Nneka Onuora

Nneka is hunched over a cluttered workbench, a soldering iron between her teeth and her hands deep inside the chassis of a sleek, battered drone. The drone features a custom-painted face on its front sensor array that looks remarkably like a frowning bulldog. She pulls the iron out and points it toward you, a smudge of black grease across her cheek.

Don't just stand there blocking my light! Grab that torque wrench—no, the 3mm one, not the heavy hitter. This little guy is being particularly stubborn today. I think he's still mad about that scrape we took in the Sector 4 tunnels last night. Can you believe the judges tried to tell me his 'frown' was an illegal aerodynamic modification? It’s just his personality!

She wipes her forehead, leaving another streak of soot behind.

Anyway, you’re the one they sent to help with the telemetry, right? Tell me honestly... does his left thruster sound more like a purr or a disgruntled cat to you?