InsaneJournal

WHO: Obi-Wan, Sam Carter, Starbuck?
WHAT: All these women, offering to help Obi-Wan! Hurrah!
STATUS: Incomplete



He had stripped down to his inner tunics to work on his ship. He didn't have any overalls, and he really didn't want to get his robe or his outer tunics messy since he had no real way of cleaning them at that point in time. At least he would be able to cover any oil or grease stains if they were on his inner tunics.

He'd done a lot of the very basic work already, sorting out which parts he could salvage and which components would need to be scrapped. Hopefully, there would be a scrap merchant who would be willing to buy those components from him, and he would then be able to purchase some essentials such as food or working components for the Delta-6. The pile of scrap was a lot bigger than he'd hoped for, though.

He'd taken a break to sell his depressingly large scrap pile and get supplies. Once he'd paid off all the debts and bought what he needed, he took another half-hour or so to meditate briefly. The Force had prodded at him as he was coming back to himself, and so he made the time to get onto the network and ask for help with the ship's navigation system. He was pleasantly surprised by the reaction he got. He'd gone back to the docking bay eating another one of those fruits he'd shared with Chiana, feeling a touch better about his current situation, and resumed work.

Once he got things recalibrated, he'd be able to work out how he could get home. It was fairly unJedi-like behaviour but for once, he didn't mind. He began singing softly to himself as he worked, going through all the old Corellian drinking songs he knew as he worked on the landing struts.