THE CAMP WAS a U-shaped arrangement of flat-roofed buildings around a dusty open plaza. Looking down through his viewing scope, Mando observed the Nikto mercenaries and guards passing time in the late afternoon sun. Accustomed to the desert environment, the Nikto were scaly-skinned and imposing, their faces and heads studded with horns and spikes. To him, they looked dangerous in the way the renegade stormtroopers at the safe house had been dangerous—like bored soldiers, heavily armed and looking for trouble.

He was still watching them, planning his approach, when an immediately recognizable mechanized figure walked into the compound and made the situation worse.

“Attention,” the bounty droid said to the mercenaries. It was an IG unit, designed for combat. “Subparagraph sixteen of the Bondsman Guild protocol waiver compels you to immediately produce said asset.”

“Oh, no,” Mando muttered. Down below, the IG was still moving forward when the guards around the plaza reached for their blasters—and simultaneously signed their death warrants. Without hesitating, the droid snapped into action, spinning around and opening fire on the gunman directly in front of it, its body turning effortlessly with blasters in either hand, firing nonstop with precision-tooled accuracy. Not once did it falter, even when a blaster bolt ricocheted off its processor plate.

As Mando made his way down the escarpment and into the compound, he was aware that the blasting had ceased. Silence filled the open space. By the time the last echoes had faded and the smoke and dust had settled, he saw that the ground was covered with the bodies of the hired Nikto. In the quiet, the droid’s voice sounded exactly the same as it had before, completely unflappable, as it repeated its mission.

“Subparagraph sixteen of the Bondsman Guild protocol waiver compels you to immediately produce said asset,” it said, and advanced forward with the unswerving confidence that was a unique quality of bounty droids.

Mando moved around the corner. “IG unit, stand down!”

The droid shot him. The Mandalorian felt the blaster bolt smash into his breastplate, the force of the impact powerful enough to throw him backward into a row of barrels lined up along the wall behind him. At the same moment, pain slashed through his shoulder and down his rib cage, and he fought to catch his breath. The beskar had deflected the worst of the shot, but there would be plenty of pain in his immediate future.

In front of him, the droid was watching, perhaps still processing why its blaster hadn’t done more damage. Mando sat up, realizing he might have less than a second to convince the IG to hold off on finishing him with a head shot.

“I’m in the Guild!” he shouted, holding up the tracking fob.

“You are a Guild member?” For the first time, the droid’s voice revealed a note of uncertainty. “I am IG-11,” it added with professional courtesy. “I thought I was the only one on assignment.”

“That makes two of us.” Mando turned to survey the fortified entrance in front of them. No doubt there were more of the Nikto inside, all of them fully aware that something outside had gone very wrong. “So much for the element of surprise.”

But the IG had more pressing matters to discuss. “Sadly, I must ask for your fob. The bounty is mine.”

The Mandalorian looked at the droid, weighing his options. “Unless I am mistaken,” he said, “you are as yet empty-handed.”

“This is true.”

“I have a suggestion,” Mando said.

“Proceed.”

“We split the reward.”

Without hesitation, the IG replied: “This is acceptable.”

“Great,” Mando said. “Now let’s regroup, out of harm’s way, and form a plan.”

If the droid had an answer, he didn’t hear it.

That was when the second wave hit.

There were more of the Nikto this time, spilling out of the shadows and onto the rooftops, raining down blaster fire from all directions. Ducking for cover, the Mandalorian shot back and watched as the IG pivoted and fired bolt after bolt. Every shot was a direct hit, thanks to its programming—but even so, the situation was rapidly slipping out of control. More and more Nikto kept appearing. After a certain point, Mando and IG-11 would be too outnumbered.

Mando checked the tracking fob. Its signal was intensifying. He glanced across the plaza at the closed gate. No mistake: the asset was in there. They were so close. But twenty meters away, under a steady hail of blaster fire, they might as well have been on the other side of Wild Space.

“It appears we are trapped,” the droid said, seemingly programmed to state the obvious. “I will initiate self-destruct sequencing.”

“Whoa!” The Mandalorian whirled around, wondering if he’d heard properly. “You’re what?”

“Manufacturer’s protocol dictates I cannot be captured. I must self-destruct.”

“Do not self-destruct!” Mando ordered. “Cover me!”

Apparently willing to entertain this alternative, at least temporarily, the IG whirled around and continued firing while the bounty hunter ducked and ran across the plaza to the entry point. There was an outdated security panel with an access pad, and given time and the absence of blaster fire, he might’ve been able to run a bypass, but right then there wasn’t enough of either. A second later, a blaster bolt struck the panel and reduced it to a sizzling pan of wires and circuitry.

“They’ve got us pinned!” he shouted.

“I will initiate self-destruct sequence,” the droid announced cheerfully.

“Do not self-destruct! We’re shooting our way out!”

But something had changed in the attitude of the Nikto surrounding them. They had paused and were looking back over their shoulders. When the Mandalorian followed their line of sight, he saw what had caught their attention—a heavy-artillery laser cannon mounted on a hover pad was being pushed into position across the plaza, its massive barrel aimed directly at him and the droid.

“Okay,” Mando said. “New plan. We—”

The cannon roared, spitting a massive hail of fire. Thanks to the cannon’s hover mount, its operator had an unlimited range, and the Mandalorian knew that the weapon packed enough firepower that one direct hit would be more than any amount of armor could handle. Somewhere in the background, he heard the IG announcing that it was, once again, initiating its self-destruct protocols.

“Draw their fire!” Mando shouted. “I’ll take it out!”

“Acceptable,” the droid replied, and stepped out into the open. Immediately, the laser cannon’s operator focused the attack on IG-11, hammering its reinforced body with a nonstop volley of blaster fire. Mando couldn’t help admiring it. Droid or not, it didn’t hesitate to put itself directly in harm’s way when the situation called for it.

He slipped forward, taking advantage of the diversion to move low and quickly through the shadows around the back of the cannon’s operator while the IG continued to take heavy fire and eventually dropped to the ground. From his current position, Mando saw the opportunity he’d created and took advantage of it. Raising his wrist gauntlet, he fired a grappling wire into the side of the cannon, pulled the wire taut, and yanked it hard enough to spin the entire hover platform around, hurling the surprised gunman from his perch.

Now! Go!

The bounty hunter jumped onto the platform, grabbed the cannon, took hold of the triggers, and squeezed. Spinning, he opened fire on the remaining Nikto, the weapon pulsing in his grasp as they fell in waves. Within seconds, it was over, the last of them defeated.

“Well done,” the IG said. “I will disengage self-destruct initiative.”

Mando walked over and extended his hand, helping the IG to its feet. “You know, you’re not so bad,” he said. “For a droid.”

“Agreed.”

“That blaster hit looks nasty.” He glanced at the droid’s carbon-scored metallic chest plates. “You okay?”

The IG ran a quick diagnostic and confirmed that the shot had missed its central neural harness. The Mandalorian nodded, took a breath, and glanced down at the tracker.

“Well,” he said, “now all we have to do is get that door open.”

He and the IG stood for a moment, and then they both looked back at the cannon.