Chapter Text
Din and Grogu had been on their trials for a few weeks when Din decided they needed a break. The galaxy could wait. So when he landed beside his small cottage on Nevarro, he wasn’t expecting to see Greef Karga standing on the front porch.
“Mando!” Greef waved cheerfully.
Din stepped out of the ship, his boots crunching against the dry soil. The sun was low, casting long shadows across the yard.
“High Magistrate,” Din said, walking over. They shook hands firmly. “How did you know we’d returned?”
“I asked the port to notify me when you checked in,” Greef replied. “I’ve got something important to talk to you about.”
Din gestured toward the porch. “Take a seat.”
Greef sat beside him while Grogu busied himself in the small pond on the front lawn, chasing a curious frog with quiet delight.
Din leaned back. “And what is this very important something?”
“A urgent favour for an old friend,” Greef said, his tone shifting to serious.
Din narrowed his eyes behind the visor. “What kind of favor?”
“An easy one, I assure you. A friend of mine has some very important cargo that needs an escort.”
Din tilted his head. “Sounds easy enough. Why are you asking me?”
Greef hesitated, then smiled uneasily. “They need it to be discreet and quick. And it pays well.”
Din crossed his arms. “It’s not illegal cargo, is it? And why not just hire a professional smuggler?”
“No, not illegal. He swore on that. And they insisted it needed someone with discipline and honor. Made me think of you immediately.”
Din didn’t respond right away. He watched Grogu splash in the pond, then turned back to Greef.
“What about the kid? He comes with me.”
Greef shook his head. “Honestly, I wouldn’t advise it. The planets you’re heading to are holding a ceasefire until this cargo is delivered, but who knows how long that’ll last. I can watch him. It’s only for a few days.”
Din’s posture stiffened. Something about this felt off. He turned his helmet toward Greef and took a slow breath.
“What are you not telling me?”
Greef smiled innocently. “What do you mean?”
“It’s never that easy,” Din muttered.
“Well…” Greef scratched the back of his neck. “You’d have to use their ship. And their pilot. Who just happens to be a droid.”
Din stood abruptly. “No! You know IG and R5 are the only droids I trust.”
“Mando, Din,” Greef said trying to calm him down. “You know I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it’d be beneficial for both of us. You get a big payday, and I repay a favor.”
Din stared at him for a long moment. Then he sighed.
“Fine. But this one’s going on your tab.”
They shook hands again. Greef handed him a chit with the contact information.
“I’ll pick up the kid in the morning,” he said, turning to leave. He waved goodbye to Grogu, who chirped happily from the pond.
Din walked over and scooped Grogu into his arms. “Come on, kid. I need to pack.”
As they stepped inside the cottage, Din glanced down at Grogu, who blinked up at him with wide eyes.
“What did I get myself into?” he murmured.
---
The next day…
Din sat in the N1 starfighter, coordinates locked for Kriosia. It was only a few hours away, just enough time to read up on the assignment. He plugged in the chit and pulled up the sparse details.
Contact: Kriosian Ambassador Briam
Cargo: Unspecified
Route: Kriosia to Valtia
Duration: 4 days in hyperspace
Pilot: Mark IV Architect Droid (M4-A)
“Dank Ferrick,” Din muttered. “An Architect droid.”
He rolled his eyes. Those models were notorious for being know-it-alls, pedantic, sarcastic, and frustratingly precise.
With no one else aboard, Din removed his helmet and took a deep breath. He stared at his reflection in the cockpit window, the blue streaks of hyperspace rushing past like ghosts. The solitude was rare. He let it settle around him.
He spent the rest of the flight researching the two planets.
Kriosia: rich in minerals and fuel.
Valtia: abundant in agriculture and water.
Despite their complementary resources, the two had been reluctant trading partners. Recently, Kriosia had accused Valtia of poisoning a grain shipment, cutting off all exports in retaliation.
Din frowned. So what the heck am I delivering?
He didn’t like flying blind. The more he read, the more uneasy he felt. Centuries of on-and-off war between the two planets. Tensions simmering just beneath the surface.
He was grateful Grogu was safe at home.
The ship signaled arrival. Din replaced his helmet and guided the N1 into Kriosia’s atmosphere. After confirming his credentials with the port, he landed in the courtyard of a sprawling palace.
An elderly man in dark purple robes awaited him, walking slowly with a cane that clicked against the stone.
Din jumped down from the N1 and approached.
“Well met, Mandalorian,” the man said, stopping a few feet away.
“I am Ambassador Briam. Welcome to Kriosia.” He bowed his head respectfully.
“Thank you, Ambassador.” Din returned the gesture.
“I appreciateyou arriving so quickly. Karga said you were a busy man.”
“Oh? What else did our friend Karga say?” Din asked, curious.
“That you were just the man for the job.” Briam’s smile lingered a moment too long, making Din uneasy.
“Let me show you the ship you’ll be taking,” the ambassador said, getting straight to the point.
Din followed. “What exactly am I escorting?”
“We’re paying you enough that it shouldn’t matter.”
“And it’s not illegal?” Din pressed.
“Absolutely not. Just… very precious.”
The way he said precious made Din’s gut tighten. This wasn’t just cargo.
“Is the droid necessary? I’m a capable pilot.”
“He’s part of the cargo,” Briam replied. “He’s programmed to fly this specific ship and will remain with the cargo upon delivery.”
Din noticed the ambassador’s face twitch. A stray tear escaped before he turned away.
“You alright, Ambassador?” Din asked carefully.
“Yes, of course!” Briam replied, too quickly.
He gestured toward a gleaming J-type 327 Nubian royal starship. Its polished hull shimmered in the sunlight.
“Wizard,” Din breathed. “A J-type Nubian. Impressive.”
He nearly rushed forward like an excited child, but stopped short when he saw the droid descending the ramp.
“M4, this is the Mandalorian,” Briam said. “He’ll be escorting you to Valtia.”
Din didn’t bother nodding.
“I still don’t see why we need a heavily-armed mammal,” M4 said dryly. “Unless we expect the cargo to be threatened by… feelings.”
Briam sighed. “We’ve been over this.”
“Yes, yes. Flesh and blood.” The droid’s tone sharpened, almost muttering.
Din blinked. Did that droid just mumble?
“Don’t worry, Mandalorian. He’ll behave. Won’t you, M4?”
“If that’s what you’d like to believe, Ambassador,” M4 replied smoothly.
Din was still processing the droid’s strange behavior when Briam ushered them both aboard. At the top of the ramp, the ambassador paused and turned back.
“Good luck. I’ll see you back here in eight days.”
He descended slowly, then stopped once more.
“May the Force be with you,” he said, eyes glistening with tears.
The ramp closed, leaving Din alone with the droid and a growing sense that this mission was far more than it seemed.