Quiet, comfortable time never lasts. The Resistance had far too much to do, and two days later, most of them had already departed.
Amir was leaving too. Even though he had never formally said he would join them, everyone here had long since treated him as one of their own. When it was time to part, they all showed reluctance and asked him to stay—to keep fighting alongside them.
But Amir didn't accept for now. He liked these people a lot, but he wanted to help them in the future in his own way.
Millisyn whispered with Mona for a long time, then obediently ran up onto the ship. Now she could be considered a youngling-in-training—she would keep learning with Amir and Obi-Wan.
Ever since injured Amir had been brought back and placed in the medpod, Millisyn—who used to run wild everywhere—had suddenly become quiet. She went to No. 32 for a datapad and, whenever she wasn't doing anything, sat beside Amir and "studied"… even if most of the time she was fighting sleep.
BD-4 was fine. A few internal lines had snapped from the shock, but after Amir woke up he fixed it, and BD-4 was quickly back to bouncing around.
The biggest headache was Din Djarin. The little green kid he'd rescued seemed to latch onto him. He stayed around Din's side all day and ignored everyone else's care. With no other choice, Mando was forced into childcare.
Amir went to see little Grogu as well. Among all the children, Grogu was the only one who had once been a Jedi youngling.
Being the same species as Master Yoda, Grogu had an exceptionally long lifespan. He was already over thirty years old, yet he still looked like a baby—two or three at most. Compared to humans, who rarely reached a full century, his people could live close to ten times that. In the stories, Master Yoda returned to the Force at over nine hundred.
Obi-Wan recognized Grogu. Back when the Jedi Order still stood, Grogu had remained in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, receiving Jedi instruction—and he had talent.
As for the other children, everyone agreed not to interfere with the paths they chose for themselves. But Grogu had already been a Jedi youngling, and Obi-Wan found it difficult not to care.
Over the past two days, both Obi-Wan and Ahsoka had tried speaking with Grogu for a long time. They still couldn't determine what he wanted.
The only clear discovery was that the child had sealed himself off from the Force. He kept avoiding it, carrying an instinctive aversion.
Whatever he'd lived through had clearly left deep trauma. For him, the Force had brought nothing but pain for years.
What Grogu needed most now was a sense of safety. Only when he opened his heart again—when he was willing to trust the world again, willing to be brave for something, willing to face the pain buried inside—could he restore his deep connection to the Force.
So he should stay here.
When Ahsoka saw Amir preparing to leave, she walked over and pulled him aside.
"Come with me."
Not knowing what she wanted, Amir followed her into the base.
They entered a larger room deeper in the ruins—this was their warehouse, stacked with supplies. Most of it was loot taken from the experimental base.
"That base had enormous stockpiles," Ahsoka said happily. "Especially nutrient solution—probably because they were growing clones, so they had a ridiculous amount. We can process it into solid nutrient paste. The composition is a little different, but as rations it's excellent. Soon, people on the worlds we support will be eating it—and it'll last them a long time."
"There should be a lot of medical equipment too," Amir said, smiling with the same quiet relief. A few hundred grams of nutrient paste could keep an adult alive for days, and now half the warehouse was stacked with nutrient solution that could be turned into it. No wonder Ahsoka was excited.
The Resistance usually dropped supplies once a week. For life-sustaining food, this was vastly better than what they had before.
"Of course," Ahsoka said. "And there's even more we didn't get out. Our two cargo haulers have limited capacity, so we only took the most critical pieces." She pointed Amir toward a row of crates in a corner, each marked with instrument models and serial codes—top-tier machines without question.
"And this is what I really wanted to show you," Ahsoka said, walking to the deepest part of the room and lifting a crate lid.
Inside were neatly arranged silvery-white metal ingots.
Amir's mouth fell open. He couldn't help picking one up and tapping it by his ear.
He couldn't actually tell the difference by sound—but the ritual mattered, and he recognized the metal.
Beskar.
The highest-grade material for Mandalorian armor.
Hiring Din Djarin had cost only three ingots. Yet this crate held at least thirty or forty.
After Mandalore fell to the Empire, Mandalorians lost control of their world and beskar became far harder to obtain—especially for Din Djarin's clan, for whom finding beskar was nearly impossible.
His clan was called the Children of the Watch. They clung obsessively to ancient Mandalorian tradition and followed strict doctrine—one of which was their absolute refusal to remove their helmets in front of others. They believed those old teachings were the foundation of Mandalorian identity. To lose tradition was betrayal, impurity—just as their saying went:
This is the Way.
But the Mandalorians on Mandalore no longer followed those rules. People on the planet removed their helmets freely. For Din Djarin's group, that was intolerable, so they left their homeworld and split from what was considered "mainstream" Mandalorian society. After the Empire's purge, they could only hide in dark underground tunnels.
Before Din Djarin met Amir, the only piece of beskar he had was his helmet—and that might have been something his clan elders had accumulated over many years.
"So much beskar…" Amir said, amazed. "That's one of the most valuable alloys there is—hard currency in the galaxy, always."
"Not just this," Ahsoka said. "There are three more crates."
"What? Gideon was involved in the Great Purge of Mandalore?!" Amir blurted, stunned.
A crate of beskar wasn't something you measured in "tens of thousands of credits." Its value wasn't only monetary—it was practical. A lightsaber couldn't cut through it. Blasters wouldn't even leave a mark.
"I can't rule it out," Ahsoka said, her expression turning serious.
The Mandalorian purge was a tragedy, and Ahsoka remembered it all too clearly.
When Order 66 was issued, she had been on Mandalore, and she had personally captured Maul—the usurper who had seized control and declared himself Mandalore's leader.
Seeing Amir's eyes stuck on the beskar, Ahsoka smiled.
"Do you like it? Take a crate."
Amir turned, startled. That generous? This was a fortune, and the Resistance's greatest shortage was credits.
"Take it," Ahsoka said seriously. "Without you, none of us could have pulled this off. And we don't have much else we can offer as thanks."
"I'll take part of it—enough for a bracer," Amir said, embarrassed to accept that much. But he really did want some. Combined with his own stash, it would be enough to build a few things.
Most importantly: a bracer. This galaxy was brutally unfriendly to wrists—lightsabers always went for the wrist. No thanks.
And shoulder armor couldn't be neglected either.
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STAR WARS: RELICS OF THE PAST
🌌⚔️ STAR WARS: RELICS OF THE PAST ⚔️🌌
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📢 THE FORCE CALLS AGAIN! 📢
Star Wars: Relics of the Past has 100+ chapters ahead available on Patreon! 🌠🛰️
Ancient secrets, forgotten relics, Jedi echoes, and buried truths wait in the shadows of the galaxy.
✨ Some things were lost for a reason.⚔️ Some powers should never be awakened.🌌 And some stories begin long after history tried to erase them.
Follow the trail of ancient relics before the rest of the galaxy catches up.
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