Star Wars: The Mandalorian Junior Novel

by Joe Schreiber

  Mando stopped and looked around as the Armorer stepped out of the shadows.

  “It was not his fault,” she said. “We knew what could happen if we left this place. The Imperials arrived shortly thereafter.” She gazed down at the pile of armor and helmets. “This is what resulted.”

  “Did any survive?” Mando asked.

  “I hope so. Some may have escaped off-world.”

  He looked at her. “Come with us.”

  “No,” she said. “I will not abandon this place until I have salvaged what remains.”

  Mando and the others watched as she began gathering up pieces of armor. They followed her to her forge, where she took the armor in a pair of tongs and held it over the blue jets of flame. “Show me the one whose safety deemed such destruction.”

  “This is the one,” Mando said, showing her the Child.

  “This is the one that you hunted, then saved?”

  “Yes,” he said, and then added, “The one that saved me, as well.”

  She gazed at the Child, who peered up, cooing, from under the flap of the bag. “It looks helpless,” she observed.

  “It is injured,” Mando said, “but not helpless. Its species can move objects with its mind.”

  The Armorer did not seem surprised. “I know of such things. The songs of eons past tell of battles between Mandalore the Great and an order of sorcerers called Jedi that fought with such powers.”

  “It is an enemy?”

  “No,” she said. “Its kind were enemies, but this individual is not.” She looked at the Child again. “It is a foundling. By Creed, it is in your care.” Leaning forward, she began carefully ladling the molten beskar into its mold. “You have no choice. You must reunite it with its own kind.”

  “Where?”

  “This, you must determine.”

  Mando stared at her. “You expect me to search the galaxy for the home of this creature and deliver it to a race of enemy sorcerers?”

  “Until that time, or it comes of age, it is in your care. You are as its father.”

  “Father?”

  “This is the Way.” The Armorer nodded. “You have earned your signet.” Walking forward, she affixed the mudhorn signet to his right pauldron. “You are a clan of two.”

  “Thank you,” Mando said. “I will wear this with honor.”

  A distant explosion echoed in the outer corridor.

  “A scouting party,” the Armorer said. “You should go.” She turned to the droid. “IG, please guard the outer hallway.”

  The droid turned and handed the Child to Cara, who took it awkwardly. “Hang on. I don’t do the baby thing,” she said, but the Child squealed happily in her arms.

  The Armorer returned her attention to the Mandalorian. “I have one more gift for your journey,” she said. “Have you trained in the Rising Phoenix?”

  “When I was a boy,” Mando said.

  “Then this,” she said, turning to give him the jet pack, “will make you complete.”

  “Thank you,” he said. Outside, the explosions and blasters had grown louder and closer. Mando glanced over at Cara and Greef Karga. They had restocked their ammo, but could no longer afford to stay there. It was time to go.

  When they were gone, the Armorer knelt down before her forge. She made herself very still and listened to the footsteps of stormtroopers as they approached from behind—five of them, she estimated. Even as they grew near enough to touch her, she remained absolutely motionless.

  “Hey, Mando,” one of them said. “Where are they?” He banged the muzzle of his blaster against her helmet. “I said, where are they?”

  What happened next took less than twenty seconds. The Armorer swung her hammer hard, smashing him in the face, then spun and drove it into the helmet of the trooper opposite her. In her other hand, the chisel flew out and crashed into the third trooper’s chest while she grabbed the fourth and shoved him headfirst into the blue jets of fire. When the trooper in front of her sprang up again, firing wildly, she grabbed him and spun him around so his blaster took out the attacker behind him. Dropping him, she brought the hammer down again. This time the trooper stayed down.

  The room fell silent. She looked at the bodies surrounding her and felt nothing but a small but vital sense of peace, the tiniest bit of order restored.

  She approached the forge, preparing to clean off her tools and return to work.

  MANDO AND THE OTHERS followed the tunnel to the river, which flowed toward the lava flats. As they walked, the smell of sulfur grew steadily stronger, along with the heat. At the river’s edge, bubbling lava surrounded the boat. The vessel didn’t appear to have been used in a very long time and remained stubbornly attached to the shore. The ferry droid sat silent, its circuits apparently fried, while Mando and Karga struggled to push the boat free.

  “You guys mind getting out of the way?” Cara asked. Shifting the Child to one arm, she raised her rifle and opened fire along the riverbank, blasting the hardened lava until the vessel broke loose, bobbing in the stream. They all climbed in.

  Alerted by the disturbance, the ferry droid whirred to life, its processors blinking and brightening in recognition of its passengers. It rose up on long legs until it stood towering over them in the stern of the boat, paddle in hand, and chirped out an inquiry.

  “I believe he is asking where we would like to go,” IG-11 said.

  “Downriver,” Karga said, “to the lava flat.”

  The droid set to work and began to paddle. Orange liquid fire sloshed around them on either side as the boat moved slowly forward. Mando saw strange, red-eyed creatures scurrying in the darkness along the banks.

  “That’s it!” Karga pointed at the light up ahead. “We’re free!”

  Mando activated his helmet scanner. “No,” he said. He looked at the outlines of at least a dozen figures clustered outside, on either side of the exit point, waiting in silence. “Stormtroopers. They’re flanking the mouth of the tunnel. They must know we’re coming.”

  “Stop the boat!” Cara said. “Droid! I said stop the boat!” She pointed her blaster at the ferry droid’s processing array and pulled the trigger. The droid’s head burst apart in a shower of sparks, and it fell still and stopped paddling. But it didn’t matter. The boat continued to move forward in the lava flow surrounding it.

  IG looked in the direction of the stormtrooper platoon. “They will not be satisfied with anything less than the Child,” the droid said. “This is unacceptable. I will eliminate the enemy, and you will escape.”

  Mando looked at the droid. “You don’t have that kind of firepower, pal. You wouldn’t even get to daylight.”

  “That is not my objective,” IG-11 said. “I still have the security protocols from my manufacturer. If my designs are compromised, I must self-destruct.”

  “What are you talking about?” Mando asked.

  “I am not permitted to be captured. I must be destroyed.” The droid faced the bounty hunter. “Sadly, there is no scenario where the Child is saved in which I survive.”

  “No,” Mando said, “you’re not going anywhere. We need you.”

  “Please tell me the Child will be safe in your care.”

  “But you’ll be destroyed—”

  “And you will live,” the IG said, “and I will have served my purpose.” It looked at the Mandalorian. “There is nothing to be sad about. I have never been alive.”

  “I’m not…sad,” Mando said.

  “Yes, you are. I’m a nurse droid. I’ve analyzed your voice.” IG-11 reached down and ran its mechanized finger over the Child’s face, almost tenderly.

  Then it turned and stepped out of the boat, into the hissing river of molten lava.

  MANDO AND THE OTHERS stood in the boat, watching as IG-11 waded through the lava, making its way toward the exit. Outside the mouth of the tunnel, the platoon of stormtroopers moved forward, blasters pointed at the droid as it stepped into daylight.

  “Manufacturer’s protocol dictates tha
t I cannot be captured,” the IG said, and the detonator implanted inside its body began beeping rapidly. “I must be destroyed.”

  The blinking light on the detonator went solid red.

  The explosion was huge.

  As the boat drifted out of the tunnel, Mando looked at the bodies of stormtroopers sprawled on either side of the riverbank in the drifting smoke. The droid had done it. Giving its own life, it had saved them.

  A scream came across the sky. Mando jerked his head up to see the TIE fighter roaring toward them.

  “Moff Gideon!” Cara shouted, and raised her blaster. Mando and Karga joined her in shooting at the fighter as it looped overhead, the ship’s cannons pouring down fire on them.

  “He missed!” Karga said.

  “He won’t next time,” said Mando, watching as the TIE banked and prepared to come around again.

  “Hey,” Karga said, “let’s make the baby do the magic hand thing.” He looked hopefully over at the Child, wiggling his fingers. “Come on, baby! Do the magic hand thing!”

  The Child looked at him and waved, cooing.

  Karga sighed. “I’m out of ideas.”

  “I’m not,” Mando said. He picked up the jet pack the Armorer had given him and reached around, attaching it. They could see Moff Gideon’s TIE fighter heading back toward them, cannons blazing.

  Activating the jets, the Mandalorian flew straight up in the air, allowing the TIE to pass underneath him. He fired his grappling cable, affixing himself to the fighter, and felt it jerk him forward hard, swinging him across the open sky.

  Mando hit the jet pack again, propelling himself forward, and landed on the fighter’s cockpit dome, looking straight down at Gideon’s startled face. Gideon’s mouth twisted in a mixture of rage and determination. Mando pointed his blaster at the hatch and fired, but the cockpit door held.

  Gideon yanked hard to the left, tilting the ship sideways and throwing Mando off the cockpit as the fighter went spiraling. The bounty hunter grunted, sliding down to the left connector of the fighter and holding on with everything he had. He pulled a detonator from his belt and snapped it in place on the connector.

  Then he let go.

  Below, Cara and Greef Karga watched as the entire left side of Moff Gideon’s TIE fighter exploded, sending the ship off balance and careening to the ground, where it burst into a distant cloud of smoke.

  A moment later, the Mandalorian dropped down in front of them, landing in a slight crouch and then rising up with a sigh.

  Karga and Cara walked toward him. “That was impressive, Mando,” the Guild agent said. “Very impressive.” He nodded. “It looks like your Guild rates have just gone up.”

  “Any more stormtroopers?” the Mandalorian asked.

  “I think we cleaned up the town,” Cara said. “I’m thinking of staying around just to be sure.”

  “You’re staying here?” Mando asked.

  “Well, why not?” Karga said. He gestured toward the city. “Nevarro is a very fine planet, and now that the scum and villainy have been washed away, it’s very respectable again.”

  “As a bounty hunter hive?”

  Karga gave him a sidelong look. “Some of my favorite people are bounty hunters. And perhaps”—he reached out and put a hand on Cara’s shoulder—“this specimen of soldier might consider joining our ranks. And you, my friend”—he returned his attention to Mando—“you will be welcome back into the Guild with open arms.”

  Mando looked down at the Child, who was staring up at him, arms spread. The bounty hunter bent down and lifted him, cradling him against his chest. “I’m afraid I have more pressing matters at hand.”

  Cara leaned forward and touched the Child’s ear. “Take care of this little one.”

  “Or maybe,” Karga added, “it’ll take care of you.”

  Mando nodded, turned, and ignited the jet pack. He lifted off, feeling the Child in his arms turn his head to look back down at the receding landscape, and the two figures standing there, watching them go.

  Back at the Razor Crest, Mando buried Kuiil and left his helmet and goggles as a monument where the Ugnaught had fallen. He carried the Child on board the ship, powered it up, and got the engines firing.

  The Child sat behind him, sucking on something. Mando realized that it was the mythosaur necklace he’d given Cara before they went down into the sewers. The Child had somehow ended up with it around his neck.

  Mando gently pulled the mythosaur out of the Child’s mouth. “I didn’t think I’d see this again,” he said, then put it back in the Child’s hand. “Why don’t you hang on to that?”

  The Child put it back in his mouth.

  The Razor Crest lifted up and took off.

  A moment later, they were gone.

  It didn’t take long for the Jawas to discover the wreckage of the TIE fighter. Even with the damage, there was much to salvage, and they started prying off pieces of it, getting ready to carry them away.

  A sudden crackling sound erupted from within.

  The Jawas let out startled cries and scattered as the laser blade sliced through the cockpit from the inside. It carved out a vaguely rectangular piece of metal, which burst loose.

  A moment later, Moff Gideon stepped out, with the Darksaber in hand.

  He climbed to the top of the fighter’s cockpit and stood with the saber blazing in his grasp, surveying the land around him with cold and watchful eyes.

  Things have changed, he thought.

  But the situation was not without possibilities.

  He had much work to do.