Wrenchie looked down at his work with pride. After taking the painstakingly slow process of cutting the wings off by hand, the shuttle was ready for departure, the wings lying dead on the ground. Those would be a pain to reattach. He took in a deep whiff of the air, stained with the scent of plasma, a sharp smell reminiscent of burning rubber. He was a bit worried as to wether or not the pilot could handle it or not, but it was too late now. 

So, tapping into the ships comm systems, he sent out a quick message in his deeply augmented voice. "The shuttle is ready for departure. Whenever you all become of ready, we can make the leaving." He said, his speech digressing as he went on. He leaned on his bio-wrench, admiring his work, while scanning to make sure it still held its previous structural integrity.