In all this chaotic nauseous desolation, somebody is building an island of order. Some two hundred yards from a the old Fortuna 420, a Twi'lek in spacesuit has set his tools on a large hull plate. He is fixing a rusty loadlifter, with the help of a R1 astromech; pieces are surrounding him like he was the center of a solar system. "Okran!" Karin waves and smiles, voice muffled by the breathing gear that she wears. "I thought my scanners picked you up. What are you doing down here?" The ship now towers at a visibly lower level than when it first landed.