[h1][b][i][color=olivedrab][center]Ansgar Staudinger[/center][/color][/i][/b][/h1] The hatch to the engine room would grind open, a thoroughly pissed off looking Ansgar striding out with a sense of intense purpose, the hatch sealing itself behind him, a red light indicating only the Captain or Ansgar could override and unlock it again. The man was carrying his tools in one hand, and tapping the deck, wall, and ceiling plates seemingly at random, listening intently and sporadically tapping again to try and listen. He was tracing power and utility lines, and seemingly always pulled open a covering that would belch smoke of varying colors, curses and responses being thrown back as the man dug in and began implementing repairs, and if anyone dared to block his path he'd tell them off and drag the plate they were, likely unwittingly, blocking. His path would meander at seeming random, only making sense to Ansgar since, well, he was the one who ended up effectively rewiring and resetting the entire ship's systems to allow for things like the backup bridge and controls back in the engine room. His mutterings, meanderings, and patchwork repairs would eventually lead him up to the bridge where Ansgar had to, in medical terms, triage the ship and focus on what could be readily kept up and running. Now that they weren't completely fucked, he could begin planning and prepping the area for potential void repair work. He hated the shit, but it was often the only effective means of undergoing repairs and refits of this scale. Plugging tools into a wall panel, he began running diagnostics while making mental notes, muttering and plotting how he would even void proof the space again, let alone get it up and running as a bridge again with the time he had on hand. A lot of sleepless nights ahead, he'd better be getting a damned good pay raise. "Fuck, might be easier to just cut the entire old bridge out and replace it from scratch, the damage is absurd..."