“Secrets of Twi’light” continues to play in slow motion. Every movement of the two females drips out deliciously in time as the soundtrack kicks in. The sound is surreal yet grating since it’s playing so slow, distracting him from the visual delights. Another swift kick to the holo projector stirs up an angry, electrical buzz, but manages to get things moving at the appropriate speed. Jarren thought that the slow motion version of the holo had been enticing, but at regular speed, it’s utterly fantastic. The sounds of the soundtrack, that were bizarre at half-speed but now could be considered tacky, low-production music, trail Jarren around the ship as he tears himself away to make repairs. Jarren has his weak moments where he stops in for a recharge of the sensual, gyrating Twi’leks, but for the most part, he’s able to resist the siren song and work on the battered Corellian ship.

“Hey Tin Man, what is the ETA on the Worker Droid finishing up on the Engines?" As the droid starts to reply, he adds, "Find out about the turret also." Waiting a few seconds he says, "Well what's the answer?" letting him know that he doesn't have all day.

“Just a moment sir! I seem to be less mobile than I was a short while ago,” the droid replies, bending at the waist with a whir to look at his plasteel tube-for-a-leg. Watching the droid stare at its legs, pausing in apparent thought, Jarren gets the feeling that the droid is unsure why his two legs are different. Finally, the droid adds, “And sir, my designation is Y-3P0, not Tin Man!” Y-3P0 then hobbles out of sight to confer with the ASP droid.

Jarren sets to work with his tool kit, fixing a damaged power converter near the rear of the ship. Just as he’s finishing up, the rusty-red droid returns up the crew ladder, with a great deal of difficulty by the sound of it.

“I have spoken with A-18, Master Jarren. He estimates that he will require approximately four hours to finish removing the damaged cowling at his present rate. He estimates an additional three hours to work on the turret. Removing the sensor array should only take a short time, however.”

Jarren nods in acknowledgment, more to himself than to the droid before assigning internal light repair duties to the droid. Y-3P0 limps off happily. The Omwati, dirtied from crawling about in the maintenance shaft, however, folds up his open tool kit, dons his makeshift poncho, and heads outside to have a look at the ruptured life support system.

The crackle and hum of A-18’s cutting attachments permeates the intense heat outside. The steady rhythm is occasionally interrupted with the soft ringing of plasteel as pieces of the engine cowling fall to the sandy earth. Surveying the droid’s progress reveals that it has cut off about a quarter of the off-white cowling so far and is making good progress. As Jarren continues around behind the engines, the ASP droid emotionlessly glances over at him, continuing to work without pause.

Arriving at the hull breach where the life support systems were damaged, Jarren sets to work in earnest, trying to ignore the hellish heat. Not even the rushing gasses remain to cool him down now. It seems as though the supply has finally been exhausted, leaving the system completely offline. After removing several pieces of the hull plating to get at the source of the problem, the full extent of the damage is finally revealed. It seems as though several of the thin gas tubes and valves have been broken and torn apart. After some thought, Jarren figures that it will take about three hours to make repairs.

Jarren thinks to himself that he should be finishing up with life support just before or about the same time as the worker droid finishes cutting off the cowling. Then the droid can move on to the turret while he removes the twisted wreckage of the sensor array or makes some minor repairs inside. Then the ship should be flyable at least.

Glancing up, his hand shielding his eyes, he can see that the two suns have gained ample separation in the pale sky now. Grabbing a tool from the open kit, he gets at it, not wishing to spend a moment longer outdoors than he absolutely has to, although it has begun to cool down slightly.

------------------

Hunters? Who is this guy? Dex wonders.

Moving slowly from one rocky outcropping to the next, trying to stay quiet and hidden, and stopping to listen proves to be slow going. Nevertheless, the crazy little group creeps inexorably forward toward the haphazard sound of the blaster fire. Ears is beginning to make nerve piercing little “Whaa!” sounds and clings ever tighter to Ian as the blasts grow louder.

At about what Dex estimates is 200m from the source of the disturbance, some shouting can be heard echoing off of the surrounding rocks. Neither human can decipher what actually is being said, but the tone is definitely one of anger. After waiting a moment to listen, another wrathful verbal barrage meets them and is followed by the zinging sound of more blaster fire. Someone is extremely agitated, that much is clear.

Topping yet another of the countless talus strewn rolling hills, or flower covered grassy knolls as Ian sees them, an extensive junkyard is visible. The large, rectangular complex as a whole is cordoned off by a powered fence, closed on all sides save for a green-shaded force field gate. On one end, there is a building partially sunken into the ground that looks to be the office or living quarters of the complex’s resident or residents. In front of that building is an open area, cleared of junk and debris, where it looks as though work could be done. The rest of the complex is filled with all kinds of discarded items of every shape, size, and origin. It looks from this distance like it’s a collection point for non-perishable trash and industrial cast-offs, although there is an odd speeder or two among the rest of the junk. There’s also the rusted out superstructure of an old space-faring yacht that seems to be in a state of restoration…or at least used to be. In the middle of it all, stands a lone humanoid figure, yelling toward some piles of junk that have been stacked up at the edge of the open area opposite the building.

You edge in closer, trying to stay hidden and silent, to about 150m to get a better view. As you watch and listen for a moment, you hear the angry yelling, which you recognize now to be intermixed with some cursing in Basic. Then, you see the figure, which you think might be a human, quickdraw it’s blaster from a hip holster and fire off several shots at the organized piles of junk, missing badly. Having missed, the infuriated figure yells some more and stamps his booted foot on the ground, raising lazy puffs of dust before firing again at the piles as fast as he can until his weapon is empty, needing a fresh charge. The humanoid then walks purposefully toward the building and collects what you assume is a power pack from the top of a closed junk box sitting along the building’s outer wall. He then returns to his position in the center of the open area, and repeats the scene that you have just witnessed – yelling and shooting.