"Doc?"

Doc's eyes fluttered open and closed again, the pain from looking at the sun too much to bear.

"Doc. Allara. Come on, wake up. Easy there. It was a nasty hit."

She tried to open her eyes. The Mandalorian was gripping the back of her head. She could see the child standing over her, too, with curious eyes. He tried to reach out and touch her forehead.

"No, little one," she moaned. "Enough of that." She swatted his little hand away and tried to sit up, thinking twice when a shot of pain when from her head down to her leg. She felt a tightness in her boots. No doubt her leg was broken.

"How long was I out?" she asked, gripping her head.

"A few minutes at most," he said. "I went to go look for bacta pads, but -"

"They're on the townspeople," she said. "They needed it more than I did. What happened?"

"Hunters," he said. "Stop trying to get up for a second. We need to look at your head."

"I can live without my head," she said, her vision fuzzy. "It's the leg I'm worried about."

"Leg? Which leg?"

"Right one."

The Mandalorian helped her lean against a rock before scooting down to her leg. He carefully removed her boot. Doc had to bite down on a leather strap. The pain was too much. Doc leaned forward and rolled up her pant leg to reveal the inflamed area around the inside of her leg.

"Dank ferrick," she said.

"Can you heal it?"

"Do I look like a miracle worker to you?"

"You did it to me."

"It doesn't work like that," she said. "It only works as an exchange. You have to give something to take it."

"Well, can you take something from me?"

"It doesn't work like that either."

"Could the kid?"

"No, he's not trained. He'd probably end up killing himself," she said. "There's such thing as giving too much. Like using all the bacta pads on two wounds. Stars, I'm an idiot. Well, you know the drill. Leave a blaster and I'll take care of the rest."

"I'm not leaving you in the middle of the desert," he said firmly. He began looking around for materials to use as splints, settling on the engine covers of the speeder bike and some rope they had on the back. "Try to stay still."

"That's easy for you to say - ahh!" She grimaced as he tightened the rope around her legs, securing the engine covers in place.

"And your head?"

"Am I this annoying when I treat my patients?"

"Just answer the question."

"It's fine," she said. "It's fine. I'm fine. Probably just a concussion."

He helped her up, careful to support the weight she couldn't take on her leg. He rested her against the stone ledge and began picking up the scraps of the wreckage. He began suspending it all on one of the outrigger parts of the speeder bike.

"Here, give me the pack extra pack and your rifle. I'll take the kid, too. I'm sure that satchel is around here somewhere," Doc insisted. He was hesitant at first, but he knew it would make the journey easier overall. She put the child around her body first, placing him in the satchel that had originally sat on the outside of the speeder bike. When he was secure, the Mandalorian handed over his rifle. Doc Slung it around her body opposite to how the child was. She took the jetpack off him and clipped it onto the strap of the satchel, trying to test and see if it would bother the kid too much.

The Mandalorian suspended the bar carrying the rest of their belongings over his right shoulder and took on Doc's weight with his left. They looked out at the desert in front of them.

"How many clicks to Mos Eisley was it?" he asked. Doc shook her head.

"It's better you don't know."

They set out. The first mile was the worst by far for Doc, but after that, the pain was so much it numbed her body and mind. She mostly felt bad for him, as he was supporting most of the weight. The shoulder with the wreckage materials must have been killer.

"Doin' alright?" he would ask her every few miles or so. It eventually became a joke between them.

"Would it really make a difference if I said no?"

"Fair."

"How about you?"

"I've had better days."

"I was thinking we should get closer," she stuttered out. It was difficult to coordinate the muscles needed for talking and moving when everything was so fuzzy. "But, Din, I gotta tell you. This wasn't really the way I saw it going down."

"What did you have in mind instead?" he pried, a bit of humor laced in his voice.

"We could just have a drink next time?" she suggested. "A nice group relaxation time where nothing is shooting at us, trying to blow us up, chasing us, or leaving us stranded in the desert, eh?"

"Yeah, I'll get right on that."

He laughed, and she couldn't help but laugh with him. It hurt, but it kept their spirits up. Maybe they were going delirious. They were undoubtedly dehydrated. Running on fumes. To make matters worse, he still smelled of the krayt dragon's mucus. It was still horrid, even caked onto the beskar.

Every dune peak they prayed would be the last. Now would have been the opportune time to run into the Tuskens. Their feet sunk back every other step, pushing them to their physical boundaries. She could taste the sand accumulating in her mouth as it began to cake.

"You've gotta be burning up in that," she said after a while. The suns had been cooking them for hours now, relentless in their beat down. "I'm getting hot just looking at you."

"We're almost there," he said, his pace increasing. Doc had to slow him back down, unable to keep up.

"I can't," she said. "I'm sorry. I just... I can't."

"It's alright. Should we break?"

"No, I'd rather just keep going."

The suns were nearing the horizon when they crossed the final dune and the town of Mos Eisley came into view. Doc had never seen a more beautiful sight in her life. She could practically taste the food as they started down the sands. A piece of metal caught her eye.

"Hang on, Din," she said, nodding over to the metal shard. The Mandalorian got the message and dropped his packs and eased Doc to the ground. She laid back, looking up at the blue sky free from the suns in her face.

The Mandalorian returned a few moments later and laid the piece of metal down for them. It was big enough for both of them to ride on at the same time. Doc sat down first and held onto the rucksacks he had been carrying. It took some maneuvering with the rifle to get it to lay flat, but it eventually yielded.

"Ready?" he asked.

"I'm ready to get off this planet," she said, gripping with one hand onto the side of their makeshift sleigh for support. He pushed off, digging into the dune. When they had decent momentum, he hopped on behind her and steered them down the great dune. They were not far from the Hangar 3 entrance. Doc could see Nala laying patiently by the opening, ears perking up as she caught wind of their arrival.

The hound sprinted out to meet them as they came to a halt at the bottom of the slope. She came at full force, tackling Doc back into the Mandalorian and showering her with untold amounts of slobbery kisses.

"Yes, yes, Nala," she laughed. Nala's tongue tickled Doc's neck. "I missed you, too, old girl."

Nala jumped around them, eager to have their company once again. Doc and The Mandalorian laid there for a second, bones weary from the journey. Doc tried to sit up first, the world spinning black as she did. The Mandalorian helped push her to sit up and took her arm over her shoulder and bore her full weight as he lifted her from the ground. He pulled the child's rucksack off her shoulders and onto his own, freeing her of any unnecessary weight.

"Nala, can you watch the things for a minute?" he asked. The dog barked in reply and laid down next to the sled. Doc felt pity for anyone who would try and mess with her.

"Let's get you to the ship," he said, forgoing the pleasantries and just completely picking Doc up under her legs. The beskar armor had begun to cool down with the night air, and Doc had to admit it felt nice pressed against her forehead. He carried her into the hangar and onto the Razor Crest, setting her in her hammock in the main hold. He brought her a canteen.

"Sip on this," he said. Doc did as she was told. Every fiber of her being told her to start chugging, but she knew she couldn't. The water tasted bitter in her mouth. The Mandalorian returned a few moments later with whatever bacta pads and gel they had stashed away on the Crest.

"The anesthetic," she mumbled. He came closer to hear her better. "There's a topical anesthetic in the medkit. It'll numb the area. The bacta is more effective if it's injected for broken bones. Point seven milliliters should be enough for an injury like that. There should be an empty shot distributer in the kit. Because you have to get so close to the bone, you should use the anesthetic."

He carefully began removing the makeshift splint and did as she instructed. He cleaned the site, applied the anesthetic, and injected the bacta directly into the bone site. He applied a bit more to her forehead, trying to work the bacta goo into her scalp with his hands.

"I got it, I got it," she said, taking over the task. "Got get the stuff. Find Peli. It'd be rude to leave without saying goodbye."

"I'll be back soon," he said, dropping off the child into his own hammock in the sleeping chambers. "Try to get some rest."

"Aye, aye, Captain."

She just let herself drift off to sleep. She didn't wake when Nala came back into the ship and played with the child. She didn't wake while the Mandalorian and Peli had a conversation outside the ship. She only woke when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"We have company," he said quietly. Doc glanced behind him and saw a red frog lady looking back at her, a sack of eggs on her back.

"Uh, who is that?"

"She can help us find Mandalorians," he explained. "Or at least Peli seems to think she can. No hyperdrive."

"What?" asked Doc, trying to sit back up. His grip on her shoulder kept her down. "We're gonna get tracked down by who knows what if we don't use hyperdrive!"

"I'll take care of it," he said. "Think the lady from Nevarro is still after us?"

"Undoubtedly," she said. "We wouldn't be able to beat her. Not like this."

"What makes you so sure?"

"We don't have the right equipment," said Doc. "You might live, but I wouldn't. Why can't we jump again?"

"It's something to do with her eggs."

"Her eggs?" reiterated Doc. "She has eggs?"

He glanced over his shoulder to make sure the frog woman wasn't listening in. "Yeah, the kid already tried to eat one."

"I'll keep an eye on them," she said, trying once again to get up.

"No, you stay here. Rest. Nala will look after him and the eggs," said the Mandalorian. Before he climbed up the ladder, he turned back to her one more time. "And no arguing. Doctor's orders."

"You'd make a terrible doctor," she said, nestling back in the hammock. She let her eyes drift close, grateful for the time to catch up on sleep. She felt weightless in her dreams, as though she were falling free from the sky.

Her eyes fluttered open and she saw her braid float above her head. The light crates strewn about the hold were floating beside her. Her brows furrowed. She touched her arm to make sure this was real.

"Mando?!" she called out, panic evident in her voice. She didn't get a response. She didn't have time to call out again when the bottom of the Razor Crest came back up to meet her, slamming her into the contours of the hammock. She pushed herself out, trying to find her balance as the ship jutted and pulled under her feet.

She made her way over to the sleeping quarters where Nala and the child would surely be. She saw the frog woman's eggs on the way, the canister being thrown about. She grabbed it and slung it over her shoulder before she reached the sleeping hatch. When she opened the door, their eyes were wide with terror.

"Easy, guys," she said, crawling in with them. She pushed them as far back into the quarters as she could before keeping her arms locked around all three - Nala, the child, and the eggs.

The Razor Crest shook and rattled around them, threatening to tear apart at any moment. It was when she could hear the scraping of metal against ice and smell the sparks coming off the engines that she began to worry. They were being thrown every which way, but Doc retained an iron grip on the little ones. There had been a moment of stillness before there was a large crack and they were falling again. Doc protected their heads at all costs, using the padding of the sleeping pod to their advantage. When it landed with a harsh thud followed by a minute of silence, she could only assume it was over.

"Stay here," she ordered Nala and the child. She began crawling out of the pod, needing to pry the broken handle open. No doubt it had been warped from the fall.

The hull had sustained major damage. A large gaping hole was in the back, allowing for white flurries to find their way inside. Doc needed to get into the cockpit. She began climbing the ladder, hopeful to find survivors. Her leg was still stiff from the break, but manageable.

Wires buzzed and spew sparks, raining down on the occupants of the cockpit. Doc checked on the frog woman first. She was conscious but shivering from the cold. Doc took off her cloak and wrapped it around the woman. She clutched onto Doc, trying to ask her something.

"Your eggs are fine," said Doc, not sure if that's what she was referring to. It seemed to calm the woman down, and she slunk back into her corner, trying to take in the warmth of the cloak. Doc walked around to the pilot seat where the Mandalorian was face-first into the console. She pulled his body off the panel and pushed him back into the chair, his head rolling onto his chest. She put her ear up close to his face and took his pulse on his wrist.

Well, he was alive.

"Mando?" she asked,

He jumped awake, startling Doc. She clasped a hand over her heart.

"Stars," she muttered. "You alright?"

"Yeah," he said, pushing past her and checking the control panel settings. Nothing was turning on. His head snapped in her direction. "The kid?"

"He's fine," she said. "Everyone's fine. Mind telling me what the hell happened?"

"The New Republic is what happened," he grumbled, still trying to flip on switches.

"Why would the New Republic shoot down the Razor Crest?" asked Doc. "And why didn't you come and get me?"

"Transponder wasn't working. And it's not like they gave me a lot of time before they started shooting."

"Right," said Doc. "Well, not a lot we can do about it now. I'll go look at the damage on the outside and start on it."

"It's going to be night soon," he said, looking out the window. "You'll freeze."

"I'll manage," she said, grabbing her old hanging shawl off the wall. "Try to keep her warm," she nodded at the frog woman, "And get some sleep. I'll need your help with these repairs when you wake up."

Doc slid down the ladder. She opened the sleeping hatch and Nala and the Child crawled out. The eggs sat in the back, untouched. Doc saw the power supply on the incubator chamber dropping. She would need to work fast.

"Nala, I need you," she said to her hound as she picked up the toolkit. The hound trotted up to her side and followed her into the frozen wasteland. The cold pierced right down to her bones, as though her clothing didn't even exist at all. Doc pulled her shawl over her body more. Her feet sunk into the snow, carving a small path for whoever would follow in her steps. She stepped around the side of the ship, trying to figure out where to start with the repairs.

The hull was breached. Half the panels on the Crest were hanging on by no more than a few bolts. The fuel lines were leaking. The breaks were leaking. One of the engines was sending sparks.

Doc sighed, head hung low. It would take a lot of work just to get the thing to hover, let alone pressurize for space travel. She didn't even want to think of what the costs would be at a hangar for the materials to fix it.

She decided to start with the panel closest to the landing gear. The leak in that would be the most difficult and time-sensitive fix. She set about trying to reattach the tubes, covering her shoes and hands in a glowing blue goo in the process. It was slippery work and her hands were freezing from the cold night. She moved from section to section, trying to get it functioning at the bare minimum. When she got to the engine panel, the Mandalorian came out to join them, his own toolbox in hand.

"You might wanna stand back for a second," said Doc without looking up from her work. "Alright, Nala. Give it a good start."

Nala backed up as far as the gorge would let her and barreled towards her, aiming for the two wires held between Doc's hands. Sparks flew in every which direction, hitting Doc and the Crest's side. Nala bore into the side of the engine. Her aim was good, but not perfect. Doc felt the residual sparks race up around her hands, through her body, before settling in her stomach. She flinched.

The engine whirled for a moment before kicking back off. Doc slapped it with her hand.

"Dank ferrick," she cried, jumping down from her perch and hitting the side of the Crest as hard as she could manage. "What a piece of junk."

"It's going well, then?" quipped the Mandalorian. Doc sent him a death glare.

"The left engine is fine," she said coldly. "The right one is fried. She's gonna need a complete overhaul - top to bottom. It's just a big piece of flying crap right now. This is worse than when the Jawas disassembled the Crest. At least they didn't break anything. This is... I mean, it's a pile of shit."

"It's gonna have to do to get us out of here," he said. "Not like we have much choice. Let me help you with the engine. We'll want to be able to at least fly."

The Mandalorian took the lower access panel and Doc took the upper. After a few hours, they got it to be able to limp to life, though Doc wasn't sure for how long it would be functional. Based on the amount of fuel on the ground, they were running dry. Doc had Nala jump the mechanism one more time before she was satisfied it would start when they needed it to.

They stood looking at the gaping hole in the side of the Crest.

"I don't think it's even worth trying to fix right now," said Doc, picking at the raw edges of the punctured metal. "We won't be able to bend these panels back to shape out here. Be better to tie everything up real good inside and just hobble along in the cockpit."

The child appeared around the corner, babbling on about something.

"You could pick up a tool and make yourself useful," said the Mandalorian dryly. The child kept looking at both of them and pointing into the distance. Doc followed him first and saw the footprints. The Mandalorian came beside them and knelt beside the child.

"You should go check it out," said Doc to the Mandalorian. "Take Nala. I'll stay here and finish tying things down. I'll even see if I can get the transmitter up and going so we don't end up in this situation again. Try not to take too long. I don't like the feeling of this place."

"You're sure giving a lot of orders," he said.

"I'm sorry, which one of us crashed the ship? And which one of us has been out here all night to try and get it to fly again? That's what I thought."

Doc left them there but turned once more before disappearing inside the ship, eyes locked in on the child. "Be good," she warned.

She pulled back the cover and began tying down anything that had any kind of value. She locked some loose items into the sleeping chamber, tied down crates, locked the weapons cabinet door, and secured some other odds and ends. It wouldn't be perfect, but it would do. Doc climbed up into the cockpit and began messing with the transponder panel, cracking it open and attempting to do a hard reset on the system. The static radio station buzzed to life.

"Any visuals?"

"Negative."

"I'm gonna call it. We can always hang in the altitude. Wait for them to pop back up."

"Hello?" Doc called into the transponder. "X-Wings, do you copy?"

"Uh, hello?" one responded. "Who is this?"

"My name is Doctor Allara Martano. Clearance Xavier-Three-Alpha-Nine. Code name Doc. Do you boys copy?"

"We copy, Doctor. What are you doing out here? What are your coordinates?"

"I was in the Razor Crest you two shot down," she said. "Care to explain?"

"Uh, we ran those codes as belonging to a Mandalorian criminal," they said. "We didn't know you were onboard -"

"Enough of that," said Doc. She thought she heard an explosion somewhere in the distance. "Our ship is badly damaged. We need immediate evac assistance. We have a woman on board who is amphibian in species. Medical emergency A-3."

"We roger that. What are your coordinates for evac assistance?"

"Uh," Doc began flicking switches, but the panels would not display, "impossible to say right now. We're in a cave if that helps."

There was a moment of silence before one of the pilots clicked on. "We'll run a cross relay tab on this signal and pinpoint it. Keep this channel open. It'll be a few minutes before we can key in on you."

"Roger that, X-Wing."

A large boom drew Doc's attention away from the comm. She looked out the window to see the Mandalorian and the frog woman sprinting out of the cave, an army of small spider-like creatures chasing after them.

"Better get here quick, X-Wing," said Doc, already climbing down the ladder. "We have company."

She sprinted out to meet them, helping the frog woman inside. Nala jumped in next, carrying the child in her teeth. They all began clambering up to the cockpit.

"What the hell," she growled to the Mandalorian. He was picking off the creatures one by one, but the numbers were too much for his blaster to handle. A larger version of the small creatures came and shot a sticky substance, pinning the Mandalorian to the Razor Crest. He struggled to get his grip free.

Doc didn't even think twice. She stepped forward and sent an invisible force to push back the approaching creatures, but it was not enough to deter their advances. It gave the Mandalorian enough time to break his arm free. He grabbed Doc's wrist and pulled her inside the Razor Crest. They stumbled on their entry and scrambled to make it up the ladder before the flood caught up to them.

The Mandalorian was the last through the door, but the sheer number of creatures crowding it made it impossible to close. Doc tried to manually hold the door closed, but they were too numerous. He flicked on his flamethrower and blasted through the panel, incinerating their bodies. They stopped advancing enough for the cockpit seal to be made.

It was tight with the five of them all crowded together. The frog woman clutched her eggs desperately in the corner. Nala stayed wrapped around the child. Doc and the Mandalorian began messing with the landing protocols.

The engines took some priming, but they eventually gave and hovered to life. The temperature stabilizers were offline, but it would have to do.

"Hold on," said the Mandalorian. "It's gonna be a bumpy ride."

Doc held onto the wall of the ship. The Crest sputtered upwards, but something big landed atop them and weighed the ship down. The engines cracked under the added weight and they were sent tumbling back down to the ground.

A giant creature had stopped them, no doubt the mother of the small creatures that had been chasing them. She gripped her long, spidery legs around the Razor Crest and suctioned her face onto the view glass, multiple rows of teeth threatening to eat them.

"I'm open to new ideas," said the Mandalorian, frantically trying to get the engines back online. A claw pierced through the very top sheet of glass. Doc pulled the Mandalorian out of the way and it pierced right through the chair he had been sitting in.

"I'll let you know if I have any," said Doc.

"Razor Crest, we have a visual."

A blaster bolt knocked the great spider creature off their ship, sending it tumbling over the side. A mighty scream erupted from her, but it was soon silenced with an onslaught of blaster firings. The glass had frosted over from the cold, but the red glow of the bolts lit up the cockpit in a fiery display.

Doc and the Mandalorian pried open the doors to the cockpit and started to head outside. The inside of the hull was covered in sticky webs and smoldered carcasses. A stray spider crawled out from near Doc's hammock and the Mandalorian shot it where it stood. They crept out the hole, tentatively pulling back the draped cover to the scene outside.

They were met with blinding lights of X-Wing jets. The two pilots began picking off any stray crawlers that surrounded their ship. Doc shielded her eyes against the light, trying to make out the figures.

"'Bout time you showed up," said Doc when the firing stopped. "Little close for comfort."

"It was difficult to triangulate the signal in these canyons," one explained. "Are you alright?"

"We're fine."

"You brought them here?" asked the Mandalorian. "They were the ones that shot us down to begin with."

"Easy there, pal," one of the pilots began. The Mandalorian sent him a death glare.

"I am not your pal."

"The only reason we're not arresting you right here in the spot for jailbreaking a prisoner from a transport ship is because you're with her."

"You did what?" hissed Doc. "When did you do that?"

"Records show he broke out one prisoner," said the older pilot. "But he did manage to secure three other criminals from the New Republic's Most Wanted docket. Records also show he put the life of a prison guard ahead of his own and tried to save him from his... companions."

"It was when you were on Onglar-4," whispered the Mandalorian, shooting a quick look at Doc. "Am I under arrest?"

The two pilots exchanged glances. "Technically, you should be."

Doc bit the inside of her cheek. "But is he?"

The pilots looked at her. "Do you... want him to be?"

"No...?"

"Then on the good faith of your orders, we won't," said the younger pilot. "But this stays off the record."

"Deal. Now, about our ship."

Under Doc's orders, the two pilots helped them patch up the cockpit of the Razor Crest, or enough so to where they would be able to pressurize it. The rest of the ship would have to wait until they landed at a port.

"Say," one of the pilots had struck up a conversation with Doc while they atop the Crest with the Mandalorian. "Are you the Doc? The one from Ghost Team?"

Doc could feel the Mandalorian's gaze on the back of her head, listening equally for her response. She only chuckled.

"Now, that's a name I haven't heard in a long time," she said, eyes still locked on her work. "Try hitting that calibrator. Mando, can you toss me that soldering gun? I think we're just about ready to kick off."

She made the final connections on the makeshift patch they had created. They had taken a panel from the side of the Crest and stuck it on top. It had taken a bit of fussing, but the metal eventually gave and bender to their will. Doc slid off the side of the Crest and went inside to check on the frog woman in the cockpit.

"You alright?" she asked, taking the pilot seat and starting up the engines. The frog woman croaked, warm under the piles of clothing and blankets they had dumped over her.

"Good." The engines hissed to life. Doc stuck her head back outside to call for the Mandalorian.

"So long, gentlemen," she called with a two-finger salute.

"The offer stands to escort you to your final destination," said the older pilot. Doc shook her head.

"We've got it from here," she said. Before she went in to join the others, one of the pilots called back to her.

"May the Force be with you."

Doc paused, a sick smile crawling across her face.

"I can't seem to get away from the damn thing."

She crawled up the hatch, triple-checking some of the straps holding their cargo inside their ship, and took the pilot's seat.

"Everyone all set?" she asked as they watched the X-Wings' engines flare to life. "We've all used the privy? Nala?"

The hound growled in response. Doc raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Alright," she said. She took the steering yoke into her hand and began steering them out of the cavern. "It's gonna be a little bumpy."

The engines groaned and heaved as they drifted upwards. It was impossible to not knock into the walls of the ice cave. Every jolt made Doc nervous the whole thing would come apart at any second. It wasn't until they were up above the atmosphere that she could let a sigh of relief slip out. She set the coordinates for Trask, gave the thrusters one good push, and then let the momentum of space carry them to their destination.