THE TROUBLE BEGAN when the Devaronian tried to take Mando’s helmet off.

They had just made the jump to hyperspace, and Zero was flying, which meant nobody had anything better to do than wait around belowdecks. Mando had caught them rummaging through his arsenal, and Mayfeld told Burg it might be time to see what the Mandalorian looked like under his bucket. When the Devaronian made a move to grab it and lift it off, Mando smashed him hard in the face, knowing he’d have to land as many punches as he could early to get any kind of advantage. Otherwise it wouldn’t even be a fight—Burg would simply pick him up and snap him in half.

That didn’t happen, but only because the Devaronian fell back and hit the control switch on the wall, opening the hatchway behind him. There was a quick whoosh, and the bounty hunter heard the Child inside chirp in surprise.

Everyone stopped.

“Whoa.” Mayfeld stared at the Child, rising to his feet. “What is that?” He glanced at Mando, eyes bright, then back at the Child. “What is it, like a pet or something?”

“Yeah,” the Mandalorian said carefully. “Something like that.”

Mayfeld nodded, as if they’d finally found some common ground. “Me, I was never into pets. I mean, I tried, but it didn’t work out. But I’m thinking”—he reached down and lifted the Child up—“maybe I’ll try again with this little fella.” He was looking at Mando, the Child held out in front of him, and opened his hands, pretending to drop him.

Mando didn’t move. Mayfeld waited to see what would happen, thinking that if the bounty hunter tried anything, there would be one extra share he and the others could divide among them, and they could all fly home in the ship. Ran would be happy to have it.

“Coming out of hyperspace now.” Zero’s voice through the intercom interrupted, and it was time to go to work.

“Commence extraction now,” the droid said.

It had been a rough landing, turbulent enough to throw them all sideways and backward as Zero completed the coupling with the transport. The Mandalorian rose to his feet and heard Mayfeld’s voice behind him. “All right, we’ve got a job to do,” he said. “Mando, you’re up.”

The Mandalorian bent down over the Crest’s ventral hatchway, rigging the bypass cable to the other ship’s docking port, which was locked from the inside. The red light on the console spluttered and flickered as the system scanned the prison ship’s security code and triggered it. The light on the console turned green, and the hatch opened with a vacuum-sealed whoosh.

Just like that, they were in.

Inside, the prison ship was a desolate maze of long white corridors lined with cells, the hallways stretching out in different directions, empty except for a pair of patrol droids. Mayfeld keyed the comm. “Zero, get us to the control room.”

“Sublevel three,” the droid replied promptly from the Crest. “Disabling onboard surveillance.”

“All right,” Mayfeld said, “we’re on the clock. The second we engage those droids, they’re gonna be all over us.”

“I know the drill,” the Mandalorian said.

Blaster raised, the bald man led the way down the hall, and the others followed in silence. They walked past cells where inmates dangled their hands through the bars, gazing at them and making curious noises.

“I don’t like this,” Mando said.

“You always were paranoid,” Xi’an jeered.

Mayfeld raised an eyebrow. “Is that true, Mando? Were you always paranoid?”

To their left, something inside one of the cells roared and slammed against the door hard enough to make them draw away from it—except for Xi’an, who leaned in and hissed back at it, making Burg chortle. Zero’s voice came through the communicator again.

“Approaching control room,” the droid said. “Make a left at the next juncture.”

As they went around the corner, a small mouse droid swerved across the floor in front of them. “It’s just a little mousey,” the Devaronian said, drawing his blaster and hiding it behind his back. “Come here, little mousey….”

The droid hesitated and started to back away, and Burg snarled. Whipping out his blaster, he fired, blowing it apart.

“What are you doing?” Mayfeld said. “You’re gonna—”

It was already too late. The hallway in front of them filled with four security droids, marching forward, their blasters blazing. Mando and the others took cover along the walls and tried to return fire, but it was almost impossible without exposing themselves. Mayfeld’s shoulder piece extended a blaster on its mechanical arm, firing from behind him, but the security droids just kept attacking.

“Mando, let’s go! You’re supposed to be something special.” Mayfeld shook his head in disappointment. “I knew it!”

Then the Mandalorian ran forward, going into a low slide at the last second, hitting the droids low, and knocking one of them over. He sprang up, grabbed the nearest one, and smashed its head against the floor, then fired his cable at another and pulled, yanking the droid forward and flinging it into the opposite wall. The others tried to react, but their mechanical bodies were too big and awkward for that kind of close-quarters fighting. They were still struggling to catch up as the Mandalorian ripped a chunk of the chest plate from one, whipped around, and threw it into the head of the other, impaling it. The fight ended when he used a razor coil to decapitate the last droid standing, sending its metal head rattling to the floor—

And then two more burst in, guns at the ready. The bounty hunter unleashed his blowtorches on them, incinerating the body of one and firing a blaster through the other.

In the silence, Mando could hear the prisoners whooping and cheering in their cells. It wasn’t every day they were treated to the sound of a half dozen security droids being reduced to parts. Mayfeld was less impressed. He led the others past the Mandalorian as they stepped over the scattered pieces of mech.

“Make sure you clean up your mess,” Mayfeld muttered.

But when they reached the control room, the mess just got worse.

“There were only supposed to be droids on this ship,” Mando said as they stood in front of an anxious, and very human, corrections officer, who was pointing his blaster back at them. In his other hand, the officer held a tracking beacon, and they all knew what that meant. Once activated, a New Republic attack team would home in on the signal and end the job abruptly, along with their lives.

It was Mando who spoke first. “Put it down,” he told the guard, whose frightened face showed only faint signs that he was actually listening. “We’re not here for you. We’re here for the prisoner.”

The guard didn’t budge. Mayfeld wouldn’t lower his blaster, either. It was Xi’an who ended the standoff by knocking the officer out and dropping him to the floor.

“Would you both just shut up?” she said.

Mayfeld looked down at the tracker, lying on the floor where the guard had dropped it. Its light was blinking.

“Was that thing blinking before?” he asked, voice trembling. “Was it?”

Zero came through the communicator, answering the question for him. “I’ve detected a New Republic tracking signal,” the droid said, “homing in on your location. You have approximately twenty minutes.”

Xi’an cocked her head and licked her lips, her eyes shimmering with excitement. “We only need five.”

When they reached the cell, Zero activated remote access, and the door lifted to reveal a Twi’lek male seated on the bench inside.

“Brother,” Xi’an said, smiling.

“Sister,” the male Twi’lek said, grinning back. He stared out at the Mandalorian with cold, familiar eyes. “And look who else came along for the ride.”

“Qin,” Mando said in greeting.

“Funny,” the Twi’lek said, stepping outside to join the others in the hallway without ever breaking eye contact with Mando. “The man who left me behind is now my savior.”

Behind him, Mando heard a growl. As he turned, Burg punched him hard enough to hurl him into the vacant cell. Mando spun around and fired back at them, but the door was already closing. The blaster bolt ricocheted around the walls, skimming past his head. He heard the cell’s locking device click into place.

He was sealed inside.

After the others left, a security droid moved past the cell. Mando reached out, fired his grappling cable, and snared the droid around the neck, then yanked it up against the other side of the door. He grabbed the droid’s arm and twisted, feeling the wires and servos pulling loose, until he’d ripped the limb free, and then he turned the blaster on the droid, blowing its head off.

Which left him holding the severed arm.

Mando activated a switch on the thing’s wiring. A key extended outward, and he plugged it into the port on the door. It drew open, and he stepped out.

It was time to go hunting.