'This one's interesting,' Trish thought to herself, after listening to the mechanic talk. The lack of gravity wouldn't have been an issue when it was just her going for an escape pod, but she could definitely see it as a massive flaw in her current situation. She'd have to get to know this mechanic more, definitely a solid head on her shoulders.

The armory was a decent choice. It would definitely draw a lot of attention, and quickly. She assumed the guards wouldn't be an issue for Angel. They'd still need to secure a lift though, because the moment her baby went off, or if any of the guards managed to radio for help, nearly all guards would swarm to their location. They'd have to be quick, and hope the lifts weren't shut down. It could work.

Yes, it could definitely work, since they didn't wish to harm innocents. Trish normally didn't go out of her way to hurt them, but her job was to build bombs and blow up whatever her clients wanted. And she supposed her new client was her captain, so that meant less wanton killing.

"I definitely think your plan can work, Jinxie was it? Thoughts Angel?"

Victoria nodded in response to Jinxy's concern, trying to appear appreciative but probably failing. Before she could say anything the conversation had already moved on, everyone else seemingly either not noticing or outright ignoring what happened.

"Yes, the armory sounds like an excellent target," she agreed. "That should draw most of the officers away, but we should be long gone by the time they get there. Three guards should be no problem," she added in response to Amir's comment.

Pausing for breath, she finished, "So, unless anyone else has something to add, it seems to me that we have everything sorted out?"

Beth listened to the rest of the conversation. She too would have joined the protest against bombing the life support, her own flesh and blood cousin was on the damn station. Answering to her aunt would be... unpleasant. Thankfully it quickly turned from blowing up essential life support to blowing up GA supplies. Something Beth was much more inclined to do.

"Nah, sounds good to me." She stood up, finished her drink and turned to the woman her age. "Jinxy, right? You said you had tools to collect. Meet me outside here in ten." Beth turned back to the rest of the group. "It shouldn't take more than thirty minutes once we're in the dock to pick a ship." She mentally cursed the lack of short wave communicators. "Just in case give us forty." For a second she looked like she was going to add something more, but then decided against it.

"I'll be a little more than ten minutes there... my tools were well hidden, but I'll make my detour as quick as possible," Jinxy said. She stood up and nodded to the rest of the group. "I'll see you all later, and you in a bit," she said, looking at the pilot. "Is there anything else we need to discuss before I get my tools, or are we all square?" She added, standing and stretching a bit. Sure, they hadn't been sitting long, but she wasn't one for being in a chair for too long of a period of time.

She was a bit worried at that point that the pilot still had not given her name. They had all given something at this point, but the pilot had remained silent. Was she really trustworthy if she wouldn't give them even a letter to call her by? She wasn't going to pry if the pilot didn't want it, but it was still a bit vexxing.

Victoria/Angel

Featuring: Trish

After watching the guards for a minute, it was obvious that this wouldn’t quite be as easy as Angel had expected. They didn’t seem to be patrolling at all, perfectly content to sit by the entrance to the armory. No amount of stealth would help in this situation, as she couldn’t possibly approach one without the other two noticing. She would have to resort to brute force; of course, that was her specialty.

Trish could tell that Angel was deep in her planning, and found herself wondering if there was more she could do than simply putting the bomb where it would go. Considering a few different thoughts, she finally spoke up. “Perhaps I could be a distraction at first? Make life easier.”

Angel thought about it for a moment, then shook her head. ”I don’t think it’s a good idea, honestly. You could certainly get their attention, but either you lead them back to me which isn’t very helpful, or you get caught as you try to run past them,” she whispered. Looking around, she found a small steel pipe, and willed it to float in the air, aimed at the closest guard. Concentrating, she pulled the chairs out from under all three guards (that’s what they get for being too lazy to stand!) as the pipe soared towards it’s target, striking him cleanly on the back of the head. The other two, completely unprepared for an attack by a flying pipe, began to reach for their communicators but the pipe made short work of them both.

Grinning at Trish, she took the lead, reaching down to make sure the guards were unconscious, then grabbing their keycards. ”Where should we put them?” she asked as she unlocked the door. This seems almost too easy Angel thought.

Trish had a momentary look of surprise upon her face, thinking that this entire ordeal would be much more… difficult. But that was the legend of Psyches coming true she supposed. The most difficult of things often came surprisingly easy to the most successful of them. Trish edged out around the corner, seeing Angel ahead, opening the door. Walking toward her, she heard boot steps from behind, and looked over her shoulder and groaned. Shift change. Three more guards right there, and no real chance of escape likely. “Into the vault!” Trish immediately darted forward, knowing that the replacements would be radioing for help. They needed a new plan, but she couldn’t make it until they had a moment of peace. She wondered if they’d have their own keycards, or would have to exchange with the now unconscious guards. Arriving at the door, she looked back and saw two of them charging with buzz batons, “Inside, I’ll get us out!”

Seeing the replacements rounding the corner, Angel swore under her breath. She made one of the chairs crash into the closest one’s legs, stopping him briefly as she followed Trish into the armory and shut the door, hastily rearming it while hoping that they wouldn’t be able to reopen it themselves. A moment passed, then another. The men banged on the door as hard as they could, but it seems they don’t have keycards to open it. ”We’re safe for now, but there are going to be a lot more of them in a minute, and we’re stuck in here. Any ideas?” Angel asked, letting out the breath she realized she had been holding.

Once inside, Trish was silent for a moment, taking in the surroundings. She knew she didn’t have long, and had to make a plan on the fly. Pacing around the locker, eyes taking in the details, not of just the many differing types of armaments, but the walls, floor, and other systems in place. She found herself staring up above at the foam fire disposal unit, designed to put out fires instead of ruining systems with water. This gave her an interesting idea. But first, she needed to take care of the original plan.

Pulling her baby out of the satchel, she moved over to the ventilation system, which was too small to use as an escape, but would allow part of the blast to escape into other areas of the station. She unlocked the built in winch, snapped it to the grate, and hung it just inside. Leaving it there, she moved back to the rack that held the buzz batons, tossing one to Angel, and clipping one on her belt. Quickly, she filled her pack with stun grenades, devices that used a large amount of electricity to disable crowds.

“Are you able to lift me with your powers to the ceiling and hold me there, for maybe, a minute, two tops?”

Angel quickly looked her up and down, trying to estimate her weight, with her pack and everything else. ”I should be able to, yeah, she confirmed. ”What do you have in mind?”

”The foam systems they use for fires, solidified when given a powerful electrical charge. This will force it all to expand outward at once, rather than being dispersed evenly. It will blow a giant hole through the ceiling, allowing us to climb through the tank, and out the maintenance hatch on the floor above. From there, we make our way to the lifts as originally planned.”

Trish pulled her multi-tool from her pack and readied herself for what she was sure was going to be an odd experience.

Admittedly impressed, Angel concentrated, trying to ignore the sound of many more boots filing into the hall outside the door. They don’t have much time, so this had to work. If not, they’re in for one hell of a fight. Slowly, Trish began to feel her weight being taken off her feet, then suddenly she was floating. Before long, she was at the ceiling and could do whatever she needed to do. Quickly, hopefully, Angel thought.

It was definitely an odd feeling. it wasn’t like being lifted by a rope or large pair of arms. Her entire body had been lifted equally. It was more like floating in water, or space. At the extrusion point for the foam system, she quickly undid the magnetic screws of the mounting plate and dropped it safely away from Angel. Eyeballing the mechanics inside, she pulled out two of her stun grenades. She undid their casings, exposing their interiors, and then soldered them to the controls facing. She twisted the timers on them to ten seconds, ”Move me away, but not down, quickly.”

It was going to be an odd sight. A momentary flash from the grenades would be followed by a deluge of yellow white foam pouring straight downward and immediately hardening, forming a column from floor to ceiling.

Angel moved Trish safely away from the system, beginning to strain herself for the first time in ages as she struggled to keep Trish in the air. As the foam exploded outwards, she could tell that the men outside were moments away from breaking in. Rushing a bit more than before, she positioned Trish under the brand new gaping hole in the ceiling, as Angel lost the strength to hold her up, collapsing onto one knee.

The moment Trish felt the hold give way, she quickly gripped the jagged edge of the hole, feeling it slice into her palm. But she didn’t let go. Converting her multi-tool again, she cut away just enough foam with the circular saw to fit them through. Climbing up inside, she converted it to a flashlight, and quickly found the maintenance hatch. Pulling off her jacket, she leaned down through the hole, and dangled it for Angel to grab on. They’d have to work together to pull her up, thankfully the foam would provide just enough support for decent footing.

Then the door beeped as a new set of keys had been used to unlock it.

”Hurry! I have to set it off the moment you’re through the hole!”

Groaning, Angel forced herself to her feet and grabbed the jacket. She tried to move something, anything in front of the door to buy her time, but she was just too exhausted to do it, and she needed all the energy she could muster to get into the hole. Working as fast as possible, Angel climbed up with Trish’s help, making it through the hole just as the door opened and the men began to pour in.

The moment Angel was in the tank safely, Trish heard the shouts, and touched her thumb to her little, trigger finger. The explosion was deafening, as the electric charge coursed through the crystal, detonating every molecule simultaneously. The ball bearings exploded outward in all directions, ripping through the armoury wall and tearing through the men, the door, and all the gear within. A massive fireball exploded through the newly formed hole, up and down the shaft, and through a hole formed on the opposing side. Alarms immediately began going off all over the sector.

Positioning herself beneath the maintenance hatch, she prepared to cut her way out. As she moved her tool closer to it, she noticed something odd. The damn thing was unlocked. Pushing it open she climbed out, peeking her head out, finding herself in an empty, dead end corridor, as the red and white lights shone, accompanied by the rather annoying Klaxon. Pulling herself up and out, she offered her good hand to Angel, knowing the lift was just around the corner.

”...Wow,” Angel murmured as she accepted the hand, lifting herself through the hatch. ”Every man they can spare is going to be after us, so we need to get to the others fast. They better have a ship ready to go,” she added, letting Trish take the lead now. At this point, she wasn’t going to be much help. Prolonged use of a Psyche’s abilities takes a lot out of them, and she was no exception. Hopefully the rest of their trip to the ships wouldn’t require her help, although she knew that was rather optimistic.

Trish led the way around the corner to the lift. She wasn’t sure what this corridor was, probably just business offices of some sort, since they were empty at this time. Getting to the lift, she pressed the call button on it, since Amir would be holding it a floor below them. Deciding to be vague, “Uh service, are the lifts working? There was an explosion or something, and me and my uh, date need to get to our ship to meet some friends. We’re about to go on a nice, relaxing getaway.”

Their fates were hopefully in their new captain’s hand. Otherwise, this just got a lot more difficult.

It did indeed take the mechanic longer than ten minutes to meet back up with her. Not that she cared. Beth had another drink while waiting. The two of them then made their way down to the docks. That part was easy. The getting inside the docks, now that would not be easy. If all else failed they’d have to use the first part of the distraction to get into the bay. That was not the best of options though.

At the entrance to the docks there were three guards. Two standing on either side of the door, and one pacing the hall. “Any ideas on getting past them?” Beth asked Jinxy was that right?

The mechanic paused, seemingly in thought. “That won’t be easy. I mean we can try knockin’ ‘em out, but we don’t have the means to do that… or... “ The mechanic turned and looked Beth over. “How’s your punch?”

“I’m handy in a bar fight. Not much of a good punch otherwise.” Beth shrugged. “I’m better with some sort of weapon, a pool cue or a bar stool being my best weapons.”

The mechanic held up a wrench. “This work?” Beth grinned at the wrench, nodded and took it from the woman.

“Want me to go first? I’ll take out walking dude as he heads away from us.” It wasn’t the best plan and if she didn’t get him out in the first hit... Well she didn’t want to think about a three on two that would ensue. If she could knock him out maybe he had a gun she could get, or a taser at least.

“Go ahead… but if he has any sort of staff weapon on him, pass it my way,” the mechanic said, looking at Beth. She pulled out another wrench, and got behind Beth. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Beth waited for a moment listening to the footsteps, as they started fading away she strolled out from around the corner. The two guards saw her, but the third hadn’t turned by the time she slammed the wrench down onto his head. She was powerful for her size, more lithe than actual muscle, but gravity and force made for a nasty bump that knocked out the guard. Beth knelt down quickly beside the limp body and searched finding a sidearm.

The mechanic watched, and dashed in, knocking out one of the other guards that had spotted them. She let out a low growl as she searched him, seeming to not find what she wanted. “On your left,” she said, as the last guard lunged at Beth.

She swung the wrench still in her hand at the last guard. The sidearm still attached to the first guard. Beth hit the third guard, but not hard enough to knock him out, and he had her pinned to the ground. She twisted under him, slipping out of his grasp. He blinked confused and she hit him again over the head. Quickly she searched his body and found the swipe card for the door, unhooked it and tossed it to Jinxy. “Half tempted to put on their clothes and shove them in a vent.”

The mechanic paused for a moment, tucking the swipe card into a pocket of her clothing. “That one. They won’t be able to get out on their own, and no more harm will come to them,” she said, pointing to one of the vents next to them. “I got this one if you got the one you just knocked out,” she said, starting to undress the guard she had knocked out. “Also, see if you can find anything else useful on them,” she said, working quickly, as the guard was now shirtless. Beth nodded and started digging through their pockets while stripping one of them to pull his clothes. She shoved her own clothes into her bag, frowned, shrugged and then helped Jinxy start to put the limp guards into the vent.

“Got a couple side arms. I’m surprised they didn’t shoot us.” She told Jinxy as she adjusted the oversized clothes to look like the fit better. “Also one more card.” She held it up to show the mechanic.

The mechanic nodded, while also adjusting the clothing. “You keep it. One for each of us. Now, we need to go that way to the docks. From there, it’s all you to pick out a ship. I’ll just make sure the heap can fly,” she said, pointing in the direction of the docks, presumably.

Beth nodded back, clipped the card to herself and led the way through the door. It opened with a beep when she swiped the card. The sight that greeted her was one she never got tired of. In front of them was huge room that had hundreds of hatches off of it leading to ships attached to the side of the station. The glass, the same as used in the front of ships, was all that blocked them from reaching out to touch them. Beth had a few pulls to ships that were beautiful, but were ones that would be too easy to track. Someone would care too much about them. They needed one that if reported stolen wouldn’t be on the top of the GA’s list to retrieve. She saw at least two ideal options, neither were close.

“There’s a good one.” Beth said adding the dock number. “It’s closer of the two. The other I’d suggest is over there.” She gestured to almost the other side of the dock. If the closer one didn’t pan out they’d be short some serious time getting to the second. back

The mechanic nodded, and headed towards the ship with Beth. Once there, she looked at the hatch and paused. “One moment,” She took out her kit, and pulled off a panel. In what seemed to be a flash of her hands, she had disconnected a few wires, and the door opened. “I’ll fix it later… go see if you can start it up while I check out the engines,” she said, and slid into the ship and headed in the direction of the engine room, or at least Beth hoped so.

Beth grinned as she headed toward the cockpit. The ship was a piece of junk. She had flown worse though. She sat in the pilot’s chair, a spring dug into her back, that’d have to be fixed later.

First thing first, hack through the pilot’s locking codes. That wasn’t too hard, the previous pilot wasn’t very creative. Once she was through that she started the engines, and prayed. There was nothing at first, and Beth’s heart skipped a horrified beat.

While there was nothing, soon the intercom buzzed to life. “Try it now Miss Pilot. I had to fix..." There was a pause. “Y’know, just start the ship. I don’t think I can explain it in a way you can understand,” the mechanic’s voice crackled over the intercom.

Beth went through the starting sequence again, and the engine turned over. Beth sighed. “How much time we got left?” She asked back over the intercom, she’d worry about the slight later.

“We got five minutes, and if they don’t show up in that time, we gotta jet if we wanna save our butts,” the mechanic’s voice crackled over the intercom. “I’m still working on tuning this hunk o’ junk… but it will work for now…”

There was a knock at the hatch. Beth hopped up and dashed to open it. If it was the others that was perfect. It wasn’t.

A guard looked Beth square in the face. “Gorram!” She didn’t have the wrench anymore, he was alone though. She reached out and grabbed him pulling him in and past her. Beth slammed him into the railing of the stairs. It didn’t knock him out. She kicked the door shut, “Ouch Diu Nia Sing.” Beth cried out.

The mechanic ran in and looked at Beth. “Awww…" She then muttered something in a language that Beth did not know. She pulled out a wrench and hit the guard hard on the head, hopping to knock him out. “This is why you check before you open the door!”

“He probably knew we were in here already.” Beth snapped back, and limped over to the guard. He looked unconscious. “What are we going to do with this shǎbī?”

“Fuck if I know! We should tie him up for now and probably toss him off the ship. Wait here, I’ll get some cables or something…” The mechanic ran off, still muttering to herself in a foreign language.

The guard didn’t move while Jinxy was gone, that was a relief. When she returned the pair of them made quick work of tying him up. “Maybe when the others show up we can just shove him back through. How’s the ship doing?”

The mechanic looked at Beth and said something that sounded like “kusoyarou.” “It will get us in the black for a bit, but unless I do a major overhaul, this is not going to last longer than a month, which works for us. We did want to ditch it later,” she said. They soon heard a knock and the mechanic let out a sigh. “I hope it’s our friends this time.”

Trish slumped into the sanctuary of the open lift, lightly pulling Angel in with her. They were almost home free it seemed. The door sealed with a hiss behind them, and began the quick ascent. Looking over Angel, she could see the exhaustion therein. There was a pang of guilt, Trish didn't know the limits of a Psyche when she asked, no, commanded her to use them. Now, it seemed that the woman was mostly useless, and therefore vulnerable. If they ran into any more trouble, it really could end badly.

Trish took this time to look at her injured hand, noting the blood that was dripping off it now. It was a fairly deep and jagged cut, but she could still move and use it, albeit with a fair bit of pain. She ripped a sleeve off her shirt and quickly wrapped it up, until she could get it patched up properly. As she watched the numbers tick off, she readied her buzz baton, and made a mental note that she had three stun grenades left. The door hissed open, and Trish looked over at Angel, not saying anything, before stepping into the hall.

Then the alarms resounded. The real alarms.

This meant time, which was already limited, was now fleeting, and if they weren't quick, they'd be left behind. At the end of the hall, she saw Amir drop a guard and begin pounding on the hatch. Looking over her shoulder at Angel, "Let's get outta here."

She stuck close with Angel, not going to leave the drained woman to her own devices, not knowing when more guards may show up. Her ears were straining to listen past the sirens, trying to hear the hiss of a lift door. The hatch needed to open soon, or they would all end up in Dead Lock. Saying nothing, she simply looked to the captain for direction.

Beth spun open the hatch again at Amir's voice. "Greetings." She nodded, "We have a guest." She pointed to the unconscious guard. "I need to get back to the pilot's seat." She explained and headed back toward the cockpit. There was zero time for pleasantries. The ship was still running, that was a relief.

"This is your pilot speaking." Beth spoke over the ships comm's. "Please prepare yourself for a bumpy ride. This ain't gonna be pretty." She glanced over the board and looked for signs of problems. A few red lights, nothing that she couldn't handle, most importantly everything was locked up tight. Amir had probably tossed the unconscious guard back out into the docks.

She set up dock release, and for one terrifying moment nothing happened. The lock to the station wasn't releasing. Did they have a hard lock? Beth was about to call Jinxy for support when it clicked to green. She sighed relieved and dropped the ship away from the station. The separation was not perfect, Beth mentally winced at it. Of course the ship handled terribly too, pulled way too much to the starboard side. She'd have to keep an eye on it even with a course entered to make sure they didn't go off of course.

Amir had said to head to a junker planet. Beth frowned, mentally calculating the nearest one, that'd be an uncomfortable conversation. She signed and entered the coordinates, still fighting the starboard pull.

As the hatch opened, Trish slinked inside, always keeping an eye on Angel, watching her, trying to judge her exhaustive state. When the hatch shut, she relaxed. Trish was never used to having people rely on her, or even her relying on others. And when it did occur, it often made her paranoid, desperate to calculate everything, to achieve perfection, and never fail. And it hadn't happened since her last crew, her last failure. It seemed everyone was on board and the ship was flying, putting this station and the chase behind her, for now.

She knew of Oberon, but had never been there personally. People who spoke of it said if you were looking for a specific part to a ship, to a droid, to anything, odds are you can always find it on Oberon. Her father had spoken of it with venom in his voice, saying that spare parts from there were a death wish for a bomb maker. Trish was snapped back to the conversation at hand as the captain spoke once more, speaking of stowaways and the like. Trish didn't really have any experience in finding smuggler hideaways or tracking devices, so she just supposed she'd be falling Angel's lead.

A short quip from the captain, and suddenly Trish now found herself alone by the hatch. It seemed the others had their usefulness. The pilot flew, the mechanic repaired, and likely would be useful in finding the things the captain didn't want on his ship. Amir and Angel were the muscle, and Trish, as usual, was the burden. She looked down at her bloodied, wrapped hand, and felt a stinging heat forming behind her eyes. This was how her life had always been, and how it was always going to be. Forgotten until she ruined something. The tears never shed, a habit she learned to stop early on with her father.

Finally, she decided to go and find her some quarters. Making her way through the ship, she was thankful it was not a similar model to her last crew's ship. Her ghosts haunted her enough as it was. Her fingers from her uninjured hand lightly felt the wall as she progressed, finally finding the corridor she sought. As usual, she selected the first quarters on the left hand side. This was an old survival habit, it allowed her to be out faster in case of an emergency. The console asked for a new pin to be entered, since the system seemed to have been reset. Seven number punches, then confirmed, and the door slid open for her.

Stepping inside, it was clear the previous occupant led quite the spartan lifestyle. No decorations, no mess. A bed, a desk, a few shelves, and the small head. Peering inside there, she did manage a sigh of small relief. It had a very small tub, in addition to the shower head. Moving back into her main quarters, she put her pack on the bed, removed her belt that had her newly acquired buzz baton, and then the rest of her clothes. Back in the head, she started the tub filling, steaming hot. At the sink now, she pulled off the bandage and looked at the still bleeding wound. She quickly retrieved her multitool and a cartridge which she loaded into it. Running the faucet, she winced as she washed the wound under hot water, using the cloth to scrub it out from within. Satisfied enough, holding the multitool in her other hand, she flipped the dial and the head became a nozzle of sorts. Putting it up to the wound, she activated it and the super glue oozed out, burning as it met the wound, and solidified as it filled it in.

Once she was satisfied, she flexed it, knowing the glue would move as she did, then rewashed her hand. She then slipped into the now full tub, pulled her knees to her chest, and her final habit set in. It started with her chest tightening, her anxiety rising, her breath growing a bit more rapid. She could feel that moment when her bomb had gone off, remembering the fear of almost being caught. But that wasn't what bothered her. What bothered her was the fact that in the moment she knew the steel bearings were tearing through the bodies of the guards, she was happy, for the briefest of moments. And she hated that she felt like that every, single time she killed people. Just like her father, she was a monster. Slowly she started rocking back and forth in the water, reliving every death she killed, wishing she was human enough to regret them. And it always ended with his face, and that's when she dunked her head forward between her knees into the water, and screamed as loud as she could, hoping the water muffled enough to prevent questions.

As soon as it was over, she brought her face back out of the water and slipped back into a more restful position, moving her mind forward, trying to relax. She was already planning her next escape, her next backup plan. New crews always failed, through death or capture or desertion, and as usual, Trish always planned for the worst and never saw the best. She took this time to relax as best she could and clean herself, wondering how far Oberon was, and when her next meal, and next job was. Anytime she felt herself being useless, she could feel him striking her once more. She needed to be busy, and soon.

Once the rest of the crew had gotten on the ship and 'disposed' of their 'guest', Jinxy slinked back to the engine room silently. She was not in the mood to chit-chat with the rest of the crew while they were flying this piece of shit. The ship was in bad way, but it would get them to Oberon. But once there... she'd have to either overhaul the engine, or they would need a whole new ship. However, she pushed that out of her mind. She'd talk to the captain later and figure it out with him, probably once they reached Oberon.

She sat down next to the engine and went back to work fixing it. Whomever the ship had belonged to before had neglected regular care of this ship. Probably didn't even know half of what went into it. She frowned in disgust as she noticed one key part being held together with tape and... was that gum? She hoped not. However, the part could be left alone in the meanwhile. She'd didn't want to break the ship as they were making their get-away. She heard the part about the ship leaning towards Starboard, and went to check both Starboard and Port engines out.

It was a mess. Port was damaged beyond repair, and there were no spare parts. She growled a bit and went over to the starboard engine, and promptly broke it. They could still fly, but... She walked over to the intercom and buzzed. "I should have fixed the pull, Pilot, but we may go a little slow for a bit. Sorry, the port engine's a bust, and to make it even I had to bust the starboard. However she'll fly fine for now," she said over the intercom. "And captain, when I might get a moment, I need to talk to you about this junk-heap we're flying in. If you could come to the engine room, and I'll give you the full tour of what the hell is wrong with it," she added, and clicked off, not waiting for a reply. She sighed and went back to trying to patch up what she could for the moment.

”Ladies and gentle– no, just ladies. Food’s ready in five. Jinxy? I’ll speak to you about the ship over dinner. I presume none of it’s good news.”

Waking with a start, Victoria missed the first half of Amir's announcement, although it seemed obvious enough that dinner would be ready soon. She rubbed her eyes with a yawn, noting that she felt a lot better after her brief nap. Checking to make sure her hood hadn't fallen off, Victoria stood up and left her room, heading towards the galley, locking the door behind her. Her room was relatively nondescript – it's former occupant was probably low on the food chain, as the room had no decorations. This didn't bother her, though; if anything, it was a good thing because she might be able to make it her own over time.

Entering the galley, Victoria saw that Trish and Amir were already here. "Hey," she greeted as she sat down next to Trish. "Wow, this food smells... um, horrible," she thought, harshly. But she didn't say anything; who knows? Amir's cooking might surprise her. "I guess we'll just have to wait and see," she mused inwardly.

Jinxy sighed as she heard the announcement for dinner. She wanted to give Amir the full show of what was wrong. However, she'd let him know at dinner. Hopefully she could grab some time with him after food had been eaten. She put down her tools and got up. She looked herself over and sighed. She had gotten her coveralls really dirty. She shrugged and took them off, leaving her in a white tank top and grey shorts. She didn't really want to dredge engine sludge into dinner.

She headed up to the galley, making a detour at the restroom. She washed her face off with what looked like soap, and would have to pass for the moment. She didn't want to take a shower and miss the chance at awful hot food.

She walked into the dining area and plopped herself down in a chair. She looked at the food and raised an eyebrow, but shrugged, serving herself some. "By the way captain, I need to show you what is going on in the engine room, so if I could grab you for a bit after dinner, I'd appreciate it," she said, before going to start in on the food.

Beth didn't want to leave the pilot's seat. It was too nice being back in it, even if the chair itself wasn't too comfy. The idea of food was enough to get her up out of the chair though.

She took an empty seat at the table and took a deep breath smelling the food. She frowned. Her food was dangerous, this smelled poisonous. "What is this?" Beth looked at the food with a bit of worry on her face. She brought a bite of the food up to her mouth, sniffed it again and took the bite. Her eyes widened. "Never-mind don't answer that." She took a few more bites in silence.