AN: Hello! I'm sorry it took so long for this chapter to come out, it turned out way longer than expected so I chose to split it in two. The good news is that the next chapter only needs one last round of editing and then it's done.

Chapter 6 – The Mechanic

The hangar was quiet when they entered, no sign of the mechanic or her pit droids anywhere.

At the starboard side of the ship a panel had been moved aside and complicated machinery was exposed to the world. Parts of the turbine had been ripped out, making sure that the ship wouldn't be able to get off the ground.

As she examined the ship, Sinead's eyes strayed to the exit by their own volition, her heart beating just a little bit faster. Rationally, she knew that Fennec Shand had no idea that she was even there, and Sinead didn't think herself so important that she was a target, but the scared, vulnerable part of her brain screamed at her to find passage on the next ship out of there and never look back.

Sinead started when Mando shouted and came thundering out of the ship, looking around wildly.

"The kid's gone."

"What do you-"

Mando zeroed in on one of the pit droids. "Where is he?"

The poor droid collapsed in the sand with a shriek.

The mechanic came out from her workshop, cradling the kid. "Quiet!" She looked down at the cranky child. "Oh, it's okay. You woke it up! Do you have any idea how long it took me to get it to sleep?"

Mando stared at the mechanic, his body radiating barely repressed nervous energy. "Give him to me."

The mechanic shifted her grip on the child. "Not so fast! You can't just leave a child all alone like that. You know, you two have an awful lot to learn about raisin' a young one."

Sinead's eyes widened. "Oh, he's not mine."

The mechanic pursed her lips and looked from Mando to Sinead. "Right ..." she said. "Anyway, I stared the repair on the fuel leak." The diagnostic machine beeped angrily, and she gave it a good whack. "There you go. I have a couple of setbacks I want to talk to you about. You know, I didn't use any droids, as requested, so it took me a lot longer than I expected."

Mando fetched a bag from the ship. "She'll stay back if you have any questions." He nodded toward Sinead.

The mechanic looked her up and down. "Do you know your way around a starship?"

"Provided with a map I'm sure I can figure it out."

"Don't go thinking it's gonna be cheaper just cause you leave some help behind! You still owe me-"

"I know." Mando stopped in front of the mechanic, who looked at him suspiciously. "Thank you."

"Oh …" She shot Sinead a confused look, who could do nothing but shrug. Apparently, gratitude was a rare thing in Mos Eisley.

The Mandalorian moved toward the exit with the mechanic hot on his heels. Sinead stayed by the ship, wondering if she should find somewhere to hide, or if it would be too hard to explain to the mechanic.

A droid slinked up to the ship, a small wrench in its hand.

"Sorry," Sinead said, and the droid stopped in its tracks. "The Mandalorian don't want any droids on the ship. Don't ask me why."

The droid beeped dejectedly and let the wrench slip from its hands and fall to the ground with a thud.

Sinead was poking around the damaged side of the ship when the mechanic came back, holding the child on her hip.

"He's left with some Corellian looking fella." She pointed a thumb over her shoulder. "You know what that's about?"

Sinead didn't, as the mere mention of Fennec Shand had put all other considerations on the sideline.

"I don't like the look of him. He's too ..." the mechanic searched for the right word. "Young."

"I think the Mandalorian can take care of himself."

"Eh, you're probably right. He could break that little twerp in two if he wanted. You want down?"

"Wha-? Oh."

The kid was let down on the ground and toddled toward Sinead, his small feet making tracks in the sand. When he came to a power-converter, he tried climbing it instead of going around and teetered on the edge before Sinead grabbed him.

"That's not for climbing," she said, already pulling her braid out of his hands.

"Now you're here, I might actually get some work done." The mechanic grabbed a toolbox and moved to the open panel. "You know what species he is?"

Sinead sat down on a durasteel crate, the kid sitting calmly on her lap. She let him grab her braid, since it was apparently the only thing he was interested in.

"I've no idea. The Mandalorian hasn't exactly been in a sharing mood when it comes to the kid."

"Yeah, he doesn't seem the chatty type."

"You don't know half of it." The child cooed when Sinead lifted him to examine his little face. "Maybe he's a lannik."

"Now I haven't seen a lannik in a day and a half, but I'm pretty sure they didn't use to be green."

"Mm, stranger things have happened."

The kid seemed to understand, somehow, that they were talking about him. He babbled a short string of nonsensical sounds and gave her a toothy smile.

There was something about him that made Sinead sure he wasn't a lannik; he was strange in a way she couldn't put her finger on, when she looked into his dark eyes, it felt like something much older looked back.

The harsh smell of fuel hit her nose, and Sinead wondered if she should move further away, but as long as the mechanic didn't run, she supposed there was nothing to worry about.

"Name's Peli, by the way." She used both hands to clamp down on a pipe that dripped fuel. "Did you say you know anything about ship repairs?"

"I'm Chela. And that really depends on what you want me to do. I grew up around freighters, but never really had an interest in learning how they work."

Peli shot Sinead a look over her shoulder.

"Sorry. But what do you want me to do?"

"Take the hydroclamp over there-" she nodded toward a greasy toolbox- "and put it right next to my hand, will ya'?"

Sinead placed the child on the ground, and he waddled after her as she went to grab the clamp.

"Hey!" Peli shouted to one of her droids. "Make sure the kid doesn't get in the way."

Sinead crouched down next to Peli. From here, the smell of fuel nearly knocked her over. "So just put it here?"

"Don't scratch the pipe, or else we have a whole new leak on our hands."

The hydroclamp whirred as it compressed around the pipe, stopping the leak.

Peli got off her knees and stretched, and there were new stains on her overalls. She didn't seem to mind. "That's one fire out. Now on to the next three hundred. What did you do to this boat?"

"I told you, meteors."

"Uh-huh. Must have been one of them new starships that shoot meteors instead of lasers."

"Might have been. Stranger things, and all that."

"Strange, right."

Next, Peli showed Sinead how to remove the camburator and replace it with one that wasn't half melted into the circuitry. Peli carefully removed the burnt chunk of metal but before she had a chance to put in the new one, a random charge went through the wires and a flame shot out from the hole.

"Kark!" Peli yelled and jumped back. "Where's the damn-"

One of the droids came bounding up, beeping cheerfully all the way. A small panel on its helmet slid aside and it doused the fire, a strong scent of chemicals overpowering the smell of fuel. When it was done, it turned to Peli who gave it a quick pat on the head.

"Figure his no droid policy doesn't extend to emergencies."

The kid watched all this sitting a safe distance away, his small hands buried in the sand.

"Whatever jackass modified this boat did a piss-poor job of it. Who links a baffler to a flux surger? Was this put together by a Kowakian monkey-lizard on spice?"

Sinead cautiously stepped forward to look at the damage. It didn't look like the fire had done anything but scorch the metal plating on the ship, that already looked like it'd flown through an active volcano. "Can you fix it?"

Peli made a sound at the back of her throat. "Can I fix it she asks." She exchanged a look with the droid. "Sure, but I can't promise it'll hold in the long run. Those meteors really did a number on you."

Sinead shot a look toward the exit. "Just as long as we get off this planet."

"Not a fan of the heat are ya?"

"The sand. It gets everywhere."

Peli snorted as she grabbed a complex tool and started work on the camburator. "Yeah, the desert isn't for everyone. You should stay back, by the way, easier to do on my own. Don't wanna have to worry about you electrocuting yourself on the y-brantor."

Sinead didn't complain, pulling back and leaning against the remains of a half-gutted hoverbike.

She watched Peli work for a bit. "Has Tatooine changed a lot since the Hutt died?"

"Oh, heard about that, have you?" Peli didn't look up from the ship.

"Everyone this side of the galaxy has heard that the Hutt croaked."

"I guess you're right. Well, instead of paying protection money to the fat slug, we give 'em to whatever gang happens to be top dog this week." She pulled out another burned part. "Can't complain though, at least these ones don't break my droids when I'm a few credits short."

"Seems a bit counterintuitive, doesn't it, breaking your droids? How are you supposed to make any money then?"

"Yeah, I'd say take it up with Jabba, but you're kinda late for that."

"Let's just hope the afterlife is filled with salt pits."

"Personally, I hope he's stuck in the belly of a sarlacc."

Sinead smiled at the thought. "Oh, that's good."

Peli had her entire head inside the ship when she spoke, making her voice sound muffled. "So how long've you been traveling with the Mandalorian?"

"Not that long. Around four days, perhaps?" It was always so hard to tell when most of the time they spent hurling through space.

"Is it really true they never take their helmets off?"

"Seems so. I've never seen him without it."

"Well-" Peli pulled her head out, a smear of oil across her forehead- "how do they eat?"

"You know, I haven't actually seen him eat. Or sleep, for that matter."

"You think he's a droid?"

Sinead huffed out a laugh. "You know, that would explain so much."

Their conversation halted when the kid wobbled over to Sinead, who sat him down next to her on the hoverbike. He had found a bolt somewhere and was examining it with childish curiosity.

"You've been on Tatooine all your life?" Sinead said after the silence had gotten too much. It was nice talking to someone who knew how to have a normal conversation.

"Born and bred. My da worked the space port before me. Taught me all I know."

A small, wistful smile spread across Sinead's face. Her father had tried teaching her about ship maintenance, but she hadn't been interested to learn, she would rather fly, explore the galaxy. His voice rang through her head, 'you're not gonna get farther than the next system over if you don't know how to take care of your ship, space-bug.' And then he leaned over and kissed her forehead. Her heart ached. She hadn't thought about that in a long time.

"Chela? You all right there?"

Sinead blinked and looked around. She was still in the hangar on Tatooine, and her father had been dead for 11 years.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry, can you repeat that?"

Peli looked at her, her brows knitted. "Sure. Said I started working alongside him when I was old enough to hold a wrench and not kill myself by wandering in front of an ignited turbine."

"And your mother? She was a mechanic too?"

"Nah, was a scavenger out in the Dune Sea. Never had a mind for mending machines, only pulling them apart, she used to say. Sand People got her about fifteen years ago."

The kid pulled himself upright and tried crawling onto Sinead's lap. She caught him before he slipped.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"It was a long time ago. Da went a couple of years later, left the work to me. Can't complain, lots of people would kill for a job with steady credits. Providin' the customers pay, of course."

"You get a lot of traffic here?"

"Mos Eisley's the biggest spaceport on Tatooine, so we get our fair share. Not lacking for work, that's for sure. You'd think that after the Hutt's death, smugglers and grifters wouldn't have a reason to dock, but they still show up like mold."

"Maybe Tatooine has something special to offer."

"Ha! We ain't got nothing to offer except sand and Jawas."

"And I'm sure that out there, someone is just dying to find a place filled with nothing but just that. That person is probably psychotic, but they're out there."

Peli's laugh echoed from where her entire upper body was inside the ship. "Chela, you're all right."

Biting her lips, Sinead looked up at the blue sky, suddenly feeling very lonely. No matter how well they connected, Peli would always know her as Chela.

She changed the subject. "So, you have any good stories to tell me? Any shady smugglers or dashing rogues come your way? I'm sure working here all your life you must've seen a thing or two.

Peli stood up, her face contorting in pain as she grabbed her back. "You know, you ask a lot of questions, Startin' to feel like I'm being interrogated here."

"Sorry about that. I just like hearing stories. I had a broken holorecorder when I was little, that only recorded sound, and I went around interviewing everyone who would let me."

"What happened to it?"

"It was ... lost, a long time ago. We traveled a lot, so I guess I needed something to occupy my time with-"

"Didn't learn a damn thing about starships, that's for sure."

"-so I started collecting stories. Everyone has something to tell."

"You know, most people collect interesting rocks, funny drawings ..."

"Hey, out in space there's a distinct lack of interesting rocks. I found the next best thing."

Peli shot her a look before returning to work on the ship. Her curly hair was plastered to her forehead. "So, to answer your question, yes, I have a couple of stories from over the years. I don't know if you noticed it on your little stroll around town, but this ain't exactly Coruscant. We get lucky if we go one day without a shootout in the street."

"Hey, I've been to Coruscant once and I barely got off the ship before someone tried to sell me some spice. I'm sure Mos Eisley isn't that different."

"Sounds like what happened to Brendo last week. Hope you didn't end up with a vibro-blade between the ribs."

Sinead snorted. "No, it didn't go that far."

Peli came up again, this time with a small component in her hands. She sat down on the nearest surface and started to pry it open. "Now let's see, a good story for your collection ..."

Sinead settled in and listened to a long-winded story involving a banged-up YT-1300, a bunch of imperial stormtroopers, and a hangar left in ruins.

"I don't suppose the Empire paid your friend for damages?"

"Bastards nearly arrested him on account of 'harboring a fugitive', go figure. And you know, I was pissed that slimy bastard stole my dock. Changed my tune when I saw what they did to the place."

"Did he manage to salvage anything, or is it still a smoking hole in the ground?"

"After clearing out the rubble, the place was mostly working again. Ugly, but usable, which is the official Mos Eisley motto if you ain't noticed."

Stars dotted the sky, which had gone from azure to a dark blue. Surrounded by tall walls, the shadows seemed deeper, but in contrast, even though the suns had set, the stonework had spent all day baking in the sun and was still radiating heat. It wouldn't be long until that heat dissipated, and the desert would grow freezing cold. It reminded Sinead of many night on Sriluur huddled under a thin blanket, waiting for the sun to rise.

"He's still telling that story to every poor bastard he manages to corner. As he tells it, he's lucky to be alive."

Peli and Sinead sat at a low table under the stars, looking at the ship that had been fixed as well as any competent mechanic could. At least it no longer looked like it had been to hell and back.

The tall walls surrounding them blocked out all sounds of Mos Eisley.

Sinead leaned back in her uncomfortable chair and looked up at the darkened sky.

"So, you've always known you wanted to be a ship mechanic?"

Peli looked up from the datapad she was thumbing through. "Yes ma'am, ever since I was a little 'un. Growing up in a spaceport certainly helped, but I've always found that ships spoke to me, sort of. Does that make sense?"

Sinead leaned back even further, almost slipping out of the chair. "Sure it does."

"What about you? You always knew you wanted to be a ..." Peli gave Sinead a scrutinizing look. "Smuggler?"

"I'm not a smuggler," Sinead said with a laugh. "I'm ... I don't really know what I am. Searching, I guess."

"Hey, ain't any of my business. Learned a long time ago there're more creds for those who keep their traps shut."

Sinead gave her a soft smile. "'Preciate it."

The child slept on a chair beside Sinead, swaddled in a blanket to ward off the oncoming chill. She reached out and ran a finger over his little head.

"You know, back when I was your age, one of them big freighters stopped by to regroup after their ship was in a tiff with some pirates or other. I was brought on to help them sort themselves out, and I guess the foreman took a likin' to me because he offered me a job on the ship."

"Well then, what're you doing here?"

"Easy now. I ain't gonna lie, I was mighty tempted to take it. They needed someone who had a way with boats and droids. Apparently the last one ended up skipping out after first pay." Peli eyes were hazy with old memories.

"Why didn't you?"

Peli huffed out a breath. "Tattoine is my home. I ain't got much in the way of family, but I got my droids, and that's gotta be enough." She affectionately patted the closest droid on its domed head. "This one got chucked after a podrace, found him out by the dump, nothing but a pile of bolts and rust. Think he got hit by a podracer down in the pit."

Sinead looked at the little droid.

"Imagine if I hadn't been here, what would've happened to him. I pretty much had to remake him from the bottoms-"

"Wait ..." Sinead held up a hand to stop Peli. "You fix droids ..."

Peli's eyebrows knitted together. "Yeah. Chela, are you-"

"Hold on."

Sinead got up from the chair so fast it nearly tipped back and raced to the ship. No time to turn on the lights, she ripped open a compartment and rifled through it until her fingers closed around the memory bank.

When she came back, the child was awake and looking around blearily. He reached out to her, but she skirted around and placed the little box in front of Peli, who now looked thoroughly confused.

"Can you find out what's on this?"

Peli picked up the memory bank. "Kriff, Chela, what did you do to this thing? Remove it with a sledgehammer?"

Sinead's smile was strained. "Something like that. Can you do it?"

Peli turned the box over and over, looking at the fraying wires. "Shouldn't be a problem, I can reroute it through one of my droids."

"You can't connect it with a datapad or something?"

"This came out of a droid, meaning it's going into a droid if we want to know what's on it. You know what we're looking for?" Peli said, getting up and striding into her workshop.

Sinead followed her closely, picking at her fingernails as Peli went around turning on the lights and grabbing various tools.

The workshop was cluttered in a very particular, organized way found in garages and repair stations all over the galaxy; gear and instruments were strewn across every surface not occupied by ship-parts in various states of repair. An old astromech had been chucked in the corner, ripped for parts until it was nothing but a hollow shell. The low ceiling seemed to trap the overpowering smell of fuel and oil.

Peli sat down on an overturned oil-drum and called over the nearest droid, who came slinking up to her, clearly not enthused about the prospect of having a foreign element plugged into its brain.

"Oh, don't be such a baby," Peli said when the droid beeped sadly. "It'll be over in a sec." With a knife she replaced the wires with new ones and started plugging them into the droid.

Sinead heard a sound behind her, and she turned to see the one of the other droids walk up with the child in its arms.

"Done," Peli said, leaning back from the droid. "Give it some time to calibrate and ask away."

Her mouth was dry. Sinead forced herself to swallow and took a deep breath.

"Are there any records of a Kyen Beck ever having been on the facility?"

The droid trilled a long line of binary.

"My binary's a bit rusty, can you ...?"

Peli sat up in the chair. "Oh, sure. Um ... it says that ... there are records of a K. Beck being shipped to the facility. Is that it? Who's-?"

Sinead found the nearest clear surface and sat down. Heart hammering in her chest, she felt the ground shifting under her feet. It was like seeing the convor again, the sheer proof that Kyen was a tangible person who had left a sign for her.

"Where did he go next? I-I mean, does it say what happened to him?"

Peli listened to the droid. "No it doesn't, I'm afraid."

Her heart hurt.

Sinead leaned forward and buried her face in her hands. "Fuck."

"I gotta know, who's Kyen?"

Peering through her fingers, Sinead saw Peli's worried eyes looking back. "Please don't ask any questions. I'm not in the mood to come up with a lie."

"Most folks aren't as forthcoming about the fact that they're lying."

"Not in the mood to pretend I'm not a liar either."

Sinead leaned back and took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the smell of oil. She knew for a fact that Kyen had been there, just not where he went.

The droid beeped another long string of binary that Sinead didn't even bother trying to figure out.

"Wait a minute-" Peli listened to the droid, her brow furrowed in concentration- "according to this, all of the slaves-" she gave Sinead a shocked look- "were sent to a mining facility on Celva-Celvalara. Where's that?"

For the second time in as many minutes, Sinead's heart jumped into overdrive. "Celvalara? I've heard that before ..." she got up and started pacing around.

Peli watched her go in circles, rolling an old metal spring between her palms. "It's a planet?"

Sinead was about to answer, when her deeply ingrained self-preservation kicked in and she stopped herself before saying too much. She did recognize it, but that didn't mean she had to tell everyone.

"I don't know. I'll look into it." She reached Peli and took her hands into her own. "Thank you," she said sincerely. "I really mean it."

Something akin to a blush spread over Peli's face, mostly obscured by the perpetual layer of dirt and oil covering it. "Um, yeah, well, I didn't exactly fight a sarlacc, did I."

"You might as well." Sinead squeezed her hands. "Thank you."

She rummaged in her pockets and withdrew the necklace, which had been tangled into a small ball. "I have this ... thing ... it's not much, but please take it as payment."

Peli peered at it. "You got that from Zinza?"

"If you mean the old lady with the disagreeable attitude, then yes."

"Ha! How much did you pay for that thing?"

"Forty creds."

"Forty! You got ripped off."

Sinead let out a small chuckle. "I think paying anything would constitute as being ripped off."

Peli cackled and waved her away. "Keep it. Who knows, you might end up meeting a blind droid in need of an optic unit."

"I'll make sure to give you a good tip, then."

"I like the sound of that."