That night, they set out for the Jawas. Doc decided to come along, mostly out of curiosity. She had only had dealings with the Jawas once on Tattooine, and was keen to learn more about their species.
Kuiil hooked up a sled to the back of a bluurg that the Mandalorian, Doc, Nala, and the child all rode in. Nala had become especially curious about the small green child. As rain poured down on them – one of the few rains of the season – Nala's fur sparkled with live electricity.
"Should we be concerned about your sparking dog?" the Mandalorian asked, scooting ever so farther away. Thunder boomed in the distance accompanied by lightning lighting up the sky in patches.
"She just gets excited in storms," Doc said as the rain pounded against her gray cloak. "Nala, go on. Have your fun."
The hound kicked off the platform eagerly and disappeared into the night, sparks flying off her as she cornered a ridge.
The child was asleep in his container, rain pinging against it in a cacophonous manner. It took them until morning of the next day to reach the site where the Jawas had set up an area to trade.
Kuiil gave them a hearth greeting, but the Jawas seemed apprehensive to the Mandalorian pointing his rifle at them.
"They really don't like you for some reason," Kuiil said.
"Well, I did disintegrate a few of them," the Mandalorian said.
"Real classy," said Doc. She looked up to see Jawas peeking out from the windows of their fortress, beady red eyes watching their every move.
One of the Jawas signaled with his gun.
"You need to drop your rifle," ordered Kuiil.
"I'm a Mandalorian. Weapons are part of my religion."
"Then you're not getting your parts back."
The Mandalorian reluctantly set his rifle down with an annoyed fine. Doc swung out of the carriage, puffs of newly dried dirt fanning out. The Mandalorian closely followed her along with Kuiil to a neutral location. The Jawas stopped them again.
"Don't think they care for your blaster, either," said Doc. The Mandalorian gave her a look before throwing it into the back of their cart as well. The child looked at him eagerly, anticipating some kind of event happening.
Kuiil went ahead, speaking words of friendship before ushering them both over. Doc wasn't sure where to look – at the Jawas in front of her or those above her. The way their red eyes seemed to glower at them had always made her uneasy, but her curiosity was more potent than her fear.
They came to all sit together on a carpet the Jawas had spread. The Mandalorian and Doc took their places behind Kuiil.
"They will trade all the parts for the beskar," Kuiil translated. Doc knew how this was going to go down.
"I'm not going to trade anything. These are my parts – they stole them from me," said the Mandalorian. He tried to speak Jawa, but it was broken and unrefined, even to Doc's ears.
"You speak terrible Jawa," they teased in their language. "You sound like a Wookie."
"Oh yeah? You understand this?" The Mandalorian activated the flamethrower on his wrist, sending a stream of flames towards the Jawas who scrambled to get out of the way. Doc reacted quickly, grabbing his wrist and clicking off the activator button, but her hand grabbed too close to the flame and burned the skin.
"Easy," she hissed, pulling her hand back. "Would you just relax?"
She turned to face the Jawas and addressed them in their native tongue. "He cannot give you his beskar. Surely there is something else you want. What else may he trade?"
The Jawas conferenced for a moment amongst themselves.
"This can't be good," muttered Doc so that only Kuiil and the Mandalorian could hear her. When the Jawas reconvened, they rambled on about an egg.
"The egg?" The Mandalorian asked, sharing in Doc's confusion. "What egg?"
Kuiil put his head into his palm. The Jawas began chanting about the egg. The Mandalorian and Doc shared a glance, neither of them knowing what this meant.
Before they knew it, they were rolling in the fortress down a valley Doc had never seen. The road was unforgivingly bumpy, knocking around Doc and the Mandalorian as they stood watching in the upper deck. The thing was certainly not built for taller people. Every bit of misfortune caused the Jawas to giggle relentlessly.
Eventually, the caravan screeched to a halt and the door was open. Doc shielded her eyes against the sun beading down on them. She and Kuiil watched as the Mandalorian went off with the child in search of this egg.
"Think he'll live?" she asked, sitting down on the edge of their cart.
"I hope so for the child's sake," said Kuiil.
"I still can't believe he is taking the kid with."
"He said he would not part with it."
Doc crossed her legs underneath her. They would be here for a while, that much is certain. She lit up a spice stick and let the smoke envelop her head. She grinded the end with her teeth and let the bitter spice coat her tongue. The stick began to shorten until it was nothing but smolders. Eventually, she rested her hands on either knee and closed her eyes.
The world around her came alive. She could feel the buzzing presence of the Jawas in the fortress. They were ecstatic, frustrated, curious. She could feel Kuiil next to her, his calm demeanor overshadowing all else.
She could feel the passage of time as the sun shifted positions on her face. She was uncertain of how much time had passed when she felt something.
It was a familiar feeling, but one she had not felt in a long time. And just as soon as it had come, it passed into oblivion.
The Jawas activity began to stir around her. Her eyes snapped open when she felt someone reach for her arm. It was Kuiil.
"He's been gone too long," he said, sounding defeated.
"He's not dead," said Doc.
"How do you know?"
Doc remained silent, instead just looking at him with pleading eyes. Kuiil sighed and addressed the waiting Jawas, begging them for more time, but they would not listen.
"Look!" She stood abruptly and pointed. Emerging from the valley were two figures.
"Mando!" Kuiil cried, raising his arms in greeting.
"I have it," the Mandalorian mumbled, out of breath. "I have the egg."
The Jawas came down in droves, surrounding him and clambering for the egg. They praised it as if it were some kind of hairy deity before slicing off the top and devouring the insides.
Doc was not focused on the egg. She carefully walked over to the floating crib, peering inside. The child was asleep. Comatose, some would say. Doc reached in with her hand and let her eyes close.
"Will it be alright?" a modulated voice asked from behind her. Her eyes opened and peered off somewhere unknown to even her.
"He'll be fine," she said, pulling her hand back. "He just seems tired. What happened?"
He didn't answer. The Jawas began loading parts onto the cart. Kuiil came over to them.
"I'm surprised you both waited," said the Mandalorian.
Kuiil spoke first, beating Doc to the punchline. "I'm surprised you took so long."
When everything was fully loaded, they made their departure. The child's pod traveled beside the cart. Doc trailed behind on foot, thoughts elsewhere. The rocky terrain crunched under her feet and sunset cast shadows that danced on the horizon.
From what the Mandalorian had said, her suspicions were confirmed true.
"Is it still sleeping?" she heard Kuiil call back. She watched as the Mandalorian leaned over and checked on the child more tenderly than she would have expected from him.
"Yes."
"Was it injured?"
"I don't think so. Not physically."
"Explain it to me again. I still don't understand what happened," said Kuiil.
"Neither do I." The Mandalorian turned to look back at Doc. She averted her gaze, still mulling over the events of the day.
She heard soft trotting coming up beside here. Nala came and rested her head under Doc's hand, back from whatever night adventures she had taken part in. How she never failed to find Doc will always be a mystery to the woman.
When they arrived at the Mandalorian's ship, it was nightfall. Doc recognized the indisputable marks of the Razor Crest immediately.
"Not bad," she said, getting a nod of approval from even the Mandalorian.
They set to work. Doc worked on the finer wire workings on the inside while the other two focused on reattaching the outer paneling. Nala guarded the sleeping child, ears perking up at any unfamiliar sounds.
"How is it going in here?" The Mandalorian came in to check on Doc's work.
"Alright," she said, squeezed into a small compartment and reaching under paneling with her arm. "Just trying to – there we go. Finally. Was just trying to get this fuel hose hooked into the converter."
She squirmed her way out of the compartment. When the Mandalorian offered a hand to help her out, she took it.
"The good news is I think she'll manage to fly," Doc said, glancing around at all of the exposed wirings. "The bad news is she's gonna still need a lot of work, even once she gets up in the air. There's a lot of lasting issues I can see going on. Easy to spot with the paneling displaced as it is. They didn't exactly design these things with longevity in mind. Might suggest finding yourself a mechanic wherever you go."
"You know," he began, pacing to the other side of the hold. "I could use a crew. Someone of your expertise could be useful, and I can pay handsomely."
Doc stopped, a smirk crossing her face. "Let me guess, you already pitched that to the old man and he said no?"
"The offer stands to you both," he countered.
"She and I are a package deal," Doc said, crossing her arms and throwing her head in the direction of Nala.
"I'm fine with the dog coming along as long as she has good ship manners."
Doc looked over in the direction of the child and Nala. An idea was beginning to formulate in her head.
"Deal." She held out her hand and he shook it. "But just so we're clear, I'm not calling you 'boss.'"
"Wouldn't expect you to."
They finished the rest of the repairs by the crack of dawn. A part of her was going to miss this place. It was peaceful and the world was free from the problems of the rest of the galaxy.
"Try not to miss me too much, old man," said Doc with one foot on the ramp and bag slung over her shoulder.
"Take care of yourself out there," Kuiil said with a smile. They clasped forearms together, the only gesture she could offer him that had any significance. She knew, deep down, they would see one another again.
"And you, old friend." Doc turned and boarded the ship as the landing pads began to hiss. Nala climbed on behind her, not exactly pleased to be back in a confined space. The bay door closed behind them.
"It won't be for long," Doc said, scratching the underside of her hound's chin. Nala chose a corner of the ship to call her own and stay put while Doc climbed up the ladder into the cockpit. She took the co-pilot chair next to the Mandalorian.
He gave a nod to Kuiil as they took off. The landscape slowly shrunk beneath them in the familiar belly-dropping feeling of leaving the atmosphere.
They began hitting the buttons in sequential order.
"Hyperdrive is ready when you are," Doc said as she hit one final button.
He flipped the switch and the world outside turned to streaks of white and blue. Some things never get old. Doc spun around in her seat to come face to face with the drowsy child.
"Hello there," Doc said, offering him her hand to play with. His big, brown eyes looked over the burn marks left the day before. Doc wiggled her finger and put it up to her mouth, as though there was some secret being kept between the two of them. He kept trying to reach out for her, but she kept his advances at bay.
"Where are we heading, anyway?" She asked, turning back around to face the Mandalorian.
"Nevarro."
"Nevarro?" She repeated. "You got something against going to places with trees?"
"Something like that."
Doc got up from her seat and headed for the ladder. While the ship was moving, there were still some issues she could fix while they were mid-flight. Issues that didn't require life support or hyperspace lines.
The main one was the steering. There was something causing the steering line to be corrupted, making quick maneuvers next to impossible. Sure, the thing could fly, but not very well. She knew the types of people bounty hunters ran with.
She pulled up one of the floor panels and climbed in. These inner panel sections were insulated from the darkness of space, but they did little for the chill.
She crawled her way through the ducts, looking for anything that would be out of the ordinary. When she got to where the tube met the connector, she saw the leak.
"There you are," she mumbled, pulling out her sealer and patched up the line. She tugged on it a few times, just to make sure it wasn't going anywhere. That small adjustment should be enough to fix the response problem, annoying as it may be to get to.
She weaseled her way back down the pipe, making small adjustments to things as she saw them. She climbed out, and for the first time she could see the complete picture of the cargo hold. It was much larger than the outside would have you believe it to be.
What caught her attention was the hibernation chamber. She had seen the effects of these things first hand, but her understanding was most planets had outright banned their use. Carbonite freezing was supposed to be a means to transport bodies, not living people.
She peeked into the sleeping area and saw how little space there was. No way he fit in there comfortably with all of that armor on. Doc frowned before climbing back up the ladder to take her seat.
The child was still in his crib, but the Mandalorian seemed to be in a foul mood. One of the knobs was missing on the accelerating column.
Based on the star chart in front of her, they would be kicking out of hyperspace soon. She swallowed a nervous knot in her throat.
"You're really going to do it, aren't you?"
His helmet turned in her direction, the lines of stars reflecting off the metal.
"Yes."
"I –" she cut herself off before starting again, choosing her words carefully. "Who put out the bounty?"
"I don't ask questions."
"No, but you have eyes. Who put out the bounty?"
"I don't know, some Imp," he said, turning back to the com. He pulled back a lever and the ship eased out of hyperspace. Nevarro came into view, inching closer and closer by the moment.
"You're going to sell a child to Imps?"
"It's the job."
She crossed her arms over her chest. "You know what they'll do to him."
The Mandalorian tilted his helmet in her direction. "What?"
"You heard me," she said. "They're going to turn him into a lab rat."
"What they do with him after he's in their custody is none of my business."
Her hands clenched around the arms of the chair. "I thought Mandalorians were supposed to be honorable."
His head snapped fully towards her. "You knew what the arrangement was when you signed up. If you can't handle it, I don't really see this working out."
"You know what? You're right," she said. "Fix your own damn ship."
She stormed down the ladder and sat near the loading bay, being sure to spare one wink toward the child as she passed. The exchange had been more formulaic than she had anticipated, but it gave her a reason to walk away. Nala came and rested her head on Doc's lap.
The plan was going ahead just as she calculated.