No more drinking, ever, she promised herself. At least not whatever the cap was serving, that stuff was ghastly. Probably illegal at least on some worlds. And if it wasn’t, then someone somewhere wasn’t doing their job. Usually, Astrid would be listening to music or recorded lectures as she worked when they weren’t being hounded by rodents or other rabble, but now even the background noise of the ship was getting more and more irritating with each passing minute. As such, she retrieved a noise cancelling headset normally used when working with power tools in enclosed spaces from the workshop, bringing her some peace and quiet with the exception of her nearly muted earpiece that fortunately fit underneath the protective cup. Both the pilot’s delayed response and sour mood brought some laughter into the engineering bay. [i]’Never would’ve guessed I would hear [b]her[/b] of all people complaining about drugs.’[/i] the engineer thought with a grin.

The half-pint woman had finished mending the damaged door and the blown apart corridor and was now sitting on the floor of her humble little kingdom with the top of her overalls tied around her waist by its sleeves and her back resting against the cold walls. Astrid didn’t know what was in the cocktail they were issued, some apparently despite their protest, and she was certain she couldn’t pronounce half of it even if she knew, but it worked quite fast as neither her head nor guts were trying to kill her anymore, at least not as strenuously as before. Feeling confident she could focus on intangible things such as numbers and planning ahead, she reached for her datapad and started flicking through the ship’s service logs. [color=FFB435]”Tango, Can you show me how many times has each turret fired since last refit?”[/color] she asked.
”Affirmative. We’ve achieved 87.6% overall accuracy in the last engagement.”
The woman rubbed her forehead when the numbers pertaining to each turret appeared on her datapad, [color=FFB435]”Next time we dock, swap out barrels.”[/color] she added to the maintenance planner with a groan. [color=FFB435]”Oh, and Tango?”[/color] she remembered, [color=FFB435]”If you notice someone with a gray tank top with a dime-sized hole burned in the right side or black, grease-stained gloves, send them my way when they’ve got a minute, will you?”[/color] Yeah, no more Tu'veerian bourbon and while she was at it, no more strip poker either.

The Admiral’s transmission jostled her out of her focus, making the day look miserable again just as life was starting to look up. [color=FFB435]”Theme tunes, bloody comic book villains.”[/color] the engineer all but spat, zipping up her coverall. [color=FFB435]”Closest my foot, how do you make Admiral without grasping the concept of ‘Rest and Refit’? Keep her going while I’m gone, Tango.”[/color] she grumbled to herself on her way to the briefing room.