"A Jedi's Funeral."

Written & directed by:
Anthony Hummerston.

STARRING:

Karnov,   Jimmi,   Niall,   Rojic,    Ta'alan,  Mama
And special guest stars:
Hen3ry , Joe-9T, Trio and 'Blinkie.'
as the droids.

AND

Storm Cutter, their ship, all redecorated in Republic half-mottled ocean-grey version: 49331-7-7HH.
AND

Petra their Newest recruit.

Insert Petra picture here!

“Fire?” Kory asks. The young girl opposite looks a little stumped.

“What would you do in the event of a fire?” Kory says, prompting, while trying to keep the interview challenging.

The young woman opposite considers. “Knowing about you and your crew, I’d look at the domestic droid, - Trio isn’t it?”

“Trio.” Kory confirms, trying not to give anything away.

“I’d look to see whether she’d burned the Waldorf salad.”

Kory makes a tick on a datapad. “And if anything else goes wrong?”

“Blame the Toydarian.”

Kory’s stony expression cracks and becomes a beaming smile. “I believe you just got the job, kid!”

Two days later, the kid is lying on her back and making friends in the traditional way. – This is not to say that she is sleeping with anyone, but chatting with Rojic. – Which makes everyone else happy; because it means that they don’t have to.

“You see Petra,” Rojic says, prattling on and waving a hydrospanner, “Under this console is the one fuse that I can’t reach….Unless I take the entire front of the ship off -stupid design really, -but with your long slender arms and delicate fingers, I’m sure you can get it and replace it.”

Petra slides back on a little mechanic’s trolley. She holds up an arm that is covered in grease and oil and dead spiders and about three decade’s worth of dust and fluff. Rojic places a three-inch nail into the palm of her hand.

“No fifteen-amp fuses then?”

“No.” Rojic tells her. “This is a forty amp fuse.”

“It looks like a rusty nail.”

“Funny you should say that….But most of the fuses- The ones that blow the most often that is- have been replaced by nails and screws of varying sizes.” Rojic tells her.

“Isn’t that incredibly dangerous?”

“Maybe so, but you obviously haven’t actually flown in Storm Cutter.”

Petra looks at him. “No….Um….”

Rojic turns to her and offers a lemon-soaked paper napkin to wipe her fingers on. “What?”

“I was about to ask what you do when you’re not patching this thing up….Show it?”

“Show?” Rojic asks.

“Yeah, show. –Y’know wheel it on a float while Twi’lek girls strut their stuff in feathers and pom-poms….Like a carnival.”

“We fly in it.” Karnov says, appearing on the bridge. Petra looks shocked.

“Fly?” She asks.

“Fly. We fly around the galaxy battling evil and oppression and….Um….Big evil things.”

“Fly?” Petra says again, hardly believing her ears, “I thought it was a display model – all papier-mâché and tinfoil.”

“No we fly in it….” Karnov reiterates, “Fly around the galaxy killing the enemies of the Republic….In the name of peacekeeping.”

“Fly?” Petra says for the third time.

“You’re obviously not grasping the fact that this piece of chewed-up cardboard and baco-foil spaceship actually flies.”

Karnov and Rojic look at Petra, who has eyes as big as saucers and a stupid expression on her face.

Finally the credit drops. Petra grins a big cheesy grin. “So you fly in it. –Wow!”

“Wow indeed.” Karnov says.

“You guys are real heroes.”

Rojic snorts, Karnov looks proud.

“To ‘fly’ in this thing. Not just heroes. Big damn heroes.”

“Well…I….that is to say…..” Karnov trips over her words.

Petra concludes her observation. “As well as being impressively, extraordinarily….Suicidally….Monumentally….Stupid!”

Karnov has missed the point altogether. “Thanks!” She says, beaming.

Niall wanders outside. Jimmi follows, but stops on the ramp. Jimmi considers getting some super-glue and gaffa tape and repairing the sofa. –But instead elects to sit on it and contemplate the sunset.

A squad of clone troopers approach. The leader of which removes his helmet. “General.” He says to Niall.

Niall is in a friendly mod. “At ease.”

“Sir.”

“How can I help you?” Niall asks, sensing the man’s purpose for finding him.

“General? You remember me don’t you?”

Niall doesn’t wish to sound rude.

“Um….” He says, stalling for time.

“Trooper 7343409-u-45667.”

“Um….I’m sorry, I have a gift for faces….But numbers aren’t my strong point.” Niall says, hoping to keep the embarrassment out of his voice.

“Sergeant Right. –But I was a private back then.”

“I’m sorry; you’ll have to remind me.”

“The battle of Qa’dara?” The trooper says.

“Yes! Of course….The mountains….” Niall says.

“The plains.”

“Of wild Nerf.” Niall says, desperately trying to remember.

“Of crops.”

“All poisonous.”

“All edible. They grow food for the Republic.”

Niall isn’t getting it. “We battled the Techno-Union.”

“The Trade Federation.” The clone says.

“Of course….Did we win?”

“We won, sir. –Though it was touch and go.”

“I remember.” Karnov says, having heard voices. Petra and Rojic follow.

Karnov continues. “Qa’dara. The breadbasket of the galaxy. We secured guns and tanks and pushed back the bridgehead. – Then we stormed the city to protect Kory and the slicers, who were keeping the Trade Federation forces from counter-attacking. Master Junn sent us into a trap. –He made a fatal error, and we defeated him – only he turned out to be a droid.”

Niall scratches his head. None of this is in any way jogging his memory.

“Ta’alan fell off his speeder trying to impress the girls.” Karnov prompts. The credit drops. Niall finally has it. “Now I remember! –What can I do for you, Trooper 7343049-u-45867”

“It’s 7343409-u-45667. Sir.”

“Of course!”

“You can call me Right.” The sergeant says.

“Right….” Niall drones, still not sure.

“Because I’m right-handed.”

“Aha!” Of course. Sergeant Right. –pleased to meet you….Again.”

“You really don’t remember me do you sir.”

Before Niall can say anything, a voice behind him says, “I do.”

Right turns to the voice. It is Trio. “You do?”

“I do.”

“Remember me?”

“No. I want to marry you. –Hence. ‘I do.’”

Right looks flustered. After all it isn’t every day that a droid offers to marry you.

“Um….I’m on duty.” He splutters as an excuse.

“I’m free after six.”

I’m sure you’re a sweet droid and all that…. But….Er….It’s forbidden by the military.

Trio says sweetly, “It’s okay. I resign my commission! -Effective immediately.” She squeals, flapping her arms in glee. “Oooooh! My own Mister Right!”

The clone tries to brush her off, “So Qa’dara. We stomped those clankers….Anyway, after that we went various places, but eventually ended up manning a remote listening station. – We were joined by a Jedi master, -I mean padawan- called Dee Rhokko. About a week ago, the station was attacked. We fought off wave after wave of clankers, but when the base came under fire from Trade Federation gunships. –Padawan Rhokko stayed to defend the outpost to the last. – She bought us time to escape. –She’s a hero of the highest order.”

Niall listens with respect. Karnov comes and stand beside him. “So how can we help?”

“We’ve retaken the outpost, and found Rhokko’s body. Me and my men here would like to return her home- she was from a respected Nautolan family on Glee Anselm.”

Dee Rhokko. Not so cute now she's all corpsified and dead.

“The Nautolan Homeworld.” Jimmi adds, for those who don’t know their galactic geography.

The sounds of voices have brought the rest of the crew onto the landing pad. The clones stand respectfully as their sergeant explains.

“Now we have her back, we’d like to fulfil her wish, and perform a burial at sea.”

Karnov is keen to help. “I’ll fetch my spade.” She offers. Niall asks whether the tradition of Jedi cremation would be more appropriate.

“She was quite clear. – It’s a Nautolan thing I think – to return to the ocean where one was born.”

Karnov asks whether her master would be present. “As far as we know he’s on campaign.” The clone explains. Rojic is about to say something rude, but a glance from Karnov stops him. Petra’s eyes shoot up. “I’ll tell you later.” Rojic whispers.

The clones explain that they’ve been given forty-eight hours to go to Glee Anselm and return. “It’s our R & R time,” Right says, “-And we wanted to do something for the woman who saved us all.”

“A noble cause, but where do we come in?”

“We’d like to charter your ship.”

V2

Rojic’s eyes light up at the prospect of easy credits.

“Why not charter a transport?” Karnov asks.

“Because….” The trooper looks around, making sure that no-one is eavesdropping, “Glee Anselm is supposedly neutral –but is supplying the Republic with foodstuffs.”

“So….” Niall says, joining the dots, “You need a civilian ship to slip under the radar….And take Rhokko to the funeral.”

“We could load up with supplies!” Rojic says, thinking of even more credits.

Niall knows how to annoy the Toydarian. “We’ll do it for free.” He beams at Right, who smiles broadly. “Okay! Action stations!” He commands.

“We’ll be back later.” Right assures him, “With a few supplies of her own, a few personal effects to take back to the family and our gear.”

“Great.” Karnov says, “Anything else we can do for you?”

“Well….” Right says, slightly nervously, “We were hoping that you might officiate….And write a eulogy….And….”

Karnov whoops. “Write a eulogy! I’ll do that. I bagsy it already!”

Karnov turns to Rojic. “Rojic?”

“Mmmmm…?”

“What are you doing?”

“Calling in all my contacts….Getting us a cargo.”

“Good! –It’s like you read my mind!”

Rojic waves his hand in front of Karnov. He tries again. “Just like a book.”

Karnov pumps her fist. “Yes!”

“A blank notebook.” Rojic says, flapping off.

An hour later, the clones reappear with some crates and boxes. There are also loading droids with their cargo. They are all staked on the apron awaiting loading.

“Dee Rhokko.” Right says reverentially, pushing a long coffin along on a hover-sled. He whispers, “Sorry about the chiller unit.”

“Quite understandable.” Jimmi reassures him. –But secretly has a peek with the force inside the box. –It is indeed the body of a Nautolan woman.

Niall slides into the pilot’s seat. Behind him, a shadow passes by the door of the cockpit. Rojic is humming a little ditty, and Jimmi is gargling with a pack of razor blades- and calling it singing.

Petra emerges from the engine bay. Still clutching a gadget which is plugged into Joe-9T. “So….For the record. I am not flying with you guys.”

“Or girls.” Jimmi prompts. “Or girls.” Petra acknowledges.

“Hmmm….Something’s wrong….” Rojic says idly, cocking his head to one side and listening.

Petra picks up on this comment. “Yes. This ships isn’t even scrap-dealer worthy, let alone spaceworthy. –Heaven knows what will happen in battle- It’ll probably collapse like an eggshell at the merest whiff of hot plasma.”

“What?” Rojic says, still distracted.

“So.... For the record.” Petra reiterates, “I-AM-NOT-FLYING-WITH-YOU.”

“Course laid in.” Niall says, looking in on the little gathering. “We’ll be there in about ten hours.”

“What?” Petra demands.

“We took off. We climbed to atmosphere; we passed through the planetary defences and even dumped the garbage – Before- We entered hyperspace.” Niall says.

Petra goes a colour of green not normally reserved for merely being queasy. “You mean to tell me that we’re in hyperspace….In this God-forsaken, rusty, death-trap; tinfoil-spit-and-sawdust….Pile of Bantha poodoo!”

“Yup. –And a pretty smooth take off….If I do say so myself.” Niall grins.

Petra changes hue from green to wan to pallid to green(again) to cadaverous to haggard to pinched to ashen to washed-out to pale to drawn to green (for a third time) before yelling, “Get me off this ship!”

“Too late! We’re on the way….And since you’re now officially a member of the crew, here’s your ‘Storm Cutter Crew’ Jacket, hoodie, cap and official badge.” Rojic says.

“Or….” Karnov says, “You could leave now, in the depths of hyperspace and end up scattered spaghetti all over the galaxy. –Hyperspace does that to people you know.”

Ta’alan wanders in, sucking on a gobstopper. “Of course if there’s any slight thing wrong with the ship…That might happen anyway.”

Petra lets the enormity of the situation sink in. “Okay….” She says eventually, “So….Where’s my cabin.”

“Um….” Ta’alan looks around. “You can have Kory’s old one. –Just clear it out. Keep anything of value….And place any underwear in my cabin for….Um….Safe disposal.”

Petra skips off to relive herself of lunch, and to take up occupancy. Ta’alan knocks on the door a while later. “Any luck with the underwear?”

“I found these.” Petra says, emerging.

“Gimme, gimme, gimme!” Ta’alan says. Petra holds up a pair of knickers that would goa round a Bantha about three times. “Here you go.”

“Um….I think those are Mama’s pants.”

“So you don’t want them?” Petra asks, innocently.

“Not unless we lose the tarpaulin and want to cover the ship.” Ta’alan says, backtracking.

“I found a double hammock too….” Petra says. “-And a few scraps of material….I think that Kory is a secret Jedi, judging by these…..See? No attachments.”

It is Ta’alan’s turn to go a funny colour. “I’ll be in my bunk.” He says.

Petra and Rojic bump fists. Rojic says, “So where did you and Kory meet?”

“I was trying to sell her a bit of prime real estate.”

“She smelled a rat though?”

“Yeah. Shame. How was I to know that you can’t sell the Jedi temple without a licence?”

Rojic’s brain kicks into gear. “So….You have the licence?”

“I do now. It only cost a hundred credits….” The look on Rojic’s face paints a picture.

“You just got Kory-ed!” He guffaws.

A while later, the clones are lying on their bunks, smoking death-sticks, when Rojic hears a noise. He starts hovering on silent wings trying to pin it down. Petra starts a game of Pazzak with the clones and immediately loses. When she has lost a few times and is in danger of having to remove her clothes to pay the mounting debt, she suddenly hits a winning streak –and even manages to offload the Jedi temple seller’s licence. Rojic can see Kory’s influence at work. He goes back to tracking down the noise.

As he passes the clones, he hears a distinctive hissing noise. He turns and stares. The clones continue their game. Rojic flaps on. How he can hear a valve out-gassing. He turns to find the source of the noise.

“What?” Petra asks.

“I thought I heard a noise.” Rojic explains.

“It’s probably me, fleecing these stupid clones….No offence meant.”

“Surprised you have the brain-power….” Clone ‘Whistler’ replies, “-Seeing as you’re a blonde….No offence.”

Rojic looks concerned. “It sounded like a stuck actuator….Or maybe a piece of the hull tearing off.”

“We could patch it with Kory’s underwear.” Ta’alan suggests.

“I doubt that….” Jimmi says, “After all, it fails to cover even the smallest of sins.”

“Shh!” Rojic snaps. There is silence. Then they can hear the distinct cracking sound of a pen being chewed. They relax. “Only Karnov writing her eulogy.”

“I thought she was using crayons.”

“That was the first draft. –The second time, she wrote a brilliant piece….On toilet paper.”

“I didn’t know that aquatic species used toilet paper.”

There are a few silent minutes while the enormity of this statement sinks in.

“Qwark!” Goes a noise.

“What was that?” Niall asks.

“I didn’t hear anything….Sir.” Clone ‘Corky’ says.

There is the sound of a blindfolded mime being shot with a loud silencer in the next forest.

“Rojic?”

“What?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You said Rojic.”

“I didn’t.”

They look at the script. Sure as eggs are eggs, there is a distinct ‘Rojic’ in the screenplay at this point.

They are interrupted by the sound of a Gloun swapping particles with a Boson.

“Eh?”

They shake their heads, hoping that their poor noggins won’t explode with the concept….

“Stupid Karnov.” One of the clones says. No-one pays him any heed.

Rojic goes to fing the source of the alarming noises. Niall hears an alarm in the cockpit and goes to answer it. When he gets there, the alarm is no longer sounding and the light that lights up when the alarm has sounded isn’t lit up.

Rojic keeps chasing the noise. The more he searches, the more it is just to the left or the right og his position. In the end he gets the clones to move all the cargo on the left of the cargo bay over to the right and all the cargo on the right over to the left. They grunt and groan and stumble and stall and complain under their breaths.

The noise sounds again. This time it is the sound of a slow-blow fuse spitting and sparking. Rojic wishes that he had hair so he can tear it out. Jimmi has been observing for a while. In the end there is a suspicion that there is something going on.

“What’s going on sergeant?” Jimmi asks.

“Nothing sir….Or is it Ma’am. I was always a bit confused over geneder-not-defined officers aiding the Republic but not actually employed as members of the military and….”

“You’re stalling Right.”

“Am I sir. I heard that this ship was the centre of all faff for three parsecs….”

“What are you hiding?”

“Hiding? Nothing?”

Jimmi stalks around the cargo bay with crepe soles making squeaking noises. Jimmi stops. There are hard soles on Jimmi’s feet. Petra comes out fom under the console to watch.

“I think we’d better move some of the crates and boxes again….” Jimmi says, testing the clones.

They go to move them. Jimmi tries to detect whether they are being deceitful. –They are but Jimmi can’t tell exactly why.

“Unless….We ‘see’ what is in….” Jimmi pauses for dramatic effect. –This warrants another ten dots……….

“This one!”

The clones look everywhere but the crate that Jimmi is pointing to.

“Okay. Let’s move it out!” Niall orders. –As heis a real live general, and sounding rather irked. The clones move all the small boxes that they have stacked around a large box to hide it. They drag it over.

“I think the noise is coming form the frame holding up the coffin.” Ta’alan says.

They look under the coffin. There are nothing but two slender A-shaped frames.

“Proper Wrosher tree.” Karnov says, “Nice!”

“What’s the name of the frame?” Ta’alan wants to know.

“Um….The frames upon which one rests a coffin?”

“Bit of a mouthful. Is’nt there a specific term.”

Jimmi pipes up. “There is in Bocce.”

“What is it? I really need the word to describe the frames.”

Jimmi thinks for amoment and then says, “Latazza todo de caffassta di si do formasso disssatto-du restassa-framazz de fremossta fira sema to so la tido- sor formazzi du fromaggio so forso meto dodo fazzi gratzi.”

Ta’alan tries to repeat this and fails miserably.

“Isn’t there a mane in Basic?”

Naill doesn’t think that there is. “We should use a little-known town and appropriate the nem for this very….Um….” He points at the frame, “Item.”

“Such as?” Karnov asks.

“Um….Nether Wallop?”

Ta’alan mutters something about a wallop to the nethers while continuing to fret about the coffin-bearing-pieces-of-wood-with-no-specific-name.

To relieve the tension, Jimmi sings a little ditty. Petra turns to Jimmi and with the most serious of voices says, “That’s a nice tune.”

“Thanks, it’s based on an old folk tune mixed with a blend of Brain Eno and thrash-death-metal.” Jimmi explains.

“That’s Brian, surely.”

“Shirley? Shirley Eno?”

“Never mind. I like it.” Petra tries to get the conversation back on track. Jimmi’s ears can’t believe what they’re hearing. – And believe me, thay’ve heard a lot.

“Yes,” Petra enthuses. The others stop what they are doing, and give one another significant glances. Petra is not to be put off though, “I can’t say I like every nuance, but there are significant parts of the tune and singing, -the sound which I find especially pleasing to the ears.”

Jimmi ‘stares’ at her. “That’s….Very kind of you….So….What is the part that you like?”

“Well….” Petra says, keeping a straight face. “The bits between the notes….They’re my absolute favourite.”

Everyone stops to take a deep breath.

Jimmi has seen through the back-handed compliment.”

“You mean the silence?”

“Yes! Oh yes!” Petra gushes. “I love it!”

Jimmi says a word that isn’t silence and isn’t actually printable. In Bocce it translates to ‘Fa-Zasskaffa’zakka!’

Eventually with much cajoling and threatening of cojones, the clones come clean. “Okay….So we brought something that belonged to Dee….” They open the rearmost crate to reveal a bird-like abject –that is in fact a bird-like bird. It stands about six feet at the shoulder and immediately lets out a squawk that echoes throughout the ship.

“It’s….An….Um….”

“Orobird –specifically a Sumikeet.”

“A whata-whata-what?” Ta’alan asks.

“I thought I told you to remain in your cabin and concentrate on your lightsabre.” Niall says sternly.

“Cluck! Cluck!” The bird chirps, before running around the area afforded to it in the cargo bay. “Dumb cluck!”

“Okay.” Karnov turns to Right. “Explanation….NOW!”

“It was Padawan Rhokko’s pet. She brought it with her when she came to the outpost. At first it was rather annoying – what with the mimicry and the eating and everything….But in the end we grew to love it like she did….And now we couldn’t bear to part with such a magnificent specimen.”

“Is it dangerous?” Ta’alan asks.

“I wouldn’t leave anything valuable out….It has a habit of swallowing things….But no, other than you thinking the airlock is leaking – or isn’t when it is….No it’s mostly harmless.”

“Harmless! Bwark!” The Sumikeet mimics.

“We call it Nipper,” Right explains, “Because it has a habit of pecking at things.”

“Nipper! Slipper! Nip! Nip!” The bird chirps while pecking around for scraps of food. It eyes up Rojic.

“I would hide Rojic if I were you….” Right tells the others. “Nipper once stole a blaster pistol right off the table. Our commanding officer put it there for a second and gulp! The bird had swallowed it! – It stood there pumping its neck and looking stupid.”

“Like the Guinness ostrich.” Jimmi says, though no one knows why.

“Lucky it didn’t go off and blow the creatures brains out!”

“Brains?” Nipper says.

“Can it say rude words?” Ta’alan asks.

“It can swear like a trooper.” Right tells him.

“Poodoo!” The bird says, before launching into a foul-beaked diatribe against being locked in a shipping crate.

“We’re almost there.” Niall says, rather glad to be away from the madhouse for a minute. “Action stations.”

“Action! Action! Beep! Badoo!” The bird says.

There is a Trade Federation frigate patrolling the system. They decide to keep radio silence and power down any non-essential systems. They slip by on a glide. Niall gets Petra to slice a probe buoy as they slide around the surface of Glee Anselm. ‘Slice a probe buoy’ isn’t the smutty euphemism that it could be. On a secure channel, they are hailed by a Nautolan, who identifies himself as Captain Bale Yamma. “Please state your designation and destination.”

“Civilian ship storm Cutter – on routine trade.”

There is a pause. “We have been expecting you. Cleared for landing - Sending co-ordinates. Captain Yamma out.”

Niall closes the door. Outside, Nipper is giving the clones and the rest of the crew the run-around.

Yamma sends the co-ordinates. Niall slides around a defunct satellite, keeping it between Storm Cutter and the probe buoy just in case. The landing pad is one of three on the back of a large ocean-going vessel, which Karnov identifies as a ship. The ship is a converted luxury yacht. It was probably a survey vessel before. It is in a sleek vee-shape with three landing pads of small space- or airbourne ships on the back. The rearmost has a bolt-with-wings type light transport on it. Niall rests Storm Cutter on the leftmost pad.

As soon as the ramp is down, Nipper leaps half the sofa and scurries around the deck. A small delegation comes to meet them. Captain Yamma introduces them. There is a smart young Quarren dressed as a city councillor. He is introduced as Ahlto, and he is indeed the mayor of Salem city. – The nearest land-based habitation. There is a young Nautolan in many fine robes and a burly bodyguard. This is Prince Gootoo – Here representing the king, and resenting the luxury cabins that he has been assigned. –There is a human too, Yarrow Beel – who was a naval officer that served with Dee when she was still a Padawan.

“I remember that bird!” He laughs, “My crew taught it some choice words and no mistake!”

Some other VIPs are arriving tomorrow, but there is one that stands alone and aloof – this is a blue-skinned humanoid, who when described to Jimmi is identified as a Voss. They ask the Captain who he is.

“That is Meesha-Zo and his retinue. He tells me that Rhokko studied with him on Voss for some time, and they became ‘friends’ – Though as far as I know, the Voss don’t have emotional attachments. – Her death must have made an impact in him.

There are drinks and nibbles later on. The crew are offered cabins in the yacht – named the ‘Breeze Enchantment’ in Basic, though in the original Nautolan, it tells of a magical sailing vessel skimming the waves with the sun at one’s back and the wind in one’s head tendrils.

Petra tries to talk to Meesha-Zo, but is shooed away by his bodyguards. They are a grumpy lot, these Voss, she concludes.

The Breeze Enchantment sails on through the night. The crew socialise, Karnov works on another version of the eulogy. –Eschewing the toilet paper and the crayons, and actually creating a thing of beauty – She never knew she had it in her!

Ta’alan is restless. Being confined to his cabin for hours, he hears a noise outside. Fearing someone sneaking around, he stalks around in the dark around the crates and bales and machinery and reels of wire on board the broad flat deck. His senses are attuned to the slightest noise. Everyone else is resting. The ship is gently surging forward on the merest of swells.

A movement catches his eye. He tunes in his sensitive hearing. There it is again. He unlimbers a rifle from his back. Fearing the repercussions if he shoots someone important he switches to tranquilising dart. When he sees the form again, he lets fly with a completely silent, but otherwise excellent shot. The intruder is hit!

“BWAAAAAAAAAAKKKKKK!” Nipper screeches at the top of its voice, emerging from behind a reel of wire. This wakes several people immediately. Ta’alan tries to hush the bird, but it scorches around the deck for half a lap, screeching and cursing before succumbing to the narcotic.

“Great shot!” Hisses Niall, emerging from Storm Cutter.

“I was aiming for the Toydarian!” Ta’alan says by way of an apology, “I thought I saw someone sneaking around.”

By now most of the people on board ship have gathered around. Some have dressing gowns on –which need gathering around.

Curiously, Meesha-Zo does not emerge to see what the commotion is. One of his guards peers from the window, but doesn’t come out on deck.

“Excitement over.” Niall says, waiting to scold his Padawan in private.

“What time is the funeral?” Petra asks.

“As soon as we are in position.” The captain tells her, mid-morning, with a fair wind.”

“Thanks.”

“Curious that Rhokko’s master hasn’t attended.” Karnov says.

“He’s on campaign.” The captain tells her. “As far as I know, he can’t be spared from the war effort. –You might try to holo him, when we are ready.”

“I might just do that.” Rojic says.

The others look at him. “For the record….” Rojic tells them. “Nothing sinister in that is there? –I’m sure he’d like to pay his respects.”

“Okay….” Niall says, not sure what’s coming next.

“Good. – So how long is the eulogy, Karnov?”

“About ten minutes….Why?”

“Then I can charge him for holo uptime -say a hundred credits a minute.”

“I’m kinda thinking there might be two funerals in the morning.” Karnov says, leaving Rojic flapping.

“I can do it for eighty!” He says in desperation.

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

Footnotes: Bwarrk!

ADDITIONAL: AT some stage this will become the start of series 5! - Expect jiggery and pokery!