The interior of the ship was a logjam of twisted metal, melted plastic, and electric wires poking out at haphazard angles, much like the way you’d expect a mad scientist’s hair to frizz out when he’s been in the laboratory for too long working on his latest invention. Unfortunately the only genius working here was a hormonal noodle head who had a habit of shirking responsibility when Jason wasn’t around. He was hoping to pick her rather gifted, if a bit distracted, brain about his most recently discovered problem, but ran into the usual difficulty of locating her. He hoped to find her having made some sense of the ships system self diagnostics readouts in the bridge, so he set his mind about the puzzle of getting there.

Jason still hadn’t quite figured the fastest way to the bridge. He took a left ad the ship’s initial fork, remembering that right was totally blocked off by slag, and went straight through the narrow hallway instead of taking a right at the next fork, which turned out to be a mistake as the evil genius hair gave way to thing tentacles of tied up mess. As he retraced his steps a raised piece of floor caught his foot and Jason fell with a graceless “umph” followed by searing pain as steel decking sliced through his pant leg. He held in his howl in to avoid embarrassment in front of his crew, his confusion of being lost in his own ship bringing him out of his reverie, and he inspected the damage. A cut through his tan cotton pant leg, spilling a little blood down his left leg, though it seemed to be pretty superficial. Cursing his clumsiness, Jason got up and made his way left at the for, deeper into the belly of his wounded warbird.

After another couple wrong turns, and a rather uncomfortable run in with Adalie, Jason found his way to the bridge. Given the state of the rest of the ship, all busted and mangled, it was amazing that the command hub of the ship was in more or less working order. The communications and scanning centers were working well enough, less their respective boosters which were apparently required to actually be useful. Jason was assured this was a relatively simple repair…compared to the state of some of the other systems. Diagnostics were also up an running in theory, though it did keep saying that life support was fully operational which was an abject falsehood as all four air cycler tanks were damaged.

Kat was supposed to be working on that particular problem, though as Jason entered the command room she wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Before entering the room he stopped and gave the diagnostics screen a halfhearted glance out of sheer habit. A sledgehammer of grief punched his gut and his chest picked up where it had left off oozing battery acid minutes before. His mind washed down the kitchen drain of memory.