Everyone aboard the freighter simultaneously breathes a sigh of relief. Arnae's left indentations on the control yoke, and he hadn't noticed but he had been holding his breath for about a minute and a half.

Aurelia frowns at her vaugely numb finger tips before patting the hull of the Chance.

"That's my girl."

Despite the fun of blowing those TIE interceptors to hell, even 'Za is relieved as they make hyperspace. "Nice shootin', boys," she says over the intercom to Wayde and Mak.

Unbuckling from her firing couch, Jileeza rises and returns to her scavenging of the dead 'troopers. Starting in Engineering, she pauses to visit with Aurelia. "I see you got the drive working again. Good job."

Jileeza will strip each of the 'troopers (the one in Engineering and the two in the cargo bay) down to their skivvies. Never know when a few suits of stormtrooper gear will make a good disguise. She pays particular attention to any weapons or gadgets they might be carrying.

Erit sighs a bit.

"Well, that was fun, in a terrible, not-at-all-fun way. We are on course to the Spirit of Ithor. My brethren do not stock arnament, but they have drydocks we can use to repair the ship. If anyone needs me, I'll be in the cargo bay setting up our hydroponic garden. I have a feeling we will require fresh fruit as token of our friendship."

"It was too close for my taste," Mak follows Jileeza and Erit into the cargo bay. He then gives a suspicious glance to the surrounding and slides a hand down the back of his neck, where he has a fuzzy feeling. "Do you feel like your hair is stan..." he stops upon looking at Jileeza, "I mean, an odd sort of feeling?"

He shakes his head, "never mind, it's probably just stress from all that near death experiences we had today." the Bothan nods to Erit and Jileeza, "I think I'll go lay down for a while."

Erit nods to the Bothan.

"I believe we all need some peace and quiet. Also, Mak, if you are still serious about learning more about your Force talents, an Ithorian worldship is bound to carry a few priests that may prove useful. I would like to assist you myself, but I am only a simple monk - one who's currently not quite sure which road he is travelling on."

"I just hope they serve something other than vegetarian..." Wayde says, as the Chance begins docking procedures with the monolithic ship.

(Edited by Dieter at 10:04 pm on April 1, 2004)

"Not sure what you mean, Mak," 'Za says. Anything she finds funny, others are likely to think gruesome, or at least cruel.

Jileeza winks at Mak and smiles. "I just might be inclined to join you after I finish stripping and disposing of these corpses.

"Then again, I might not." She turns away and continues her work. She keeps careful track of all the goodies she 'acquires'.

"Maybe I will," Mak finds Erit's suggestion quite intriguing. He then turns and gives Jileeza a confused smile, "and maybe you will."

As he rounds a curve on the way to his barracks, he smacks his head.

"She's green and hairless and slippery, for Uvys' sake!"

He then repeats the sentence in a different tone, pauses, and shakes his head. "I need to see a priest of some kind."

After stripping the five dead troopers of equipment, Jileeza's spoils include:
1. Enough undamaged armor bits to make two usable uniforms
2. Five blaster rifles
3. 3 grenades
4. 2 medical kits
5. five glowlamps
6. three macrobinoculars
7. A large scanning kit
8. Some rope

Erit's pleased with his efforts at turning a corner of the cargo bay into a garden. The plants he received seem to like the Chance.

Aurelia spends most of the hyperspace jump working on the deflectors and manages to juryrig them back online, although there's a good chance they could go out again. For that matter, the parts she brought from Cloud City are good enough to keep the ship running now, but to improve their lot, she's going to need some uninterrupted time in a real dock, with real maintenence droids, without having to run off-planet a few hours after getting there.

But then Erit seems like a nice enough fellow... how bad can a huge ship full o' Erits be?

The Spirit of Ithor looms ahead as the Chance drops out of hyperspace. The squashed spherical bulk of the worldship bears a similarity to the ship designs of the Mon Calamari - curved, organic, even.

Soon enough, the unmistakable stereophonic speech of the Ithorian language comes across the ship's comlink.

"Er Cha nunnubanun hoef cha?"

Erit grabs hold of the commlink, and his normally flat, carefully anthropo-ised speech patterns gain a more melodic chant as the Ithorian begins to speak (or is it singing?) in his natural tongue.

Ithor's Blessings to you, Brother. I am Acolyte Radow Erit, Child of Ithor. I am in the company of other beings whose ship requires some repairs. I humbly request usage of a small pressurised docking bay. As token of our gratitude, we deliver several sacred plants, and are ready to exchange seeds with your colony.

*Request granted, Acolyte Radow Erit. You have our gratitude for your generous gift, and humbly request you accept the usage of our repair facilities for any of your maintenence needs.*

This Child of Ithor thanks you, brother.

Erit turns off the commlink, then looks over to Arnae.

"We have a docking bay. If you'll excuse me, I need to pluck a few fruits. And yes, I must admit that acquiring these plants was at least partially motivated by my intuition that we would get in trouble."

Jileeza rubs her hands with glee at all the spoils, then gathers it up and takes it to the bridge. Showing the others what she found, the lays claim to a rifle and a grenade.

As they approach the worldship, 'Za watches out a porthole. The ship is large and ugly, in her opinion, but they need a place to dock and refit - not to mention laying low for a bit - so she's not inclined to complain.

Erit looks around at the assembled crew.

"When we dock, remember two things: Don't wander around without a guide, and whatever you do - do not touch any plants. We Ithorians are generally peaceful and spiritual people, but there are recorded instances of...adverse reactions...to desecrations of holy trees. Mr. Wayde, Jileeza, I'm looking at you."

"Hey, you're gonna find me one place...and that's right here helping fix this bucket o' bolts. I have no need to venture into that humid arboreal environment. Been there, done that. Jungle rot isn't something you forget. Oh, when you get a chance, some fresh fruit and whatever your people do for protein would be appreciated. I'm sick of eating reconstituted bantha stew..."

Jileeza snorts. "Spiritual. Yeah. Whatever. My only interest in plants is for food, and I've never encountered an edible tree.

"Now a stiff drink and someone to help me relax would be most welcome, though I'm not particularly inclined to Ithorians. Sorry."

"And Ithorians are not inclined towards stiff drinks and the kind of relaxing you have in mind. I believe you will find we are a bit boring by your standards."

Wayde takes Jileeza aside.

"Hey, just ask for some potatoes. Back in the army, we used to concoct some high-powered booze from some spuds and jury-rigged ration cans. It also doubles an efficient degreaser."

(Edited by Dieter at 4:50 pm on April 2, 2004)

Erit stares at Wayde.

"Your ability to abuse even the most harmless of ingredients for your self-destructive purposes never ceases to amaze me."