Star Wars: The Mandalorian Junior Novel

by Joe Schreiber

  “Trust me,” Karga said, “nothing could go wrong.”

  The words were still on his lips when a winged creature came plunging down out of the darkness with a deafening screech. Karga cried out in shock and pain, jerking his arm away, and lurched backward as chaos overtook the camp. The bounty hunters pulled their blasters and started shooting.

  “Get down!” The Mandalorian jumped up and closed the Child’s pram, sealing it tight. Raising his rifle, he opened fire along with the bounty hunters and Cara Dune. It didn’t seem to matter. The night erupted with screeching and the leathery rustle of wings as the reptavians, three or four of them at least, swooped down on them, greedy for the kill. One whooshed close, sinking its talons into a blurrg, which shrieked in panic.

  “Drop her!” Kuiil shouted, but the thing was already pumping its wings and flying off with the blurrg.

  The Mandalorian stared into the blackness, listening. Then another of the creatures dove close and seized the Trandoshan bounty hunter in its claws, ripping him from the ground. Another reptavian went after a second blurrg, and they opened fire on the thing, blasting it as it screeched and jerked at the blurrg’s tough hide. Blaster fire hit the blurrg, tearing it down, and the creature collapsed as two more reptavians swung down with their talons extended. Mando raised his arm and released a jet of flame, torching the flying creatures until they gave up and flew into the night like a pair of blazing kites.

  Just like that, it was over. There was no sound but the frightened whimpers of the Child as the pram opened and Greef Karga’s groans of pain. The wound on his arm was deep, and the reptavian venom was notoriously fast-acting. Once it hit the bloodstream, death could come in a matter of minutes.

  “Hold still.” Cara sat down next to him and broke open a medpac, examining the wound. “They got you good.”

  “How bad?” Mando asked.

  “Bad,” she said. “The poison’s spreading fast. This isn’t working!” She glanced over at the Child, who had crawled out of his hover pram and approached her and Karga from behind. “Get this thing outta here.”

  “Wait,” Kuiil said quietly.

  Karga’s eyes rolled over to the Child, who was gazing at him raptly. “He’s trying to eat me!” the Guild agent said. But Karga didn’t move away, and they all stood watching as the Child pressed one tiny hand directly on Karga’s wound, closing his eyes and holding it there.

  Gradually, Karga’s groans trailed off, and he looked up in disbelief.

  The wound was healing, and then—

  The wound was gone.

  Karga stared at the Child in utter disbelief. The only sound was the crackle of the fire as he and the others eyed each other, with no idea what they’d just seen.

  As dawn broke, they traveled down out of the lava fields on the outskirts of town, a ragged party already on the verge of exhaustion from the previous night’s attack. Karga and the remaining two bounty hunters he’d brought with him walked ahead while Mando and Cara followed on foot, with Kuiil astride the one blurrg that had managed to survive the night.

  Cara watched as Karga conferred in murmurs with his fellow hunters in front of them. “You think they’re having second thoughts?” she asked.

  “Could be,” the Mandalorian said. “I need your eyes.”

  “I’m watching.”

  They stopped on a bluff overlooking the town below, Karga gazing down at the city. “I guess this is it,” he said without turning around. Mando and Cara paused, tensing to see what was going to happen. Mando could hear the other two bounty hunters coming up behind them, their footsteps halting, then the creak of holster leather.

  All at once, Karga spun around, blasters in both hands, and fired.

  He hit the two hunters—the human and the Nikto—in the chest, dropping each with a single shot. As their bodies hit the ground, he raised both guns in the air. Mando and Cara approached him from either side with their own weapons drawn and pointed at him.

  “There’s something you should know,” Karga said grimly. “The plan was to kill you and take the kid.” He looked back at them and shook his head. “But after what happened last night…I couldn’t go through with it.” He furrowed his brow. “Go on, you can gun me down here and now, and it wouldn’t violate the Code. But if you do, this Child will never be safe.”

  Mando and Cara kept their blasters pointed at him. “We’ll take our chances,” Cara said.

  “Perhaps you should let him speak,” said Kuiil.

  “We both need the Client eliminated,” Karga told them. “Let me take the Child to him, and then you two…”

  “No,” Mando said, and lowered his blaster.

  Cara frowned at him. “What are you doing?”

  “As long as the Imp lives, he’ll send hunters after the Child.” He turned to Karga. “Bring me. Tell him you captured me. Get me close to him, and I’ll kill him.”

  “That’s a good idea.” The Guild agent nodded. “Give me your blaster.”

  “This is insane!” Cara said as Mando handed his sidearm over to Karga.

  “It’s the only way.”

  “Well, I’m coming with you,” she said. “I’ll tell them I caught you.”

  “Then she can bring the Child,” Karga said.

  “No.” Mando’s voice was firm. “The kid goes back on the ship.”

  “But without the Child, none of this works!”

  “I have a plan,” the Mandalorian said, and turned to the Ugnaught. “Kuiil, ride back to the Razor Crest with the Child and seal yourself in. Engage ground security protocols. Nothing on this planet will breach those doors.”

  Kuiil nodded. “I will keep the Child safe.”

  Mando held out his hands so Karga could put the binders on him. “Let’s go.”

  THE CITY HAD CHANGED.

  There seemed to be fewer people outside conducting business, and the streets felt strangely empty. Instead, stormtroopers and scout troopers on 74-Z speeder bikes lounged openly with their weapons, observing as Karga and Cara Dune approached with Mando, his hands in the binders. The hover pram levitated along between them, its lid closed tight.

  “Chain code?” a scout trooper demanded.

  “I have a gift for the boss,” Karga said, and handed it over.

  The scout trooper scanned it. “I’ll give you twenty credits for the helmet.”

  “Not a chance,” Karga said, chuckling. “That’s going on my wall.”

  “On your wall?” the Mandalorian murmured under his breath.

  “Go with it,” Karga whispered back.

  The scout gestured them forward. “Go ahead.”

  Karga nudged the bounty hunter forward, and they kept walking. More stormtroopers watched them from either side of the street as they continued toward the public house.

  It wouldn’t be long.

  The Client rose to his feet when he saw them come in, his eyes gleaming with interest.

  “Look what I brought you,” Karga said. “As promised.”

  The old man gazed at the Mandalorian’s armor, as if admiring a piece of sculpture that had been wheeled into the room for his appraisal. “What exquisite craftsmanship.” He ran one hand over the helmet’s visor. “It is amazing how beautiful beskar can be when forged by its ancestral artisans.” After signaling the RA-7 protocol droid behind the bar, who began to make them drinks, the old man gestured at the table. “Please sit.”

  Karga shoved Mando roughly behind the table, and the Client settled in across from him. “It is a shame that your people suffered so,” he said, “when it was all avoidable. Why did Mandalore resist our expansion?”

  Mando said nothing.

  “The Empire improves every system it touches,” the old man continued. “Judge by any metric. Safety, prosperity, trade, opportunity, peace…” His expression darkened, becoming grave. “Compare Imperial rule to what is happening now. Is the world more peaceful since the revolution?” Staring at the Mandalorian, he didn’t bother waiting for a response. “I see nothi
ng but death and chaos.” His eyes drifted over to the pram that was hovering next to the table. “I would like to see the baby.”

  “Uh…” Karga held up his hand. “It is asleep.”

  “We all will be quiet,” the Client said.

  Before Karga could reply, a nearby stormtrooper walked over and whispered something into the old man’s ear.

  “Don’t think me to be rude,” he said, standing up. “I must take this call.”

  As he left the table, the Mandalorian detached the binders from his wrists, freeing his hands. “Give me the blaster,” he whispered.

  Karga slipped it to him. “You get one shot.”

  Over at the bar, the Client leaned forward toward the holoprojector, where the image had appeared in front of him, a lean-faced figure studying him with cold, estimating eyes.

  “Yes, Moff Gideon?”

  “Have they brought the Child?” Gideon asked. His voice sounded deceptively casual, almost conversational.

  “Yes, they have,” the old man said. “Currently, it is sleeping.”

  “You may want to check again.”

  The old man’s eyes narrowed and flicked to the right, suspicion sweeping over his face.

  A shot burst through the window behind the bar.

  The old man went sprawling and collapsed to the floor. The stormtroopers spun around, already firing their blasters, as chaos erupted. Across the room, Karga flipped over the table, and he and the others scrambled for cover. From the shattered window, a shaft of daylight streamed through the smoky air. The protocol droid behind the bar raised its hands and ducked for cover.

  Moff Gideon’s hologram observed all of this for a moment, then leaned down to deactivate his transmitter and disappeared.

  After the shooting stopped, Cara got up to check the room and make sure the troopers were down. Karga and Mando joined her. Cara turned to look through the shattered window onto the street. When she saw what was out there, a sudden wave of dread flooded through her.

  A row of black-armored death troopers stood in front of the public house. They were the Empire’s elite forces, designed for stealth. Behind them, an Imperial troop transport pulled up and whooshed to a halt, its doors opening to disgorge a contingent of stormtroopers.

  “This is bad,” Cara said.

  Mando raised the comlink to his helmet. “Kuiil, are you back to the ship yet?”

  After a crackle of radio static, the Ugnaught’s voice came through, sounding very far away. “Not yet.”

  “Get back to the ship and bail!” Mando said. “Get the kid out of here. We’re pinned down!”

  Receiving the transmission, Kuiil gripped the reins and rode harder, his blurrg galloping ahead over the lava fields toward the Razor Crest. It wouldn’t be much farther, he knew. Soon he would get to the ship, and the Child would be safe.

  But he wasn’t the only one who’d been listening.

  On the outskirts of town, two scout troopers who had been monitoring the conversation glanced up at each other, mounted their speeder bikes, and began to ride.

  THE OUTLAND TIE FIGHTER swept down out of the sky and descended over the street, its solar collectors retracting as it landed behind the rows of Imperial troops. Inside the public house, with their blasters raised, Mando, Karga, and Cara Dune stared out at the fighter, none of them speaking, although they all knew what it meant.

  The hour of reckoning had come.

  The TIE’s hatch hissed open, and a man in a dark cloak and chest armor stepped out. He strode forward through the ranks of troopers, approaching the building. It was the Imperial officer from the holoprojector, the one who had been addressing the old man.

  Moff Gideon.

  He stopped in front of the open window and spoke in a calm, dispassionate voice. “You have something I want,” he said. “You may think you have some idea of what you are in possession of, but you do not.” He peered in at them with cold, self-confident eyes. “It means more to me than you will ever know. And in a few moments, it will be mine.”

  Mando raised the comlink. “Kuiil, are you back to the ship yet?” he asked. “They’re onto us. Kuiil, come in!”

  But there was no response.

  Kuiil rode faster. There was no time to reply to the Mandalorian’s message. He could see the Razor Crest ahead of him, the ship outlined clearly against the blue sky. It was just a matter of minutes, perhaps less. He urged the blurrg on, the beast running full tilt. He could hear the Child, wrapped in blankets in his arms, cooing softly.

  Protect the Child, he thought. Right then, it was the most important task of his life.

  Close enough that he could remotely activate the ship’s security system, he hit a switch and the Razor Crest’s ramp began extending downward. He could actually see inside the ship’s hold, the place where they would be safe.

  The shriek of speeder bikes overtook him.

  When the scouts fired, taking out the blurrg and throwing Kuiil forward to the ground, the Ugnaught saw the Child flying from his arms and knew the abrupt and horrible truth.

  He had failed to protect the Child. The white helmets and visors of the scouts loomed over him, as impersonal as death itself.

  “No!” Kuiil raised one hand, making a final, desperate attempt to hold them off.

  The blaster bolt hit him, and he knew only darkness.

  RIDING BACK TO THE CITY, the two scout troopers who had grabbed the Child slowed down and stopped on the outskirts to report back.

  “Speeder bikes have arrived at the checkpoint with the asset,” the first trooper said through his comlink. “Awaiting confirmation—” Inside his shoulder bag, the Child squealed, and the trooper swatted it. “Knock it off!”

  “Uh, that’s a go to proceed,” the person on the other end of the comms responded, “but I advise you to double-check. The Moff just touched down and already took out a squad of local troopers.”

  The scout troopers exchanged glances, and the first one keyed the mic. “Roger that. Standing by.”

  After a moment, the second trooper glanced at him. “Did…he just say that Gideon killed his own men?”

  The first trooper shook his head. “Who knows?” he said. “These guys like to lay down the law when they first arrive into town. You know how it is.” Inside the pouch, the Child gurgled, and the trooper slapped it again. “I said, shut up!”

  The second trooper craned his neck for a better look at the bag, which was moving around. “What is that thing, anyway?”

  “Ah, I don’t know. Maybe Moff wants to eat it. I don’t ask questions.”

  The second trooper looked at him. “Can I see it?”

  The trooper with the pouch stared at him in disbelief. “Did you not just hear that Moff Gideon killed a dozen of his own troops just to make a point?”

  “Okay—”

  “I get that point. Do you get the point?”

  “Yes, I get the point.”

  “Okay.”

  They sat back on their speeders, awaiting further instructions. Nothing happened. The sun beat down. After the excitement of chasing the Ugnaught and recovering the Child, time seemed to have slowed to a crawl. If there was one thing the Rebellion hadn’t changed, it was that much of life was still waiting around to be told what to do.

  After a moment, the second trooper sighed. He took out his blaster and aimed it down at a transmitter lying in the sand. He pulled the trigger. Missed. Fired again. Missed. The other trooper joined him, alternating shots, neither of them hitting anywhere close to the transmitter. Neither of them spoke. The second trooper glanced hopefully at the satchel.

  “Should we offer that thing some water?”

  The first trooper looked at him. “You just want to see it.”

  “You got to see it—”

  “Just barely. I scooped it up and stuffed it in the sack.”

  “It’s more than I got to see it—”

  The first trooper sighed. “Fine,” he said, and lifted the flap, opening the bag. “There, you
happy?”

  “Whoa.” The second trooper stared down at the wrinkled, wide-eyed face peering up at him. “What is that thing?”

  “I don’t know, it’s a pet or something.”

  “A pet?” He extended one finger to touch it, and the thing opened its mouth and bit him. He yelped and jerked his hand back, then punched it hard.

  The first trooper shrugged. “Serves you right.”

  “Stop that,” an automated voice said in front of them.

  Both troopers grabbed their blasters and pointed them up at the shining metal form advancing toward them. “Identify yourself!”

  “I am IG-11,” the droid said. “I am this child’s nurse droid and require that you remand him to me immediately.”

  “A nurse droid?” The second trooper glanced at his partner. “I thought it was a hunter. Aren’t IGs usually hunters?”

  “Well, evidently this one’s a nurse,” the first trooper said.

  “I’m sorry, nurse, but you’re gonna have to get out of here.”

  IG-11 continued to walk toward them. “Are you refusing my request?”

  “No,” the trooper said, aiming his blaster at the droid’s head, “I’m telling you to get out of here.”

  Moving in a blur, the IG grabbed the trooper’s gun hand and twisted. The trooper screamed as his wrist snapped, and the droid flipped him over and threw him on the ground. Spinning, the IG whipped around and slapped the second trooper’s blaster aside, grabbed him around the neck, and began smashing his head repeatedly against the speeder bike. Then it walked over, picked up the child, and seated itself on the other speeder bike, activating its engine. The Child blinked and gazed up at him.

  “That was unpleasant,” IG-11 said. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

  They took off.

  Inside the public house, the standoff continued.

  With her back against the wall, Cara glanced at Greef Karga. “Is there another way out?”

  “No,” Karga said. “That’s it.”