"What the hell do you mean our breaching pod has only has five minutes of fuel right now?" she barked at the technician that had had the bad luck to be assigned to Duval's breaching pod since last week, "I told you to make sure it was refueled two days ago!"
"Well you see ma'am..." he trailed off trying to think of a way to translate the complexities of the fuel rationing system to something a jarhead could understand... due to his arrogance... he kept drawing a blank.
"I don't care where you get the fuel from," she said, as if reading his mind, "Just get it my breaching pod!"
The technician was relieved to see Duval go. There was just something about the massive scars on her face that told him that A) she'd been through a lot worse than this a dozen times over... and had obviously survived, and B) you do not want to screw with someone like that.
Duval stormed off to the pilots in the cockpit.
"We have no fuel ma'am," they said as they saw her approach.
"I know," she said, "Now, what else is wrong with the ship?"
"Not much else," the co-pilot said, "Power checks out across the board... only..."
"What?" she said.
"Our shields were pretty weak to begin with... and now they aren't working at all."
Vora slapped her left palm to her face, "Great... just... friggin' great. Well, do what you can to get it working, while I go tell the captain and then proceed to shit-kick that idiot fuel techie into doing his damn job."
She left, and turned her comm back to the captain's channel.
"Sorry to bother you ma'am," she said, keeping her tone even and apologetic, "But our breaching pod hasn't been refueled yet, and our shields are on the frits again. I think we can still make any trip you have in mind for us, but we're going to need a little more cover than usual to get there."
"Well you see ma'am..." he trailed off trying to think of a way to translate the complexities of the fuel rationing system to something a jarhead could understand... due to his arrogance... he kept drawing a blank.
"I don't care where you get the fuel from," she said, as if reading his mind, "Just get it my breaching pod!"
The technician was relieved to see Duval go. There was just something about the massive scars on her face that told him that A) she'd been through a lot worse than this a dozen times over... and had obviously survived, and B) you do not want to screw with someone like that.
Duval stormed off to the pilots in the cockpit.
"We have no fuel ma'am," they said as they saw her approach.
"I know," she said, "Now, what else is wrong with the ship?"
"Not much else," the co-pilot said, "Power checks out across the board... only..."
"What?" she said.
"Our shields were pretty weak to begin with... and now they aren't working at all."
Vora slapped her left palm to her face, "Great... just... friggin' great. Well, do what you can to get it working, while I go tell the captain and then proceed to shit-kick that idiot fuel techie into doing his damn job."
She left, and turned her comm back to the captain's channel.
"Sorry to bother you ma'am," she said, keeping her tone even and apologetic, "But our breaching pod hasn't been refueled yet, and our shields are on the frits again. I think we can still make any trip you have in mind for us, but we're going to need a little more cover than usual to get there."