AN: Hiya guys, a lil' chapter for you!

I forgot to say last chapter, but I decided to use 'fuck' instead of any of the Star Wars certified swearwords, and I hope it doesn't take you too much out of the story. Kriff just doesn't have the same ring to it.

Chapter 5 - Tatooine

Sinead turned the memory bank over and over, the metal warming up between her hands. Most of her life she'd found herself in close proximity to a mechanic, so learning proper droid maintenance had never been a priority, something she regretted now, looking down at the lifeless box.

A pleasant and familiar hum surrounded her as the ship hurtled through the dark void, lulling her into a sense of calm she hadn't felt since leaving the ruins. Even now, hours later, she felt the presence of it lurking in the back of her mind.

Suddenly, the world tilted, and Sinead crashed to the floor. The memory bank few out of her hands and skipped across the floor. She pushed herself up on her hands and knees, when the ship rocked violently, making her cling to the bunk to keep from being thrown clean across the ship.

Two alarms started wailing in tandem.

She gritted her teeth and grabbed hold of a rung on the ladder, climbing into the cockpit before the ship shook and tipped wildly.

The Mandalorian was in the pilot's seat, his hands flying across the dashboard, flicking switches and trying to stabilize the ship. The kid was strapped into his seat, his head swirling around to look at all the light coming to life.

Sinead sat down and pulled the safety harness over her shoulders.

"What the hell is going on?"

"Company."

The Mandalorian jerked the steering handles and the ship spun away, a volley of blaster bolts whizzing past the window.

According to a screen on the console, a small starfighter flew directly behind them, firing every time the Razor Crest was still for long enough. They'd never be able to outrun or outmaneuver it.

Cold dread expanded from the base of her spine, making her muscles twitch and tense. Every sound seemed dull, like she was hearing it from inside a vacuum.

The starboard turbine was hit, showering the cockpit in sparks as the shock traveled into the main engine. A third alarm joined the cacophony.

Sinead swallowed hard and found her voice. "Doesn't this hunk of metal have any shields?" She grabbed the armrests so hard her knuckles turned white.

The stars turned into streaks as the ship careened to the side, another round of lasers streaking past the window.

It had to be pirates, not many were brazen enough to attack a gunship, even out in the Outer Rim. Maybe this time she'd die instead of-

A shadowy figure flickered to life above the dashboard. "Give us the child, Mando," it said, its voice clipping in and out. "I might let you live."

Sinead looked at the child, who gurgling nervously to himself. She wanted to reach over and reassure him, but the harness was too tight. Why would anyone want the kid badly enough to attack them for it?

And explosion rocked through the ship, and underneath there was a sound of metal groaning.

Flashing lights danced on the Mandalorian's helmet.

"Hold on." Mando sent them into a wild spin, the stars turning into white streaks as all sense of direction spun away as quickly as the ship.

It felt like Sinead had been dropped down a bottomless well.

The hologram warped as power redirected. "I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold," it said before cutting out completely.

There was no way the other ship wouldn't blast them to smithereens the first chance it got.

Mando hit the brakes, and the ship hung unmoving in the air, before the starfighter screamed past it, scraping against the Crest with a sound like an old hovercart in a trash compactor.

Mando fired once, and the laser ripped through the small vessel before it had a chance to spin around and attack. The ship exploded, leaving glittering debris like stardust in its wake.

Sinead sat back in her seat. Her entire midsection felt bruised from the harness, but the alternative was being a smear on the window so she couldn't complain.

"Nice flying." She didn't mean for it to come out sounding so sarcastic, but fear and adrenaline still coursed through her veins, making the blood rush in her ears.

The Mandalorian either didn't hear or ignored her, as he checked the status of the ship.

"Losing fuel," he mumbled mostly to himself.

Sinead undid her safety harness and reached over to the child. "Are you okay there?"

The kid laughed as the power went out and they found themselves in complete darkness.

"I think he's okay," Sinead said, gently booping him on the nose. "Please say we're not stranded out here."

"I think I can redirect the power," the Mandalorian said, getting up and flicking a switch at the back of the cockpit.

The ship came to life, a sad, sputtering one that wouldn't last long, but enough so that Mando could propel it towards the nearest planet, an orange dust ball hanging in the void.

"Are you gonna tell me who's after the kid?"

Mando glanced at her over his shoulder.

"You know, this whole silence thing is getting old. At least come up with a lie like the rest of us."

Mando glared at her, and Sinead offered him a sharp smile.

The planet was getting closer and closer when Sinead leaned forward. "What is this place even? Or are you not going to answer that either?"

"Tatooine."

"Oh, that's just great."

The Mandalorian adjusted their course toward a small smidge on the planet's surface. "The Hutt's been dead for years, and he hasn't been replaced yet."

Sinead made an uncertain sound. "Yet, but I'm sure the clan's just waiting until the region is stable again. They're not exactly the type to give up a planet without a fight."

"You been here before?"

"No, but I've heard it's a desolate hellhole."

Gold-orange crags and sand dunes took form as they cruised over the surface, the ship groaning with the effort it took to keep them in one piece.

Sand. She really hated sand.

The comm came to life and a scratchy voice filled the cockpit.

"This is Mos Eisley tower, we're tracking you. Head for bay 3-5. Over."

"Copy that. Locked in for 3-5."

Mos Eisley was nearly impossible to see, a sandstone city poking up through the sand which piled up at the walls making the squat houses look like igloos in the desert. A communication tower rose from the center of the city, its blinking lights the only reason most travelers spotted the city from the air.

The ship wobbled as it made ready for landing, and new alarm blared. The Mandalorian turned it off with an irritated slap on the console.

The kid had fallen asleep sometime after the excitement of the dogfight died down, and the Mandalorian left him sleeping on the bunk, while Sinead retrieved the memory bank, which had ended up on the other side of the ship and stowing it away in the nearest compartment.

Mando looked at her. "Maybe you should stay in the ship."

Sinead blew out a deep breath. "As you said, the Hutt's long dead. I can take a look around his old palace, see if there's something we can use."

"Just be careful."

Sinead snuck a glance at the Mandalorian. He wasn't looking at her.

"Sure."

Even before the ramp was down, Sinead felt the hot, unyielding fingers of the desert close around her throat. Dry heat snuck under her clothes, making her mouth feel as dry as the surroundings. Cold, unwanted memories pushed to the forefront and she took a second to put them back where they belonged, a dark and unused corner of her mind where they wouldn't get in the way.

Three pit droids hurried toward the ship the second the ramp touch down, their rusty bodies bouncing over dusty ground like springs.

The Mandalorian pulled his blaster and shot once at the ground in front of the droids, who screeched and collapsed into small heaps, cowering in f-ear.

Sinead yelped and pressed a hand to her racing heart. "Fuck, Mando! What is it with you and droids?"

"Hey!" A shout rang out from inside a cluttered garage, and a short human woman wearing greasy overalls stormed out from behind a safety barrier. Her short stature was almost made up by her rather gravity defying hair. "You damage one of my droids, you pay for it!" The way she was brandishing a heavy wrench left exactly how he'd pay for it up to interpretation.

"Just keep them away from my ship," Mando ground out, shooting a look at the droids who scurried away.

The mechanic gave him an unimpressed look. "Yeah? Do you think that's a good idea, do ya? Let's take a look at your ship."

She walked around it, noting every dent and scratch on her datapad. "Look at that," she said, holding a scanner up to the ship. "You gotta lotta carbon scorching building up top. If I didn't know better, think you were in a shootout."

Sinead stepped forward before the Mandalorian had a chance to reply. "We ran into a meteor shower out by the Torq. Barely made it planet-side, to tell you the truth."

"Uh-huh," the mechanic lifted an eyebrow, but she stopped asking questions, turning around to continue her inspection. "… a special tool for that one. Oh yeah, I'm gonna have to rotate that."

The Mandalorian rolled his shoulders, and Sinead bit the inside of her cheek. That all sounded very expensive.

"You got a fuel leak! Look at this, this is a mess. How did you even land?"

"Like I said, just barely." Sinead shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "How much for it?"

"The repairs you need ain't exactly cheap-"

"I've got five hundred Imperial credits," the Mandalorian said.

The mechanic grabbed the credits and have them a good look. "That's all you got?" When the Mandalorian didn't magically procure more money, she looked at the droids. "Well, what do you guys think?"

The droids tittered in unison, and the mechanic shrugged. "That should at least cover the hangar."

"We'll get you your money."

"Mm, I've heard that before." She gave both Sinead and the Mandalorian a skeptical look.

"Just remember- "

"Yeah, no droids. I heard ya'. You don't have to say it twice."

Sinead looked back at the ship as they left the hangar, a thin pillar of smoke was rising from the turbine and the mechanic had already started banging around underneath it.

The second she stepped out into the blaring sunlight, her face stung with sand being blasted through the street. If she never had to step foot in the desert again, she'd die a happy woman.

"So, what's the plan?" She asked the Mandalorian, who didn't look bothered in the heat. Of course, since she couldn't see his face he might be dying underneath the helmet. The T-visor seemed completely black in the sunlight.

"I'll head to the cantina, see if I can find work. Don't get too close to the palace, the Hutt's guards might still be around."

Sinead gritted her teeth. "Right, I have been in these kinds of situations before you know: I'm not helpless."

"That's not-" the Mandalorian blew out a sharp breath and shook his head. "Never mind."

Sinead made her way to the Hutt's palace alone, reminding herself to breathe regularly, not too deep and not too shallow. She was just a tourist walking alone, not a runaway slave from the very clan that until recently had an iron grip on the planet. The people walking past her weren't staring, they didn't recognize her at all.

She clenched her hands so they'd stop fidgeting. It felt like someone was watching her, a burning spike to the back of her head.

A market had been raised in a big square, rows and rows of hastily put together stalls crisscrossed in a confusing jumble. Shouts from the many vendors mingled in the air into an incomprehensible wall of sound. A Besalisk was grilling sweet meats over an open fire, holding a skewer in each of his four hands. The meat sizzled as Sinead walked past.

Two Jawas screamed in unison at everyone who came close enough to their stall, doing little to entice anyone to stop. Piles of scrap spilled into the street, and the Jawas screeched in indignation whenever anyone accidentally stepped on it.

Sinead ambled down the rows, trying to look like she was browsing the goods without attracting so much attention that anyone would talk to her. Most of the wares being sold were practical, tools and dried food, spare parts for droids. Under a moth-eaten pavilion that offered little in the way of shade, she found a small booth filled with trinkets that looked like they had been ripped straight out of the bowels of a ship. There were brooches made of twisted metal and rings that doubled as lug nuts.

An old woman sat on the other side of the stall. She wore ragged clothes that at first glance made her look like a scarecrow left out in the sun for too long, and it wasn't until she moved that Sinead noticed her. Her face was disproportionately small for her body, resembling a walnut someone left on top of a pile of old laundry.

"See anything you like?" Her voice sounded like a trash compacter filled with rocks. "I make 'em myself."

That wasn't hard to believe. Sinead hummed politely and picked up a brooch made from cogs and a rubber binding. "I'm afraid jewelry isn't that high of a priority right now."

Her wrinkles deepened as she pursed her lips. "Meh, people don't even know what they need until it's right in front of 'em. Tell ya' what, I'll give you a good deal, okay? The earrings for fifty creds."

Sinead couldn't help but snort. The earrings in question were made from old circuitry, the hooks so rusty that wearing them was a surefire way of getting a nasty infection. "Fifty is a bit steep, don't you think?"

The old woman grinned, showing her one snaggletooth poking over her lower lip. "Low price to pay for beauty, innit?"

Tapping on the table Sinead though for a second before saying, "tell you what, I'll buy one of your-" she gestured to the assorted jewelry- "wares … if you can give me some information in return."

The old lady grinned again, her tooth a terrible distraction, looking like a broken roof shingle. "Let's hear it then. What'ya want?"

"Oh no, information first, then the sale."

A shadow fell across the woman's face as she glared Sinead, her watery eyes studying her face. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you didn't trust me."

Sinead kept her face carefully neutral. "Past experiences have taught me to hold payment until after I get what I want. I'm sure you understand, right?"

There was a cruel glint in the old woman's eyes. "You bet I do. Ask away, dear."

For one long moment, Sinead blanked on what to ask her. She wanted to talk about the Hutt, but the old crone had done nothing to inspire trust.

"The entire galaxy was turned upside down when the Empire fell. How was it here?"

The old woman cackled and folded her wizened hands over her stomach. "You haven't seen our little art project out by the wall, have ya'? A little parting gift from us to the Empire."

"Who controls the planet now? The New Republic-"

The old woman spat on the sand.

"... right."

"We control ourselves, dearie." Sinead had never heard a term of endearment used with so much venom. "We ain't need anyone come here and tell us how to run our own damn home. After they got the message, most of the bucketheads left. The ones who didn't, well, they make a good decoration, don't they?"

"A place outside the grip of the Empire and the Republic sounds nice."

"Sounds like you have something to hide."

Sinead shrugged. "I don't like tyrants or bureaucracy."

"We got rid of our old tyrant years ago, ain't ever looked back since," the old woman sneered,

There we go.

Sinead shifted her weight and leaned closer. "Heard about that on the subspace, that's nasty business. Any chance the Hutt's head is hanging with the others? I'd like to go give my goodbyes in person."

The old woman peered at Sinead. "Sounds personal."

"As far as I'm concerned, hating the Hutt clan is everyone's business, and those who don't are either terminally stupid or, well, part of the Hutt clan."

"That kriffin' piece of blubber is probably still out in the Dune Sea somewhere. I doubt even the bloatflies'll touch his stinking corpse."

"He was killed in his palace? I heard that place is a fortress."

"My boy went out with some of the others, just to have a little lookie-loo at the place, but the slaves didn't wanna let nobody in. Said they've taken over. Been coming in from all over the galaxy, the buggers."

"They still out there?"

The old woman seemed to remember herself. "You ask an awful lot of question, dearie. Maybe it's time you hold up your end of the bargain, hmm?"

Sinead opened her mouth to protest. If Tatooine had managed to rid themselves completely of Hutt control, then maybe other systems would follow suit. The dangerous look in the old woman's eyes told her, however, that pressing on would be a bad idea.

"Sure," she said, looking earnestly at the merchandise. "Uh, yeah … how much for the necklace?" It was the only thing that, if you squinted and stood five meters away on a foggy day might resemble jewelry. It looked like an old optic unit ripped from a droid and attached to a leather string.

"Hundred creds."

"You're joking."

"My information doesn't come cheap, girl. I can always call the guards, say you robbed me of my hard-earned knowledge."

For once, Sinead was momentarily lost for words. "That doesn't-"

"Since the Empire left, we've had to handle justice ourselves, you see, and sometimes the new guards can be a little rough."

Sinead bared her teeth in a smile. "I'll give you twenty."

"Eighty."

"Thirty."

"Seventy-five."

"Thirty-five."

"Seventy-five."

Sinead tossed some credits on the table. "Forty. That's literally the last credits I own."

The old woman snatched the credits with remarkable speed, squirreling them away in her dirty cowl.

"Pleasure doing business with you," Sinead said, stuffing the necklace into her pocket before moving on from the stall.

When she got back to the hangar, the suns had reached the top of the sky and it had impossibly gotten even hotter.

Mando came walking from the other side, his gleaming armor standing out between the bedraggled denizens of Tatooine. He sped up when he saw Sinead.

"You should stay in the ship," he said, when they reached the door to the hangar at the same time.

"You know, people usually greet each other before starting to bark commands, you should really try it."

The Mandalorian shook his head, grumbling under his breath.

"Did you manage to find work, or do we have to go back empty handed? I have a feeling that won't go over too well with the mechanic."

"I did, but look … does the name Fennec Shand mean anything to you?"

The color drained from Sinead's face.

"She's hiding out in the Dune Sea with a bounty on her head. I have to bring her back."

"Alive?"

"Yes."

"What a shame."

Fennec Shand's name brought with it a very special kind of dread. Every Hutt slave had heard stories of Fennec Shard bringing back runaway slaves in a condition where they wished they were dead.

"I'll stay in the ship." Sinead looked around, like she expected Shand to jump out from behind the nearest hover-cart. "How long will it take?"

"I don't know. I'm bringing this kid … it doesn't matter."

Sinead bit her lips. "Just make sure you get her. I don't want her coming to Mos Eisley in a murderous rage."

The Mandalorian moved towards the entrance to the hangar, and when the door opened, the smell of oil and metal hit them.

She wanted to get off this planet, doubly so now she knew that a vicious killer for hire had made this her home. There was nothing to do but wait.