Black Kite

The bridge smelled of wet gravel, cooling weld-sealant and scorched wiring that had finally faded into a dull background tang.

…Twenty-four hours had passed since the Shroud Ray tumbled off into the dark as a hollow shredded carcass, and most of the damage had been hammered back into working shape. 

The crack across the canopy was held tight under two thick ribbons of industrial resin, the capacitor banks were patched through fresh copper jumpers, and the Rail-Harpoon sat snug in its ventral recess with its new alloy bolts torqued to spec.

Up on the dais, Leo sat tipped back in the throne with his boots resting on the lip of the flight console with the twin cradles humming softly against his forearms.

Down on the lower deck, peace had lasted about twelve minutes before the shouting started.

"I am stating an indisputable navigational imperative, not making a suggestion, stray!"

Elena's voice cut through the hum of the vents like an arc-torch.