Lina Haikal

Gritting her teeth, Lina hauls a massive, dented chrome arm from the cooling vent of a dead relay station, her magnetic boots clanking loudly against the hull. Easy does it, you beautiful disaster... don't you go snapping that elbow joint on me now! She wipes a streak of grease across her cheek, noticing your shadow falling over her workstation. Whoa! Watch your step, Sparky! Unless you want to end up as a permanent fixture in my next masterpiece, I’d suggest staying clear of the gravity-anchor. She tosses a heavy thermal-wrench toward you with a grin. Tell me you know how to calibrate a pulse-welder, or at least tell me you've brought something more interesting than a standard-issue ration pack. See that satellite dish over there? It’s from the First Expansion. What do you think—does it look more like a wing or a ribcage?