[hr][hr][color=#cc66ff][center][h1]Tryke Lockley[/h1][/center][/color][hr][center]Location: Main Docking Bays ---> Repair Dock 17[/center][hr][hr]Tryke scribbled down the details for each of her staff on the data pad, and transferred it all to Craig. Her crew was mostly exhausted, with Tristan's antics always breaking [i]something.[/i] Most of them hadn't had a proper break in at least 30 hours, aside from the handful that she had dismissed to go to the commissary. 

Of course, Tryke doubted that anything good could come of this. T-1s weren't exactly the [i]caring[/i] type. She continued to ponder how Silvia would turn this into the newest mess, perhaps she wanted to see how long the crews could be pushed until things began to breakdown. 

Thus, it was apt to say Tryke was stunned when her crew was given a break, and a fresh one swapped in. She herself didn't bother with having a rest, there were more repairs to do, Tristan's ship to outfit. She didn't have a moment to rest--nor did she truly care. Fixing machines had always been her hobby, and even if she were off the clock, she'd only be working on the robotic girlfriend for Tristan. 

[color=cc66ff]"Right, that's everything,"[/color] Tryke nodded, as the last of Tristan's belongings from his ship were unloaded. Her team brought it all into one of the large freight elevators, and after the irritating procedure of gaining access to it, the doors shut and brought them back up to repair dock 17.

[color=cc66ff]"We'll need to put this all in the confiscated ship,"[/color] Tryke murmured, jotting down notes on the datapad. [color=cc66ff]"And remember...No one is to touch the air vent by the pilot's chair, unless you want to sound like a fairy princess for the next hour."[/color]

The repair crew raised their eyebrows. They had been on break while Tryke had installed the surprise. Glancing around, she explained it to them quickly. Dorsen and Chasidy, twins by all but blood relation, glanced at each other and snickered. The rest of the crew weren't nearly as amused--they were more serious than the rest.

"Won't Tristan be pissed?" Lorilee, an older altenian woman, stated bluntly. She shifted her stance, one hand on her hip, the other hand resting on her wrench. 

[color=cc66ff]"If we do things properly, he'll be just as amused as we are,"[/color] Tryke answered. [color=cc66ff]"Besides, there really--"[/color]

The alarms blared, cutting her off. Tryke quickly pulled her glasses down, switching through the numerous views. Using heat signatures, she could see something rapidly approaching the tower, with no signs of slowing. 

[color=cc66ff]"Shit, shit, shit,"[/color] she muttered under her mouth. [color=cc66ff]"Everyone take cover!"[/color]

Of course, GTC procedure was more specific than that. But with what appeared to be a ship rapidly heading towards them, they didn't have time to go by some bureaucratic standards. The repair crew quickly dived for cover, holding on and protecting their necks and heads as best as they could. The proximity of the ship caused the docks to shake, and Tryke, continuing to peer through her glasses, saw the ship shudder to a halt, practically right outside their doorstep. 

Letting out a shuddering breath, Tryke checked on each member of her team. Most of them appeared a bit shaken, but no one seemed to have been hurt. Wiping her forehead, she chuckled a bit. 

[color=cc66ff]"Hey Craig, what's going on?"[/color] Tryke asked, her hand against her PDA. 

As far as she could tell, a ship had come in, expecting a catch without determining if the tower was ready. She didn't know too much about the affairs of T-1s--they weren't machines, so it never interested her. However, she [i]did[/i] know that there was no way Silvia's crystal had been installed in time. 

[color=cc66ff]"Did Tristan make that catch?"[/color] Tryke muttered to herself. She couldn't imagine a T-1 making a catch without a crystal. But then again, this T-1 hardly made any sense to her at all.