Chapter 9: The Battle of Sorgan - Part 2
POV: Oliver
The village celebrates around Oliver like he's watching someone else's life through a window. Children laugh and chase each other between the houses, their voices bright with the particular joy that comes after surviving something terrible. Adults share food and stories, their faces soft with relief and the quiet satisfaction of a community that stood together against the dark.
[MP: 40/92]
[HP: 180/210]
[SYSTEM STATUS: REGENERATING]
[NEURAL STRAIN: MODERATE]
Oliver sits on the steps of the common house, watching Grogu play with Winta and the other village children. The little green child has fashioned some kind of game involving floating his metal ball between his hands while the human children try to catch it. Their delighted squeals echo across the square.
For a moment—just a moment—Oliver lets himself imagine staying. Learning to tend krill ponds instead of dodging bounty hunters. Teaching village children about the creatures that share their forest instead of using those same creatures as weapons. Growing old in a place where the only danger is a bad harvest or a seasonal storm.
The fantasy is so vivid, so achingly real, that when his datapad buzzes against his chest, it feels like being struck by lightning.
Oliver pulls out the device with hands that have started shaking again. Another message has decrypted itself, the words appearing on the cracked screen like a death sentence:
"Syndicate Alert: Target confirmed on Sorgan. Retrieval team en route. ETA: 48 hours."
Reality crashes back like a cold wave, washing away every dream of peace he'd dared to entertain.
POV: Din Djarin
Din finds Oliver and Cara at the edge of the village, where the celebration gives way to the wild forest beyond. The strange man is showing the former shock trooper something on his datapad, their voices low and urgent.
"—forty-eight hours," Oliver is saying. "Maybe less if they push hard."
"Who are they?" Cara demands, her military instincts sharp as a vibroblade. "What do they want?"
Oliver runs a hand through his hair, the gesture speaking of exhaustion and frustration in equal measure.
"I don't know. This body had a life before me. Enemies. Debts. I'm just the one who has to pay them."
The words hit Din with unexpected force. There's something in Oliver's voice—a bone-deep weariness that reminds Din of soldiers after particularly brutal campaigns.
"Then we deal with them," Din says, stepping into their circle.
Oliver shakes his head, the movement sharp and decisive. "Not here. Not with kids around."
Cara studies Oliver with the intensity of someone trying to solve a tactical puzzle. "You're running."
"I'm protecting them." Oliver meets her gaze steadily, and Din sees something in the man's eyes that he recognizes—the look of someone who's made peace with sacrifice. "There's a difference."
The weight of that statement hangs between them like smoke from a funeral pyre. Din has seen that look before, in the mirror after particularly difficult jobs, in the faces of Mandalorians who chose exile over compromise.
"We leave at dawn," Din says finally.
POV: Omera
Omera finds Din standing beside the krill ponds as evening settles over the village like a gentle hand. The Mandalorian stares out at the water, his helmet reflecting the last light of Sorgan's sun.
"You saved us," she says quietly, approaching with the careful steps of someone who understands that this conversation will matter.
"It was the right thing to do."
"It was." She pauses, gathering courage for what comes next. "You could stay. Both of you. There's a place for you here, if you want it."
Through his visor, Din watches Grogu playing with Winta in the fading light. The children have built some elaborate game involving stacked stones and Force-assisted cheating, their laughter a counterpoint to the evening songs of forest creatures.
"The boy isn't safe here," Din says finally. "Neither is Oliver. They have enemies—powerful ones."
"Then let them go. You don't have to follow."
For a heartbeat, Din lets himself imagine it. Waking up to birdsong instead of proximity alarms. Teaching Winta about weapons that protect instead of kill. Growing old in a place where the greatest danger is a flooded field or a sick blurrg.
But Grogu reaches out with one tiny hand, using the Force to stack an impossible tower of stones, and Din remembers what he is. Not a farmer or a teacher or a man who gets to choose peace over duty.
He's a Mandalorian. And Mandalorians protect foundlings.
"I can't," he says, the words heavy as beskar. "The boy needs me. They both do."
Omera nods, disappointment and understanding warring in her expression. "I know. That's why I asked."
POV: Oliver
The goodbyes hurt more than Oliver expected.
Winta clings to Grogu like he's the little brother she never knew she wanted, tears streaming down her face as she extracts promises that he'll visit someday. Grogu coos sadly, reaching up to pat her cheek with one tiny hand in a gesture of comfort that's heartbreakingly adult.
The other village children gather around Oliver, chattering questions about whether the animals will miss him, whether he'll come back to make more flowers grow, whether he can teach them to talk to birds. Their innocent faces tear at something in his chest he didn't know existed.
"Will you remember us?" asks a boy no older than six, his eyes serious as an adult's.
Oliver kneels to bring himself to the child's eye level, ignoring the pain that shoots through his healing leg.
"Always," he promises, and means it more than any oath he's ever sworn.
From across the square, he catches Cara watching the exchange with something like surprise. As if she's seeing him clearly for the first time and doesn't quite know what to make of what she finds.
POV: Cara Dune
Cara has known a lot of soldiers in her time. Rebels who fought for freedom, Imperials who fought for order, mercenaries who fought for credits. But she's never seen anything quite like the way Oliver interacts with these children.
There's no condescension in his manner, no adult talking down to amusing but ultimately unimportant small people. He listens to them like their concerns matter, responds to their questions with the same seriousness he'd give a tactical briefing.
He actually gives a damn, Cara realizes. Not just about the mission or the cause or the bigger picture. About individual people.
It's a quality she's learned to value, because it's rarer than most people think.
As they load the last of their gear onto the Razor Crest, Cara makes a decision that surprises even her.
"I'm coming with you."
Din turns, his helmet tilting in that way that means either confusion or concern.
"This isn't your fight."
Cara shoulders her rifle and checks her gear with practiced efficiency. "I've got nothing better to do. Besides, someone needs to keep nature boy from bleeding out every mission."
Oliver looks up from securing Grogu's pram, surprise and something like gratitude flickering across his features.
"You sure? The Syndicate sounds like bad news."
Cara's answering smirk is sharp as a vibroblade. "I've fought Imperials. I can handle corporate goons."
They shake on it—Oliver trying to make the gesture meaningful, Cara nearly breaking his hand with her grip.
"Don't make me regret this," she warns.
Oliver grins despite everything—pain, exhaustion, the certainty that they're flying toward danger none of them fully understand.
"No promises."
POV: Oliver
As the Razor Crest lifts off from Sorgan's surface, Oliver reaches out one last time with his enhanced senses. Through the eyes of a high-flying bird, he watches the village shrink below them—tiny dots of light in an ocean of green, brave and fragile and more precious than all the beskar in the galaxy.
[SENSORY SHARING ACTIVATED]
[TARGET: HIGH-ALTITUDE AVIAN]
[MP: 65/92]
The connection costs him precious mental energy, but some things are worth any price. He watches until the village disappears into the forest canopy, carrying with it the memory of what peace might look like if they ever find it again.
[QUEST COMPLETE: PROTECT THE VILLAGE]
[EXPERIENCE GAINED: +500 XP]
[TOTAL XP: 1,900/5,000 TOWARD LEVEL 4]
[PARTY MEMBER ADDED: CARA DUNE]
[STATUS: ALLY - SKEPTICAL BUT COMMITTED]
In hyperspace, the ship feels different with four people aboard. Cara claims the only proper bunk with the casual efficiency of someone accustomed to making herself comfortable in hostile territory. Din retreats to the cockpit to meditate and plan their next move.
Oliver sits in the cargo hold with Grogu, the child curled against his side like he belongs there. His datapad displays another decrypted file, the words glowing like accusations in the dim light:
"Project Chimera - Phase 3: Neural Override Protocol. Subject Voss rejected final implantation. Status: Escaped. Priority: Terminate."
Oliver closes the file quickly as Grogu reaches for the screen with curious fingers.
"Not for you, buddy," Oliver murmurs, pulling the child closer. "Some things are better left buried."
Grogu tilts his head, those ancient eyes seeming to see straight through Oliver's careful walls to the fear beneath. But instead of judgment, the child offers only acceptance—the unconditional love of someone who's already decided you're worth protecting.
"Safe," whispers a voice that isn't quite a voice, touching the edges of Oliver's mind. "Family."
Oliver's throat tightens with emotions he can't name. Whatever else happens, whatever horrors wait for them in the void between stars, they have this. They have each other.
For now, that's enough.
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