Hyperspace travel this time was longer than the travel that it took to get to Nar Shaddaa, Tattooine having been quite a few quadrants away. No shortcuts this time - shortcuts through Hutt territory was never very advisable, and even a roguish Corilliean knew that.
With another half an hour of nothing to do ahead of him, he sat back in his bunk in the men's dorms with a sheet of tools spread out beside him. Pulling off the glove of his left hand, rolling the sleeve of his shirt up past his elbow and halfway up his bicep. A small sliver of muscular skin was visible beneath the edge of his shirtsleeve, but from the elbow down, the skin disappeared. In its place was gleaming biomail.
The robotic arm's face was open, and his miniature hydrospanner was whirring in his hands as he cut out a small section of faulty gears, a replacement visible in a small plastic bag sitting on the roll of thick cloth beside him with the rest of the tools.
Within the past few hours, the fingers had begun to jam ever so slightly, and he had grown far too annoyed to put up with it any longer. Rather, he decided to take this extra time to sit down and fix it for good.