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Summary
Heinrix was preparing for bed when the call came. The croaking of the vox dragged him unceremoniously from his nighttime meditations – those quiet moments in the evening where he might pour all his focus into bodily repair and maintenance. A blunted weapon, after all, did no one any favors.
He rose to its insistent call, displeased at the disturbance but aware of the way the crew shrank from the very sight of him. They would not dare bother him unless the message were something of import, and even then would likely draw straws to determine which unfortunate would be stuck with the duty.
He silenced the alarm with the push of a button. “Report,” he barked tersely into the receiver.