the others run past me. If anyone else was going to pull a Grogu on me, I at least wanted to know it as soon as possible. No point in running through a maze while someone took my people down one by one from behind.

Koska did not pass me by, though. She too stopped, turned around and faced the tunnel we had just come from. Barely a moment later we both saw a flash of white, the color we all had come to associate with death.

This time, it signaled Paz Vizsla’s death. The last defender of our line had fallen.

Cold grief wrapped itself around me, cooled down the burning, tumbling emotions, and allowed me to focus. Together Koska and I opened fire, taking down a couple of troopers. Once we had caused enough damage to force them to regroup, I continued shooting while Koska slapped a detonator on the tunnel wall. She dashed off and I followed her, still giving her cover while the troopers pursued us. I lingered just a little while I counted down the seconds, just to make myself excellent bait for the bloodhounds. Just long enough…

The countdown both in my head and the detonator jumped to zero. I activated my jetpack.

In an explosion of rock, dust and concrete the troopers went down. I was far away enough to not be hit by debris, but remnants of the pressure wave still hit me. Unceremoniously I slammed into a wall, protected by beskar but still having the breath knocked out of me. For a moment I thought my head would explode as well as its back painfully collided with the inside of my helmet. I slunk to the floor, dazed and disoriented.

Spots of white emerged from the dusty cloud. Like through a mist my thoughts tried to convince me to get up and run, but my body was sluggish.

The white came closer.

Death… Paz…

A silver flash dove in between me and the troopers. My heart leaped at the hope of it being Din Djarin, but then I spotted a black helmet with red accents, thank goodness without horns. The black pauldrons sported the red crest of Clan Awaud.

With a savage yell Tim Beroya fired a volley at my attackers, disintegrating them on the spot. I let out a strangled cough. There was definitely something to be said about having the latest equipment.

What the kriff is he doing here in his durasteel?!

Tim whirled around to me, as swiftly and deadly as a predator. Under different circumstances I would have dived for cover at this sight, but right now all I could sense from him was fierce protectiveness.

“Are you alright?”

Mutely I nodded, too stunned to speak.

Like conjured up from thin air, Koska appeared by my side. She pulled me up to my wobbly legs, but I could barely pay any attention to her. I was too astonished that Tim Beroya, without an inch of beskar on his body, had come to my aid.

While my helmet hid my consternation, my voice still rang with it when I finally managed to speak. “What happened to not jumping into the maw for someone else?”

Tim reloaded his gun, his helmeted eyes never leaving mine. “Consider me volunteered. I’ll cover the rear.”

He trained his rifle on the tunnel from where the troopers had emerged and waited for us to pass him. Koska pulled me along and I followed her, occasionally throwing secret glances at Tim and wondering if I had bumped my head badly enough to hallucinate. But if so, then the hallucination included the second Beroya as well. Baihu waited for me and Koska and, as we moved on, made a point of remaining by my side.

“What’s his deal?” I managed to gasp out while pointing my chin at his husband.

Baihu snorted with amusement. “Harsh on the outside, big ol’ softie on the inside. ‘Specially with separated spouses.”

Luckily I was used to running for my life even when hearing things that should have sent me stumbling and crashing into walls. I did not slow down in the slightest, despite my heartbeat going through the ceiling.

“You mean…”

”I once got captured by a remnant. Took him weeks to bail me out. He never got over not knowing if he would see me again.”

That explained a lot, especially Tim Beroya’s terror about Din’s uncertain fate. He had literally been in my shoes once and could absolutely relate.

” I see”, I muttered, wondering how much more depth Clan Awaud was hiding under their pragmatic mercenary exterior. Caf baristas, loving husbands, empathic protectors…

Baihu gave me as calm a nod as possible while running. “If your husband is still alive, we’ll get him back. Promise.”

It took me a few moments before I finally found my voice again. “Yes. Yes, we will.”

Once we had caught up with the others, we continued our run until we came to a standstill in a half-destroyed room. The Imps had not converted it yet and neither did it consist of glassed sand, so it must be one of the original rooms of the Great Forge. Unfortunately it looked very much like a dead end. The rest of the tunnel had crashed and was filled with rubble.

Without hesitation the Shriek-hawks took position and trained their blasters on the tunnel we had come from, to give the rest of us cover from the Imps. We others swarmed out, examining the walls and the crumbled ceiling for a potential escape.

I was about to look at a hole in the ceiling more closely, when the comlink in my vambrace came to life on the Clan Kryze frequency.

”Bo-Katan, come in”, a familiar voice called, and I stopped in my tracks. Despite the static, it was without doubt Din Djarin.

With a screech the lever inside me switched back to Bo, and with the switch came the shame. The total, unspeakable horror at realizing that I had committed the worst crime Din would be able to think of.

I had left his child behind.

The part of me responding to Din’s voice – Bo – wanted to sink to my knees and beg for his forgiveness, knowing it would never come. The part of me that was still sane, however, somehow managed to cut right through the tangled knot of raging feelings and put the lever back in a position where I could still function. With the Mand’alore vanishing like a mirage and Bo being close to a breakdown, the battle-tried Lady Kryze took over in her no-nonsense way.

“Received”, I heard myself reply over my throbbing heart. “Where are you?”

Bo wanted to frantically ask after his well-being, to ensure he was not hurt. Lady Kryze, though, urged caution. Din had called me neither Bo, as he did in private, nor Lady Kryze, his formal address for me. This could be anything, from Din secretly calling me from a prison cell to Gideon holding a vibroblade to Grogu’s throat, blackmailing Din into contacting me.

Please, let me know you are calling me out of our own free will!

“We’re safe”, his voice assured me, as if he could have heard my worries. “I escaped. I’ve got the kid.”

The weight that fell off my chest could have smashed a hole into a Star Destroyer. Grogu was alright. More than alright, he had found his father. He was with him. Din could take care of them both, as he had promised. I needed neither to worry about them nor beat myself up for leaving. Or rather, not right this moment. Finally I could focus on my job again without hindrance.

“I’m going after Moff Gideon”, Din continued. “Do you have a location?”

Right on cue the ground shook under our feet and an ominous rumble sounded through the tunnels. The Imps must be using detonators to clear a path towards us.

“No. We are under attack”, I informed him tersely.

The Mand’alore did not have the luxury to follow her heart. But I was still Bo as well, and Bo had lost too many loved ones. She was desperate to make sure the remaining ones were safe. Stuck between these two extremes was Lady Kryze, and she was crumbling under the onslaught.

With some effort I managed to grind out the words: “I have to get the troops to safety.”

It was not what Bo wanted to do in the slightest. She was hell-bent on correcting her mistake, as she regarded it, on going back and taking the place apart until she had found Clan Mudhorn, consequences be damned. Din needed to say just one single word, and she would go.

If he asked me to come for him, I would.

The Mand’alore, the only real counterpoint to Bo, was silent. Din’s mere voice on the com seemed to be enough to drive her out of office. Bo, on the other hand, was struggling like crazy to get free, and Lady Kryze practically had to hold her at gunpoint to prevent her from taking over.

Now imagine this whole mess going on in your head, in color, 3D and lots of audio tracks. All while you need to keep a clear head in order to stay alive. It might give you an idea of just how many balls I was juggling here.

And no, I so did not want to know what a New Mandalorian therapist would have made of it all!

Please, my dear, don’t put me to the test , I begged Din silently, knowing this option was the only way to unravel this twisted knot. Don’t ask me to…

“Understood”, he said softly.

And suddenly I knew he really did. That was why he had called me Bo-Katan instead of Bo or Lady Kryze. Whether he was aware of my inner conflict or not, he had decided to not appeal directly to either the commander of the Nite Owls or to the woman he loved. He could not know which situation his call would find me in, and so he had left me several options.

If he left me choices, his life did not depend on me coming to the rescue.

Don’t worry about us, he let me know silently. I love you.

And Bo calmed down. Relieved and comforted, she stepped back and consented to letting Lady Kryze do her job.

“Stay safe”, I replied hoarsely. I love you too.

I had barely heard the click of him closing the channel, when Captain Archer turned to me.

“If we escape to the surface, I know where we can hole up.”

“Let’s go”, Rab Kast agreed and pointed towards a hole in the ceiling. “This way!”

He powered up his jetpack and took to the air.

We didn’t need to be told twice. One after the other flew up through the hole, and once I was sure everyone was out, I followed them.

I could not say how long we were in the air. In the middle of battle and on the run I tend to lose my sense of time. To me it felt endless, but afterwards my chronometer assured me it had merely been a couple of minutes.

Captain Archer and Rab Kast led the way. They stayed close to the surface to take cover between the rocks, if necessary, steering towards a huge canyon. It felt completely unfamiliar and had probably been caused by the bombings. A good way in they slowed down and then dropped. We followed them and once we reached the bottom of the canyon, we spotted an entrance to a tunnel, hidden between the green crystalline structures. This had to be the entrance to their hiding place.

Rab marched ahead into the tunnel, followed by his captain. The two seemed to feel completely at ease here, for after a few steps they took off their helmets.

“We’ll be safe down here for a while”, Rab promised, leading the way into a huge cave. “We’ve taken refuge in these surface caves since the Purge.”

That was good news indeed. It meant the Imps, no matter how long they had already been here, didn’t know about these hide-outs. They might swarm the surface now and look for us, but I doubted they were going to search every single tunnel in the crystal rocks. There had to be countless ones, and the Imps were by no means pressed for time to find us. As far as they were concerned, they were about to wipe out our fleet, and then they just needed to mop up the leftovers, including us. They did not regard us as a danger.

Which meant, we could enjoy a short break.

The Beroyas and we Nite Owls also removed helmets, and the first thing I realized when breathing without mine was the scent of wet soil. Of leaves. At first I thought I was imagining things, but then I heard Tim behind me inhale in surprise and whisper to Baihu.

“Like the woods at home…”

We turned a corner, and for a moment I thought we had taken a shortcut to Plazir-15. The entire cave was covered in green. Verdant plants grew on the soil and even on the rocks, thriving in this protected little area. Holes in the ceiling provided them with sunlight, and a little brook, originating between the rocks, provided all the water they might need. Tiny streams of water dripped down from the ceiling, at times forming little falls.

We Nite Owls looked around in open amazement at the unexpected greenery. This was not a collection of little seedlings. The entire ground was covered with healthy, strong plants, some of them as high as my knees, others climbing up the walls and covering the rock with their lush foliage. They must have been growing here for at least a year, if not more.

“Do you live here?” Koska asked in astonishment.

“We have hideouts and food caches throughout the surface of the planet”, Captain Archer replied. “It’s how we survive. There are predators above and predators below.”

Food caches… I stared at the plants in amazement. They were not just beautiful or good regulators of the caves’ microclimate. They were edible, of all things. Just how amazing was that?

“You found underground gardens?” I asked almost in awe, while stepping close to the little brook. Never had I imagined any flora could have survived without the protection of the domed cities. Yet here they were, sprouting in a protected little cave.

“No. We planted farms”, the captain explained, his weathered face sporting a proud smile. “These are the old species indigenous to Mandalore. They’ve been dormant since before the centuries of Civil War.”

While my memories of school were rather spotty, I had a faint recollection about my biology teacher telling us about intergalactic trade. How it had introduced new plant species to Mandalore, supposedly easier to cultivate and bearing richer harvest. At some point they must have driven back the native plants, both out of sight and out of mind.

“Once the planet was abandoned, they sprouted in spots”, the captain continued. “We cultivated farms. Life persists.”

There was a fierce triumph in his last words. A reminder that the Empire had not won yet, that there was still life and beauty down on our ravaged planet.

We will rebuild it, Din’s voice sounded in my memory, comforting and reassuring. Isn’t that our history? For thousands of years, we have been on the verge of extinction, and for thousands of years, we have survived.

You were so right, my love…

I knelt down and touched some leaves with shaking hands, just to make sure they were really there. Seeing so much green on Mandalore felt unreal, like a dream. From a nightmare straight into a beautiful fairytale.

“I’ve only ever seen gardens in the domed cities”, I reminisced, feeling the strong, leathery foliage in my hand despite the glove. “I never knew the surface could still sustain plant life.”

Between the cities there had only been wasteland where nothing grew. The introduced species had been extinguished during the clan wars and later the Purge. The dormant species must have survived buried in the sand and between rocks. Perhaps the very fires that burned our cities to the ground had brought the seeds back to the surface.

This was big. A discovery just as important as the Mythosaur in the Living Waters. Both secured our survival, the Mythosaur covering the spiritual side, the plants the physical one.

The captain smiled at me softly. “All they need is room to grow.”

Like me.

Only years of experience in hiding my feelings prevented me from gasping out softly at this thought. While I had never been big on metaphors, this one practically jumped into my face. I too had needed room to grow, a protected place where I could focus on just myself instead of the affairs of an entire planet. Like the plants I had thrived in a sheltered environment, surrounded by people who cared. Who encouraged me to grow.

In both cases the results were incredible.

Looking around at my comrades-in-arms – Children of the Watch, Nite Owls and Old Mandalorians – I could tell their mood had changed since our desperate flight. Many of them had been discouraged by seeing just how devastated our planet actually was. They had sincerely doubted resettlement was even possible, though they had been loyal enough to not say so. Now, seeing what a handful of survivors with almost no equipment and resources had managed to do, they could barely conceal their excitement. There was hope even in the faces of the old and hardened warriors, a light in their eyes. They were genuinely starting to believe in our planet’s future.

Either that or Satine had been right and walking around in green spots actually did have a relaxing effect on people.

My heart swelled in my chest at the thought of my sister. Oh, if only Satine could see this! I longed to show her this incredible view, this green hope for a better future. Mandalorians, descendants of the ruthless warriors who had reduced our planet to a wasteland, had planted little spots of paradise. They had started to re-cultivate our world and with nothing but sheer grit and determination achieved something the New Mandalorians had failed at despite all their high-tech equipment – growing plants in the open, without the protection of the domed cities. Farming their own food.

Makes you think twice whether it’s really the weapon that decides the battle, and not the warrior, Dan Solus had said about the survivors. It applied to taking care of our planet too. It wasn’t the outer trappings that would determine our success, neither weapons nor ideologies. It was the people, our own persistence and dedication which could make the crucial difference.

This changed everything, I realized, swallowing hard. We could rebuild our civilization and fill it with life again. All we needed to do was to kick out the intruders and get to work. We did not have to enforce pacifism and deny our roots in order to bring life back to our planet, quite the contrary. We would need warriors like me to get rid of the Imps, and then we would need determined people like Satine to keep the peace among ourselves. We would find a balance between honoring our old traditions and preserving life. Our world was being given a second chance.

I was being given a second chance.

A new determination came over me at taking in the fragile beauty growing all around me. For years I had vowed to take Mandalore back, but with hindsight my dedication felt shallow. Back then I had channeled my horror, my grief and my fury into the almost manic search for the Darksaber, in order to reclaim the planet. I had been desperate to restore the heart of Mandalorian power – and rule it – just to prove my own worth to myself and the world. I had chased a vision for the completely wrong reasons.

It had all been about outer trappings. About my own, wounded ego. Back in the day I would have added a dead rock to my collection of trophies, an empty shell left over from the war, just so I could say Mandalore was ours again. I had thought just like Gideon was thinking now. He had tricked me to obtain the Darksaber, I had done the same to Din Djarin when we first met.

I shivered with disgust at the realization that Gideon was indeed my dark side, everything I could have become, had I persisted in my ruthless ways just a little longer. He, too, was perfectly happy having a dead rock in his collection, as long as it was his dead rock. Everything and everyone else could go to hell.

But I could choose to be different.

There was still life on Mandalore. There were animals, although some dangerous ones, there was a Mythosaur, and there were plants. The planet was coming back to life and it needed my protection. If I left it to Gideon, he would eradicate it all over again, just to satisfy his hunger for the complete obliteration of our world. I would not allow this small, tender paradise to be reduced to ashes by a power-hungry warlord. My entire life I had needed reasons and motivations to spurn me into action, and here it was, right before my disbelieving eyes. I had a reason to fight for my planet, and for once it was not my own hatred.

It was love.

A warm, nurturing love for Clan Mudhorn, stuck somewhere in Gideon’s base. A helpless, tender love for the resilient, fragile plants, and a fierce, protective love for the brave survivors who had cultivated them. I had fought many battles during my life, yet so far never out of love.

It was a better reason than any I might have come up with in the past.

Satine had felt this love too, I thought, my heart aching both with sadness and affection for her. She had loved our world so much she had been willing to forsake her personal love for Obi-Wan Kenobi. Young and manipulated by Pre Vizsla, I had mistaken her intentions, had assumed she was sacrificing our warrior past, my very identity, on the altar of her own ideology. Instead, she had sacrificed her own heart on the altar of our world. It was impossible to do such a thing without an even stronger love.

She had made one mistake, though. She had assumed, admittedly not without reason after her bad experiences, that we warriors could not love our world as much as she did, that we were too engrossed in feuds and destruction to care about anything or anyone. But unless they have some grave personality disorders, warriors can love. Going into battle means accepting the possibility you could die. Except for the mercenaries among us, we have a choice what and who to defend with our lives. It is impossible to motivate yourself to risking your life for a place or a person without caring.

I could love. I was willing to risk my life for this beautiful little paradise in the making, not to own it, but to preserve it. To defend it until the end. Failure was not an option anymore.

Don’t worry, Satine, I’ve got this. I understand now.

A static, crackling noise broke through the silence. A beautiful voice sounded through the Clan Kryze channel. I would have recognized it anywhere.

“Lady Kryze, your reinforcements have arrived.”

The Armorer had come. Axe must have made it to the fleet.

The tide was turning in our favor.

With calm determination the Mand’alore put her helmet back on and faced her comrades. “Let’s take back our planet.”

Excited smiles passed over both the familiar and the gaunt faces as helmets were put back on. The Children of the Watch seemed to be bursting with energy. Smiling under my helmet, I activated my jetpack and flew through one of the openings in the ceiling, into a sky as blue as Satine’s eyes, towards a sun as golden as her hair. One after the other my comrades followed me.

I led my party out of the caves and across the rocks. In my new found love every sharp, jutting edge seemed beautiful. These rocks sheltered the plants. They had to be fierce and look scary, so nobody ventured close enough to hurt their precious charges. Like warriors had to be fierce and scary in order to keep enemies out of their homes. Mandalore was all of it: fierce, scary, sharp, deadly, vulnerable, beautiful, precious and alive. Even before the Purge it had never felt more like our planet.

Moments later engines sounded and shadows fell over us. When I looked up, I spotted our transporters, flying above us. Several Gauntlets had already opened their hatches, and I saw familiar figures in armor, ready to drop.

As soon as the transporters were within a safe distance, they ejected their warriors. Countless jetpacks came to life, some old and humming like furious insects, others quieter and stealthy, like the proverbial nite owl. A swarm of warriors descended from the ships and gathered behind me, filling the ranks of my comrades. Nite Owls. Children of the Watch. Old Mandalorians.

A flash of gold made it to my side. The Armorer took her place to my right, giving me a nod that seemed to carry an entire world. Our world. I nodded back, happy to have her by my side.

She threw a brief glance over my congregation of warriors. “Where is Din Djarin?”

“Taking out Gideon.” The Mand’alore smiled slightly under her helmet, trusting in her loyal warrior. “How are the wounded?”

“They got one cycle in the bacta tanks before we evacuated”, the Armorer replied calmly. “Those who recovered enough are piloting the transporters.”

I worried my lower lip with my teeth. “And where are the transporters now?”

They could not engage in battle if they were manned by the wounded survivors. Also, they needed to cover the sky for us. If the TIE fighters came back, our ships were our only hope.

I heard a click in the Clan Kryze channel, the tell-tale sign of someone turning on their own speaker.

“With you, of course.”

It was Sabrina’s voice against the roar of a Gauntlet engine. I fought back a panicked déjà vu and went for sarcasm instead.

“Sabrina Eldar, I’ll have your hide! I told you to get better before coming back to the front. If I catch you in battle, I swear on the ancestors, I’ll whoop your sorry butt!”

“Promise?” Sabrina chuckled, knowing fully well every single member of our forces could listen in on us. “Relax, Commander! We’re just on standby to pick you guys up if things go scud.”

I felt myself breathing a little easier. It was good to know she would not participate in actual combat.

“Copy that. Where are you guys now?”

“Right under the clouds.”

She paused, breathing heavily. The bumpy ride must be more painful than she cared to admit. In my mind I saw her in a pilot seat, her injured leg in a brace, her body just full enough with painkillers to still be able to steer a vehicle.

“Go, Bo-Katan.” I heard the smile in her voice. “Do your thing. I’ll keep the engines running.”

Do your thing. The slogan she had always sent me into battle with.

Sabrina above me. Satine within me. Koska behind me. The Armorer beside me.

Finally I was reunited with all my sisters.

The Darksaber sprung to life in my hand. In a solemn yet determined gesture I pointed the glowing blade ahead, towards Gideon’s quickly approaching base where the fate of our world would be decided. Already I could see the canyon holding the entrance to the base, saw stormtroopers realizing us and moving, a swarm of white spots taking to the air to meet us. I positioned the Darksaber. Koska drew her blasters. The Armorer grabbed her tools.

Through the Clan Kryze channel I heard Koska’s grim laugh. “Let’s kill some cosplayers!”

I grinned fiercely. “Let’s.”

Side by side the Armorer and I, sisters of different persuasions, led our united people into battle.

Chapter Text

The stormtroopers never knew what hit them.

Of course they saw us coming, which was, after all, their main reason for powering up their jetpacks and drawing their weapons. They even managed to fire shots as our forces clashed midair. But otherwise, they were completely taken by surprise. Maybe it was the fact that, unlike us, they were not used to fierce fights in the air, giving them an even harder time than usual to actually hit their targets. Maybe they were as delusional as Moff Gideon, thinking it was enough to merely shout “Boo!” into our faces in order to win. (Spoiler alert: it wasn’t.)

Or maybe they were just completely flabbergasted at the sight of a Mandalorian fiercely attacking them with her tongs and hammer. Even I could not blame them.

This day the Armorer earned herself an entire battle song devoted only to her. She was fighting like an ancestor of the old times before guns were even invented, swinging her tools and bringing down stormtroopers with each swipe. It was incredible, and I only regret that I had no time to appreciate it properly. I was simply too busy cutting stormtroopers in half with the Darksaber. With any luck, one of the Beroyas might be carrying a body camera and getting a good shot of the Armorer.

Close to me, I saw Captain Archer shoot troopers out of the sky. The survivors fought as fiercely as cornered Loth wolves, as if they meant to pay the Imps back for the Purge with interest. Koska was a deathly whirlwind of precise shots, always in motion, never missing her target. She had a knack for hitting troopers in just the right way to have them bump into their comrades, incapacitating several of them with a single blaster bolt. I felt fiercely proud of her.

Looking around I saw with satisfaction that my strategy was paying off. The troopers were hopelessly inferior to us in hand-to-hand combat. We would have stood no chance against the imperial fleet in space, but their foot soldiers were simply no match for us in direct hand-to-hand combat. We had forced them into our preferred kind of battle, and we were winning.

As I flew a curve, ready to dive in for the next strike, I suddenly heard Baihu Beroya’s voice on the Clan Kryze channel.

“Lady Kryze! Din Djarin is down there! And royal guards!”

My head whipped around, frantically trying to see for myself. Royal guards? They had been the personal elite bodyguard of the emperor. What the kriff were these fossils doing on Mandalore?!

From the corner of my eye I spotted three moving red dots down at the hangar, running towards the door leading into Gideon’s fortress. Before I could establish whether they were really what Baihu had claimed, the door closed behind them and my attention was caught by two remaining beskar-clad figures down at the hangar, one in shining silver, the other in black with red accents. I recognized them immediately. Din Djarin had found Moff Gideon, just as he had said he would.

And Gideon was wiping the floor with him.

He was dragging Din with a lariat, away from the door my beloved was desperately trying to reach. Before Din could get back to his feet, Gideon used his flamethrower on him, for a moment setting his cape on fire. Just from watching Gideon I could tell he was laughing triumphantly, once more assured in his delusion of absolute superiority over us.

Din tried to fight back, but I could tell his heart wasn’t in it. All he wanted was to break away from Gideon and catch up with the mysterious red warriors. Seeing how determined he had been to go after the moff, there was only one plausible explanation. Only one reason why he would try to back out of a fight and get to the door as quickly as possible.

Grogu. The kid must be behind the door, and with the red warriors in there as well, he was obviously in trouble.

Before I could do something, the battle caught up with me again. I weaved through the fighting crowd to avoid blasterbolts coming in my direction and came to Cal’s aid by stabbing a flying trooper from behind. When I got out of the melee and laid eyes on Din again, he lay crumpled on the floor and Gideon was advancing, his steps determined and menacing. He was moving in for the kill.

And for the first time ever, Bo, Lady Kryze and the Mand’alore spoke in one voice. Unified by a common goal.

Stop him!

I charged.

My jetpack roaring on my back, I surged in and slammed boots first against Gideon’s head. For years I had longed for an opportunity to kick Gideon in the face, and finally the Force was granting me my wish. Too bad he was still wearing his beskar helmet, but I was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Besides, there was Din to worry about. I had no idea how badly he might have gotten injured.

Once I had landed on my feet, I protectively put myself between him and Gideon. Din lifted his head when seeing me, his relief almost palpable. I wished there was time to check his injuries, but time was not on our side right now.

“I’ve got this”, I told him grimly. “Go save your kid.”

Without Imps around to hear it, I might have said: “Go save our kid.” But I was not going to give our enemies leverage against me.

Din didn’t argue. He struggled back to his feet and dashed towards the door. I wished him luck with all my heart.

Then I turned to face Gideon.

He was getting up, unfortunately looking no worse for the wear. “Bo-Katan Kryze”, he sneered as we began to circle each other.

“What’s it gonna be this time?” I could practically hear his patronizing smirk. “Surrender or fight?”

I knew he was trying to goad me, implying I had acted like a coward during our negotiations in the Purge. Refusing to give him this petty satisfaction, I didn’t grace his taunt with a reply. Instead of words I wrapped my hands around the Darksaber and activated it. I could almost see the greed in his eyes as the blade sprung to life, could hear a low, hungry growl. He wanted the sword so badly. He craved it like a drug.

It would have been disgusting, only I was past caring. His motivations and goals did not matter anymore, to neither of my aspects. Only my reasons mattered. The Mand’alore was determined to protect her people, Lady Kryze was burning to settle the score with her archenemy, and Bo would not let Gideon get anywhere near Din and Grogu.

He switched on his electrostaff, and I snarled under my helmet. For once the cur was actually going into hand-to-hand combat with me. For once he was ready to get his hands dirty as long as it got him the Darksaber. He would do everything to get it.

Just like I had.

This time there was no hesitation, no drawn-out waiting to gauge the enemy first. We just ran towards each other, driven by sheer purpose, and our weapons clashed. Sparks flew, but his staff held. I clenched my teeth. Of course he would have a beskar weapon, just to add insult to injury.

This wasn’t the worst part though.

A few exchanges later I realized I had a problem. Gideon’s armor enhanced his strength, leaving me staggering after our first few exchanges. I might as well have tried to stop a battle droid tank with my outstretched arms. I had fought countless duels in my life, but this one was not evenly matched by a long shot.

To Gideon it didn’t matter that his heavy full-body armor encumbered his movements. He didn’t need to be swift and nimble like me. He was perfectly fine with just taking my blows and trusting that not a single scratch would make it through. In exchange, he could rely on brutal force, causing maximal damage whenever he hit an unprotected part of my body. He himself had not even broken a sweat in his skirmish with Din. I had already engaged in battle before and consequently was not on top of my game anymore.

And that was without even getting to the electrocuting part. Every time I could not parry or evade a blow, the shocks made me stumble backwards, the pain distracting me just this little bit more. Before long I felt my strength waning.

A particularly nasty electric charge threw me off my feet and sent me flying for several meters. Pain exploded right through me as I hit the floor, and my legs shook as I tried to scramble up again. I must have cracked a rib.

Gideon marched towards me. His armor whirred, making him sound like a droid. In the flashes of light and with my increasing exhaustion, his outline swam before my eyes. For a moment I thought I saw Maul again as he pretended to be Mandalore’s rightful ruler. Then it was Gar Saxon in his Shadow Collective armor. Then the cyborg who had tried to drain Din of his blood. My enemies of the past blended together until they wore the shape of Gideon in his preposterous beskar suit. In the outer trappings he had assembled by stealing and cheating, not by any true merit.

This could have been me. If I had continued on my dark path just a little longer, I would have become like him. I would not have cared about the means I employed, as long as I ended up the strongest warrior. The biggest playground bully. The tyrant and conqueror.

I had to end this. I had to destroy this walking nightmare in front of me. Satine’s nightmare of the bloated monster a warrior could become. Her nightmare of what I might turn into. I had to prove I was different. I had to avenge our losses.

I had to set things right again.

Battle does not determine who is right, Bo, Satine’s grave voice whispered in my mind. Only who is left.

When I charged this time, my battle cry rang with exhaustion and growing despair.

Strike followed strike, the muscles of my tired arms groaning every time I parried. Electric shocks let me stumble backwards, making me feel like my body was burning up an inch at a time. Increasingly dizzy with pain, I almost missed the crackling of my com. Then Axe’s voice sounded, waking me up from my daze.

“Bo, Koska, come in! I’m coming in hard.”

Evading Gideon’s staff, I chanced a quick look at the sky. Something red was coming through the clouds. Something huge. Something on fire.

Breaking through the clouds was the huge, triangular nose of the cruiser.

“Clear everyone out!” Axe shouted into the com. “I’m gonna take care of the base!”

He is not seriously going to… !

Gideon’s staff ventured towards me, and I barely managed to dodge the blow. I had no time to take Axe’s call, much less act on it. I could only hope the others were in a position to respond somehow.

The Darksaber and the electrostaff locked. Gideon and I stared at each other over our crossed weapons, both of us growling with anger. Despite his complacency he was beginning to realize I would not just roll over and die at his command.

I managed to land a blow on his head, and he fell back with an angry shout. Even though I had not damaged his helmet, I knew it was not pleasant to have it slammed against your face. If I kept it up, I might actually manage to give him a nosebleed, I thought, my gasps for breath growing rather labored.

Roaring in anger he fired a charge at my belly and, again, I flew backwards. Even as I hit the floor, the sheer force made me slide further, to the edge of the hangar. Desperately I clawed at the durasteel, only barely avoiding a fall into the canyon.

I fought to get back on my feet, but my body would not obey. The flaring pain in my belly told me I had received a serious burn wound, and the shock from the electric charge would not let my muscles move as usual. It was all I could do to get into a sitting position, slumped over in agony. I was losing. A few more hits like this, and I would not get up again.

Gideon made no move to attack. He merely took a few steps as if to admire his handiwork and look at my hunched posture from different angles. Of course he would not kill me quickly. He liked to break his victims first, make them beg. Like he had made me beg for my people’s lives in the Night of a Thousand Tears.

I would not give in to him, not this time. I might not be able to defeat Gideon in his beskar suit, but neither was he able to claim complete victory without my surrender. His obsession told me I embodied everything he hated about Mandalore, everything he wanted to erase. I irritated him with my stubbornness, like a particularly annoying horsefly. My refusal to acknowledge his superiority was the one trump card I still held. If he killed me now, he might win this battle, but he would never get the satisfaction of having broken my spirit. As long as I defied him, Mandalore was not beaten, not truly his.

“Hand over the Darksaber”, he demanded, “and I will give you a warrior’s death.”

There it was. His next, generous offer for me to beg.

New fury seared through me, helping me back to my feet. A true warrior’s death was one on my own terms. One like Paz Vizsla’s. I was not going to accept my death as a mercy kill from this scum. Every minute, every second I lasted against him kept him away from Din and Grogu and bought Axe time to complete his crazy scheme.

With an angry scream I charged once more. I parried, dodged and slashed, knowing this would be my final stand. The surge of energy helped me to drive Gideon a few steps back, but my attacks were too clumsy now, my responses too sluggish. It was just a matter of time before I was well and truly defeated. Gathering my last reserves, I kicked him in the stomach. Despite his suit, he stumbled backwards. Trying to increase my reach, I took my left hand off the Darksaber and slashed with my right.

Too late I saw him taking a hand off his staff as well. Before the Darksaber could come down on him, he caught the handle, along with my fingers clutching it. I struggled to break free, but could not compete against his increased strength. Mercilessly he squeezed his hand shut. I heard the creaking of metal as he crushed the handle of the Darksaber. The blade spluttered and faded.

Only several moments later I realized the other crushing sound. It was my hand.

Then came the familiar pain of broken bones, and I literally howled in anguish. My knees buckled in a bout of nausea and gave way. Like from far away I heard Gideon roar triumphantly.

Abruptly he released his grip, throwing my throbbing hand back at me. I almost blacked out. The broken handle of the Darksaber clattered on the ground. Gasping with pain, I clutched my wrist, desperately trying not to vomit with agony.

Gideon stooped and ripped the helmet off my head. I bared my teeth at him, feeling as furious at this transgression as a member of the Tribe.

“The Darksaber is gone”, he announced sanctimoniously.

He fired up his electrostaff and hit me with another charge. I flew backwards and hit the ground once more, desperately trying to protect my injured hand. Even more pain shot through me and I wondered with a whimper if I should be worried about it or only if the pain suddenly ceased. Shivering with the remnants of the electrocution I fought to get back at least on my knees.

Stand your ground, I told myself, gritting my teeth. Hold the line.

It was so incredibly hard to move. Involuntary groans and gasps escaped me, but even they would simply not drown out my enemy’s pompous voice.

“You’ve lost everything”, he declared dramatically.

A few months ago I would have agreed with him, seeing the broken shards of the Darksaber falling from my equally broken hand. Now, however, I could merely snort, though it was choked out by another pained moan. What did he know about losing everything? Been there, done that, bought the kriffing T-shirt. In comparison, the loss of the Darksaber was a trifle. Of course I did feel a short stab of loss at the destruction of one of our oldest artifacts. By now, every lost bit of Mandalorian culture deserved to be mourned.

But if the Darksaber’s destruction had bought Din enough time to rescue Grogu, it had well been worth the sacrifice.

Still, I knew it was over. Gideon was done playing if he would even destroy his coveted prize to end the fight. I was going to die, and he would make it as agonizing as possible for me.

Angry tears burned in my eyes. Past defeats raised their ugly heads, making this the final one in a long line of failures. Maul, who killed my sister and terrorized my people. Gar Saxon, who removed me from leadership and brought Mandalore under imperial control. And Gideon, always Gideon, bombing my planet to ashes and killing my people.

Why did I always end up trampled into the ground whenever I tried to do the right thing? Why did I always lose? If Gideon was what I could have been, why couldn’t I get rid of him? What did it take to confront and conquer my dark side?

It takes help, Satine’s voice whispered gently.

My heart beat a little faster as something slowly came into focus. Help.

I had had help when I conquered my darkness the last time. I had had Din and Grogu. A trusty friend who had my back and a sweet child who gave me a purpose again. Their help had been the key last time.

It would also be the key this time.

Gideon moved towards me at a leisurely pace, his electrostaff raised for the kill. He had no clue what was coming. He was still too busy gloating into my unprotected face.

“Mandalorians are weak once they lose their trinkets”, he pronounced with satisfaction, as if after years of dissecting my people he had finally come to a conclusion.

Instead of the helpless rant he was doubtlessly expecting, I gave him a haughty smile. “Mandalorians are stronger together.”

He only realized the meaning when my favorite Mandalorian shot him from behind.

Of course Din did not manage to kill him. The cur was encased in beskar, and hitting his skin was a matter of inches. But the blow to the head threw Gideon off course and that was enough for me to get on my feet again. Din kept firing as he came closer, each of his shots pushing Gideon away from me. By the time he had gathered his wits again to fire back, Din had reached me.

Grateful for the short reprieve, I took a few painful breaths and noticed Grogu had entered the hangar too. He was waddling behind his father, out of his IG-unit.

Before I could even think about some semblance of a strategy, a huge tremor shook the rocks, throwing us off our feet. Stones fell down, explosions sounded from above and sparks flew. I heard the only too familiar noise of metal grating against stone and knew Axe’s surprise package for the Imps was getting very, very close.

I was not going to clear out, though. Not as long as Din was engaged in combat.

He was the first to be back on his legs, firing at our enemy. Gideon returned fire, and unfortunately Din was not as encased in beskar as him. Several bolts hit him, and even over the deafening noises I heard him cry out in pain. He staggered, losing his balance under Gideon’s volley and falling on his knees. It was just a matter of time until Gideon hid something vital.

Without hesitating, I did a knee-slide over to Din and covered him with my shield. It absorbed the bolts, despite Gideon’s increasingly furious shots. I snarled at him in defiance, easily deflecting his attacks. I had always excelled at this defense technique, and he should understand by now he could not break through. Every true Mandalorian would have switched techniques. If the plan doesn’t work, make another one. Gideon, though, despite his self-proclaimed superiority, despite his high-tech armor, really seemed to be out of ideas.

He had been too quick to dismiss Mandalorian combat style as outdated. Every weapon we wielded, every gadget we wore, had proven its merit in battle over and over again. They were handpicked for each single warrior, to suit our unique strengths and fighting styles. There was a history behind them, and Gideon’s failure to understand this had never been more obvious. All he could do was copying us badly, deluding himself with dreams of invincibility, but in truth limiting himself. He had relied too much on physical strength when designing his suit. There was no personal history to it, no weapon inserted that he could wield especially well, no surprises worth mentioning.

Just a cosplayer.

Behind him, the gorge was turning into an inferno. The cruiser sent down a rain of burning debris, smoldering rocks and even remains of TIE fighters. Boulders and pieces of metal crashed down around us, and I knew time was up. Axe didn’t do half-measure. If he decided to wipe out an Imperial base, he would drop a kriffing cruiser on it. Burning, too. Just for luck.

Another tremor separated Din and me. He got tossed out of my reach, and suddenly nothing was standing between Gideon and me anymore. As he continued his shooting, I held the shield in front of my chest and charged with a furious roar, running towards him without a clear plan of what to do. I only knew I had to keep him trapped in this place if it killed me.

Just as Gideon fired once more, Grogu made a quick motion with his hand. I knew the little one had used a force-push when the moff landed on his back with a startled cry. He dove for his electrostaff next to him, but Grogu raised his hand. With glee I watched the staff flying away from Gideon and rolling over the ridge into the chasm beneath us.

Oh yes, Mandalorians were stronger together.

Seething, Gideon pointed his gun at Grogu when Din did a knee-slide towards his foundling and covered him with a volley of shots. The impact drove Gideon close to the ridge.

And right behind him, the gigantic cruiser dropped into the gorge, cutting deep into the rocks on either side and burning everything on its way down. Like in my worst nightmares, a wave of fire was rolling towards us.

Mandalore was on flames. My people were about to be burned.

I acted purely on instinct, desperate to protect Clan Mudhorn. I dashed over to the two, extending my shield in a helpless attempt to at least protect the child. Din crouched on Grogu’s other side, both of us shielding him with our bodies.

The last thing I saw was Gideon. He stared at us in a mixture of disbelief and hatred, not comprehending that we were fine with dying as long as we took him down with us. When the flames engulfed him from behind, he screamed with rage, as if outraged by their audacity.

Both Din and I turned our heads away from the scorching heat as the firestorm rolled towards us, bracing ourselves for the final pain.

Strangely enough I was calm. I might be dying, but we had succeeded in defeating Gideon. While I felt a pang of regard for Din and Grogu, I felt no pity for myself. I had achieved my goal. Our forces were safe. Mandalore was still alive, and our people would be able to rebuild it. I would gladly give my life for our planet’s rebirth.

This is the Way.

More importantly, I was not alone. I was with someone I loved. There was nothing I needed to fear.

Grogu saved the day.

When I realized I was not burning, I looked up again. Din was right beside me, his arm still thrown up against the heat. The little foundling stood in front of us, holding out his arms, and used the Force to create a protective bubble encasing us. In amazement I watched the flames billowing around us, burning the Imperial base away like a cleansing spring, yet never touching us. Grogu was in complete control. Thanks to him we were in the untroubled eye of the firestorm. We did not even feel the heat anymore.

Only slowly realization dawned on us that we were not going to die after all. Cautiously, so as not to disturb Grogu’s concentration, Din and I leaned into one another. His arm came around my waist and pulled me close. My head and his helmet touched in a soft Keldabe kiss, finding a precious moment of peace in the middle of destruction.

“Are you hurt?” he asked gently, looking at me searchingly.

From what I had noticed so far, I sported a broken hand and a couple of cracked ribs, all in combination with superficial shot wounds, a nasty burn across the stomach and bruises over my entire body. Far from pleasant, but it could have been much worse.

“Just boo-boos”, I assured him with a pained smile. “You?”

I had seen how Gideon alone burned him with a flamethrower and shot him several times. The traces on his armor told me he had gotten stabbed with electropikes repeatedly. Who knew what else he had received while out of my sight.

“Not a scratch”, he claimed bravely, and I chuckled, immediately regretting it when stabbing pains exploded in my chest.

“Show-off.”

Slowly the force of the explosion ebbed off. The flames, formerly reaching up all the way to the top of the gorge, were calming down, now that fuel and explosives had burned out. Or maybe it was Grogu who commanded the fires to yield. I only saw his concentrated face, the slight movements of his arms without knowing what exactly he was doing. Honestly, I wouldn’t have put it past him.

The roaring noise died down as well. Grogu lowered his little arms. He let out a deep sigh and just dropped into a sitting position, clearly exhausted.

To say I was impressed was the understatement of the century. I had seen him fall asleep from much less Force manipulation. He had saved us both and was still conscious, a tribute to how strong he had become.

“You have earned yourself a cookie supply for the rest of your life,” I told him with a shaky smile.

Trembling with exhaustion, I stood up and looked at what was left of the Imperial base. Of course bits and pieces were still standing, but there was no way anyone but us could have survived this inferno. At least this time there was reason to assume that Gideon was finally gone for good.

Din had gotten up too, looking around like I did. He took a few steps to the side, then picked something up. Only when he held it out to me, I recognized my helmet. Against all odds it had been encased in Grogu’s bubble, remaining undamaged. As soon as I took it, I heard voices from the integrated comlink in there, in various stages of panic.

“Bo! Can you hear me?”

Axe.

“Lady Kryze, do you copy?”

Captain Archer.

“For kriff’s sake, Bo, don’t you dare to be dead!”

Sabrina’s voice sounded frantic, and it dawned on me that my friends must have done a roll call after clearing out, only to find me missing. The giant explosion couldn’t have looked promising to them.

Quickly I activated the comlink in my vambrace and entered the Clan Kryze channel.

“This is Bo-Katan Kryze speaking. Clan Mudhorn and I survived the explosion. Repeat: Clan Mudhorn and I survived the explosion.”

Hardly ever had I heard such a loud, collective sigh of relief in an open channel.

“How?” Koska’s voice exclaimed. “The flames almost took out a Gauntlet, they were so high!”

“Grogu saved us. Gideon is toast”, I continued and smiled fiercely as shouts of glee, disbelief and triumph echoed through my com. “The three of us are injured. We could do with a lift from down here.”

“On it”, I heard Sabrina say. “Just stay where you are.”

Just minutes later I heard the familiar noise of a Gauntlet coming closer. It descended into the gorge carefully, maneuvering slowly in the cramped space and finally landed on the soot-covered hangar. Din picked up Grogu, and the three of us hobbled inside.

We went straight for the cockpit. As the door opened, I saw Sabrina in the pilot seat, her face taut, but her eyes sparkling with relief. Axe and Koska must have hitched a ride to get us, for they were with her, jumping from their seats and rushing forwards to greet me. My heart leaped with joy at seeing them all alive and well.

“Hug me later”, Sabrina grinned over their heads and turned back to her controls. “Need to fly now.”

Seeing how carefully she had to move the Gauntlet in the gorge, I had no objections. Instead I focused on my two other friends.

“For kriff’s sake, Bo, you nearly gave me a heart attack!” Axe exclaimed, grabbing me by the shoulders. “Which part of ‘clear out’ didn’t you understand?”

“Look who's talking!” Laughing with delight I pulled Axe into a hug, for a moment even forgetting my broken bones. “I give you a moff and you drop a burning cruiser on him?”

He grinned broadly, his eyes sparkling with a fierce glee. “This is the Way.”

“This is the Way”, Din agreed solemnly and cordially stretched out his hand. Without hesitation Axe grabbed his lower arm. Who knew, it might be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Koska hugged me more gently, simply beaming at me. No words needed there. She hated to be sappy, so I spared her the embarrassment.

“Let’s have seats”, I suggested, seeing that Sabrina would have to fly a few tight maneuvers to get out of the gorge. It would have been a shame to survive a cruiser explosion just to bump my head during turbulence.

We sat down on the observer seats, Din with Grogu on his lap. While we exited the gorge, we brought the others up to speed about what had happened – how I challenged Gideon, how Din and Grogu came to my aid and how Grogu saved us all.

Then Axe spoke, telling us how he made it into orbit and evacuated the fleet in record time. How the others used their jetpacks to fly to their Gauntlets and transporters, while he himself stayed back on the cruiser and activated the automatic weapon systems to fool the TIE attackers.

“The timing was perfect”, he reported cheerfully. “They showed up, like, seconds after the fleet went down in the clouds. They literally thought the cruiser was the only ship we had!”

Sabrina snorted in amusement. “Imps! No imagination!”

Din chuckled. “A single Mandalorian taking down an entire squadron of TIE fighters! They’ll never live that one down.”

“I’ll leak it on the holonet”, Koska promised with an evil grin. “Wish I could have seen how you kicked Imp asses in space.”

“Yeah, did any of them survive?” I asked, for a moment falling back on my responsibilities. The last thing I needed was Imps running to their big brothers in nearby remnants and returning with reinforcements. Like, royal guards or something crazy like that.

Though, with some luck, after Gideon’s death the Imps might be freshly out of big brothers.

“I managed to get rid of most of the TIEs”, Axe assured me. “But they packed a nasty bite. By the time they were toast, I had lost the canons, and the drive had bought it. I wanted to come to your aid and realized my only weapon was the cruiser itself. So…”

He paused with a mischievous smile, keeping us on tenterhooks and enjoying it far too much. Instinctively we edged closer, eager to find out what he had done.

“So?” I finally demanded impatiently.

Axe smirked smugly. “I activated Clan Awaud’s package.”

For a moment we were dumbfounded. Grogu made a startled gurgle. Even Sabrina took the time to briefly look away from the helm and gape at him.

“The chain code trigger?” Din asked in astonishment.

“You better believe it, Silver. I officially took command and punched in my chain code.” He spread his fingers. “Why waste a perfectly good explosion if there are Imps around?”

Sabrina laughed heartily. “And I thought driving burning ships into the Imps was my move. Copycat!”

“I learned from the best.” Axe gave her friendly bop on the arm. “Take it as a compliment.”

I smiled softly. “Mandalorians are stronger together.”

The battle had proved it. We all had worked together, Old Mandalorians, Nite Owls, Children of the Watch and survivors, and we had succeeded. We had beaten Gideon. We had tricked the Imps. Even Clan Awaud’s sneaky chain code trigger had been put to good use.

We had reclaimed our world. Together.

I turned my face to the window. We had exited the gorge and were flying over the glassy surface that slowly looked normal and familiar to me. Apart from the former imperial base, Mandalore didn’t look too worse for the wear after the fight. The only sign of what had happened were burning bits and pieces of the cruiser still falling from orbit, along with TIE shrapnel. Against the dark clouds it was quite a spectacle to behold, like a meteorite shower that would probably last for another few hours. I reached for Din’s hand with my good one and pointed the fiery sparks out to him, blinking away tears of relief and exhaustion.

Fire was raining down on Mandalore, and for once it meant life.

Chapter Text

As soon as we were safe and as soon as I had downed some painkillers, I passed out.

Even before the final fight with Gideon, it had been a long and exhausting day. We had evacuated survivors after a very short night, crossed the glassy surface for hours, only to run into a trinitaur. Then the imperial ambush, the escape, the return, the fight, the explosion… Without all the adrenaline I probably would have crashed even sooner.

At least I wasn’t the only one. When I came to again for a few moments, I found myself on my side, curled into Din Djarin who was on the seat right next to me, fast asleep. My head was on his shoulder, my right arm slung around his torso. His helmeted cheek touched my hair, his left hand protectively covered my injured wrist, now encased in a brace. Grogu had somehow managed to wiggle himself between us underneath my arm and was snoring softly, his fuzzy head tucked in under my chin.

Some kind soul had thrown a blanket over us, and I was warm and cozy. I let out a contented sigh, enjoying the rare peace of the moment, the warmth and the happiness to be this close to my beloved.

It could be like this every day, the wistful voice inside my head whispered. You have reclaimed Mandalore. You could step back and start a new life at the side of the man you love.

Even in my sated, tranquil state I could not quite believe it to be true. I would not be able to retire while there was so much work to do, both on our world and among ourselves. The tensions between the three groups – Children of the Watch, Nite Owls and survivors – were still there. They might have calmed down a little while we had a common enemy, but we still had a long way to go before we could claim to be friends.

But right now I did not need to think of it all. Right now I could nuzzle Grogu’s soft head and close my eyes one more time. Right now, I would be content to be just Bo, resting from battle in the arms of her love.

The next time I awoke, the Gauntlet had landed. The humming of the engines had stopped and I could hear people going back and forth. Din was stirring beside me, slowly waking up as well.

As I opened my eyes, I could see through the window of the cockpit that we were parked on the glassy surface among rocks, at a safe distance from the still smoldering imperial base. People gathered outside to watch other ships landing, searching for friends and kin. I saw Koska gripping Ned Reeves by his upper arms, beaming at him. Jake, our quartermaster, clapped Noela on the back. Lin helped Kaya to sit down. I could see their joy at finding each other alive and well, the deep-seated relief about having survived an ordeal.

But I also saw the toll the battle had taken on us all. There was Kyo lying on his back, his face pale and contorted, while Mel frantically rummaged through a medpac to get some relief for his father. There was Rab Kast, one half of his face caked with blood. There was Fang Solus, crumpled against a transporter, covering his face with both hands while Tim Beroya clutched his shoulder, struggling for composure himself. No doubt Fang had just learned about his son’s death.

And there was the Armorer slowly walking towards the open space between the ships, the Shriek-hawks following her like an honor guard. On a bier the four carried…

Hot tears burned in my eyes, drawing a veil between me and the world. A choked noise escaped my suddenly tight throat. Beside me Din sat up slowly.

“Bo…” he muttered sleepily, his fingers tightening around my hand. “What’s wrong?”

“We have to get up”, I said hoarsely. “They are bringing Paz Viszla.”

All the noises outside had died down by the time we gathered around our fallen brother. Children of the Watch had flocked around the Armorer who supervised the Shriek-hawks laying Paz Vizsla out on a slightly raised, flat rock in the ground. From the corner of my eye I saw Axe Woves joining the crowd when Din and I stepped up.

“I found him during the battle.” The Armorer’s voice, though calm, was hollow with grief. “We managed to take his body to safety shortly before the explosion.”

We looked at our departed comrade in silence, unable to comprehend what had happened despite the evidence before us. I simply could not wrap my mind around Paz’ death. It was surreal to see him so still and motionless. He had always radiated strength and energy, had thrummed with life. He had always needed something to do, some purpose. He had always been active. Lying still and holding out had never been his forte.

He will hate to be dead, was the absurd thought crossing my mind as I knelt down beside the big body, still clad in his dark blue armor.

“Thank you”, I whispered, fighting out every single syllable as I brought my hand up to my chest for the warrior salute. “I will not forget how you honored me.”

He had given his life because he had believed me to be the Mythosaur’s chosen one. The one who could retake our ancestral home. I would never be able to repay this debt. I could only hope to prove myself worthy of his generous gift.

Din stared down on his brother-in-arms in a mixture of pain and disbelief. “How did it happen?”

Right. Din Djarin had already been captured and removed from the battle when Paz took his final stand.

“He sacrificed himself for his brothers and sisters”, I said quietly, not trusting my voice. It sounded ready to crack. “When we escaped Gideon’s ambush and the troopers attacked, he stayed behind to cover our retreat. He locked the blaster doors behind him, so we couldn’t come to his aid. It was the last time I saw him.”

Din lowered his head, letting out a shuddering breath. “This is the way.”

“This is the way”, the Children of the Watch and I echoed.

For once Axe didn’t make any derisive noise. Despite their immediate rivalry I sensed there had been a strange understanding between Axe and Paz. They were both fierce protectors of their respective people and culture. They would not be belittled by anyone. They would do what they believed to be right, come hell or high water, and they would not shrink back from maneuvers every sane person would regard as suicidal.

And once they had gotten the first flush of dislike out of their systems, they had worked together. They had joined forces to take Grogu to safety when the trinitaur attacked. In the Great Forge, when we got ambushed, a few words had been enough for them to understand each other. They had immediately set Axe’s crazy plan in motion, Paz giving him cover to get out. Given time – and some more fights – they probably would have become best friends. Or even more. Judging from Axe’s gloomy expression, he was well aware Paz Vizsla had been the closest thing to a soulmate he had met so far.

Grogu wiggled himself out of Din’s arm and landed on the glass beside me. His ears went down as he took in Paz Vizsla’s still form. With a soft, sad noise he put his little hand on the huge cuirass. His dark eyes shimmered.

Then he squeaked in alarm and looked up at Din, his fingers pointing at one of the burn marks almost accusingly.

“What is it, Grogu?” I asked in confusion.

Din knelt beside me and examined the spot Grogu was indicating. He let out an angry, hissing breath. “Electropikes. He was killed by these red guys. Before Grogu and I took care of them.”

An icy hand seemed to wrap itself around my heart. “The royal guards?”

“Is that their name?” Din inquired. “What makes them royal?”

“They used to serve the emperor as personal bodyguards”, I replied, without hesitation slipping back into the role of Din’s educator. “After his death it was assumed they disbanded. I had no idea they were still around.”

“Who knows what else still is”, Captain Archer said heavily.

I shivered in a cold breeze. “Or who else.”

A heavy, sober silence fell over us, as gloomy as the gray clouds in the sky. Far, far away we heard the roar of a trinitaur, but nobody paid it any attention. Compared to the Imps it was by far the lesser monster. It was chilling to realize there were still imperial remnants powerful and rich enough to keep the royal guard up and running. The name Thrawn hung unspoken in the air.

“We need to take him back to Nevarro”, Din finally spoke up, directing our attention back to Paz. “Ragnar deserves to say goodbye.”

“Ragnar…” I closed my eyes at the thought of the boy’s pain. He had already lost his birth family, and now his beloved foster father was gone as well. I knew what that was like. It was an absolutely wretched feeling.

But there was another thought making its way to the surface. Something about Ragnar. Something Paz had told me the last time we had spoken properly. When we watched the sunrise together.

“Paz wanted Ragnar to have a proper Creed Ceremony.” I lifted my head to look at the Armorer. “At the Living Waters.”

She nodded slowly. “The first ceremony since the Purge. It would symbolize a new beginning for our world.”

Axe cleared his throat. “If the kid is coming to Mandalore for his Creed Ceremony anyway, why don’t we give his father a warrior’s funeral here?”

I could barely hide my surprise at Axe being so thoughtful. The others too exchanged looks. Then the Shriek-hawks nodded in consent.

“He gave his life to free Mandalore”, Rhys said softly. “He deserves to be laid to rest here.”

I nodded my assent. The Viszlas were one of the oldest Mandalorian families, looking back on millenia of history intertwined with the fate of our world. The remains of their son rightfully belonged here.

“Ragnar needs to be brought here, then”, the Armorer stated. “Just as the wounded need to be brought to Nevarro.”

She was looking straight at me as she spoke.

“I’m fine”, I countered, irritated that she was lumping my boo-boos in with the survivors who could barely stand anymore.

Right on cue, my wrist started to throb, making me wince involuntarily. The painkiller had picked just the perfect moment to stop working. Maybe it was afraid of the Armorer.

“A broken wrist won’t help you to rebuild Mandalore”, she pointed out mercilessly. “You need treatment in a bacta tank.”

Axe nodded. “Afraid I crashed the only one in the fleet.”

For a moment I missed the cruiser dearly. I could have gotten in its well-equipped sickbay, taken a quick dip in the bacta tank and reported back for duty within a day or two. Instead I would have to go on a trip back to Nevarro in order to get fixed up. It just didn’t seem right.

Then I remembered that Sabrina was among the wounded, and that she would finally be reunited with her family. My reluctance melted as I recalled Laurana’s sadness and Boan’s desperate hope. I wanted to see it melt away and make room for joy. With all the sadness of Paz’ death and his looming funeral, I was desperate for some joy.

And Paz was not even the only loss, I thought with some shame only a while later when the victims among the survivors as well as Dan Solus were brought in. Several people had lost their lives, not just Paz. He was merely the one I happened to know better and whom I therefore mourned more than the others. I watched helplessly as Captain Archer’s body shook with silent sobs, and I had no words as Fang Solus broke down over the body of his son, crying pitifully.

“Their endurance and courage shall be written in song”, the Armorer said gently. “We will mourn their loss and ensure they will never be forgotten.”

I could have thanked every deity in the galaxy on my knees for having her here. While I could handle the tactical and logistic side of being the leader, I was hopelessly lost when it came to comforting people. My way of support was a hand on the shoulder, a back to a back, a night of stargazing together. But words? I simply had no words for such times.

The Armorer, on the other hand, was a natural. With a few, well-placed sentences she acknowledged people’s grief without letting them drown in it. Her beautiful voice was both soothing and encouraging, giving hope to bereft warriors without belittling their pain. She moved between the mourners with ease and grace, and where she went, she left people feeling not necessarily better, but at least safe and seen.

Nourishment for the soul, I thought, realizing with a pang how much both the Nite Owls and the survivors had been starved for this kind of care. All three groups of us shared the fate of having been on the run for years, of having fought for our very lives. But only the Children of the Watch had had the benefit of spiritual comfort, of someone who cared for their mental health. We others had been on our own in that aspect. Small wonder none of us had developed healthy coping mechanisms.

Maybe going to Nevarro and leaving the Armorer in charge of Mandalore was not a bad idea. Even if the Nite Owls and the survivors still were hesitant to trust her, she could provide them with both capable leadership and sound counsel. She had gone through the same trauma of losing her home and being on the run as the others. She had fought bravely by their side. If nothing else, at least in that she would be accepted as one of them.

Pensively I looked at Din Djarin who had not left my side. “What do you think about me going back to Nevarro?”

He turned his face to me, his voice calm and serene. “I think our people deserve to hear what has happened from the Mand’alore herself.”

In the end, I did go and left the Armorer in charge. With me came the sick survivors and warriors who were too badly injured to stay on Mandalore. Also, Din Djarin and Grogu joined me. I was not complaining, first because I loved being with them and second, because no matter what he told me, Din was injured too. I would breathe easier to know he got the treatment he needed instead of playing the hero and finding an untimely end on our newly freed world.

Come to think about it, he probably felt the same about me. Small wonder he had encouraged me to go back.

Axe, Koska and a few Nite Owls accompanied us in a different transporter. Now that we knew the planet still harbored plant life, we needed a few things we had not originally brought. Also the destruction of the cruiser had meant a huge loss of supplies that needed to be restocked. The Nite Owls would fill their ship with everything we lacked and go back for Mandalore the very next day. I would stay behind until my wrist had healed completely and bring Ragnar back with me.

Clan Awaud was coming, too. They were keen to take Dan Solus’ body back to his home world for burial and Fang Solus was adamant to see his only surviving child before he left for Vlemoth Port. My heart grew heavier at the thought of Janine. She might have a troubled history with her family, but the loss of her brother would still be a shock to her. After all, I had not wanted Satine to die either, despite our quarrels. No matter how much we disagreed with our siblings, they belonged to the few who had shared our childhood and youth. Losing them inevitably meant losing a part of ourselves.

With all these thoughts and worries, the way back felt incredibly short. I felt no time had passed at all when our three ships dropped out of hyperspace. Mechanically I went through the motions with Nevarro space traffic control, just to make sure Greef Karga’s people didn’t get another heart attack from Mandalorians popping up unannounced. From there it was a matter of minutes to fly to our settlement.

The Tribe swarmed out when I landed the Gauntlet. Everyone was dying to find out what had happened. But I only had eyes for a small figure in a blue helmet, running to the very front of the crowd. Ragnar.

I felt myself tense up. Oh kriff…

Din’s hand touched my shoulder reassuringly. “I’ll tell him. You take care of the wounded and of your wrist.”

“Paz died on my watch”, I protested helplessly. “I should…”

“No”, he said firmly. “Not yet. Let me pave the way.”

“Pave?” I asked in confusion.

“Nobody likes the bearer of bad news.”

I shot him a suspicious look. “Why do I get the feeling you are trying to be all noble and sacrifice yourself for me?”

Din gently squeezed my shoulder. “Ragnar is a lot like Paz. He will hate whoever tells him of his father’s death. He should not hate the Mand’alore.”

“He shouldn’t hate you either”, I countered. “Not after all you have done for him.”

“That’s why it needs to be me”, he insisted. “He will forgive me eventually.”

Admittedly, his reasoning was rather sound. Ragnar was bound to rage and storm with grief over Paz’ death. But Din had saved his life, and once the boy calmed down, he would remember.

“Still, I was there when Paz made his choice”, I threw in. “He might want to know about his father’s last moments.”

“Which is why you should not be the one he gets mad at“, Din pointed out. “Once he has calmed down enough, he will want to know. Only you are able to answer his questions.”

I knew when I was beaten. Besides, it was not like I absolutely wanted to do this. It was merely a sad duty, and if there was a good reason to delegate it, I should do so. Everything else would just be another attempt at punishing myself for something I had had no control over.

“Thank you.” Spontaneously I put my arms around him and folded him into an embrace. “I really appreciate it.”

He returned the hug without hesitation. “Anything for you”, he breathed softly, making my knees go so wobbly I could have swooned like a love-struck damsel from some medieval poem. Thank goodness his arms were there to lean into and support me.

“What are you going to do after talking to Ragnar?” I asked softly.

“I was going to see Greef Karga”, he replied, holding me safely. “He asked me to keep him updated on our progress on Mandalore.”

I nodded. Even if more people would go to Mandalore, Nevarro was still the best shot for the families and foundlings to grow up in peace. After years on the run, I was hesitant to put all of our people into the same place, making them vulnerable for extermination once more. It was safer to stay spread out for the time being until we were safe on Mandalore, both on the surface and in relation to other systems.

“Sounds like we will both be busy during the day.” I leaned my forehead against his in a Keldabe kiss. “Is there a chance of having dinner with you?”

I heard the smile in Din’s voice when he replied. “I insist on taking my lady out tonight.”

Briefly I wondered if some members of the Tribe merely kept their helmets on to hide that they could blush as furiously as love-struck teenagers. Then again, if I had worn my helmet, Din could not have seen my beaming smile either.

“Tonight then”, I agreed happily.

Once we actually did manage to disentangle, we stepped out of the Gauntlet together, Grogu happily waddling between us. It was quite an effort not to hold Din’s hand as we went down the gangway, but I was no fan of PDA while on the job. Besides, as soon as I spotted Ragnar, I knew it would have been completely inappropriate to flaunt my own happiness while he had nothing but grief waiting for him.

Din separated from me and approached Ragnar. I could not hear the quiet words he spoke, but saw him gently steer the boy away from the crowd and towards a tent. Whatever happened next would at least happen in privacy. I took a deep breath and forced my attention back to what I was doing.

Members of the Tribe stepped towards me, questioning me, eager for news. But the moment I spotted a woman in a white helmet, accompanied by a man wearing the Eldar crest and a young girl in a purple helmet, I forgot everybody else.

“Laurana!” I called and quickly walked over to her, unable to wait. She and the kids must not spend a moment longer in their agony of bereavement. “Boan!”

Both started when hearing my voice. Laurana put one hand to her chest as if bracing herself. Her husband Mark placed a visibly trembling hand on her shoulder.

“What is it, Bo-Katan?” Laurana asked anxiously once I reached them. “What happened on Mandalore?”

All thoughts about how to break the news gently to them flew out of the window. I could not bother with elaborate prologues now.

“We found survivors. On Mandalore. Former Nite Owls.”

Laurana’s hand flew to her mouth, only to touch beskar. Boan, though, grabbed me by the upper arms.

“Mum?!” she cried out, all her fears and hopes uniting in one single word.

“Yes!” I laughed and cried at the same time, putting my hands on her shoulders. “She is alive! In the Gauntlet!”

I have never seen anyone running as fast as Boan Eldar on hearing her mother was in my ship. Like a flash she disappeared in the Gauntlet. Laurana stood still as if thunderstruck. Then she sobbed her sister’s name and ran after her niece.

Mark and I were left behind, me surreptitiously wiping my cheeks, him taking several shaky breaths.

“She missed her sister so much”, he eventually said in a hoarse voice. “When you left, she did not dare to hope, but…”

“I know”, I assured him, squeezing his upper arm. “It’s a kriffing miracle.”

With a final, deep breath Mark straightened up. “I’m gonna get Ayk. He will want to see his mother.”

I looked at him thoughtfully. All these years, ever since he had married Laurana, he had accepted and treated Sabrina’s children as his own. Now their birth parent had shown up again, and she was not even a member of the Tribe. She was a Nite Owl who might very well scoff at the values he had raised her children with. Was he wondering if she would claim Ayk and Boan as hers again, taking them away from him? How would Din feel if Grogu’s family turned up unexpectedly to take him back?

He had gone through it already, I recalled. I had seen his heartbreak when Skywalker had come for Grogu. Mark might very likely feel the same right now.

“You do that”, I agreed softly. “Apart from seeing the children, Sabrina will also want to meet their father.”

“Their father…” He looked at me closely, the tentative hope painfully obvious despite the helmet. “You think so?”

“Yes”, I said firmly. “Their birth father died on Alderaan. Even before, he lived separated from them. If anyone deserves to be called their father, it is you, Mark Eldar.”

He looked to the Gauntlet where Laurana and Boan had disappeared in, then back to me.

“Thank you, Bo-Katan Kryze”, he said gravely, bowing his head to me in respect, and gave me the warrior salute. I returned it, glad that I had been able to cheer him up again.

He turned to leave at around the same time Axe and Koska came over to me from their own transporter. Together we went to the hospital tent. When we had last been here, just a few days ago, Greef Karga had helped us set up a temporary sickbay. It was equipped with everything a hospital would need, including a bacta tank and even some staff. Assuming that all Mandalorians shared Din’s dislike for droids, Karga had made sure to send us organic healers. For the time being they were staying with us, training Laurana in the fields her pediatrician training had not covered, teaching the children first aid and caring for the sick.

To my relief the tent was rather empty. The only patient I could see was Niva, the girl in the emerald helmet who I had trained in the Rising Phoenix together with Ragnar, Ayk and Boan. The healer on duty, a young Calamarian, was removing a few splinters from the girl’s hand with tweezers and I waited patiently until he finally had time for us.

“Lady Kryze.” he greeted me in a friendly voice. “Good to see you back. What can I do for you?”

“We ran into survivors on Mandalore who are rather sick”, I told him, trying to be brief. “There was also a clash with an imperial remnant. The wounded are in the transporters and have to be moved here.”

“On it.”

The healer activated his comlink and called his assistants for reinforcements. Once they had come to the tent, we led them to our ships.

As we walked through the camp, I spotted Janine Solus. She sat huddled on the ground against a crate, her arms wrapped around herself, her body shaking with sobs. Her father Fang Solus was with her, his arm slung around her shoulders. He too was wearing his helmet, probably to protect his sensitive, pale skin from the sun. Despite my stab of sadness, I felt strangely hopeful to see the two finally behaving like father and daughter instead of snapping at each other. They seemed to be reconciling over their grief. Maybe at least something good would come out of Dan Solus’ death.

When we entered the Gauntlet, I led the Calamarian healer to Sabrina’s bunk, eager to finally provide my friend with proper medical care. As we rounded the corner I stopped and felt a smile bloom on my face.

Sabrina was surrounded by her family. Her head rested in the lap of her sister, who sat on the bunk and caressed Sabrina’s forehead. Ayk had crawled onto the bunk into his mother’s arm and pressed himself against her so tightly it was a miracle he had not pushed her off the bunk yet. Boan knelt on the floor, her face buried in Sabrina’s shoulder, her mother’s arm slung around her. I felt a slight smile tug at my lips at the sight of her purple helmet lying discarded on the floor. Apparently somebody else aside from me had chosen to walk both worlds. Mark Eldar had taken a seat next to the bunk, looking relaxed and at ease. The first meeting between him and Sabrina seemed to have gone well.

From the corner of my eyes I saw a movement by my side. Axe had quickly turned away from the heart-warming scene and was now blinking furiously. My happy smile melted into a smirk of pure glee.

“You’re crying”, I sing-songed.

Axe’s (wet) stink eye could have poisoned an entire solar system. “I’m not crying! You are crying!”

Luckily the medic seized this very moment to announce his presence and sign Sabrina up for immediate treatment. So instead of a teasing reply, which would probably have resulted in Axe challenging me to a duel to defend his insulted Tough Guy honor, I just grinned at him and went to assist the Calamarian in his task of moving our friend.

Once the healers had everyone in sickbay and examined, they started their triage and sorted people according to who needed help most urgently. Not surprisingly, my wrist and other minor injuries did not qualify as an emergency. After giving me a good dose of painkillers, they told me to come back for treatment in a few hours. Koska, who had escaped almost completely unscathed from battle, offered Laurana her help once more and was gratefully accepted. Axe was rather useless in sickbay aside from first aid and I could not do that much with my broken bones either. So the two of us went to organize the supplies we wanted to take to Mandalore.

Carrying was still out of the question for me, but I could do research and type up lists in datapads. Axe, Jake and Ella from the Nite Owls did the actual physical work, and we made a good team. I found the stuff, they loaded it. Some would have to be brought from Nevarro City, so I dashed off a message to Greef Karga’s government, asking which of the things we needed they could spare. Until we got their reply, there was not much else to do for me, and the healers were still too busy to treat my injuries.

So eventually I ended up strolling through the camp, exchanging a few friendly words with members of the Tribe. Once I spotted Din Djarin from afar, but he seemed busy. He was walking with Greef Karga, as he had announced, and the two seemed to have an animated conversation. Well, there was always tonight to look forward to.

As I wandered a little further away from camp, I found myself at the riverbank. My experience on the dinosaur planet had made me extremely wary of shores, and so I was rather startled to spot a single, small figure close to the bank. The light blue helmet identified him as Ragnar. He was throwing fist-sized stones into the river with a force. Had any fish lurked close to the surface, they would have been bludgeoned to death by flying pebbles. I opened my mouth, wanting to shout a warning, then forced back the knee-jerk reaction. There were no dinosaurs here that would seize and devour foundlings.

I lingered, unsure of what to do. Din had told the boy about his father’s death, and Ragnar was clearly trying to somehow handle his feelings. While Din had urged me not to become the target of his wrath, it felt wrong to just leave the boy to his own devices. He was too young to deal with all this crap by himself. Especially since he had already gone through it once, when he lost his birth family.

I was not quite sure how to approach him, though. Watching him toss the stones into the water, I suddenly realized he was almost out of ammo. While there were plenty of pebbles around, few of them were the size he was currently throwing. Somehow I knew that tossing the small specimen around would not give him nearly enough relief.

I squatted down for a few moments and picked up a few rocks in the appropriate size. When Ragnar bent down to pick up another missile and could not find anything fitting, I closed up to him. Wordlessly I held out my hand and presented him with my findings, the strangest peace offering I had ever made.

Ragnar stared at the rocks, then at me. Behind the helmet, his face was unreadable, but his body language radiated hot ire.

Then he grabbed the stones and hurled them into the water even more violently than before. The last rock was accompanied by an angry roar before it finally hit the surface with a splash and disappeared.

Despite my worry for him, I kept my face calm. So far his reactions were perfectly appropriate for the situation. I had raged as well when my father died, and I was fairly certain no amount of pebbles would have soothed my inner storm.

“Sometimes there are just not enough rocks”, I muttered, half to myself.

Ragnar spun around to face me as if getting ready for battle.

“Din Djarin said you were there.” His voice shook with fury. “He said you were the last one who saw Dad alive.”

“I was”, I agreed gravely.

“Tell me what happened!” he demanded, crossing his arms like he had done in training when challenging me.

Bracing myself, I told him the entire story. How we had gotten ambushed by Gideon’s forces, how Din had been captured and how I and the others had been stuck in the hangar. How I had used the Darksaber to cut us free and how Paz had chosen to stay behind and cover our retreat.

“Why didn’t you stop him?” Ragnar cut in angrily.

“I tried”, I said frankly. “But he locked the blaster doors on me and told me to go. You know what he was like. Once he had made up his mind, nobody could stop him.”

Ragnar let out a hissing breath, but didn’t contradict me.

“The last time I saw him alive”, I continued, forcing myself to speak calmly, “he was mowing down stormtroopers with his cannon gun. When they caught up on us… I knew he was gone. He had held them off as long as possible.”

Ragnar balled his hands into fists and turned away. He bent down and picked up another pebble, looking at it closely as if contemplating whether to throw it into the water or in my face.

“He was a great man”, I said softly. “He died defending Mandalore.”

Ragnar tossed the stone in the river. This time it skipped across the surface three times before eventually sinking into the waters.

“He was an idiot”, he hissed. “One warrior alone can’t do anything against an army!”

Considering Paz had obviously taken down an entire batch of stormtroopers before succumbing to the Royal Guard, I could not quite agree with his assessment, but held my tongue. Right now, Ragnar couldn’t care less for straight facts. He was too busy trying to handle his emotions, to somehow keep his head above the dark waters.

Finally I realized the real target of his anger. He was neither mad at Din Djarin nor at me. He was mad at his father, furious that Paz had gone where Ragnar couldn’t follow him. A father had the duty to stay with his child, and now Ragnar clearly felt that Paz had failed him in this aspect. If this was about hurt feelings and not facts, I had to change tactics.

When the plan doesn’t work, make another one.

“Your father and I spoke on Mandalore”, I told Ragnar, remembering my last talk with Paz. “All he could think about was you. How much he wanted you to be there with him.”

He spun around angrily. “Why did he leave me alone then? He could have taken me along!”

“He wanted to scout the territory first. Make sure it was safe for you.”

It hurt so much to see his heartache and helpless rage. Memories of my own father’s death started to resurface, and I had to make a conscious effort to keep them at bay. This wasn’t about me. It was about Ragnar.

“He loved you”, I said gently. “Until the end.”

A shiver went through the small frame. “Then why did he not retreat with you all? Why did he stay behind and let himself be killed?”

His voice shook with tears. Instinctively I understood the real question the boy was asking here: Why did he choose a dead planet over me?

“He wanted you to come to Mandalore”, I stressed, desperate to impress upon Ragnar that his father had not meant to abandon him. “For this, he needed the planet to be safe. It was never about him placing Mandalore above you. It was about giving Mandalore to you.” I sighed deeply, weighed down by my own grief for Paz Vizsla. “It was a difficult decision for him to make. I’m not asking you to be okay with it. Just to understand it.”

“It’s not fair!” he choked out.

“No”, I agreed frankly. “None of this was fair and nothing I say will make it better. What happened to you is awful. You have every right to be angry.”

For a moment I questioned whether this had been the right thing to say. With my limited experience with children I was uncertain whether I should have told him he would be alright instead. There was just no way of telling what would help Ragnar more and what would make him suffer worse.

But I had been in his shoes once. I remembered all the condolences I had heard, all the well-meant phrases and platitudes that had just incensed me. Losing a parent was too deep a pain to be soothed by a simple “He is in a better place now” or “You will be fine.” Because seriously, what better place could a father have than by his child’s side? How were we supposed to be fine when the very ground we stood on had been pulled away, plunging us into a free fall? Honesty might be painful, but not nearly as painful as what we were going through already.

As if to prove me right, Ragnar deflated before my very eyes. His anger seemed to dissolve at having his feelings acknowledged and respected. Now he was just shaken and exhausted.

“I don’t… want to feel all this”, he croaked helplessly. “I just want him back!”

I looked at Ragnar with a heavy heart. “Of course you do. We all do.”

His helmeted head sank down deeply. A sob escaped his throat, while my own got painfully tight. Cautiously I put my hands on his shoulders, ready to withdraw any moment, should he shake me off. He didn’t, though, allowing me to touch him. Maybe he even drew some comfort from it.

“I know I can’t make you feel better right now, no matter how much I want to”, I said gently. “I just want you to know – when I lost my father, your clan took me in as a foundling. We can’t replace your father, but I promise you will always find a home with Clan Kryze. If you want it.”

He didn’t have an answer to that, but I didn’t expect him to. These things needed time. Right now, Ragnar needed to deal with his pain and loss. For the next few weeks, this was going to be a full-time job. Before he could make any decisions regarding his future, he needed to get back on his feet again after this crushing blow.

“Did you… did it ever stop hurting?” Ragnar eventually asked in a small voice.

I closed my eyes, allowing myself to feel the pain I had bottled up for so many decades. The hurt was still there, not as fresh as in the beginning, sometimes just hovering in the background, but still present. Still there.

But I had changed. As much as I had wished the pain to just go away when I was younger, I understood now. The reason for it not fading completely was that I missed my father and wanted him in my life. While the thought had not helped me back in the day, it did now. I could accept the pain because it was born out of love, and this love would not fade with time.

“No”, I finally replied. “It never stopped. I just learned to live with it.”

At some point Niva and her family came and took Ragnar with them. I was glad to know he would not be alone tonight. The Children of the Watch were a closely knit unit and took care of each other. It was not the first time either that they were comforting a bereft foundling.

Certain that Ragnar would be in good hands tonight, I went back to the hospital tent to get my own treatment. Laurana, with Koska’s help, was still busy dressing Rab Kast’s wounds, but assured me it was just the final tidying up. All of the survivors had been tended to, several of them had gotten bacta treatment and every single one was on their way to recovery.

With some relief to finally have my turn, I took off my brace and let Laurana sweep a scanner over me. As expected, I did need a cycle in the bacta tank to treat my wrist and the burn wound across my stomach. Thankfully that also took care of the cracked ribs, so I only needed this one session. A part of me was still grumpy about having had to come back to Nevarro for such a short treatment. We definitely had to set up a provisional hospital on Mandalore as soon as possible.

Afterwards I took a quick shower to get rid of all the bacta remains and got dressed again. Koska had been thoughtful enough to organize me a clean set of clothes, which I appreciated a lot. After the fight and especially the firestorm, my flight suit had been in dire need of cleaning.

Laurana was putting everything away when I came back out of the fresher. I looked at the patients, but could not spot her sister.

“Where is Sabrina?” I asked.

“You don’t seriously think I could have kept her cooped up here?” Laurana asked with dry humor and a lot of fondness. “She insisted on spending the evening with the kids.”

I grinned wryly. “Of course she would. I’ll go see her.”

“Hang on”, Koska called out to me, washing traces of blood and bacta off her hands. “I’m coming with you. That is – if you will be alright, Laurana?”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m out of here, too.” We could hear the smile in her voice. “It’s the first time in ages I’m going to get an evening just with Mark.”

Koska smiled warmly. “Enjoy it. You’ve more than earned it.”

Together the two of us left the tent and went looking for our friend.

We found Sabrina at a collection of rocks a little further away from the camp. She sat upright, her back resting against a rock and was in the company of her sleeping children, snuggled up closely to her. They had dragged pallets and blankets out here to lie down under the stars, plundered packages of crackers, cookies and jerky well within reach. With a soft smile I recalled their little tradition of stargazing until they all fell asleep whenever Sabrina had to leave Ayk and Boan for a few days. Seeing how long they had been separated, they had plenty of nights to catch up with.

“Hey”, I greeted her in a hushed voice, not sure how soundly her children were asleep. “How’s your leg doing?”

The smile Sabrina gave us was exhausted, but blissfully happy. The harrowing years on Mandalore seemed forgotten, the wrinkles and hollows in her face smoothed away by sheer joy.

“Much better”, she assured me, proving her point by cautiously moving her leg. “Laurana thinks I’ll make a full recovery after another one or two cycles.”

“Good.” I breathed a sigh of relief. Her leg had looked so awful on Mandalore that I had been secretly worried she might lose it. “Do you wanna go to sleep or…?”

“Not yet”, she said with a grin and pointed at the leftover package of cookies. “Sit with me. Haven’t had a talk with you two in ages.”

I was more than happy to sit down, and cookies were always a good argument. Shuffling some pillows around, Koska and I managed to get comfortable against the rocks without disturbing Ayk and Boan in their sleep. Soon all three of us were happily munching cookies and talking. Sabrina gushed about how much her children had grown, how smart they were, and what wonderful people they would turn into. As I had expected, she wholly approved of Mark Eldar, both as a brother-in-law and as a foster father to her children.

“When I’m recovered, I’m gonna stay here for a while”, she announced. “I have lost so much time with my children. These years won’t come back. I want to make the best of what remains of their childhood.”

“Of course.” I nodded in understanding. “You stay here as long as you want. We’ll need some capable people here on Nevarro as well.”

She made a face. “Yeah, I can do with a change of scenery. No offense meant, but right now I’m sick of Mandalore.”

Koska snorted. “None taken. Can’t imagine you’ll miss the monsters.”

“Nope”, Sabrina agreed. Her eyes wandered back to camp. “There are a lot of families here. If all the warriors go to Mandalore, they will need someone to train the foundlings. I would like to do that.”

“That’s a great idea!” Koska clapped her on the back. “Little Nite Owls have to come from somewhere.”

See? I heard the wistful voice in my head again. It’s possible to step back from active duty and still be useful to your people and the cause. You could do the same.

As my friends chatted, making plans about how to proceed from here and how to divide their time between Nevarro and Mandalore, my thoughts started drifting. More than anyone else among our people, I had to make a choice on how to proceed from here. My goal had always been to reclaim and rebuild Mandalore, but during the last months I had realized as well how much I craved a simple family life. I had fallen in love with Din Djarin. I had grown to care about Grogu. I wanted these two in my life, as closely as possible. But how much would even be possible in the days to come?

I was the chosen leader of my people, which meant I would have to be in the very front line of work, rebuilding both our planet and our relationships with other systems. My presence would be crucial in how the next weeks would pass. There would be little to no time for a private life, much less taking care of a child.

Theoretically I could entertain the notion of retiring. Practically it might well cause a catastrophe. I was the one person all three groups could agree on as a leader. If I stepped back now, there would be a vacuum of power. Each group would thrust forth their own respective candidate – the Armorer, Axe Woves and Captain Archer – and would vehemently oppose anyone else. More squabbles would break out, even worse than the one between Axe and Paz. It could destroy everything I had worked so hard to achieve. As long as there was no one else who was accepted by all three factions, I simply could not step down.

“What’s wrong?”

Sabrina’s question pulled me out of my thoughts. She looked at me with a frown, trying to gauge my expression.

“Why do you think something is wrong?” I countered.

She sighed. “You are wearing your ‘they caught Satine but Korkie needs me’ face.”

I felt a little tremble in my chest, though it was hard to tell whether it was pain or joy. For a moment I was back in the past, defending Korkie and his friends against the Mauldalorians. I had wanted to free Satine immediately the moment I heard she was recaptured, but sacrificing Korkie for her was simply not an option. Talk about a clash of interest.

Sabrina had been there with me. She knew I had not callously left my sister in the lurch, no matter what my enemies had claimed afterwards.

Koska looked at me curiously, as if trying to learn this expression by heart. “Is that what you call it? I call it her ‘can’t decide which Imp to kill first’ face.”

I was too tired to give them a proper stink eye. Instead, I got comfortable on my pillow.

“I’m in charge of rebuilding Mandalore now”, I sighed. “That’s quite a pile of work, waiting for me.”

My friends exchanged a meaningful look.

“It’s a lot, but pretty straightforward”, Koska eventually said.

“Yeah, where’s the conflict?” Sabrina asked, looking me straight in the face.

No point trying to get away with a simple answer. They both knew me too well.

“I wonder how it will all affect Din and me”, I eventually admitted. “During the battle, I had to choose between saving him and saving our people. I chose them.”

“Which was the right thing to do”, Koska threw in. “He and Grogu did well on their own. If we had looked for them, the Imps would have eliminated us.”

“It could have gone wrong, though.” I pulled my knees close to my chest and stared into the distance. “If they had died, I would have had to live with the fact that I left them behind. And it might happen again.”

My hands tightened into fists. “I do want to protect them, but how, with all my other responsibilities? Will I ever be allowed to choose Clan Mudhorn? Don’t both they and our people deserve my full attention and care?”

“It’s possible to do both.” Sabrina gestured towards Boan and Ayk. “I did my utmost to both protect my children and support the Nite Owls, and it worked out just fine for years. The situation on Mandalore was an extreme case, but won’t necessarily happen again.”

“It has happened before and it can happen again”, I insisted. “I have no clue how to deal with it in the future. I can’t bear the thought of losing Din. During the last months, he was…” My voice choked up at the memories, and it took several deep breaths before I could speak again. “He was all I had.”

Koska lowered her eyes to the ground, looking guilty. I bit the inside of my cheeks. I had not meant to make her feel bad. I was ready to let bygones be bygones, but apparently she was still struggling with her choice.

“He is not anymore”, Sabrina pointed out gently, and I was glad for the distraction. “You reclaimed your place among the Nite Owls. You’ve got the entire Tribe behind you, and you have us survivors. Din doesn’t have to fill every gap in your life any longer.”

“But… I love him”, I retorted in bewilderment, feeling way out of my depth here. “Why shouldn’t he be everything to me?”

She laughed softly, and suddenly I wondered at which point in my life she had taken Satine’s place in my heart, the role of the older sister sharing her experience.

“It’s fine if he means everything to you, but you shouldn’t expect him to take over every responsibility in your life. Lover, comrade in arms, best friend, confidante, co-builder, therapist…”

I punched her with my elbow at that final part, but she just grinned cheekily. “I’m just trying to say if you want this to last, you have to be complete in yourself, not use him to fill the hole in your heart. Otherwise it will drain him and destroy your relationship.”

I lowered my eyes. Of course I knew what she meant with the hole in my heart. It was gaping at times, aching with sadness about all my losses. It was true, Din’s presence had soothed the hurt and made the pain bearable. But the thought just increased my fear that I might not be able to function properly without him around.

Sabrina’s eyes seemed to look right into my mind. “You are each other’s rock and support, right?”

I nodded cautiously.

“It’s normal to be joined at the hip in the beginning of a new relationship. For a while, your lover is everything to you, you don’t need anyone else. But at some point the first flush wears off. You’ll realize each other’s quirks and shortcomings, and make no mistake, they will bother you.”

I frowned, wondering where this was going. It was hard to imagine there even were things about Din that I wouldn’t like. Love conquers everything, right?

Apparently the thought showed in my face, because Koska chuckled softly.

“Young love. It’s so beautiful.”

I felt myself blush, but didn’t deny it. It was a beautiful feeling, especially knowing that Din loved me back. Small waves of contentment rippled through my entire self whenever I thought of him. It was hard to imagine this feeling to change.

Sabrina looked at the two children sleeping next to her, her face thoughtful. After a long while she finally cleared her throat.

“Do you know the reason why I didn’t stay with their father?”

“Because he turned pacifist and emigrated to Alderaan”, I retorted dryly.

Sabrina rolled her eyes in annoyance and I allowed myself a grin. It was good to see some things between us never changed, even after years of separation.

“Fair point”, she eventually conceded. “But that was just the final straw, actually. Remember how Jim and I met?”

“In battle”, Koska recalled. “During the Civil War against the Mauldalorians.”

“That’s right.” She nodded. “In battle, we were great together. An unstoppable force. We knew each other’s moves so well, we could have fought side by side in our sleep.”

This part, I remembered well. Jim Vizsla and Sabrina had survived battles and sieges that had left countless others dead or maimed. They had been shining examples for the Binary Star, for great teamwork and successful missions. A natural dream team.

“So what happened?” I asked, a little bewildered. “If him turning pacifist was just the last nail in the coffin?”

“Outside of battle, we had nothing in common”, Sabrina said frankly. “There were hardly any things we both liked. Once we had time for each other without fighting for our lives all the time, everything went scud. He wanted me to retire from the Nite Owls once the children were there.”

I winced. This could not have gone down well with my fierce friend.

Ayk stirred in his sleep, and Sabrina gently rubbed his back.

“We could not agree on how to raise our children”, she continued in a quieter voice. “He was turning all pacifist, I knew the fighting wasn’t over. I didn’t look forward to coming home anymore. At some point I realized we did not even really like each other.”

My naive conception of love conquering everything was starting to crumble.

“But you were in love with him, weren’t you? How could it all dissolve just like that?”

Sabrina didn’t answer immediately, apparently thinking about the right words to describe what she meant. Somewhere around camp I heard Axe cracking a joke and Jake bursting out laughing.

“I think”, she eventually said pensively, “that I would not have dated him, had we met in peace times. We met under extreme circumstances and just clung to each other to stay sane. It was part adrenaline, part desire for comfort.”

I had to admit this sounded familiar. My one-night stands during the war had been motivated by similar reasons. But Din meant so much more to me than these quick distractions in between. They simply could not compare to him.

“He was a huge comfort”, I admitted. “But I do think this is different from what you and Jim had. We talked a lot during the last months, and it was about us. About our pasts, about our beliefs. We shared things we never told anyone else. It wasn’t just all about survival.”

“I believe you”, she assured me. “You never were someone to throw caution to the wind because of a pretty face. But…”

“I wouldn’t know about his face”, I muttered, earning chuckles from both my friends.

“Fair enough. All I’m saying is once the first stage is over, you look at your partner differently. It happens in every relationship”, Sabrina stressed. “Either your love becomes stronger because you really like them and accept their quirks as a package deal. Or you have to face the fact that it was not the real deal but merely attraction, no matter what the circumstances.”

I put up my elbow and rested my cheek on my hand. I was so terribly new to all of this. So many questions. So many ways. So many choices.

So many possible pitfalls.

“So what would you have me do?” I asked quietly. “Constantly questioning what we have, just to find out it was something good before my doubts ruined it?”

I turned my head away, unable to face my friends. The very thought of being suspicious about Din’s feelings, or worse, my own, suffocated all the joy I had felt so far. Maybe I should just have stayed quiet. Maybe I should just have stayed with him and Grogu.

“No.” Sabrina’s hand came down on my arm, gently and comforting. “I would merely suggest that you two take things slowly. Don’t rush into anything.”

“We didn’t”, I muttered, feeling somewhat angry. “All we did was talk. Sharing experiences. Getting to know each other.”

“Which is a good start”, Sabrina assured me. “Your circumstances were rather dramatic, though. You needed each other to survive. Now you can afford to take a step back and sort your feelings out.”

Koska sat up straight as if she had just had an epiphany. “Like in the song where the warrior saves the royal from the Krayt dragon and then insists that rescuing doesn’t necessarily mean they have to get married?”

“Exactly”, Sabrina confirmed.

I remembered that song. It was one of the few Mandalorian stories with some comedy elements, where the writer clearly made fun of their audience’s expectations. All over the galaxy it was regarded as quite the cliché to have the survivor of the story marry their savior just because. The author had cleverly turned the trope on the head by first praising the virtues of both parties involved and staging the rescue, but then refusing to do the so-called “classic happy end”.

I had to admit there were some parallels between the story and my own experience. Din Djarin had saved me from a desperate situation, I had saved his life. I could see why people might wonder if we hadn’t just gotten carried away with adrenaline and need.

“You are not telling me to split up with him preemptively, do you?” I asked, just to make sure I understood her correctly.

“Of course not.” She gave me a warm smile. “Din Djarin seems to do you good.”

A huge weight dropped off my chest. I smiled in relief. “He does”, I said fondly. “He inspires me to improve myself. To become a better version of me.”

Koska turned her face away too quickly for me to be sure. Still, I could not shake the suspicion she had discretely wiped her eyes. Or hidden a really sappy grin. Both were equally mortifying for her.

“That’s great!” Sabrina enthused, beaming at me like I had just handed her a lifetime supply of my pog soup. “Keep it up, just don’t force yourself into anything you are not comfortable with. Spend time together, get to know each other without a crisis. Without your lives depending on it.”

Slowly I allowed myself to relax. I was so used to constantly questioning myself and my choices by now that Sabrina’s urging to take things slowly had been really upsetting. I wanted things to work out between me and Din.

Which meant I had to finally bite the bullet and sit down with him for a heart-to-heart. I had been planning on doing it since Plazir-15, yet so far there had always been something more important to do, some other problem to solve. We had shelved our talk, and it was time to stop thinking about it and actually do it. The sooner I did, the sooner I would be relieved of the constant doubts.

“I’ll talk to him”, I resolved. “Tonight.”

Chapter Text

When I went back to the Gauntlet, Din was already waiting for me.

In the few lights from the camp his armor shimmered silvery in the darkness like a star. My partner in our binary star, I thought with a soft smile as I came closer. My Northern Star, showing me the way through the dark.

Without hesitation I stepped towards him and into his arms. They held me tight as our chins rested on each other’s shoulders. The familiar feeling of warmth and safety flooded through me, and I pulled him closer. I could have spent hours just holding on to him.

“Where is Grogu?” I eventually asked when I realized someone small and important was missing.

“With Ragnar.” Despite his grave voice I could hear him smile as he gently disengaged himself from me. “I think he wants to be there for him.”

I was about to ask what he thought Grogu could do. Then I realized that sometimes it wasn’t about changing a bad situation. Sometimes an orphan just needed to know they were not alone. And who knew, Grogu might have some useful force powers to distract Ragnar from his grief.

Then I realized the other implication of his words and my heart beat a little faster.

“You mean – it’s a dinner for two?”

Like a perfect gentleman, Din offered me his arm. “If my lady is up for it?”

My smile as I accepted it could have lit up the entire Gauntlet. “I am.”

I had expected Din to lead me to a tent, seeing the camp mostly consisted of those. Instead our walk became a longer stroll along the riverbank. I would have loved it to be a clear night, to walk under the stars arm in arm with my beloved. But as Sabrina had already pointed out, real life wasn’t a romantic fairy tale. The sky was covered, and the moon rarely managed to peek through a hole in the clouds. The only light we had came from Din’s helmet.

Still, for me it was a magical night. With most of the Mandalorian territory here still undeveloped, the usual noises of civilization were confined to our settlement and Nevarro City. Out here, the silence was only broken by the sounds of the river, and every once in a while came the croak of a frog or the call of an owl. I had no idea where we were going, but I trusted Din Djarin. The further we walked, the more I relaxed. Having fought for our planet and sheer survival for decades, I had come to associate the undisturbed sounds of nature with peace and tranquility. The implicit safety meant much more to me than the most beautiful stars in the sky.

When we came to a little brook flowing into the river, Din changed direction and followed the small stream of water. It was not easy in the dark. Occasionally the brook turned into a tiny moist track, the water barely visible under the long grass. I was beginning to wonder where it would lead us, when I heard the unmistakable sound of tiny waves licking against stones. In the small light of Din’s helmet I spotted a pond ahead, surrounded by weeds and sporting the occasional water lily pad. A dark shade rose next to it. When we came closer, I realized it was a small house, most likely built from factory-made parts. Easy to break down, easy to set up. I had not expected one so far out from camp.

“This is new, isn’t it?”

The light bopped slightly as Din nodded. “Greef Karga had it set up for me. A personal thank-you.”

I could well imagine the high magistrate with the heart of gold delighting in doing something for his old friend. Even the distance to the camp made sense now. Karga would know from their shared past that Din, while unshakably loyal to the Tribe, preferred a more private retreat at times. Laurana had told me a while ago that given the choice, he was somewhat of a loner.

So apparently, dinner would be here. I was curious to see what Din had planned, and whether he had found a way around the helmet rules. While I was used to eating in his presence by now, I longed to share this simple intimacy with him.

When we were almost at the house, Din pressed a button on his vambrace. A rectangle of tiny lights lit up on the ground, as small as candle flames and just as yellow. Once my eyes got used to the change, I saw the lights were placed on the ground around a simple, dark picnic blanket, illuminating and framing it at a distance of maybe 3 feet.

I spotted place settings for two, each consisting of one plate, a fork and one glass, at opposing sides of the blanket, one close to the front, the other to the far side. Various little bowls were placed on the left and right sides. The middle had been left completely clear of any dishes, creating an emptiness between the two plates that had to be deliberate.

A candlelight picnic.

Before I could decide how to deal with the dancing butterflies in my stomach, Din stepped in my field of vision. Facing me, he pulled a Fallen Phoenix and took off his jetpack, putting it on a small rock close to the blanket. A huge smile bloomed on my face. He was initiating the old Mandalorian courtship ritual, just as I had done back on Mandalore.

Smiling softly, I followed his example. My jetpack joined his, as naturally as breathing. We did not speak as we slowly executed the next steps of the ancient dance, the deactivation and discarding of the vambraces, followed by the gloves. This was familiar territory. We had done exactly that on Mandalore, followed by a cuddle.

But this time Din took it further.

Keeping his head upright, he slowly sank down on his left knee. I had to stifle a gasp, my excitement spiking up with a force. This was new, and rather unexpected. His hands briefly touched his right leg and I heard the familiar sound of armor coming lose. Without breaking eye contact he switched knees and repeated the procedure on his left leg. Then he stayed in his kneeling position, waiting.

He was raising me two greaves.

My own heartbeat was roaring in my ears. Forcing myself to take all the time I needed instead of rushing and messing things up, I went down on one knee as well. My fingers trembled and despite the familiarity of the procedure it took all my concentration to get the greaves off, one after the other, without a hitch.

We were kneeling in front of each other now, the pieces of our armor piling up beside us, softly reflecting the small, yellow lights. Slowly Din lifted both of his bare hands, his palms pointing toward me, and I recognized the final step of the ritual. The one step that was an exchange, not an invitation or mirroring of the partner’s movements. The step that conveyed the greatest gesture of trust a Mandalorian warrior was capable of.

Stars, I had never trusted anyone with this before. I had been so suspicious, so wary for decades. The very thought of letting someone do this to me had made me skittish enough to always keep my hand close to my blaster.

Now I wanted it. I wanted it so badly it almost hurt.

Taking a deep breath, letting go of the old fears and worries, I lowered both my hands, my palms turned up. The sign of permission and welcome.

In the silence of the night I heard his breath hitch a little as his hands slowly came forward to brush my shoulders. His touch sent sparks through my body and I had to squeeze my eyes shut for a moment to keep myself under control. A soft metallic noise told me his fingers had found their target, and a moment later my cuirass came off, the familiar weight on my shoulders dissolving. My armor, my protection, the one thing I could hide behind, was carefully removed by the man I had grown to love.

Slowly I opened my eyes. My face was hot, my skin prickled, but there was no fear, no anxiety. This felt right, completely natural. As I looked at Din, his helmet gleaming golden in the light, I knew my entire boy conveyed the message this step symbolized.

I trust you with my heart and life.

Now it was my turn to raise my hands, my palms facing him. The silent question for permission. His hands lowered to his sides, the palms facing up. Almost reverently I put my hands on his shoulders and took off his cuirass, removing the last obstacle between our hearts. Din hummed softly, clearly relishing the feeling of being relieved of the heavy beskar. The only time I had seen him without his armor had been on Plazir-15, during our private dinner with the duchess and Captain Bombardier. He had not told me then what his thoughts were about not wearing his armor. Seeing him now I realized he must have felt as uncomfortable as I had, because the difference in his bearing was striking. On Plazir-15 he had been more tense, more alert. Here, he was at ease, simply happy to share a new kind of intimacy with me.

Once I had placed his cuirass on the ground, safely out of the way, Din stood up and offered me a hand. I accepted it, relishing the way our bare palms fit into each other, and let him help me back on my feet. Without letting go of my hand, he led me over to the picnic blanket and stepped on it. I followed him, making sure not to crush bowls or plates under my heels. He stopped in the middle and when he spoke, I heard the familiar smile in his voice.

“Have a seat.”

I did so, sitting down in the middle of the blanket. To my left and right were the little bowls of food, before me, at the edge of the blanket, one of the place settings. Questioningly I looked up at him.

“Don’t turn around”, he said fondly, letting go of my hand and walking around me until he was in my back. I nodded, already anticipating what he was going to do.

A familiar hiss told me he was indeed taking off his helmet, and my heart swelled with happiness. He was trusting me as much as he had on Mandalore. I felt him sit down behind me, first his shoulder brushing mine, then his back resting against mine. I smiled, realizing how cleverly and yet simply he had solved the problem of eating together within the Tribe’s law.

“Back to back”, I said nostalgically, leaning against him. It was just as solid and dependable as I remembered it from back on the dinosaur planet. Without jetpacks and armors in the way, though, he also felt soft, warm and comfortable.

“Like during our first evening with the Tribe”, he agreed softly.

Despite the sweetness of the gesture I felt my cheeks burn slightly. “I was so embarrassed to fall to pieces within earshot of you. I thought you would despise me for my weakness.”

“There is no weakness in grief.” His voice was absolutely sure, leaving no room for doubt. “Only the strong are able to face their losses.”

I heard a soft popping noise, then the slight gurgle of liquid being poured. A pleasant smell caressed my nostrils, bringing up memories of an office in Nevarro City, where a friendly, generous magistrate who liked the finer things of life shared his treasures with us.

“Is this from Greef Karga?” I asked in surprise.

“His wine, yes.” Din chuckled softly. “He did tell me to share it with someone special.”

By the looks of it, I owed Karga more favors than I had originally thought. I might have to introduce him to my pog soup to make it up to him.

A moment later Din’s left hand offered me his now filled glass. In a moment of understanding I took it and handed him the empty glass on my side in return. I could hear it being filled up as well, then it appeared at the rim of my peripheral vision again.

“To Mandalore”, he offered.

I clinked glasses with him. It was a little weird to do it sideways, but also strangely charming. Like many traditions of the Children of the Watch.

“To Mandalore. And to friends marching far away”, I said quietly, thinking of Paz Vizsla, Dan Solus and all the others who had lost their lives in battle. I felt him incline his head in acknowledgment, then we both drank.

When the first sip of the liquid passed my lips, I hummed with pleasure. Greef Karga had really outdone himself with this beverage. It was velvety smooth on my tongue, not sweet enough to be overwhelming, and with a crispy fruitiness. There was the unmistakable aroma of alcohol, but it was light and faint, not overwhelming. It would be possible to drink two glasses of it without starting to lose control.