Madlands

37. Kept Within the Tribe

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The homing beacon on the Razor Crest showed a location about two-hundred kilometres north of the village of Naida.

Before the mission team had left the covert that morning, Mando had asked Jouren to bring the Crest to Rin, to find Jesa, tell her of their mission, and to leave his ship in her care until he came for it. He'd directed Jouren to the community tent in the village, but he must have then been sent to the countryside—perhaps to Jesa's homestead.

Mando set the coordinates as the Voidrunner's destination and went back to check on Grey. She was passed out on the decking, not far from Cyrin, who must have been the one to pull a cargo blanket over her before he himself gave in to rest. She looked exactly the same and yet unlike the woman he'd watched sleep more times than he'd like to admit. She was paler and clearly exhausted, but she still slept as if she was dreaming of some great wonder of the galaxy that she'd just learned about. It would be the last time he'd see it; that period was over. They had both needed to move on.

He returned to the cockpit. The team was sore and their adrenaline was spent, but they had been victorious far beyond the original goal of their mission. Rowan had checked the broadcasts after they'd cleared the remains of the station, and there it had been, on every Empire channel, the proof of their own crimes. If the transmission hadn't reached beyond the Icaria system, it was surely being relayed manually by now—home to home, crew to crew, person to person—across the entirety of the Madlands and then beyond.

Whether at the hands of a united Madlands or a newly alerted New Republic, the Imperial remnant's stronghold in the sector would be finished before it had a chance to entrench too deeply.

Mando felt like a true member of this team, and he listened to them swap stories from their parts of the mission—sharing trials, threats, and the moments they'd protected each other. But, he knew that the voyage would soon end, and he would have to let everything go once again.

He checked the nav. Only thirty minutes to Rin. He would take every minute he had.

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It was late evening on this side of Rin when Jesa's homestead first appeared as a dot in the dim landscape. Mando watched as the fence-lines marking the edges of her fields and gardens traced into view, and then each glowing, golden window of the farmhouse. He imagined Herrah, waiting anxiously at one of them to catch a glimpse of more Mandalorians. He saw the Razor Crest, set down in one of the fields, but it wasn't alone; the Tribe's Fang fighter sat next to it. That wasn't part of the plan.

Grey appeared at the threshold to the cockpit and softly broke the silence that the tired team had fallen into.

Where are we headed?

Mando turned his seat to face her.

Jesa and Herrah's home in the countryside. We needed a meeting point after the mission, and it'll be somewhere for you to spend the night that's not the decking of a ship.

Mando watched the idea of seeing Jesa and her daughter sink in, Grey's expression a mix of heavy emotions.

They know I'm coming?

Yes.

They want me here?

I'm sure they do. You could stay longer.

Grey just nodded, a hundred thoughts and questions racing across her face.

Mando... how long was I in there?