"The hell are you doing up there!?" Doc called up from the cargo deck below. She had been soundly asleep – the first decent bit of sleep she had gotten in days – when a large jolt in the ship forced her awake. She clambered up the ladder haphazardly, clinging on for dear life when another jolt nearly knocked her off.

"We have company," said the Mandalorian. Doc took the co-pilot seat and pulled down the firing scope. "See anything?"

"Scope is dark," she said, pushing it back up in frustration. She could hear Nala whining from the hold and the Child cooed obliviously behind her. "Any idea who the flyboy is?"

"Old coworker."

"You really need new friends."

Another jolt lunged them both forward into the console followed by a crash on the right. Doc looked over the engine diagnostics. The right engine was down. Doc tumbled around as she tried to get back down to the cargo bay to assess the damage. Another hit sent her flying down the ladder, landing her straight on her back.

"Ah, shit," she seethed.

"You alright down there?"

"Yeah, just get him off our ass already, will you?"

"Hold onto something." Doc did as she was instructed and wrapped one arm around the ladder and another around a squirming Nala. She gripped both tightly to herself as the ship began spinning around itself. She could feel her head growing lighter as they spun and spun before getting thrown towards the front of the ship, her strength threatening to give out. Whoever was out there landed one final hit on the ship as the engines began to blow out before the world was quiet once more. Nala squirmed out of Doc's arm as the ship stabilized. And then the lights went out.

Doc felt her way over to the spot just under the main cabin where the emergency power supply was located. She flicked on a few switches in the box and the emergency red lights came up. She went over to the engine reader on the side of the ship and felt her heart drop. All that work over the last few weeks for nothing.

"We're gonna need to stop for repairs," she said, coming back up the ladder. "There's nothing I can do from in here. Gonna have to go in and repair it from the outside. I give it a few hours before the emergency power supply runs out, and by the looks of the reports I'm seeing the fuel line was hit."

"There's a facility on Tatooine. We can stop and make repairs there," said the Mandalorian as they drifted on minimal power through the emptiness of space towards the small, red planet just visible in their viewfinder. "I'll pick up a job for extra credits."

"Is that really a good idea?" asked Doc. She glanced over at the kid. "We have a big enough target on our backs as it is without announcing our presence to this sector of the galaxy. It's not like you're the most inconspicuous person."

"Let me worry about the job," he said, glancing over at her. "You just focus on getting the ship up and running again so we can leave."

Doc leaned back in her chair, somewhat dissatisfied. She had a bad feeling about this one, and it only grew stronger as the red planet grew and grew.

Doc radioed into the tower of Mos Eisley. "Thank you, Mos Eisley. Course set to hangar three-five. ETA ten minutes, over."

"Ever been to Tatooine?" asked the Mandalorian. Doc sighed.

"Once. Mercy mission a few years back. You?"

"A few times in the early days," he said. "Before the Guild, it was a consistent way to find jobs."

Doc nodded in agreement. She knew what that meant without even needing to ask. People will find a way to make money when they needed it.

As they entered the atmosphere, Doc could look out the side window and see a trail of smoke following behind them as they came down for their final descent. The Razor Crest's landing gears screeched out of their compartments and the ship dropped with a gentle thud. The Mandalorian pressed the button and the loading ramp began extending out.

"Don't let him out of your sight," said the Mandalorian as he looked between Doc and the Child. It was an order, but it carried a sense of plea with it.

"You read my mind."

Doc made a sling out of a spare set of robes and tied the Child to her back. She followed the Mandalorian down the ramp and saw him shoot at some tinkering droids.

"Hey, HEY!" cried a woman from behind a glass panel. "You break 'em and you'll pay for that!"

"No droids."

"Maker, what happened to your ship?!" she cried, pulling out a scanner. Doc watched as her eyes widened at the sight of the flaming engine. The damage was impressive, Doc admitted. Everything was covered in blaster burns and dents. The engine would need a complete rebuild and the fuel line replaced. And those were only the things she knew about from a visual inspection.

"She needs a bit of work," said Doc, knocking on the support beam for the ramp. "I can do them myself – just need the hangar space."

"I have five hundred Imperial credits we can pay upfront." The Mandalorian reached in his side pouch and handed the hangar keeper the credits. She gazed up at him, an eyebrow perched high.

"It should cover the hangar, but she's going to need help if you want this done before the month's end," she said.

"She's right," said Doc. "It's a lot worse than I thought it was. It'll go quicker with two."

"I'll get you more credits."

The hangar keeper scoffed. "I've heard that one before."

"I'll be back soon," he said to Doc. "Try to lay low."

"Yeah. You, too."

Doc set out to start the repairs on the ship. The hangar keeper – Peli, as she would learn her name to be – assisted her and began running diagnostics. Peli had some scrap pieces of metal lying around, which allowed Doc to retrofit them to the frame of the Razor Crest and replace any missing or damaged engine panels.

"So, how long have you been stuck with that ray of sunshine?" Peli asked as they worked on rewiring the hyperspace line. The Child was asleep in a pile of blankets in the corner being watched over by Nala.

Doc laughed. "We've been flying together for a few months now. He's not so bad once you get used to him."

They chatted while they worked. A few hours passed and shifted the shadows of the suns from one side of the hangar to the other. The Mandalorian returned while they were on a break waiting for tests to register. Doc sat across the table from Peli and her hangar droids playing a game of poker with nuts and bolts as their wagers.

Doc's eyes glanced up first. The Child teetered after her as she went to greet him.

"If I'm reading the expression on your face right: you have a job," she said, picking up the kid as he pulled at her boot.

"The job should take a couple of days," he said, hand reaching out and stroking the ears of the Child. "If I'm not –"

"I know, I know. I know how this works," she said. He rested a hand on her shoulder.

"Thank you."

Doc followed him out of the hangar door into the open desert. Another man was waiting for him there, two speeder bikes ready.

"You didn't say your companion was so..." the other man began. He extended his hand towards Doc. "Toro Calican, at your service."

"Mando," said Doc, completely ignoring the boy's advances. He stopped and looked at her before climbing onto his speeder. "Try not to get yourself killed."

"That's always the plan."

In a puff of sand, they were gone. Doc watched them disappear over the sea of sand dunes, buzzing of the speeder bike engines disappearing with it. Peli had been in the doorway, watching silently.

"The diagnostic should be done," she offered. Doc gave her a small smile and headed back into the hangar. She set the Child down next to Nala and tried to focus her mind on the work.

Every time her mind began to wander towards the possibilities of what might happen, she unconsciously touched her fingers to her lips. It had been a week the last time she had smoked, and the urge to do so was sometimes so overwhelming it made her want to cry. Or scream. Or sleep. Her mind had never been so clear and muddled at the same time.

"Peli," she said finally when the ache became too much. "Is there a market anywhere around here? Going to get some food."

"There's some stalls down the street," she said from the inside of the engine. Doc thanked her and asked her to watch the Child while she was out. Nala blocked her path to the street, glowing eyes full of judgment. She knew where she was headed.

"Don't get in my way," ordered Doc. Nala didn't move as Doc passed her by, glowing eyes still watching with disapproval. She walked down the street to the spot Peli had described, finding a man dressed in all white with small tin boxes laid out in front of him. Doc bought a single pack off him and walked around to a nearby alley and sat on a crate.

She toyed with the tin package in her hand a few times, rolling it over as though some secret would be revealed if she did so. She popped the lid off and slid one spice stick out of the slot. She stuck it in her mouth and reached for her lighter.

But something stayed her hand as her thumb hovered over the sparker. Doc sat there for a moment in the alley, spice stick hanging out the side of her mouth like it used to. It was as though an old friend had come for a visit. Her teeth crunched around the edges of the stick, the intense flavor of spice filling her mouth. It was gross. Unpleasant. It tasted like old tar that had been ripening on a building for several years.

Doc took the stick out of her mouth and threw it to the ground, crushing it with the toe of her boot. The tin plopped down beside it as she cupped her head into her hands. She could feel hot tears roll down into her hands as the ache of longing swirled around her body. She hit the sides of her temples in frustration.

"Get a grip, you dumbass," she murmured to herself. She wiped the sides of her eyes with the back of her hand and pushed dirt over the canister with her foot. She paced for a few minutes, trying desperately to keep her eyes from looking at the little mound of sand in the middle of the alleyway. Everything ached, but nothing more so than her head.

You chose well, little one.

"Shut up," she seethed, eyes tearing to look at empty space behind her. She gripped at the hair around her temples, trying to make the pain disappear.

Go to them.

"I said shut up!" Doc extended her hand and a stack of crates near her flew back to hit the wall behind them. She staggered back out of the alleyway and back into the marketplace, pulling her hood over her head. She bought food to restock their depleted goods in the Razor Crest, mumbling orders to the vendors. She even picked up a new battery core for Nala, hopeful it would be enough penance.

The suns had just begun to set. No doubt the Mandalorian was already well into his job by now. Maybe he was even already dead.

"Did you get what you need?" asked Peli.

"Something like that," said Doc, her voice dry and gravelly. She kneeled next to the child and Nala and handed them a bone bar and battery pack, respectively. Doc scratched the spot just behind Nala's ear that she knew she liked and muttered a quick apology.

She didn't sleep that night. Maybe it was the constant sweating that kept her up. Maybe it was the thought of the Mandalorian's body being buried somewhere in a forgotten part of the desert, leaving her alone with the child as his sole provider. Maybe it was the voices that had begun to flood back into her head since she'd stopped smoking. All she could do was work and focus on reconstructing something.

To heal.

Wasn't that the reason she had left her home in the first place? She thought back to the time she had first been on Tatooine. She remembered the feeling of saving people from the brink of death and the adrenaline that would pump through her veins in the process. She couldn't do that on the run. She thought back to the transmission she had received from Yonda. The older doctor sounded desperate for help – desperate for someone to come and save those people.

Ever since they left Sorgan, Doc has felt nothing but a pit of guilt growing in her stomach. During her shifts at the pilot's seat, she would read over medical journals and research papers sent by Yonda that detailed the extreme nature of the virus she was investigating. Doc could help, or she knew at one point she would have been able to.

Doc walked over to the table in the corner of the hangar and sat down, a hyperdrive component in hand. It was one of the last things that needed fixing before they left. There were other issues with the ship – the navigation detector was off, some fuel lines were still dripping, and the engines were at a lower capacity than she would like, but they could all be fixed by a general mechanic for a low price. She just needed to fix the hyperdrive and the Mandalorian would be all set. The child would be set.

The component whirled to life as Doc placed the last of the wires where they belonged. She reconnected it with the rest of the hyperspace chamber and a quick diagnostic test revealed it to be functional.

"You must've stayed up all night," said Peli, coming from her office. A red light began to shower onto the walls of the hangar. "Eager to leave?"

"Eager isn't the word I would use," said Doc, putting away all the components they had scattered around the hangar. "We'll just need to leave as soon as he gets back. Thank you for the tools and the company, Peli."

"You should try getting some rest, dear," said Peli, cleaning grease off her red jumper.

Doc shook her head. "There's still work to be done with the wires on the inside. I'm just going to make sure those are all set before I call it a day."

With Peli's assistance, the task only took a few hours. By high noon, the ship was fueled, restocked, and ready for takeoff. Doc even had time to recalibrate the navigational track so it would be more adept at detecting oncoming ships.

She sat in the cargo hold of the ship and threw the ball off the landing deck and into the hangar for Nala for a while. The child alternated between chasing Nala up and down the ramp as she sprinted by, amused by the way the electricity flickered off her tail.

"Come here, little one," said Doc, arms spread wide as the child came and nestled in her lap. She enjoyed these moments most with him, as they were few and far between. He looked up at her with big brown eyes. In them, she saw what she needed to do. It was as if he were peering into her soul and giving her the okay as the words of Yonda stuck in the back of her mind.

"You'll need to take care of one another," she said. She felt more choked up than she imagined she ever would. "You know how he likes to get in trouble." The child reached up and touched her forehead with his three, grubby green fingers. There was a sense of peace in the gesture, of understanding.

Doc lifted the child off her lap and set him aside before getting up and crawling into the sleeping chamber. She was exhausted, and her bones still ached from the day before. Sleep came easier than she thought it would, despite the noise her mind was making.

A blaster bolt later and her eyes shot open, chest heaving heavily and sweat dripping down her back in cool, long stripes. She could hear voices outside, though she only recognized Peli's with certainty. She could hear Nala whimpering somewhere in the hangar.

Doc knew the Mandalorian kept a spare blaster in the sleeping chambers, though she had never bothered to ask where. She began pushing buttons – any buttons she could find – until a small compartment slid open on her right. She picked up the gun tentatively and hit the button to open the door.

It must have been nighttime. The noise from the street had silenced itself and Doc could only see with the small bit of light coming in from the ramp. A silhouette of a man stood at the top of the entrance; a blaster fixated on Peli. A glint of light from the corner of her eye caught the reflection of the moon on the Mandalorian's armor. Doc took silent and tentative steps.

"Cuff him," said the man, holding the child in one arm as his blaster stayed fixated on Peli and the Mandalorian. Doc flipped her blaster around as she neared him. The Mandalorian must have seen her, as he gave a small nod. Nala's whimpering only grew louder from the corner. She must have been hit. From her vantage point, Doc could see the tip of a flash bomb in the Mandalorian's hand. She covered her eyes and saw the world erupt into blinding light.

As soon as the flash went off, Doc swung with all her might at the man's head with the butt of her gun, shocking him into dropping the child. She dove forward and caught him as a single blaster shot erupted from the light and hit the man square in the chest. Doc rolled forward until she fell off the ramp and onto her back, the little one clutched tightly to her chest.

"Nala!" Doc sprang to her feet and ran over to her hound, setting the child down. She could see the blaster hit just above her left front leg, the fur still singed and smoking. Doc went to touch it, which only merited a snarl and gnawing from Nala.

"Easy, easy," said Doc, trying to hold her head down and out of the way. The child came up beside her and placed his hand on the dog's shoulder. Doc pushed him away, knowing what he was trying to do.

"She'll be fine without that, little one," she whispered as the Mandalorian and Peli came up beside her. The Mandalorian kneeled and held Nala's head down for Doc, Nala nibbling and licking his gloves out of fear. Doc pulled a bacta patch from one of her side pockets and began administering the ointment as if it were any other blaster wound.

"She'll be alright," said the Mandalorian, stroking the calming dog's neck. "Here, take this pouch off my hip. It's the rest of the credits. I'll get her in the ship." Doc pulled off the pouch as the Mandalorian gently lifted Nala off the ground. She squirmed before settling into his touch.

Doc came up to Peli and dropped the credits in her hands. "Think this'll be enough?"

They both knew it was more than enough – perhaps even double what they would have owed.

"That should cover it," said Peli. Her eyes softened. "Listen, maybe it's not my place but these past two days something really seems to be on your mind. I think you should take care of it, whatever it is."

"Yeah," said Doc. She gave a small smile. "Thanks, Peli. Take care of yourself."

Doc picked up the child and carried him up the ramp and into the ship. She hit the loading button and the ramp creaked upwards to seal them in.

Doc stayed with Nala in the cargo hold while the Mandalorian went through the takeoff procedures. When they were comfortably in hyperspace, he came down and took a seat next to her on the floor. Doc stayed quiet, spinning the communicator in her hand.

"Mando."

"Hm?"

"Do you remember Sorgan?"

"Hard to forget. We were there only a week ago."

"While we were there," said Doc, passing over the communicator puck, "I got this transmission from an old colleague of mine."

The aging face of Yonda appeared in a blue hologram on the puck. The same message that had been running through Doc's mind played out clear as day.

"Doc, I need your help. You know I wouldn't be contacting you unless it was an emergency. The crisis on Onglar-4 is getting out of hand. Thousands of people are dying every day. It's only a matter of time before the whole colony is infected. Please, I need your help. I've provided –"

The Mandalorian paused the hologram. He was quiet for a moment, just looking at the frozen image of Yonda and her distress.

"You have to go," he said quietly, clicking the hologram off.

Doc leaned her elbows onto her knee. "Yeah."

The Mandalorian got up without another word. He climbed up the ladder, leaving Doc to only the sounds of the engines murmuring and Nala breathing at her neck. She could feel the ship jump out of hyperspace and jump back in, presumably the Mandalorian switching course to the Onglar system. He didn't come back down until the ship slowed to halt.

The New Republic had set up a medical station just above the planet for operating personnel to work out of and quarantine. Doc stood at the entrance of the ramp staring at the closed door with her bag over her shoulder. She could hear the Mandalorian's footsteps coming down the ladder and beside her.

"Here," she said, taking his arm and typing in a code on his control pad. "It's a direct line to my communicator. If anything happens –"

"I know how this works," he said. Doc gave him a small smile before looking back at Nala and the child. The Mandalorian pulled her gaze back up to his own. "And I'll look after them until you get back."

She gave him a hug. It was uncomfortable and clumsy, as her body did not want to conform to the harsh outlines of the beskar, but it made her feel more human than she had in a long time. She felt his arms gently wrap around her back and pull her in tighter.

"Just try not to get yourself killed," he said into her ear. At this proximity, she could almost make out what his voice would sound like outside of the modulator.

"Same to you."

Doc pulled away first and adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder. She didn't turn back around as she hit the button for the ramp, afraid that if she did she wouldn't be able to leave. The blinding white of the medical bay caused her to squint as she exited the building. Immediately upon her exit, she was swarmed by a host of doctors and nurses - some of them her old colleagues – about where she had been, medical history, and points of contact. One took her bag and another handed her a change of clothes.

Doc could hear the purr of the Razor Crest as the engines sprung to life, leaving her alone.