Mandalorian Revived

Chapter 32

"We did not think anyone would make it to the surface," the Armorer says solemnly.

I watch her closely, taking in her appearance. Her armor is filthy and riddled with scrapes, but she still stands tall. She's watched her people be massacred before. "How many of you survived?" I ask softly.

She glances over her shoulder at the crowd behind her. It's a decent crowd, but it's not what we had before. "There could be others scattered and hiding somewhere else."

I swallow, peering around her at the crowd of Mandalorians behind. Some wear helmets, some hold them in their arms. Both sides have survivors. "Is anyone wounded?"

The Armorer shakes her head once. "We are well enough." I can hear the caution in her voice, and feel the distance in her behavior. The moments after the battle against Gideon were tense for everyone who interacted with me. My memories were gone and I was nothing more than a displaced Inquisitor. My last words with the Armorer were...indifferent, at best.

My voice quivers. "I got my memories back." A collective murmur washes over the crowd. I'm sure Bo Katan filled them in when she took over. "I still want to give our people a home."

"Mandalore is lost," another voice argues. He steps around the Armorer and I recognize him as Damon, one of the warriors who survived here all along. A new scar joins the others on his darkened face.

I shake my head. "It's not lost. I have friends out there right now engaging the Star Destroyers. And I came here to find you so we can take back our planet once and for all. The Empire will not take our home."

"It already has," Damon groans, throwing his hands out. "A former Inquisitor is here. She's taken Lady Kryze and Din Djarin, our second in command. Our leaders are captured."

My jaw feathers as I pull the Darksaber from my belt and hold the hilt up for them all to see. "Your Mand'alor is still free."

The Armorer's helmet tilts. "You want us to fight?"

I nod. "We have no other choice. The galaxy is watching. We have to show them that Mandalore is stronger than the Empire."

The crowd stirs, and suddenly a boy bursts out and runs toward me. I barely get to process it before I recognize Ragnar in his little blue helmet as he crashes into me, wrapping his arms around my waist. I return the embrace eagerly, pulling him tight against me. I rest my chin against the top of his helmet when I feel his shoulders start to shake.

"Hey, Ragnar," I whisper softly, shushing him when he starts to shake harder.

"My father..." his voice is as unsteady as a raging river and I squeeze him tighter.

"I know," I say, and it takes so much effort to keep my voice even. "I know. I'm so sorry I wasn't there before." With Ragnar clinging to me, I look back at the Armorer, my face hardening. "How many more Mandalorians have to die before we stop letting outsiders take our home?"

"None," someone calls out. I peer through the crowd until the man steps forward. Axe Woves. "You're right, we need to fight."

A few more familiar faces—and helmets—filter to the front of the crowd for me to see. A few I remember from the covert, Koska Reeves as well. I nod, shifting Ragnar to my side. He's already looking up at me. Watching.

"Good," I say, holding everyone's attention. For once, I'm not so bothered by that. "Because I have a plan."

The Armorer leads me and R5 deeper into the cave. The air inside the cave is wet and heavy. The Mandalorian survivors flank us eagerly, all of them awaiting my grand plan. I can only hope it's grand enough to actually be pulled off.