Star Wars: The Mandalorian Junior Novel

by Joe Schreiber

  “I don’t know.” Mando drew his blaster. “I’ll go. You cover me. Stay down.”

  The kid didn’t argue, just nodded and pulled his own weapon. Mando rose up and went running down the dune, heading for the dewback and into plain sight.

  As he got closer, the lizard seemed to grow more skittish, trying to get away from him. Something had the dewback spooked, and it jerked harder at the body that was tethered to it, braying and whinnying restlessly. Mando raised one hand. “Whoa, whoa,” he said, and approached the body, kneeling down to turn it over and look at it. The dead man’s face was unfamiliar, but he was well outfitted with navigation and survival tech, weapons and tracking gear—tools of the trade the Mandalorian recognized immediately.

  “Is it her?” Calican called out from behind the dune. “Is she dead?”

  Mando was still looking at the equipment. “It’s another bounty hunter.”

  “Hey, I hope you don’t plan on keeping all that stuff for yourself,” Calican shouted. “Can I at least have that blaster?”

  Mando found the tracking fob. It was hanging from the dead man’s belt, blinking and beeping rapidly. All his senses sharpened, and the world suddenly seemed to go very still. He straightened up and swung around to look at the kid.

  “Get down!” he shouted, and the sniper bolt came slashing out of the distance and smashed into him, knocking him off his feet.

  He jumped up and started full-out sprinting for the dune, head down and feet pounding across the loose sand, already feeling the target on his back. If it was Shand who’d fired the first round, then the moment between shots wasn’t hesitation—she was simply taking her time to get him perfectly in her sights.

  Wham! The next shot hit him squarely in the back, throwing him over the edge and sending him rolling down the other side.

  “Mando!” the kid shouted. He sounded scared but excited, too, ready to move but unsure what was happening.

  Mando caught his breath and crawled back up to join him. The armor had taken the brunt of the hit and saved his life, but the impact of the bolt still had to go somewhere. He felt like he was back on Arvala-7 getting tossed around by the mudhorn.

  “What happened?” Calican asked.

  “Sniper bolt.” The Mandalorian peered back down to where he’d been standing a moment earlier. “Only an MK-modified rifle could make that shot.”

  The kid stared at him. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah. Hit me in the beskar,” he said, “and at that range, beskar held up.”

  “Wait.” Calican blinked. “I don’t wear any beskar.”

  “Nope.”

  “So, what do we do?”

  “You see where that shot came from?”

  “Yeah.” The kid pointed. “It came from that ridge.”

  “Okay.” The plan was formulating in his mind. “We’re gonna wait until dark.”

  “Well, what if she escapes?”

  “She’s got the high ground. She’ll wait for us to make the first move.” Rising up, Mando began to make his way down the sheltered side of the dune where they’d parked the speeder bikes. “I’m gonna rest. You take the first watch.” He thought back on the enthusiasm in the kid’s voice once the shooting had started, that rookie’s instinct to react first and think later. “Stay low!”

  —

  Time passed slowly, shadows creeping across ripples of sand as Tatooine’s twin suns edged over the horizon, receding into mingled shades of orange, red, and purple, and finally vanished completely. The darkness that followed was cool at first, then almost startlingly cold.

  In the darkness, the Mandalorian opened his eyes and emerged from what hadn’t really been sleep. Calican, however, clearly thought he was dozing. The kid was coming down the dune, speaking in a voice loud enough that the older bounty hunter would’ve thought he wanted Shand to hear him.

  “All right, suns are down. Time to ride, Mando.”

  Mando didn’t move, letting the kid come closer.

  “Look at you,” Calican scoffed, his voice tinged with scorn. “Asleep on the job, old man.” Chuckling, he stepped back, then whipped around, drawing his blaster and pointing with a grin before spinning it on his finger and posing.

  Mando turned to him. “You done?”

  “Huh?” The grin vanished, and the blaster went back in its holster. “Yeah, yeah, I was just, you know, waking you up. Come on.”

  The Mandalorian rose to his feet. “Get on your bike,” he said, and pointed. “Ride as fast as you can toward those rocks.”

  “That’s your plan?” Calican snorted. “She’ll snipe us right off the bikes.”

  Mando reached into his pack and plucked out a small rectangular device. He tossed it to the kid. “It’s a flash charge,” he said. “We alternate shots. It’ll blind any scope temporarily. Combine that with our speed and we got a chance.”

  “A chance?”

  “Hey, you wanted this,” Mando reminded him. “Get ready.”

  They revved the speeder engines and went over the dune.

  At first, the plan went perfectly. Riding hard for the rocks, Mando raised one arm and set off his flash charge, sending a blinding pulse of energy streaking upward into the blackness, casting weird, angled shadows along the ground beneath them. In its glow, he could see the kid beside him out of the corner of his eye and gave him the nod. “Go!”

  Calican set off his flash charge. Again the night sky shuddered and pulsed with piercing white light. They kept going, roaring forward, still gaining speed. The rocks were closer, and Mando thought he could make out a shape with a sniper rifle and helmet in the middle distance, trying to get a clean shot.

  But Calican’s next flash charge never made it into the sky. Somehow it went wild, corkscrewing sideways before fizzling out along the dunes. Too late, Mando realized what it meant. The misfire had given Shand the opening she needed—just enough darkness to draw a bead on them and triangulate the shot.

  Blam!

  He heard the sniper bolt at the same time he felt it, hammering him off his bike and into the sand. The bike shot forward unattended for a moment before wiping out somewhere in the blackness.

  Sprawled in the dirt, he had the presence of mind to raise one hand and fire off another flash charge, just before Shand could take the kill shot. Or so he thought.

  The blast hit him squarely in the chest, and for an instant, everything dissolved into a cool black void. A second later, he sat up, his head spinning, hearing grunts and groans, punches and kicks not far from him. From the sound of it, Calican was getting his brains beaten in.

  Mando drew his blaster and walked over, pointing it down at Shand. “Nice distraction,” he told Calican.

  When Fennec Shand realized what had happened, she stopped fighting and raised her hands. Calican stood up and caught his breath. “Yeah,” the kid said, and nodded at Mando. “Good work, partner.”

  The Mandalorian didn’t take his eyes off of Shand. He tossed a pair of binders to where she was still kneeling. “Cuff yourself,” he said, and when she did, he glanced at Calican. “Why don’t you go find your blaster?”

  The kid walked off without a word. As he left, Shand looked up at Mando, regarding him with interest.

  “A Mandalorian,” she said, pronouncing the word as if it were an exotic species. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen one of your kind.” A slight smile rose to her face. “Ever been to Nevarro?”

  He said nothing.

  “I heard things didn’t go so well there,” Shand said casually, “but it looks like you got off easy. Not so much as a scratch on the pretty new beskar. Well”—she pointed with her chin at the blaster marks that the sniper bolts had left on his armor—“maybe a dent or two.”

  “You won’t have to worry about getting to Nevarro or anywhere else, once we turn you in,” Calican said as he walked over, brushing the sand from his blaster and returning the weapon to its holster. He looked down at her in the darkness. “You know, I really should thank you
. You’re my ticket into the Guild.”

  “You’re welcome,” Shand said dryly.

  The three of them walked over to the one remaining speeder bike, and Mando heard her chuckle.

  “Uh-oh. Looks like one of us has to walk.”

  “Or we could drag you,” Mando said. He gave the kid a follow me look, and led him out of Shand’s earshot, the two of them speaking in lowered voices.

  “Okay,” Calican said, “so what is the plan?”

  “I need you to go find that dewback we saw,” Mando told him.

  The kid’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “And leave you here, with my bounty and my ride?” He shook his head. “Yeah, I don’t think so, Mando.”

  The Mandalorian turned to look out on the desert, weighing his options.

  “Okay,” he said. “I’ll do it.” He looked back over at Shand. “Watch her, and don’t let her get near the bike. She’s no good to us dead.”

  After the Mandalorian left, Toro Calican sat on the remaining bike, waiting, while Shand stayed in her place on the ground. The night seemed to go on forever. At first he’d thought she might try to escape, but after a while he realized this was just as boring as he’d feared it would be. All the glamour of the job was over. The rest was just waiting.

  Waiting, and getting paid.

  Finally, as dawn broke over the desert, Shand sighed and stretched. “Oh, look, the suns are coming up.”

  Calican didn’t look up from his boots. “Quiet.”

  “Look, there’s still time to make my rendezvous in Mos Espa,” she said. “Take me to it, and I can pay you double the price on my head.”

  He snorted. “I don’t care about the money.”

  “So the Mandalorian gets all the credits?” she asked. “Is that your idea of a fair deal?”

  “I hired Mando. This is my job.” Calican looked at her. “Bringing you in will make me a full member of the Bounty Hunters Guild.”

  Shand raised her eyebrows. “You already have something the Guild values far more than me,” she said. “You just don’t see it.”

  “What?”

  “The Mandalorian. His armor alone’s worth more than my bounty. And think what it would do for your reputation.” She waited, letting him put the pieces together for himself. “A Mandalorian shot up the Guild on Nevarro. Took some high-value target and went rogue.”

  Calican wasn’t bothering to hide his interest anymore, pointing out into the desert with his blaster. “That Mandalorian?”

  “You don’t see many,” Shand said. “You bring the Guild that traitor, and they’ll welcome you with open arms. Your name will be legendary.”

  Calican got off the bike and walked over to her. “How can we be sure he’s the one?”

  “Word is, he’s still got the target with him,” Shand said. “Some say it’s a child.” She leaned forward. “Look, if you’re afraid to take him on, fear not. I can help you with that.” She could tell that he was listening attentively, very close to making a decision. “You want to be a bounty hunter? Take some advice. Make the best deal for yourself, and survive.”

  Calican drew in a deep breath, holstered his blaster, and walked closer. Shand stood up to meet him, extending her arms so he could remove the binders.

  He paused, looking at her, then drew the blaster again and fired, hitting her squarely in the chest. Shand made an almost inaudible choking sound. At first the shock was greater than the pain. But then the pain came.

  “That’s good advice,” Calican was saying, from what seemed like very far away, “but if I took those binders off you, I’d be a dead man.” He nodded. “And if the Mandalorian’s worth more than you are, then who wouldn’t want to be a legend?” A slight smile touched the corner of his mouth. “Thanks for the tip.”

  The last thing Fennec Shand saw before consciousness slipped away was the kid turning and walking to the bike, then riding toward the horizon.

  Tracking the dewback in the dark took longer than Mando had expected. He could only imagine how long it would’ve taken the kid. By the time he finally caught up with the great lizard and rode it back to the ridgeline, the bike was gone.

  Mando sat astride the dewback for a moment, looking down at Fennec Shand’s body, still cuffed, lying motionless on the ground.

  Mando sighed. Then he turned the dewback around and started the long ride back.

  RIDING INTO MOS EISLEY, the Mandalorian approached the hangar and saw the kid’s bike parked out front. He stopped and looked at it.

  He drew his blaster and eased through the entry point, into the silence of the hangar bay. The Razor Crest was there, its ramp lowered, but there was no sign of Peli Motto, the pit droids, or anyone else. Mando eased around the corner, listening for the scuff of a footstep or the sound of a breath.

  Nothing. Off to the left, he heard a frantic squawk, and he saw one of Motto’s droids scamper across the floor toward the sanctuary of her office, where the other two droids were already cowering. Mando walked toward the center of the bay, the blaster still held out in front of him.

  “Took you long enough, Mando.” The kid’s voice rang out from inside the Crest’s opening hatch. When the Mandalorian looked, the first thing he saw was Peli Motto coming down out of the shadows. Her expression was pinched and frightened, and behind her he saw the Child’s face, the fearful gleam of those big eyes seeming to float in the darkness. Finally Calican emerged, and Mando saw that he was carrying the Child in one hand and pointing a blaster at Motto’s back with the other. Calican walked the rest of the way down until the three were in front of Mando.

  “Looks like I’m calling the shots now, huh, partner?” he asked. “Drop your blaster and raise ’em.”

  Mando tossed the blaster to the floor, then raised his hands, putting them behind his head. He heard the Child make a soft, worried cry.

  “Cuff him,” Calican said to Motto.

  She gave a disgusted grunt and walked forward to put the binders on him while the young bounty hunter leveled his blaster at the Mandalorian’s head.

  “You’re a Guild traitor, Mando,” Calican said, and gestured to the Child in his arms. “And I’m willing to bet that this here is the target you helped escape.”

  The Mandalorian didn’t respond. The kid had been rehearsing this speech, his big moment of triumph, and he was so caught up in what he was saying that he didn’t notice the flash charge in Mando’s hand. But Peli Motto saw it as she went around behind him with the binders, and he heard her whisper: “You’re smarter than you look.”

  “Fennec was right,” Calican continued. “Bringing you in won’t just make me a member of the Guild”—his voice softened—“it’ll make me legendary.”

  He aimed the blaster directly at Mando’s face.

  Mando triggered the flash.

  The entire hangar erupted in a blinding pulse of light. Calican cried out in surprise, wincing, and retreated back up the ramp of the Crest, aiming frantically around the hangar while he waited for his eyes to adjust. But when his vision finally cleared, the Mandalorian wasn’t there. He fired almost randomly, hitting nothing.

  Mando stepped forward, raised his blaster, and pulled the trigger. It only took one shot. Toro Calican collapsed and fell off the ramp, landing face-first on the hangar floor.

  Mando kept his blaster up. “Stay back,” he said as he approached the body, but Peli Motto wasn’t listening.

  “We’ve gotta get it,” she said as the Mandalorian rolled Calican’s body over. For a moment they both stood, confused. The Child was gone.

  “Where is it?” Motto asked.

  Behind them, Mando heard a soft gurgling sound. He looked around and saw one long ear protruding from behind some equipment as the Child peered up at them from his hiding place.

  “There you are,” Motto said as she knelt down in front of him. The Child responded with a happy series of chirps and an upraised hand. “Are you hiding from us? Huh?” She scooped him up. “That’s all right. I know, that was really loud
for your big old ears, wasn’t it?”

  As she cradled the Child and reassured him that everything was going to be fine, Mando bent down over Calican’s body. The kid was a victim of his own mistakes, all of them leading up to one last, fatal error in judgment. Calican had been greedy, but it was recklessness that got him killed.

  He lifted the sack of coins from the kid’s pocket, weighed it in his hand, and walked over to where Motto was holding the Child.

  “Be careful with him,” she said, passing the gurgling infant into the bounty hunter’s arms. Then her voice toughened into the more familiar sound of a backwater mechanic. “So, I take it you didn’t get paid?”

  Mando brought out the sack and turned it upside down, filling Motto’s palms until they were overflowing with credits. “Will that cover me?”

  The astonished look on her face was answer enough until she managed to form words. “Yeah. Yeah, this is gonna cover you.”

  As he carried the Child up the ramp and aboard the Razor Crest, Mando heard Motto, still standing over Calican’s body, yell, “All right, pit droids, let’s drag this out of here!” One of the droids squawked out a question. “I don’t know, drag it to Beggar’s Canyon!”

  Inside the cockpit, he switched on the engines and heard them both firing up with a familiar, encouraging roar. Motto had done good work—if it had been Motto, and not her droids, who’d finished the repairs. Either way, the results spoke for themselves, and they were underway in no time.

  “MANDO,” THE BEARDED MAN said. “Is that you under that bucket?”

  The Mandalorian looked at the well-worn, grinning face surrounded by bushy hair, the gleaming eyes, the outstretched hand. “Ran,” he said, and took the man’s hand, shaking it.

  “I didn’t know if I’d ever see you in these parts again,” Ranzar Malk said, still smiling. They were standing in the docking bay of the Roost, the space station where Mando had arrived looking for work. “Good to see you. To be honest, I was a little surprised when you reached out to me. Because I…I hear things.” Ran raised an eyebrow and lowered his voice, inviting confidence. “Like maybe things between you and the Guild ain’t working out?”