There was a crash behind her as she ducked into the first breech zone, the makeshift airlock that led to the other ship. Alex jerked, her curiosity as much a physical reaction as a mental one. Of course this meant she entered the enemy ship walking backwards. Heedless of security left behind by the enemy (thankfully none, which spoke to either their confidence or their stupidity) she backed around the corner in case the noise meant a foe had circled on her.
Whatever was going down in the vital systems room, however, it wasn't aimed at her. At least, she didn't think so. No laser fire glowed through the smoke. Didn't mean someone wasn't standing there, but seeing as she had no hope of seeing through it without tech of some kind, she had to press inward on the smaller craft. "Surely the Captain's having better luck on that point. Good marker for success, that I'm not dead."
"When did the indicators for a good day in my life start including whether or not I'd been shot?" She wondered aloud as she turned and blinked at the interior of the ship.
Small, cramped spaces. For a warrior pilot in armor. For a mechanic like Alex, it was an easily navigable, and she slid into the single pilot's seat to assess the controls. Nothing had taken her down on entry, but spaceship pilots, as a whole, were possessive bastards. Just because there wasn't anything at the door didn't mean there wasn't anything waiting on the internal systems. "It'd be my luck, the one time I don't check," she murmured to herself as her fingers slid over controls, "I yank out a component tied to a big ol' frellin' 'if I can't have my ship no one can' temper tantrum."
It took only a few seconds to find, and it wasn't as extreme as it could have been. Not even biometric, which meant she just had to do a bypass and then she could pull the beacon out like a surgeon would dispense with a bad kidney. Alex fished a spanner out of the helmet and pried up the panel in half a moment more. It was a shame really. Security on one's ship might have been possessive as corporation wageslave tag mania, but it was nowhere near as harmful. It showed pride. Two newly crossed wires and she wrinkled her nose at the metal platform under her toes.
She was going to have to slide under the damn thing with her whole body pressed against fixtures and levers and poky bits. Usually, a nice thick uniform would keep her from scratches and even, in some instances, accidental electrocution. Alex bit her lip, then slid under the control board. Her back protests immediately, her skin seemed to cringe from the cold and the inconvenient pinching that came from her bare ass dragging over a cold metal floor and her boobs and hips taking the nicks from every design flaw the alien ship had to offer.
That was as difficult as it got. New reddened welts over the bits of her skin that had still been pale and unblemished, scratches playing connect-the-dots with her freckles, newly cramping muscles, and a wealth of disgust. The components themselves lacked even the slightest attempt at a surge or shock-based security, once the panels were up and her tools plunged inward. The amount of letdown she felt at that was surprising. "You'd think I'd be thrilled that one fraggin' thing has gone right in the past galactic day."
Alex chalked it up to disappointment in the enemy's technology. "I mean," she griped, yanking the now-defunct beacon from its mooring and shoving it into the helmet, "This is just...lazy.
She was still--unsurprisingly--talking to herself as she backed out of the crawlspace and rushed back toward the airlock. "Right off a pre-fab assembly line, no-customization-please-thanks-bye lazy. Pilot's either looking at a rental, borrowing the ship from his government and doesn't feel personal ownership like...at all...or he's just a confident asshole," she decided. "Hope the next one's more of a challenge."
More crashes came from Captain Fenris's ship, and the smoke seemed thicker than when she'd first headed out. Still, she crept out, determined to get this right and show him what she was made of. More than some tiny, mousy creature with red hair and an unhealthy amount of questions. And as she crept sideways to enter the second ship, Zasz's pronouncement of success reached her.
"One down, one to go, sir," she answered after digging the little handheld device out of the bottom of his damaged helmet. "First one was easy, you know, they really didn't think about someone coming aboard at all."
The airlock to the second ship snapped closed behind her. "Oh moons," she swore.
A klaxon blared once, then an unfriendly robotic voice--somehow colder than Zasz's unaffected behind-the-helmet tone--announced, "Unregistered lifeform detected. Safety protocols initiated."
She had barely enough time to curse herself for wishing the difficulty level would be raised for the other warrior's ship before a deafening hiss filled the area. Alex's eyes widened at the cloud of green that emerged from a cabin down the passageway.
Safety protocols? Her brain wailed. What kind of safety protocols involve gassing your own ship?
"Second one won't be as easy," she reported then, bare feet slapping against the metal deck as she raced to find an override. "I'll...uh. I'll get back to you in a tick."
If I make it that long.
Whatever was going down in the vital systems room, however, it wasn't aimed at her. At least, she didn't think so. No laser fire glowed through the smoke. Didn't mean someone wasn't standing there, but seeing as she had no hope of seeing through it without tech of some kind, she had to press inward on the smaller craft. "Surely the Captain's having better luck on that point. Good marker for success, that I'm not dead."
"When did the indicators for a good day in my life start including whether or not I'd been shot?" She wondered aloud as she turned and blinked at the interior of the ship.
Small, cramped spaces. For a warrior pilot in armor. For a mechanic like Alex, it was an easily navigable, and she slid into the single pilot's seat to assess the controls. Nothing had taken her down on entry, but spaceship pilots, as a whole, were possessive bastards. Just because there wasn't anything at the door didn't mean there wasn't anything waiting on the internal systems. "It'd be my luck, the one time I don't check," she murmured to herself as her fingers slid over controls, "I yank out a component tied to a big ol' frellin' 'if I can't have my ship no one can' temper tantrum."
It took only a few seconds to find, and it wasn't as extreme as it could have been. Not even biometric, which meant she just had to do a bypass and then she could pull the beacon out like a surgeon would dispense with a bad kidney. Alex fished a spanner out of the helmet and pried up the panel in half a moment more. It was a shame really. Security on one's ship might have been possessive as corporation wageslave tag mania, but it was nowhere near as harmful. It showed pride. Two newly crossed wires and she wrinkled her nose at the metal platform under her toes.
She was going to have to slide under the damn thing with her whole body pressed against fixtures and levers and poky bits. Usually, a nice thick uniform would keep her from scratches and even, in some instances, accidental electrocution. Alex bit her lip, then slid under the control board. Her back protests immediately, her skin seemed to cringe from the cold and the inconvenient pinching that came from her bare ass dragging over a cold metal floor and her boobs and hips taking the nicks from every design flaw the alien ship had to offer.
That was as difficult as it got. New reddened welts over the bits of her skin that had still been pale and unblemished, scratches playing connect-the-dots with her freckles, newly cramping muscles, and a wealth of disgust. The components themselves lacked even the slightest attempt at a surge or shock-based security, once the panels were up and her tools plunged inward. The amount of letdown she felt at that was surprising. "You'd think I'd be thrilled that one fraggin' thing has gone right in the past galactic day."
Alex chalked it up to disappointment in the enemy's technology. "I mean," she griped, yanking the now-defunct beacon from its mooring and shoving it into the helmet, "This is just...lazy.
She was still--unsurprisingly--talking to herself as she backed out of the crawlspace and rushed back toward the airlock. "Right off a pre-fab assembly line, no-customization-please-thanks-bye lazy. Pilot's either looking at a rental, borrowing the ship from his government and doesn't feel personal ownership like...at all...or he's just a confident asshole," she decided. "Hope the next one's more of a challenge."
More crashes came from Captain Fenris's ship, and the smoke seemed thicker than when she'd first headed out. Still, she crept out, determined to get this right and show him what she was made of. More than some tiny, mousy creature with red hair and an unhealthy amount of questions. And as she crept sideways to enter the second ship, Zasz's pronouncement of success reached her.
"One down, one to go, sir," she answered after digging the little handheld device out of the bottom of his damaged helmet. "First one was easy, you know, they really didn't think about someone coming aboard at all."
The airlock to the second ship snapped closed behind her. "Oh moons," she swore.
A klaxon blared once, then an unfriendly robotic voice--somehow colder than Zasz's unaffected behind-the-helmet tone--announced, "Unregistered lifeform detected. Safety protocols initiated."
She had barely enough time to curse herself for wishing the difficulty level would be raised for the other warrior's ship before a deafening hiss filled the area. Alex's eyes widened at the cloud of green that emerged from a cabin down the passageway.
Safety protocols? Her brain wailed. What kind of safety protocols involve gassing your own ship?
"Second one won't be as easy," she reported then, bare feet slapping against the metal deck as she raced to find an override. "I'll...uh. I'll get back to you in a tick."
If I make it that long.
Dreams come in a size too big so we can grow into them.
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