[h1][b][i][color=olivedrab][center]Ansgar Staudinger[/center][/color][/i][/b][/h1]

	[i]“Attention all hands, we’ve got a little bit of unfriendly behavior. Teg, get to the port turret. I’ll man the starboard. Socket, get me warp right now. Andrea, evasive maneuvers."[/i]

	"Oh, aye, ah can just work a god's damned miracle an' magic everythin' back to normal!" The sarcasm was dripping even through the comms, though this was also audible over the sounds of the mechanic grabbing the necessary tools to effect rather abrupt emergency repairs, so it was apparent he was obeying the orders. Grabbing a large pipe, kept on hand for emergencies, he hauled it over to the ruined fuel line, continuing to mutter and grumble under his breath, ignoring the attack on the ship until he could get things running only so he could bitch the vultures out good and proper instead of half assing it while working on something else. With a grunt he wedged the pipe, just a touch too large, into place, and began welding, a pair of goggles protecting his eyes from the sparks. The rumbling and hits from the enemy ship caused the pipe to shudder, nearly giving under its own weight, but with some quick welding and judicious application of duct tape to keep it in place, he was able to get the fix patched into place.

	"All 'ands! Fuel line repair is in, give 'er a go. An' if I start hollerin', well, y' won't 'ave time to notice if I do." Ansgar had a handful of patch kits and the welder on hand still just in case he needed to jump in and fix something in a hurry. Plus a fresh roll of tape, since the last one had been used up on the pipe job. If it wasn't for the fact that it would both be ineffective and restrict him from fixing engine damage as it came up again, he'd try to put a few holes in the bastards chasing them. With that, he braced himself and had to trust in his patch work, and the fact this old bitch of a ship was a lot tougher than some might credit her at a glance.