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“Everything’s going to be all right, Mando.”
Din glanced up as Cara Dune slid into the booth next to him, tankard of something frothing in her hand. “I am all right.” He felt like he’d said this a hundred times already on the flight back to Tatooine. Fett had let them hitch a ride after they dumped Gideon off at the nearest New Republic base. Cara was set to charter a ship back to Nevarro in a few hours. Across from them, Fennec nursed her own drink. This was meant as a send off for Cara, which was the only reason Din agreed to come to begin with, but he wasn’t interested in rehashing what had happened with the Grogu tonight. Or ever if he could help it.
“It was the right thing to do.” It was the rote statement, what he’d been saying to himself for the last 48 hours as a mantra to keep those feelings – guilt, regret, grief – at bay. Din stared down into the hideously bright blue glass of spotchka in front of him. It had been a mistake to order it because it only reminded him of their time on Sorgan. And how happy the kid had been. And how happy HE had been. And of course Omera…
“No,” Cara said slowly, “I mean about this.”
“Wh-” Din’s question was cut off as a hand slammed down on the table.
“You GAVE your kid to a total STRANGER?! Is your head filled with sand or what?” Din groaned inwardly as he looked up to see the frizzy-haired mechanic glaring at him. He had purposely avoided hanger 3-5 for this very reason.
‘Eeeeooouuuuahaho’
Din did a double-take as the Frog woman he’d ferried to Trask walked up next to Peli with a glass in each hand. He sighed. “What is she doing here?”
“What is she doing here?” Peli repeated mockingly at him. “I went and got her. It’s called an intervention, bucko. We all care about that weird green womp rat too, you know.”
The two of them slid in next to Fennec who just gave Din an apologetic shrug.
“A what?”
“An intervention.” Peli pointed a finger at him. “YOU gave your kid to some black-cloaked weirdo without doing so much as a background check on him, much less getting name and location. What kind of bounty hunter are you?”
“He...he said he was a Jedi,” Din replied meekly. She wasn’t wrong per se, but she hadn’t been there either. “The kid seemed okay with him.”
“Oh he SAID he was a Jedi. And you just took his word for it?”
“He had the laser sword. And did the…” he waved his hand “...sorcery.”
“Yeah, ever considered he could be one of those evil ones? The, uh, sints, skints, shifts…”
‘aoaoiaoeeeoooo’ Frog Lady nodded encouragingly.
“Yes, thank you! Siths! Those dark force users, like Vader and the Emperor.”
“Wait, they were Jedi?”
Cara cleared her throat. “Force users, but not Jedi.”
Beneath the helmet, Din scrunched his face up. Evil enemy sorcerers? Why hadn’t anybody said anything before? “I didn’t know about those.”
“Give the guy a break,” Cara said. “He was working on his second brain injury of the year.”
“Thanks. Hey…”
“Point is,” Peli gritted out, “your kid’s now gone with this guy and you have no idea who or where he is.”
“I know who he is.” A large tankard slammed down at the head of the table.
All heads swiveled to the arrival of Boba Fett, resplendent in his freshly painted dark green armor and looming above them like the newly installed crime boss he was. He lifted off his helmet, setting it on the table, and took a long swig.
Fennec spoke up, “How would you know who he is, boss? You weren’t even there.”
He gestured to her with his tankard. “Excellent question. I contacted the Princess’s little pet…uh”
“Koska?” Fennec supplied.
“Right, Koska. Now there was one saucy little hellcat,” he replied with a salacious grin. “Wouldn’t mind a second go around with her.”
“You can say that again,” Cara murmured into her own cup with an appreciative smile of her own.
Boba laughed raucously and slid next to Cara, lifting his tankard towards her to clink and they shared a drink.
Din wanted to slide beneath the table.
“Well?” Peli asked after Boba had finished his drink in several audible swallows and set the tankard down with a thud.
“Right. So, anyway, I had Koska send me over security footage from the bridge and, my friends, that was Luke Skywalker.”
“You’re kidding me?” Cara said.
“No way,” Peli gasped.
“Huh,” Fennec shrugged and sipped her drink.
Frog Lady looked at Din.
“Who?” asked Din.
“Are you sure?” Cara asked suspiciously as if she expected to be the butt of a huge prank.
“On my father’s name. Had a run in with the little runt and his friends while doing work for Jabba that got me knocked into the sarlacc pit and gave me this pretty mug,” he replied pointing at his face. “I ain’t ever forgetting his.”
“Dank ferrik.” Cara whistled.
“Will someone please tell me who Luke Skywalker is?” Din said in exasperation, wanting that insidious feeling of hope to stop growing hotter in his chest.
Cara turned to Din. “He was some rookie flyboy that made the lucky shot that destroyed the first Death Star. And rumor has it he had something to do with taking down the second one too.”
“You know him? Did you know he was a Jedi?”
“Know of him. It was mostly just a story to tell the scared newbies to boost their morale. And no, nothing was ever said about him being a Jedi. At least that I recall.”
“He’s from around here, y’ know” Peli piped in. “Skywalker farm was about 80 kliks up thataway. Word has it it was burnt down by the Imps and that’s why he joined up with the rebellion.”
“So what now?” Boba asked casually.
Din lifted his drink, pushed his helmet back enough to let himself take a swallow. Peli’s eyes grew wide and Frog Lady cocked her head to the side. The helmet dropped back into place and he turned to Cara. “Can you find out how to locate him?”
She gave him a toothy grin and gave his pauldron a shake. “I’ll hit up every contact I have until I do. I swear.”
He nodded at her in gratitude as that little fire of hope kindled even stronger. “I guess I’m going to find my foundling, then.”
“To finding Bright Eyes!” Peli announced, raising her glass to the middle of the table.
“To the kid,” the others added raising their own to meet it.
“To Clan Djarin,” Din said.