Tearing metal and tortured steel wailed in the small space below a thick industrial clamp, steel shavings bouncing off the heavy machinery to float aimlessly in zero gravity passed Geoffery 'Jack' Morgan's sweating face. The Human, of a meager thirty years, cursed as he hauled on an open-end spanner, his mechanical arms whirring as his teeth clenched in rage. This damn workboat, a common Tuma XK-88 hauler, was the source of all things awful in the galaxy and the reason taxes and death were inevitable. The pale skinned Human's shop was a modest one situated on the outer ring of Koorka Station, a dingy refueling hub that was a popular stop for haulers, smugglers, tourists, and criminals. Which meant he had no end of work fixing the minor, or not so minor, damage their vessels received in the vastness of space. For such an empty place, it could be Hell on a ship.
This particular vessel, a boxy one passenger cargo hauler incapable of atmospheric entry, had a fritzy artificial intelligence module that was situated behind a life support observation suite and snuggled up beside a welded in vac-line. Because whoever built this had never fixed anything in their lives, only designed them.
Jack hated them.
He hated them and hoped their toenails grew too long and got stuck on their socks. With a final, soft twist, the bolt he was working on sheared in half, leaving its lesser half very much embedded within the panel housing he was trying to remove. Jack took a deep calming breath. Just like his therapist told him to. Too bad one of said therapist's other clients killed her. She wasn't very helpful, but she was nice. Gently, he removed a drill from his belt and jammed the vicious bit into the slight hole plugged by the broken bolt, the bright and shining metal gleaming back at him as if to taunt the floating mechanic. His mooring line anchoring him to the vessel grew taught as he pushed, his body attempting to float away in the lack of gravity.
"Get the fu-gah! Outta my face!" He grumbled, elbowing the thick cord that trailed to a power pack at the small of his back. Jack got to work chewing away at the cheeky bit of bolt that impeded his progress, his implanted hearing aids dampening the squeal of the drill. The ringing alarm that alerted him to a new customer entering the front of the shop did make him let loose a curse. "For fuuuck's sake. Engage grav." Grumbling, Jack righted himself and clipped free from his tether as the overhead clamp took the workboat's weight, his boots hitting the deck just as his shop's internal gravity drive aligned him with the rest of the station. Working on starships was far easier when you could simply float around the things after all. Pain pierces the limping man's ears as he forces open the hatch to his cramped front lobby, consisting of his desk, a single chair, and the entry door. Space was a premium on stations, and he would be damned if he was going to be scammed out of any more rent than he already was.
The species that greeted him wasn't uncommon per say, but they weren't exactly your bargain bin tourists. Jack had to think for moment… standing on her toes in his lobby was a reptilian species known as a Kux'lar. They boasted long thick tails, dexterous arms, and wide digitigrade feet tipped with deadly talons. Oh, and a mouth full of sharp teeth that he was keen to keep at a distance. A long line of bright blue flaps crested high on it's head like a bird's feathers at his arrival, the lizard trilling some strange hiss-click in his direction. She was clad from her clawed feet, to her head, and down to her tail in a sealable pilot's jumpsuit heavy with pouches, zippers, and harnesses. A bulky helmet and air supply hung from one such harness, a large foot talon clicking upon the deck as she was stared at just a tad too long.
"Hey, welcome. What ya need fixed?" He asked, straightforward and hungry for a Rork. It had been sometime since he spoke, his voice scratchy and tinny, his repaired throat working around the implanted vocal chords that allowed him to speak. Rorks… they were the bane of his existence, the damn things. It was all just money, after all, yet it made the universe spin. Food, supplies, even his water and air were reliant on the Rorks in his pocket. A few more of those strange clicks spilt from the Kux'lar's throat, it's head waggling like a Terran dog before a distinctly feminine voice followed. Surprisingly, it was… quite the pleasant sound.
"You have room for a ship in your shop? Single seater, fast shuttle, real small!" Her foot claws were click-clack-clacking with a speed that made an annoyed twitch crawl across Jack's forehead. For a moment, he re-evaluated the Kux'lar. She was nervous, bouncing her weight from foot to foot and twiddling her talons. Jack had seen the type before, and as a businessman, offered prime services for those in dire need. For a price, of course.
"Law or outlaw?" His mechanical fingers drummed on his countertop as the Kux'lar's tail began to waggle to and fro, her pupils dilating.
"Law? Out? What? What?" Jack chuckled at the fidgeting reptilian. When pressed, their minds had trouble forming full sentences. It made them terrible liars.
"You tryin' to hide from outlaws or lawmen? They differ in price." Patience was wearing thin. Running people, obviously, often preluded chasing people. Jack was damned if he was going to let another fight break out in his tiny shop front. "Let's go sister, what's the word?"
"Name is Lixistruzsias! Not sister!" Her head crest rose with her temper before deflating like limp balloon. "Outlaw." Progress, Jack thought. He took a moment to place his palms together, as if praying, before pointing at her with both hands.
"Imma call you Lix. Nature of your pursuers? Organized crime, street thugs, angry ex?" Jack leaned on the table, his mind churning a risk to cost price point.
"Ngh!" The Kux'lar began to pace, a jerky affair that only sent her one step one way before reversing course to where she'd originally been standing. It gave her the appearance of a wild beast about to bolt.
"Coworkers!" She barked, her crest flaring.
"Forty Rorks and I'll keep your ship nice and hidden in the bay." He points behind him with a jerking thumb, his smile returning to the genuine grin from the placid customer service smirk it had devolved into. "Docking port Lima Five-Five." Lix nodded, her head lowering as she spun so quickly she nearly hit her own face with her scaly tail. "Oi! I need to know your ship's name for clearance codes!" With a reptilian warble, she spun back around, actually hitting her own face this time.
"No Safety Measures!" This time, when Lix turned to sprint pell-mell across the five feet of Jack's store front, she grasped the end of her tail in her jaws. Her legs were a blur as the Kux'lar vanished beyond the obscuring threshold of his door, Jack leaning to watch her go.
"No Safety Measures… kinda ship name is that?" Jack muses his new customer's nomenclature as he set to searching for the ship's registry on his desk terminal. Apparently, she hadn't even docked at the station, her only contact record being an approach vector request from flight control. She'd have no trouble finding Jack's shop dock on the very edge of the outer ring as his business name, 'The Stripped Bolt', was stenciled below the entry tube. Once inside, he'd seal Lix and her No Safety Measures within, deactivating gravity so he could unseal the tube from the inboard side of his garage and simply pull her little light craft into a drydock cradle. Of course, he wasn't expecting to have to actually do any work since she was hiding from… someone… Jack frowned, a mechanical hand reaching up to scratch his head. "Probably should have asked who was sniffing her tail pipe… ah, doesn't matter now." A klaxon alarm drew his attention back to his terminal, a comms request blinking rapidly. Grinning, and hungry for Rorks, Jack flicked the accept slider.
"Jack's Stripped Bolt, Jack speaking."
"Your name is Jack? I uh, apologize for my behavior." Lix filled the comm screen with her scaly muzzle, her bright yellow eyes darting between the controls of her ship and her communication panel. "Panicking is a pastime of mine as of late."
"Sure, sure. You find the dock alright?" Whoever was after this lady apparently held no power within her ship, her confidence rising as she piloted her shuttle gently around the station.
"Um… yes, I see it. Standard procedures for a vac-tube I assume?"
"That's right, miss. I'll see you once I get you inside." Jack killed the connection as a proximity alert warned him of an incoming vessel, the mechanic stepping back into the tight airlock that separated the store front from his precious shop. It had been earned it blood, literally, and… perhaps earned wasn't the right word. The man took the few moments it took for his airlock to seal behind him to reminisce the tumultuous thirty seconds it had taken for him to come into the Stripped Bolt's ownership. Originally it had belonged to a greasy middle-aged man and his three sons, all of whom took particular joy in shorting customers or jumping at under-the-table deals for extra Rorks. Jack had no idea when he finally discovered that such underhanded dealings were happening in the unassuming little garage, turning a site of his passion into a den of criminality. He wanted in on the deals the moment he found out. It lead to… arguments. Voices were raised, a fist or two had flown, and as all fights in this sector of space seemed want to do, weapons were drawn. Well… weapons might have been drawn when Jack's mechanical arm snapped one of the son's necks, but the journey didn't change the destination. Pistols were flashed, rounds flew, and Jack was subsequently the sole proprietor of the Stripped Bolt. "Good times…" He pat the tiny dent the old man's slugger had left on his upper left arm, a memento of younger days. His waltz down memory lane came to an end as the airlock shut behind him, his smile falling somewhat as he entered his beloved garage. "Disengage grav. Lix? You in the tube?" Jack asked with a kick off the deck. Weight left him as the small gravity drive, shielded to affect only his store, shattered the chains that bound him to the deck of the spinning station.
"Ready and… sitting here chewing my claws." Agitation and relief warred in her voice as a klaxon sheds its light above her, the entry to the tube, and the void of space, closing behind her. Jack could feel the subtle clunk of the seal indicating that the tube was pressurized, his metal hands working the controls to unlock the inner doors and bring Lix and her mysterious ride inside. Said hatch opened with syrup slow speed, and as if he was a teenager planting eyes on a real woman for the first time, the Human fell in immediate love.
"Ho ho ho haw haw!" Jack's face split in a hungry grin at Lix's ship, the No Safety Measures. The vessel was shaped like an arrowhead that bulged in the rear with oversized drive bells and sported a mass array of maneuvering thrusters. Practically an engine with a few seats bolted to it. Lix was the proud owner of what he knew at once to be an Asteroid Racer. "Thaaat's fuckin' sexy! Sleek in the front and a fat ass full of thrust in the back!" Lix raised a scaly eye ridge from the pilot's seat, bemusement coloring the Kux'lar's features as she watched the Human pull himself inside the docking tube while ogling her ship like a woman in lacey lingerie. With a reverence often saved for religious zealots handling their icons, Jack pulled the racer into his shop under the assistance of zero-g, his fingers tracing over the smooth metal plating like a lover feeling the goosebumps on their partner's skin. Every plate flowed like an oil painting into the next, a journey of sleek steel that ran like a river between rivets and painted welds. Practiced movements guided Lix and her precious ship into a drydock cradle, the reptilian pilot slipping from her seat to vanish into the depths of her vessel. It barely fit in Jack's shop with only twelve feet of clearance at the aft and bow. He didn't even notice the mid-ships airlock hiss open, his client gently diving into the shop's interior to twirl weightlessly. "These drive bells are something else!" He whispered. "Tarq Co. Nova-Flow Eighteens! On a ship this small? The power this girl must have, gaaahhhh…" Lix floated behind him with her scaly arms crossed, watching as the Human leaned in to plant a wet kiss on her ship's fuselage just behind the cockpit.
"Do I need to give you a moment alone with her, Jack?" The man didn't even look back at her.
"Yes. And toss the oil up my way, this baby needs lubrication." He chuckled, moving to cinch the cradle locks as Lix shook her head. "How'd you even fit these in here?" He asked, pointing to the massive main thrusters. "What kinda engine are you running to power these beasts?" That did bring a smile to the reptile's face, her tail curling around her reptilian legs as she smirked.
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"A Haikyu Seventy-Eight, Bunson edition." Her smirk grew smug as the man's amazed stare, her head held high with pride. The movement sent her slowly spinning in the zero-gravity field to gently smack her noggin into the roof in about six hours.
"Tell me something needs worked on this baby and you didn't just come here to hide. Please."
"No."
"Touch up paint? General inspection? Fluid swap? I'll tighten the bolts on the friggen pilot's seat. Please!" Lix grinned, toothy and cruel, at his begging.
"No."
"You ma'am," Jack pointed, his finger full of the righteous fury of a mechanic denied. "Are a bitch."
"Yep!" Her grin was toothy and cruel, evil almost.
"Can I at least see inside?" Even as she went to say no, the cheeky man was pulling himself towards the open airlock. In the end, Lix couldn't find any real problem with indulging his curiosity. Flicking her tail, she followed him, grabbing the back of his sweaty sleeveless shirt to be pulled along. As expected, he zipped right past her cramped kitchen/table area and ignored her tiny personal quarters that held just enough room for a few personal effects and a cot recessed into the bulkhead. No, Jack's goal was the engine bay, because of course it was. Lix let him go, careful to ensure her claws didn't tear his shirt any more than it already was, to watch him gush over the fine piece of machinery. What she didn't expect was him to squeal like a highschooler.
"Gaaaaahhh! Look at this fat bitch and her power! I fukin' love Haikyu shit! All that efficiency, and for what? Speed. I'm getting flustered." He fanned himself with a mechanical hand. The tar black cybernetic limb contrasted wildly with his paper white skin, pale from years avoiding the harsh light of stars unfiltered by a planet's atmosphere and leathery from vitamin supplements to make up for it. "Look at these coolant junctions! Damn near every other engine puts these bastards right in the way but not Haikyu!" Lix found herself smiling at his obvious passion. It was rare to see someone actually give a damn about what they did anymore. "Naw, these puppies are nice and outta the way so I can, oh my Stars! Actually get to a fuckin' bolt on a head gasket! Holy shit! What a concept!" No where near complete with his near sexual exploration, Jack grabbed a stanchion to float over the top of the engine. It stretched lengthwise along the tight compartment it was stuffed into and fed directly into the oversized drive bells that vectored the No Safety Measure's thrust. The man had barely a few small inches between his back and the roof of the bay. Lix watched silently, leaning on the tight hatch that led to the proper main hab of her ship. "Hmmmm… drives are in good condition, so are the ignition coils… you could do with an exhaust line clean?" He asked hopefully. Lix only glared. "Fifty percent discount?"
"Don't you have workboat to fix?" She pointed back towards her airlock with her tail, the scaly ridge above her eye raised with a cheeky grin.
"Yes, but I've terrible work ethic when sexy racing ships are in my bay." Chuckles slipped from the man unbidden as the little raptor lady kicked her way about until she was behind him, pushing the man out of her ship with a reptilian trill.
"Out out out. I need a nap and I'm not doing it with some stranger in my ship! Especially one that smells of sweaty guy."
"I'm heroically sequestering you from evil doers, I think we're past strangers and at least firmly within 'acquaintances who are allowed to work on each other's ships', don't you think?"
"Do you have a ship I can work on?" She tilted her red scaled head as she finally finagled the man to her airlock.
"Well… No."
"Typical guy, wants me to do all the work but never puts out. Out! Out with you!" With a shove of her tail, she flung the Human from her ship, slapping the control panel to seal herself within and finally have a few hours of peace and safety. Though… she couldn't get the smile of her face from his antics.
***
Outside, Jack found himself half chuckling, half groaning as he massaged his back. The lady had some power in that tail! Alas, she was also right, his sigh listless and longing as he spun in midair, blowing a kiss to the No Safety Measures.
"Someday we won't be torn apart my love."
"…"
"I know! But it is simply not meant to be! You are hers, and I have no claim to your glorious heart, as much as the admission sears my soul!"
"…"
"But I must ask you to wait for me, my sweet! Someday my wrench will feel your lovely innards. Until then, I must bid you a painful farewell!" Jack blew the sleek vessel one more kiss before he banged gently into the damn work boat he'd been trying to fix all morning. "And here's the cold nasty ex, crawling back to me like a disease!" With a sigh that one would usually hear from men on death's row, Jack floated down to his magnetic workbench, hefting his arms through the straps of a fuel canister attached to a hose and nozzle that snapped to a hardpoint on his left forearm. "Okay bolt, try and stay in place when you're liquid." His threat was punctuated by a plume of fire, the flames lighting his eager grin. It was always a good day when he got to play with fire. Music filled his ears through his universal earbug that acted as both his communication device and internet access point as he returned to his arduous task of trying to repair a workboat that was ran hard and put up wet.
The implant was a common thing, one most everyone had since it was a requirement in order to get an account with the galaxy's biggest bank, the Whisper Box, who held sole legal rights over the most available form of currency in the stars; That being Roarks. Typical digital fiat currency, Roarks were a single unit of buying power that was managed, issued, and exchanged by the Whisper Box. They held your account and only they could handle your money. Of course, if you wanted to carry some of your Roarks on hand, they allowed that in the form of Roark Disks, or as the people called them, Risks. You could download as many Roarks on a disk as you wanted, and you could own as many as you needed. The Whisper Box was here for you, of course! The fact that a sister company in the Whisper Box conglomerate held proprietary ownership over the super-wheat and vat-meat food combo called Meelk, a slurry of nutrient and vitamin rich paste that hardened into edible blocks when moistened and heated, and were only purchasable by Roarks and just so happened to be the most readily available food one could find, was simple coincidence that made them the most used bank in known space.
This was, of course, all decided by the Table of Trade and Culture, a group of corporate appointed representatives placed by any corporation or conglomerate that met the requirements. The Whisper Box being one of them. Don't like how one representative is voting on legislative sessions? Vote with your money, citizen! With enough people draining funds from a company, they will no longer meet the requirements and that dastardly representative will be pulled! Of course, the company you take your Roarks to is often owned by a shell company that just so happens to be owned by the uncle of the representative you despise so the money ends up in the same accounts… but in the end, you did your part!
Jack grimaced at the unbidden musings over the galaxy's unfortunate government body as he pummeled a stubborn bolt on the workboat with a stream of fire, waiting until it began to turn colors before he put it to a wrench. His mechanical arm whirred as it finally popped free, coming loose in a shower of hot rust.
"Yeaahhh, that's what I thought you punk." He hissed, moving on the next. It was far more cooperative, earning grateful coos from the mechanic as if he was talking to an abused pit dog. "Come on! That's a good little bolt! Come out, just like that!" It fell away, tumbling in the zero gravity as Jack placed his hand on the now free panel, pushing it down and out of his way, only to glare at what lay behind it. "Oh, what fresh sticky fuck is this?" What was supposed to be an orderly series of wires and conduits leading to the internal AI bank within the workboat, the system that was failing, was instead a rat's nest of splices, connectors, and amateur repair. "Double price. Triple price. What is this? I think there's a law broken here somewhere, no wonder the AI on this thing is crazy!" With despair in his eyes, Jack went to work trying to trace wires back to their origins. "They didn't even color code them!" He whined, looking around the workboat's fuselage at the No Safety Measures. "I feel like cheating on you, you ugly thing." The workboat didn't even have anything to say to that. "No, Jack doesn't get cool racers to play with or smuggler shuttles or whatever," Sparks danced across several of the wires as he tugged and yanked them into place, pinning them with bits of debris. "Nooooo, Jack gets shitcans like this!" A bang echoed across the shop as he back fisted the workboat, denting it. That dent was always there, he'd add it to the list of problems he'd fix for a bit of extra cash. One wire, however, cut Jack's mood from ornery to downright worried. It was a splice in the AI's thick primary power line leading to its logic control board. "You stupid fucks." Lurching, Jack forced himself upright to crawl along the workboat and into the tight confines of its crewcab. "AI, designate location." Several moments of silence were all he received in response. AI power lines were to be replaced in full, any breach could cause… problems. Worry colored the man's face as he searched the workboat's interior, pulling panels and unscrewing hatches in search of the glowing box that housed the rudimentary AI. Finally, he found it, a panel within the cockpit giving way to a squat steel box of yellow. A lens on the front zeroed in on him, several hatches behind him slamming shut, trapping the mechanic. "AI stand down!"
"Stars up-up-up from the eclipt-t-t-t-t-tic. They are burning burning burning burning bur-"
"Fritzy fuckin' AI!" Jack pushed off the wall, wrapping his hands around the box. His fingers searched for the bulky release clamps on the back, fear rising in his gullet. You did not want to be in a ship with a faulty AI.
"V-V-Venting a-a-a-atmos-s-s-" Air ripped by his head as the doors whooshed open, the airlock sliding within its receptacle. Had he been in space, the boat would have one dead crew on its servos. As it stood, if he got sucked from his death grip on the AI, he'd just end up splattered on his own shop wall.
"Fucking hellfire! You're going in the incinerator!" Jack finally found the clasps, just as the workboat thrusters activated. The mechanic yelped as he was flung into the wall, his head banging off the navigator's panel with a crack. He couldn't even bring himself to curse as colors burst in his vision, the sound of the dry dock clamp straining to hold the vessel in place screeching in his ears. "Piece of shit!" Blood seeped into Jack's eye as he tumbled listlessly through the compartment, vectoring thrusters twisting the boat in his shop's dry dock clamp as the mad machine tried to flee. Every time he went to kick off a wall or grab a hand hold, the vessel would slam into his hands or crunch into his back. "Fuck this." Sequestered in the only safe pocket, the space between the floor and ceiling, Jack reached into his waistband for a small but bulky snub-nosed revolver, the very same he earned his shop with. Taking careful aim, assisted by his mechanical implants, Jack buried a vicious four-four-five breaker round into the AI's housing frame. Its lens went dark, the vessel suddenly limp and quiet. Thrusters died, lights dimmed, and doors shut halfway in their thresholds, all silent once more. "Quadruple price." Jack growled as bits of blood float passed his head, gleaming like little crimson stars. Holding his head, the addled mechanic slowly pulled his way along the inside of the workboat until he bumped into the airlock. It had slammed shut, the manual release lever popping from its recession in the wall. "Gah!" More blood floated away from his head as the Human jerked away from the airlock's viewport, Lix's red scaly face peering in.
"Are you dead? Can I have your shop?"
"Piss off!" Jack threw what appeared to be an empty juice bag at the airlock door, his eyes softening as the raptor outside snickered. "These dumb fucks tampered with the onboard AI's power cable. Thing was going mad, talking about stars and stuff." Lix pushed away from the workboat with her tail as she saw him grab the manual release lever. Great gouts of pressurized air launched the airlock door across the shop, the metal banging against the wall and tearing down a poster of a wheeled terrestrial vehicle. "Damn it!"
"Today is just not your day." Lix pat the man's back as he exited, floating listlessly towards the very same wall.
"Tell me about it."
"I would but I've only been here for about an hour. And your malfunctioning workboat woke me up." She pointed with her tail at the offending vessel. Already, Jack's rudimentary shop AI was wrestling the thing back into place, the drydock clamp whirring.
"Doesn't look like anything's damaged…" Shop accidents were his third biggest expense, right behind spare parts and people trying to fix their ships themselves when they've never touched a wrench in their life. The workboat was just one in a long line of such examples. Tampering with AI in and of itself was highly illegal, a crime that came with fines from the manufacturing company of said AI, and could easily land one in jail from corporate enforcement. Which meant, depending on the region of space said corporation was in, meant either a fine or indentured servitude depending on whatever fine print the vile criminal had breached. In this case, Jack's client had done just that with an Astral Journey and Co.'s fourth generation utility AI, which carried a hefty criminal fine. "Damn it all… I can either eat the cost of fixing my wall and charge them more… or turn them over to the corpos for reward money… but, fuck corpos so looks like I'm charging these chuckle fucks extra." Jack put his mechanical hands on his hips, slowly spinning in the zero gravity.
"Does this sort of thing happen often?" Lix had 'swam' her way to the workboat's nose to run her scaly hand across the new scarring. "And… shouldn't you take care of that?" The Kux'lar pointed to her head, her reptilian tongue flickering at the garage's stale air. It tasted of oil and ozone.
"Yeah, yeah…" Medical costs were Jack's fourth biggest expense. There had been several times his cybernetics had been damaged and needed a part or two. Hell, being a starship mechanic is why he needed replacement limbs in the first place. A falling cargo shuttle had taken his left arm, and a faulty reactor explosion had taken his right. The new arms were better anyway… Sighing, he headed for the medical box bolted to the wall, ripping free a clotting agent and shaking the canister as if it owed him money.
"You aren't gonna clean it?" Lix hissed from afar, her tail coiling as she floated closer.
"Bah, it's not that bad."
"Stupid male." A reptilian bark bounced off the shop walls as she neared, grabbing his lapel and running her long thin tongue across the tear in his scalp, working her naturally disinfecting saliva into the wound.
"Buy me flowers before you start making out with my eyebrows." Jack leaned away but the damage had been done, the raptor lady's spit running down his face in thick rivulets. "Fuckin'… day just keeps getting better…" His sigh turned into a hiss as he applied the clotting gel, a burn not unlike a hot poker streaking across his skull. In defiance of the pain, Jack fast balled the canister across the large bay, watching in satisfaction as it bounced off girders and stanchions before getting stuck in the rafters.
"I hope that blows up when you turn gravity back on." Amused, yet still tired, Lix used the man as a springboard to launch herself back to her ship. "And don't wake me up this time, you lout!"
"Sleep forever then lizard! I'm charging extra for the sexual harassment!" He hollered, pointing to his spit covered face as she closed her airlock with a wiggle of her tail. "Nnnguhh… I feel gross." Consternation and frustration boiled in the man as he looked to the now bricked workboat. It could be flown manually but the mass majority of automated systems relied on an AI that now had a sizable hole through it. In the end, he was going to have to tell the client both why he had been forced to execute the mad machine and make them eat the cost of it going haywire… Or offer replacement AIs for him to slap in their ship, for a nominal fee of course. "Better be the latter or I'll space 'em." With a snap of his mechanical fingers, Jack re-engaged his shop's gravity drive, falling the final few feet to the deck amidst a cacophonous clatter of tools and debris, Lix's muffled screech of surprise bringing a smile to his face. "Serves you right, lizard."