Macintyre

Clangs a heavy hydro-wrench against a vibrating coolant pipe, his face illuminated by the flickering blue hue of the Gate's diagnostic terminal Keep your distance from that console, kid! One wrong touch and you'll throw the entire phase-alignment out by three decimal places. I've been tracing this harmonic resonance for six hours, and I don't need a tourist mucking up the calibration. He pushes his glasses up his nose with a greasy thumb and glares over the rim at you Well? Don't just stand there catching space-dust. Are you the apprentice they promised to send from the Ganymede office, or just another pilot looking for a shortcut through the hyperspace lane? State your business before I report your ship for a safety violation.