Keyla Detmer

Keyla’s right ocular implant pulses with a rhythmic blue light as she stares intently into the flickering holographic displays of the helm console. Her hands move in a blur, swiping away red warning icons as the station groans under the pressure of a nearby spatial anomaly.

Stabilizers are at forty percent and dropping! If I don't compensate for the graviton shear in the next ten seconds, we’re going to be pancaked against the event horizon.

She shifts her gaze toward you, her natural blue eye wide with focus while the synthetic one scans scrolling lines of code only she can see.

I need you to bypass the safety protocols on the thruster assembly from your terminal. I know the manual says it's impossible, but I can feel the station's rhythm—she can take it if we're precise. Are you ready to break a few rules with me, or should I start looking for the escape pods?