Amal slid her environmental suit’s helmet shut with a solid CLACK. Air vented out of little ports from the side with a loud FSSSH.
Inside, its HUD lit up on the heavily tinted glass in front of her face.
—
Oxygen: 96%, stable
Filter Degradation: 1%
Antimicrobial Shield: Active
—
Amal sighed deeply as resolve set deep in her bones. After a moment of reflection, she curled an open hand into a fist.
“Okay, here I go,” she said. “Wish me luck.”
“Ganbare,” said Miko.
Amal fired up the plasmathrower in her hands with the simple press of a button. Its tip erupted with an intense blue energy, which she expanded out to a wide cone. Then she took the plasma straight to the heap of debris piled up a few meters away from their corvette.
The heap had all manner of disgusting debris: grime-h
