Alas and alack, fair Mika is yet the captive of the wicked Ungstiri villains and held prisoner in their torture chamber, where they hath subjected her to their foul gruel. It's two AM and she hasn't even touched her supper, which was likely delivered hours ago. Every now and again her tummy rumbles and she sort of glances over at the bowl of potato soup with a wrinkle of her nose, but doesn't touch it. Her suffering is ignored in favor of watching late-night infomercials. How she desires that multi-function wristwatch. The budget shuttle bounces a little as it encounters FTL turbulence.