“We seem to be in trouble.”
Gyr smirked and looked out of the cockpit. The nose of the ship had burrowed itself nicely into a small asteroid. Trouble, indeed. “Congratulations Kalla, you’ve won the 2311 award for stating the bloody obvious.”
“I love awards, my dear. Are you sure your head isn’t damaged?”
“Shut up.”
Kalla’s voice turned serious, “Gyr, are you ok?”
“Yes. Are you?”
“I seem to be mostly in one piece.”
Gyr sighed and placed her feet on the dashboard, “Turn on the emergency beacon, dear. I don’t want to be stuck here with you, indefinitely.”
“Did that the moment we crashed, dear.”
“Good job,” Gyr said, absentmindedly snacking on a powerbar.
The Radio buzzed. She hit the controls, and said, “You better be a rescue party!”
“I am. What did you do to your ship, ingrate?”
Gyr laughed, of course it had to be Jun coming to the rescue, “Not my fault, stupid. Kalla made a course correction and flew into the bloody asteroid.”
Jun snickered, “Of course she did. Ready to head home?”
“I am.”
She unstrapped and patted the dashboard, “Rescue will come soon, Kalla.”
The ship let out some fake little sobs, and sang, “I’m a poor lonesome cowboy, and a looong way from home.”

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