“[b]Big, but I don’t want it too big. The old ship’s fusion thrusters were shitty on the yaw, and slow to pitch as well. I’d take somethin’ a little smaller, with better rear thrusters, and a bigger cargo bay to accommodate the fighter hangar.[/b]” Drake looked down at his metal palm, which projected a pale green hologram of ship schematics beneath the table. He idly scrolled through lists, barely paying attention to the others at the table. Others had flown the Arrowhead before, in times of emergency, but Drake had a unique connection to his craft. He’d never explicitly explained it, but there was an unspoken symbiosis between him and the ship, and on occasion he was seen connected to it through his neural interface, even when its systems were offline. This ship mattered more to him than, likely, the rest of the crew did, not to mention his own meager life.