The atonal shriek of the General Quarters sirens startled Harold as he was buried waist-deep in a malfunctioning power conduit, causing him to whack his head and provoke several seconds of polite conversation. When he got control of himself again, he dropped tools and sprinted for the pressure suit lockers while dragging his comlink out of a pocket, broadcasting to the entire EVA crew.<br/><br/>"All of you lilly-livered goat wankers get off the north arrays, get as far away from them as you can without breaking hull contact. Shelter behind the the south arrays, or just get around the turn of the hull so you're not in the backblast zone. You've got thirty seconds, then I'm throwing power to the thrusters and it's your own funeral if you get barbecued."<br/><br/>Switching lines to the bridge, he held the communicator one-handed while climbing into his suit with the other. "Captain, I'd appreciate a bit o' warning next time you throw this busted ship into a fight. Twenty-five seconds and you'll have a hundred gravities of acceleration to move and steer with. She'll maneuver like a drunken garbage scow on one-quarter power like that, but it's better than sitting dead in space as a stationary target."