The desert wind sweeps over the plateau as you and the Mandalorian make your way back, the crunch of your boots against the sand and rock the only sound accompanying your journey. The sun beats down relentlessly, painting long shadows that stretch out behind you. The Child bobs along in its pram, its coos the occasional punctuation to the stillness. In the distance, Kuiil's moisture farm comes into view, its modest vaporators glinting faintly in the sunlight.

As you approach, you spot Kuiil, the weathered Ugnaught, perched on a ladder. He's fussing with one of the moisture vaporators, a wrench in one hand and a focused scowl on his face. The soft clank of tools fills the air as he tightens a stubborn bolt. He doesn't notice you until the Mandalorian calls out, his deep, gravelly voice breaking the silence.

Kuiil turns sharply, his eyes widening in surprise. "Mandalorian?" he says, hopping down from the ladder with a nimbleness that belies his stocky frame. "I thought you had perished. I did not expect to see you alive."

His gaze shifts to you, his expression softening but no less incredulous. "And you too, mistress," he says, his voice tinged with disbelief and perhaps a touch of admiration. "I didn't think to see you'd take it this far and then get left with nothing."

His words hang in the air, a mix of concern and veiled reproach, and you exchange a glance with the Mandalorian. There's a weight to the journey you've endured, the hardships and close calls etched into every movement, every step. The Child coos softly, drawing Kuiil's attention, and the Ugnaught's eyes narrow thoughtfully.

"Well," he says after a moment, setting his wrench down and dusting his hands off. "It seems you have much to explain." His gaze flicks between the two of you before he nods resolutely. "Come. There is time to talk, and I have spoken."

Without waiting for a response, Kuiil turns and strides toward his homestead, his back straight with quiet determination. You and the Mandalorian follow, the weight of the past few days trailing behind you like the shadows cast by the setting sun.

SCENEBREAK

"So we need you to help us negotiate with a few Jawas," you say, finishing the explanation of your situation.

Kuiil hums thoughtfully, rubbing his face with one hand. "I can do that," he responds, his voice steady. He stands up, brushing the dust off his hands. "But you two need to help me get the ram ready. Now comes long."

You and Mando exchange a brief glance, both of you silently agreeing. "Of course," Mando says, his voice low but resolute.

You nod, and together, the three of you begin to work on Kuiil's rig. The Child watches from its pram, wide-eyed, the occasional curious coo escaping it as it watches you all move about. You smile at the little creature from time to time, offering a reassuring wink. The atmosphere between you, the Mandalorian, and Kuiil is one of quiet understanding, as if each of you knows what's at stake—this isn't just about parts for a ship anymore, it's about survival and perhaps, even, a kind of family.

The work is simple enough, a few adjustments here and there, and before long, the ram is ready. Kuiil pats the large piece of equipment affectionately, ready for the journey. You glance at the horizon, the fading sunlight casting long shadows over the desert.

"Let's get those parts back," you mutter under your breath, more to yourself than anyone else.

With a final glance at the Child, who coos in approval as it observes your efforts, you gather your things. The mission is far from over, and the road ahead is uncertain, but for the first time in a while, you feel a flicker of hope. Together, with Kuiil's help and the Mandalorian's quiet resolve, you might just stand a chance of getting the Razor Crest back in working order.

You head off into the desert, the hum of the engines filling the air as the trio of you set out once more. The journey is long, but you've faced worse, and with the Child's gentle presence and Mando's steady companionship, you feel ready to face whatever comes next.

One way or another, you'll get those parts back. And when you do, the Razor Crest will soar again.

SCENEBREAK

The early morning light paints the desert in hues of orange and pink as you, Mando, and Kuiil approach the Jawas' camp. The air is still, but the sounds of their bustling, mechanical activity fill the space as the Jawas scurry around their sandcrawler, seemingly unaware of the approaching group.

As Kuiil steps forward, he begins to speak to them in their guttural language, his voice calm but firm, trying to negotiate for the parts you need. You stand off to the side with Mando, watching the exchange with mild interest, though a sense of tension lingers in the air. It's only a few moments before the Jawas hiss at him in response, their bright yellow eyes glaring as they raise their blasters in your direction.

You can't help but chuckle, watching them brandish their weapons, all while Kuiil continues his attempt at diplomacy. "They don't seem to like you very much," you comment lightly, your voice full of amusement.

Mando stands tall, his expression unreadable behind the helmet. He mutters under his breath, "Well, I did disintegrate a few of them."

Your eyebrows shoot up, and you give him a surprised look. "Oh wow, I never thought I'd see you killing a few innocent creatures."

Mando shifts uncomfortably, but you can still sense his irritation as he glares at you through his visor. "They're not innocent, Ivory," he says, the words coming out sharp and heavy.

Your grin fades, replaced by a curious, even cautious expression. "Innocent or not, they're still living beings, Mando," you say, your tone more serious now, your eyes narrowing slightly as you study his figure. "You can't just go around blowing them up because they're annoying."

Mando doesn't respond immediately, his focus still on the Jawas. There's a flicker of something in his posture, but he doesn't turn to face you. For a brief moment, the only sound that fills the silence is the whirring of the sandcrawler's engines and the occasional hiss from the Jawas.

Kuiil, who had been watching the exchange between you both, finally sighs, his voice carrying a hint of exasperation. "Enough of this. We have work to do." He turns to the Jawas again, continuing his diplomatic efforts, speaking their language with surprising fluency.

The tension between you and Mando remains, but for now, you both focus on the task at hand. Whether the Jawas see reason or not, you know there's still a long road ahead—both in terms of negotiating and the quiet understanding that may take more than words to settle.