Mandalorian Revived

Chapter 36

The following few days go by in a blur. With the overflow of Imperial prisoners, my number one priority ends up being to find a place for them. Surprising to no one, a sizeable number of the Mandalorians push for a mass execution. But that feels like a Death Watch solution, or an Imperial solution, and definitely not something I want to adopt.

"The Imps wouldn't think twice if our roles were reversed," Bo argues. Her voice yanks me back to the present—a meeting in our makeshift counsel room. She sits across from me, a sour look on her face, while Din and the Armorer sit on either side of me. Carson sits beside Bo, though he looks like he'd rather be as far from her as possible. Greef just looks bored.

"Which is why we have to think long and hard about this," I reply.

"We've definitely done that..." Greef mutters under his breath as he absentmindedly spins a coin on the table. Deep underground, where our room happens to be, the sound echoes loudly.

"Rebuilding a civilization takes time and hard work, Greef, or have you forgotten?" Din almost snaps. I lay a hand on his leg under the table. The stress has definitely made him irritable, and if this experience has taught me anything, it's that he never would've had the patience to be the Manda'lor.

I heave a sigh that carries across the room. "Carson has informed me of a program on Coruscant that specializes in rehabilitating former Imperials. This could be an option."

Carson leans forward, taking that as his cue to speak. He glances nervously at Bo before launching into his pitch. "The program was adopted almost immediately by the New Republic. So far, we've achieved great things with it from what I hear. Many former Imperials have begun working on Coruscant—under close supervision, of course. Regular check-ins allows us to monitor their progress and their loyalty to the New Republic. Any prisoners willing to go into the program would be welcome. You'd just have to formally give up custody to the New Republic."

"How do we know which prisoners—if any—want to go?" The Armorer asks.

Carson strokes his stubbled chin. "There is an evaluation we could start. It's a test administered to each prisoner. Depending on their results, we could take them after that."

"And the rest? Those who aren't promising enough for your program?" Bo asks doubtfully. I give her a pleading look from across the table to at least try being civil with Carson, and she rolls her eyes. Still, she backs down.

"Bo brings up a good point," I say, nodding at her. "What do we do with the leftovers?"

Carson shrugs. "You have dungeons, my lady. You can continue to use them however it pleases you. Other civilizations have been known to enslave their prisoners, though I can't say I favor that option."

I shake my head, my gaze dropping to the table. "No, that's not an option for us. I want to be better than the Imps, not just like them. This isn't the way we move forward as Mandalorians."

Greef nods, humming thoughtfully. "And how do you want to move forward? Knowing that might help you find your answer."

It's a decent point. I mull over his words for a moment. I think about my experiences as a Mandalorian. We were warriors, power-hungry and eager to spill blood. As an Imperial, it was no different. But with Din...

"Reconnecting with my Mandalorian heritage has brought me love and a family." My eyes flick to Din's helmet to find it looking squarely at me. "We know how to fight when our home and our people need protecting, but I don't want it to define us. If there's one thing I've learned through all of this, it's that we need balance. There can be darkness when needed, but there must also be light."