Chapter Text
The most dangerous person in the fight is the one with the will to live. - Taught in US military combatives
A sharp, startled gasp disturbed the dark stillness of the room. Din's eyes flew open. His heart pounded in his chest while his lungs struggled to steady his breathing. The lancing fear of the dream, no nightmare, was still embedded in his nervous system and branded at the front of his brain. The pitch dark of the room was almost jarring to the red and orange planet he'd been on in his mind before waking.
He'd watched a mandalorian in black and red painted armor, with yellow sideways triangles on either side of his karta beskar, be gunned down with no chance to fight back. It was a cowardly attack. A poor way for any verd to die, but particularly for this one. Din could sense this man's significance. It shook Din to the core to stand by, unable to help or move, while the verd died in the red mud and orange dust. More startling was the green armored verd that ran up to drop to his knees beside the dying mandalorian. Din's fists clenched at the verd removing the helmet of the fallen mandalorian.
The man's face beneath the helmet was a mask of pain, blood, and tears. His black hair was blastered to his skull with sweat. His nose had clearly been broken more than once in his life time. His thin lips trickled blood at the corners. The sounds of his lungs drawing air in rattling wheezes were a death knell. The man wasn't long for the living.
"I'm sorry, Jaster. I should've had your back," The green armored verd sounded so young and disturbingly familiar.
The last thing Din remembered was the man's tearful, pained space dark eyes falling on Din. Watching the man take his last breath had shaken Din to the core. His horror had been what startled Din awake.
Maybe it was the utterly dishonorable way the mandalorian had been gunned down, or the stark familiarity of that name that Din couldn't quite place, but the dream stayed vivid in Din's mind.
It'd felt REAL.
Din had been there. He couldn't shake off the sick feeling settling in his gut or the residual horror that jangled along his nerves. He couldn't lay there a moment longer.
Din carefully pushed up to not disturb the sleeping child. Grogu grumbled only a little. He settled once the blanket was draped back around him. Din reached for his helmet on the bedside table. He donned it. The HUD flared to life. It was easy after that to kit up.
His hand landed on the Dark Saber. He nearly dropped it in surprise. It was hot to the touch and vibrating against his bare palm. Shivers broke out down his spine at the sudden whispers that tickled at the edges of his hearing. There was a dark, ominous tone to the voices. It felt like a warning was being given but he couldn't understand it. He quickly clipped it to his belt. The whispers cut silent when he took his hand off it.
He sighed in relief.
Every time he touched the Jedi kad it did that. He didn't know if he was losing his mind or if it truly was speaking. He'd asked Boba if he could hear it once. Boba had denied it and given Din a worried look. Din never brought it up again.
Din set the comm link on the bed near the child in case he woke while Din was gone. Quietly, the silver mandalorian slipped from his bedroom. He stepped out into the hall. Soft orange lights kept the passage bright enough without being to glaring.
Boba Fett had put a lot of credits into upgrading Jabba's palace. The dim, stinky, dusty place had been thoroughly gutted, scrubbed, and made more hospitable to non-slug beings. It now had a warm, cozy feeling in the housing quarters of the small tower where Din had been given a room. It was still some what stark but Boba was steadily working on changing that. Murals were being painted on the walls of the corridors. There were Tusken myths and gods on one side, and Mandalorian geometric art reminiscent of stained glass and metal windows on the other.
Din ran his fingers over the geometric shapes, that were beskar hearts when viewed up close, painted on the wall beside Din's room. In the center of the mural was the stylized Mythosaur skull, like the one on Boba's left pauldron, that had been created for the Haat Mando'ade. Boba considered it the sigil of his family heritage and history. He was proud to display it in stark relief, bold and black, against the light sandstone wall.
Din wandered through the halls into the throne room. He was not at all surprised to see Boba behind the great bar that dominated the right side of the room. Black Krrsantan was seated in front of the bar along with Fennec Shand and Cobb Vanth.
Din didn't question any of their sleeping habits. Bounty Hunters and mercenaries kept strange hours and when they did sleep it was rarely for long or restful. Such a life was not an easy, safe, or trauma free one. But it gave them something to bond over in the wee hours of the night. Din was not expecting to see Cobb awake though.
Din slid down to sit on the bar stool next to the Mos Pelgo sherriff. "Thought you had another day in bacta?" His eyes dropped to the prosthetic durasteel arm on Cobb's right shoulder. Guilt twisted in Din's gut. He doubted it would ever go away.
"I do. But I needed a break and some fresh air," Cobb smiled wanely. "A good ale helps sooth the ache too." He patted Din's arm. "Stop making that face, Din. I'm still alive. Gotta pay back the debt I owe to Boba for all that expensive bacta and surgery."
"I told you, no debt," Boba plunked down an ale in front of Din with a straw. "I owe your town for their help."
Cobb hummed, taking a swig of his ale, "Guess we'll just have to work something out, huh?"
Fennec groaned. "Can you please flirt in private? I've no stomach for it."
Krrsantan rumbled a chuckle while the other two men glared at her. Though neither tellingly denied her claims. Din smiled behind his visor. He fitted the straw under his helmet to take a long draw. His dry mouth and throat relished the soothing wet.
"What has you up, Din?" Boba asked curiously.
Din tapped his fingers on the bar top. He debated only a moment before admitting. "Nightmare...I think."
"You think?" Fennec arched an eyebrow.
Din hesitated. He looked around at all of them. He'd fought alongside each one. He trusted them with his life. So why not the truth of himself? "I have dreams some times...that are like... premonitions."
Every set of eyes shifted to him abruptly.
"Explain, vod," Boba crossed his arms and leaned on the bar top.
"I knew our village would be attacked before it happened. I woke up crying that night," Din confessed. "I knew Mandalore would be attacked. I knew about Grogu." He twisted his straw between his fingers. A moment of silence passed. They waited for him to continue. He sighed, "It's not often. Just significant moments that I only realize after or when it's happening. And it's usually to late to do anything other than acknowledge I knew it would happen. It tends to feel like deja vu."
"Sounds like you got a touch of the Force, friend," Cobb remarked.
"Star touched, or Manda blessed is what the Mandalorians call it," Boba explained.
Din frowned. "They do?"
"Did your Tribe not have any?" Boba frowned.
"No. I've never heard of this," Din's fingers squeezed around his beer mug.
"Would explain why you and your little one are so close," Fennec said in consideration.
Krrsantan rumbled impatiently. What's the dream about?
Din wet his mouth. He explained about the red planet. Seeing a Mandalorian get shot and bleeding out. Watching him die. He paused to glance at Boba before divulging about the verd in similiarly colored armor that sounded like a younger version of the Daimyo.
Boba's fists clenched. "Describe their armor in detail." Din did. A pained noise escaped Boba.
"Another clone?" Fennec hazarded to guess.
Boba shook his head. "I think your future dreaming is broken, vod. That's the past. It's already happened."
"How do you know?" Din asked, leaning closer.
"Because the mandalorion that you saw die was Jaster Mereel. And the green armored verd...was my father, Jango Fett," Boba replied, voice strained with emotion.
Cobb sat back. "Hells, man."
"You remember my chain code, Din?" Boba asked.
Din nodded slowly. Boba tapped a few buttons on his vambrace. A mini holo projector displayed the chain code again. This time, Din's eyes honed in on Jaster's name glowing there, whereas last time he'd been drawn mostly to Jango's name. Boba tapped again. A mandalorian with his helmet tucked under his arm stood there in the exact black armor as Din described. The man's jet black hair was short, wavy curls, his eyes were black as space, and his smile was bright and mischievous.
"Handsome fellow," Fennec murmured in appreciation.
"He was the Mand'alor of the Haat Mando'ade. Killed on Korda Six in 52 ABY. Died in Jango's arms after being betrayed and shot with an ion cannon fired by Tor Viszla, leader of Death Watch at the time," Boba explained. Boba pointed to the sigil on the right top of his cuirass with his free hand, while the holo stayed active on his opposite vambrace. "Jaster was once a Journeyman Protector for Concord Dawn, where he was born and raised. He was a true Mandalorian to the core, an honorable and fierce warrior. It's been decades since his death."
There was no doubt that this was the mandalorian in Din's dream. "Then why...?" Din stared at the holo, feeling somehow more shaken by this information and his own confusion.
He flinched at the sudden whispers that welled up and grew quickly in volume. On his belt the Dark Saber vibrated. Din dropped his gloved hand to the kad. He hissed in pain at the sharp burning sensation, even through his glove, and snatched his hand away. "The kark!?"
"Din?" Boba reached for him.
"Can you hear it?" He asked in alarm.
The whispers were angry.
You won't take your rightful place, Mand'alor. You refuse. None others are worthy in this time. We will bring him.
"Bring who?" Din asked, the voices like a crescendo in his ears.
"Vod?" Boba’s hand closed over Din's wrist.
We will bring him. He is worthy. He can unite our people.
"What? Who's worthy?" Din pressed a hand to the bridge of his helmet. Pressure was forming behind his eyes: a migraine the likes of which he never felt. It made his breath hitch hard.
We will bring him. Go get him. Go
Now. GO NOW!
"Go where!?" Din bit out between clenched teeth. The voices were a cacophony, overlapping and so intense it rattled through his skull, making Din curl over and inward on himself.
You know where. Go NOW! NOW!!
The voices, pain, and the pressure abruptly ceased.
"Din! Din!?" Boba shook his arm roughly.
Din drew in a shuddering breath. It felt like a hook had latched into his breastbone beside his heart and was yanking to hard to ignore. "I need to go to Korda Six." He abruptly stood up.
"I just told you Jaster Mereel is dead," Boba frowned, shooting the others a worried a look.
Din clenched his fists. "The Dark Saber wants me to go there."
"The Saber-!?" Cobb's brow scrunched.
"I'm going," Din started to stalk away.
"With what ship?" Boba's pointed question stopped Din up short. "Tell me what's going on or I will cuff you to the wall!"
Din sighed. He turned back. "The Dark Saber has been whispering for weeks. I thought I was hearing things. But I'm not. And it's been getting louder and angrier at me because I refuse to be Mand'alor. But just now," he looked at Boba, "It said "We will bring him and to go get him"."
"Who?" Fennec frowned.
Boba's mouth pinched. "He's dead, Din. And a sword shouldn't talk."
"It did. And I know what I dreamed," Din shot back. "I'm going."
Boba shook his head and sighed with exasperation. "Dinii...fine. Take the Slave but Fennec is piloting."
Din nodded. "Fair. Let's go." His helmet turned to Fennec.
"What, now?! Seriously?" She glanced at Boba.
"Just bring him and my ship back in one piece," Boba nodded, waving them away.
Fennec shoved up. "I'll meet you at the landing pad, Din."
Din nodded. "Thank you. I'll be there soon as I get the child."
He hurried down the hall. There was an anxious knot in the pit of his gut. A sense of urgency now felt like it was hounding his steps. And that tug in his chest hurt. He didn't understand it. But he'd gone on hunts with just as little to go on. That at least wasn't new but it was the strangest way he'd been given information.
Grogu didn't even grumble when Din lifted him to place in the pram. His trust in Din was implicit. It warmed Din to know. The child simply rolled over and settled back into a deep sleep.
20 minutes later, Slave 1 jumped into hyperspace. But it would be several days travel to Korda Six. Din only hoped whatever this feeling was would let up when he arrived. And he hoped that whatever was yanking him toward
Korda Six wasn't a trap of its own.