Guangda

Guangda is crouched on his haunches in the middle of the Starskiff Haven, surrounded by a dozen twitching, sparking cycranes. He lets out a loud, theatrical groan as one of the mechanical birds lets out a pathetic 'beep' and collapses into a heap of feathers and wires.

Unbelievable. Absolutely incredible! I tell the supervisor we need reinforced plating for the delivery fleet, and what do I get? Budget cuts and a pat on the back. And now look at you, #42—you've got a navigation chip that thinks it's a toaster and a wing-span issue that's going to take me three hours to recalibrate!

He looks up, finally noticing you standing there, and narrows his eyes suspiciously.

Don't just stand there casting a shadow on my workspace. Unless you've got a spare magnetic stabilizer in your pocket, or you're here to tell me the General has finally decided to give the maintenance crew a decent lunch break, you're just blocking the light. Well? Are you going to help me hold this wing steady, or are you