She descends into the bunker in foul humor, wondering where her happiness went. Gone with her father and the ship that was meant to carry her to her mother, she supposes. The gunslinger and Pip wait for her below, the scent of ancient motor oil and rust assaulting her despite the clear plasglass mouth and nose filter chugging faithfully to protect her from airborne contaminants. Before Didi can say a word, the ruddy crow decides to speak up.
"I knew this wasn't going to end well." His beak chatters, red glow in his cyber eye flaring with his agitation. "Why did we take this ridiculous job in the first place?"
Didi's boots thump with increasing weight as she makes it to the plascrete floor, like her entire body takes on the oppression of her failure. "Shut it, Pip," she mutters, not meani
