Musa had finally followed some of the cables and links back to where they belonged, and was busy drawing up schematics so heâ€™d know how they attached to the cockpit if they ever got so far as putting it back together. â€œHah! Lookit this NG. Thereâ€™s a damn free electron laser mounted to this thing! Old as shitâ€¦â€ The big man jumped up and down on a part, apparently fairly unconcerned with breaking it, shouting down to the woman in the cockpit a few feet away from the bulk of the machine.<br/><br/>â€œShuddup Musa, Iâ€™m tryinâ€™ to think!â€ NG had some of the techs bring her generators, so she could turn the thing on. Not that it had helped. Power went, but nothing happened. She tapped the console irritably, trying very hard to ignore the noise and the cold. The fucking freezing cold of the hangar. Stupid to heat the place, some exhaust came out this way, kept it from icing over. But stillâ€¦ Nobody really thought of that, only people like her and Musa and the other bay techs spent any extended time out here. â€œBawltz!â€<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic"><span style="font-weight: bold">Yes Miss Ramey?</span></span>Came the slightly mechanical female voice of the AI over the nearby speaker.<br/><br/>â€œTurn it on.â€ She demanded of the machine, getting up and crawling under the board to see if sheâ€™d missed any connections.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic"><span style="font-weight: bold">UFH Security Protocol will not allow me to send or receive transmissions of any type from enemy craft designated as prisoners. I apologize for any inconvenience Miss Ramey</span></span><br/><br/>There was no way sheâ€™d missed it. So when she came back up with nothing, she kicked it. The console display came on, but nothing further happened. It was dead inside. No computerâ€¦ She tapped her nails on the controls. No computer? The guy wasnâ€™t flying blind out there. Things lookedâ€¦ weird on a straight plane. Closer than they were sometimes. So how was he flying if he didnâ€™t have a computer? Which meantâ€¦ the computer was hiding. Or erased itself. Either way, there should be a trail.<br/><br/>â€œGod fucking damnit!â€ The techie girl threw a small fit in the confined space, screaming and beating at the controls. So annoying! And once she got started, she expended her energy on it before sitting slumped in the chair. Now she was ready. She yawned once, filling her lungs with pinching cold recycled air, rubbed out her eyes, and placed the softscreen, the paper thin computer, over the solid display of the mechâ€™s controls. This was such tedious work, checking every program, every bit of code for the hole that lost things went to.