The engineer’s job wasn’t too demanding, largely due to the Monroe’s top shape, courtesy of government care. What plagued Astrid the most was the constant tension. Sure, nothing was broken [i]now[/i], but what would the next few minutes bring? She had already nearly died stranded in a nebula once, so when the order came to leave their posts, she didn’t have any intent of doing so, but changed her mind when a long yawn reminded her just how long this has been going on. Picking herself up, she scanned the engineering with her gaze to make sure everything was where it was supposed to be and made her way to her spartan quarters.

Upon reaching her cabin, she set her helmet down on her desk and more or less collapsed onto her bed, not bothering with taking off her armor, or boots for that matter. Minutes after, she was already out.
[hr]A strange voice from the public address system tore her away from her dreams. At first, she thought the PA speaker in her room was spazzing out. [color=FFB435]“Was zum Teufel?”[/color] she groaned, sitting up upon realizing it was English. Unfriendly English. Getting out of the bed, she leaned over the desk to reach for her helmet, only to be knocked onto it by an impact followed by a boarding alert. Sliding the helmet onto her head, she reached for the Diamondback, checking its functionality and put in a fresh magazine. It snapped into place with a quiet, reassuring click. As if the rifle was saying ‘I’ve got your back’.

According to reports, the Ulnar were already in the cargo bay, being dealt with by several crewmen. No point going there. The CIC was still under Marauder control with reinforcements on the way, and the bulkhead could hold a few pests for some time. That covered two out of three areas necessary to capture a ship, leaving just engineering. She was the grease queen and no filthy rat was going to mess with her domain. Rushing out of her quarters, Astrid locked the door and bolted toward the stern, soon coming upon a lone rodent messing with a door. Confirming he was alone, she took aim and fired two shots, one could never be sure. Approaching the door, she stepped over the corpse and growled in displeasure. The rat tried to open a locked door, frying the panel in the process. Cursing, she made a mental note to remember that door and turned around, forced to take a detour around the ship.

As she moved through the corridors closer to the cockpit, a faint squeal hit her ears. Screaming? No, too high-pitched. High pitched… [color=FFB435]“Oh, he didn’t.”[/color] she uttered as the realization struck her. Who in their right mind would use a grenade launcher in CQB anyway? Oh, right, that man was everything but right in the head. Another mental note to herself later, she was on her way to the engineering again.