Before heading outside to the Razor Crest, Luke and Grogu returned to the medical bay’s reception desk and pulled the receptionist aside, putting a droid in charge of it for now. They sat in a few chairs, away from waiting patients, Grogu sitting between Luke and the woman.
The woman faced Luke, saying, “No, Dante’s a doctor. He specializes in head injuries. That was why I sent your friend to him.”
“Does he migrate around the galaxy?” Luke inquired, tapping his fingers on the chair’s headrest.
“Ever since the Empire killed his family, yes,” the receptionist answered (Luke shivered). “I think that’s how he grieves—trying to help others, but he tends to stay in the Outer Rim. He may have just left early. Why?”
Luke crossed one knee over the other. “He gave Mando… Din, a temporary helmet yesterday, but ever since he’s put it on, he’s forgetting things and seems more irritable.”
“Doesn’t he have a concussion?”
Luke paused. “Well, yes, but…” His voice trailed.
The receptionist flicked her wrist. “It’s the Force. I get it.” She looked down at Grogu, who tried sitting as tall as Luke, arms crossed over his chest. “Who’s this little guy?”
“Grogu. He’s Mando’s kid. He adopted him a few years ago. We’re here because he’s worried about him.” Luke uncrossed his knees. “Do you know where Dante’s going next?”
The receptionist shook her head. “No, but if it will help, I kind of know where he’s from.”
“Anything,” Luke said, almost begging her.
“He’s from a far corner of the Outer Rim. A planet or two away from Oamia, I believe.”
Oamia again.
“Thank you,” Luke said, standing. “Come on, Grogu. Oamia is a must now.”
After studying the receptionist for a little longer, Grogu hopped out of his seat and parked himself beside Luke.
On their way out, the woman brought her hand to the side of her mouth, calling, “Good luck.”
Luke waved back. “May the Force be with you.”
He and Grogu left the bay and returned to the Razor Crest, boarding. They found Rotta and Zeb in the common room, playing Dejarik, but there was no sign of R2 or Mando.
“Ha! Got you!” Zeb said when his holographic monster knocked down Rotta’s. He hit the table, the holograms glitching, and soon noticed Luke. “Oh, hey Luke. You’re back.”
“Where’s Din?” Luke inquired, slightly glaring at Rotta.
Not noticing his expression, Zeb answered, “Rotta knocked him out.”
“You knocked him out?” Eyes widening, Luke focused on Rotta’s meaty hands.
“Not like that!” Zeb shut off the game and straightened his shoulders. “Rotta just gave him a drink and”—he tilted his head—“poof.”
“You’re welcome.” Rotta folded his own arms.
Luke still wasn’t buying it. “Is he alone?”
“No,” Zeb answered. “R2’s with him. Rotta only did it because he was getting restless and hurting himself. He needed to slow down, but he should wake up in an hour.” He pushed his chair away from the table. “This should give us more time to practice flying the ship. I’m staying behind to look after the base, in case you need backup.”
A lump formed in Luke’s throat.
“You’ll be fine after a few more practice runs,” Zeb continued.
It took a minute, but Luke finally swallowed his lump. “Okay.” On slightly shaking legs, he went to the cockpit, strapped Grogu in, and sat in the pilot seat.
“What did you and Grogu learn?” Zeb questioned as he started up the ship.
“The doctor who gave Mando that helmet is from a planet relatively close to Oamia,” Luke said, slowly lifting the Razor Crest into the air. It stalled, but he straightened it. “So, we’re going in the right direction.” One of the Razor Crest’s wings tilted, but Luke clenched his teeth and pulled it up, though he strained.
Grogu, after one or two runs, ensured Luke wasn’t looking before unstrapping and lowering himself to the floor. He hobbled to the cockpit’s exit and lifted his hand, the door opening.
Grogu bypassed the common room and Rotta, playing a lone game of Dejarik (though he looked lost in thought), and went to the berthing compartment. He again raised his hand, and the button beside the door pressed down on its own.
The second Grogu entered the compartment, R2 beeped, and a blue scanner landed on him.
Instantly lifting his arms, Grogu stood on his tiptoes.
R2 scanned him for a bit, then dropped his laser and moved away from Mando’s capsule.
Seeming to sigh, Grogu put his feet back on the floor and lowered his arms. He jumped onto Mando’s bed, grabbing a blanket at the end of it. Grogu lugged it over Mando, who lay on his side, arm under his pillow, and prodded him.
When he didn’t flinch, Grogu moved to his head, stepping over his other arm. He reached for his helmet, but cried out when something pushed him. Grogu flew off the bed onto the floor, landing on his front, his arms outstretched.
R2 beeped again and rolled to him. A claw escaped the front of his body, and he took Grogu’s hand, pulling him to his feet.
Soon after, Mando woke and pushed up onto his elbow. “Grogu!” Did he yell? “What are you doing here? I told you that I want nothing to do with you right now.”
Grogu flinched, his shoulders sagging. Whimpering, he hurried toward the exit.
“Grogu!” Mando called from behind, instant regret in his voice. Rotta was right about him being a little restless. “No. No, no, no.” Mando nearly fell out of the bed.
His head. Mando grabbed the helmet, his fingers digging into its underbody. He pulled, but the helmet didn’t budge (it felt like a shockwave was circling Mando’s head). He tried again. Nothing. “No,” he repeated, stumbling around the room and almost crashing into R2.
What was happening? The doctor himself gave Mando the helmet. “Grogu!” he yelled again.
Grogu rushed to the Razor Crest’s cockpit and leaped into Luke’s face, causing the ship to stall again.
“Grogu!” Luke said, pulling him off and holding him before him. “Why are you out of your seat? What’s wrong?”
“Papa!” Grogu seemed to say, gesturing at the exit.
“Papa?” Luke translated, his face whitening. He quickly unbuckled himself and put the ship on autopilot, drawing his saber. He, Zeb, and Grogu sprinted out of the cockpit, running into Rotta, who was already at the berthing.
“Oh, thank goodness!” he said.
Luke pushed past him and opened the door. He, Zeb, and Grogu entered, and Luke activated his saber again.
There was Mando, continuing to stumble around the room, hands still on his head.
R2 kept trying to avoid him, but he moved so unsteadily on his feet that Mando tripped over him anyway and fell onto his backside. That was the first time he sounded genuinely traumatized, but he didn’t yell.
“I can’t take the helmet off. Please.”
Luke narrowed his eyes. “It’s corrupted, Din. I told you not to put it back on. It’s trying to brainwash you. It’s feeding on your fear.”
“Brainwash—?” Mando only pulled the helmet harder. “Please, make it stop.”
“I can’t. You did this to yourself.” Luke deactivated his saber and lowered Zeb’s blaster. “But it’s not too late. It’s like turning to the Dark Side. I know it’s hard, but you need to fight that fear so it doesn’t happen—until we find a way to get the helmet off you.”
“You mean that I’m stuck like this?” Mando deadpanned. “But the doctor gave me this helmet.” Did he seriously fall into a trap when he explicitly told Grogu that he couldn’t trust anybody? Mandalorians didn’t make mistakes, yet there Mando was—terrible role modeling.
“For now, yes…” Luke elucidated. “But we’re going to find answers about the helmet and that doctor on Oamia. Grogu and I went to the medical bay, and the receptionist told us that he’s from a planet in that sector. The best thing you can do, Din, is try to replace that fear with good memories.”
Zeb spoke: “It’s even more crucial that I stay behind now, too, to watch for anyone else who may be susceptible to brainwashing or potential traitors.” He grumbled his next sentence. “I feel that part of this is my fault because I took you to that doctor.”
Luke turned to him. “It’s nobody’s fault. The Mastermind’s just more dangerous than we thought.”
“I don’t want this,” Mando said. “Please.”
“I know.” Luke turned back to him. “But it happened.” He nudged Grogu toward Mando. “Don’t separate yourself from Grogu right now, Din. You need him.”
“But I’m dangerous,” Mando argued.
“No, you’re not,” Luke corrected. “You’re vulnerable. Those two words have different meanings.”
Mando lowered his head, eyes landing on Grogu.
Luke soon backed away and faced Zeb. “One more practice run, Zeb, and then we’ll drop you off.” He grasped his shoulder. “You did nothing wrong.” He saw Rotta standing in the doorway. “Sorry for pushing you, Rotta.”
His eyes lit up. “Does this mean that I’m part of the team now?”
Luke nodded, but it still looked like he wasn’t 100% Rotta’s best friend just yet. He was almost there, though.
Even in the tense moment, Rotta smiled. “Thank you, Master Skywalker. I promise that I won’t let you down.” He paused before including, “I am a bit hungry, though.”
And that was when something else crossed Mando’s mind. If he couldn’t remove the helmet, how could he eat and drink?
How could he survive?
ns216.73.216.45da2
and then Add to home screen.