Sawyer heard the audio over his comms and relaxed in his seat. Almost like clockwork, his fingers punched over the panel before him. A hologram flickered over the canopy of the cockpit, and soon, a beautiful, curvaceous figure appeared, long and flowing locks of raven hair obscuring amble bosoms. It spoke with delicate jaw gyrating: [b][i]"DELTA ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE FRAME bow active. What COMMANDS would you like me to input today, AARON SAWYER?[/i][/b] "Delta, run auto-pilot protocol and open airlock." [b][i]"Running AUTO-PILOT PROTOCOL and OPENING AIRLOCK now, sir. Have a nice day."[/i][/b] The ship's mainframe began to produce a symphony of electronic sounds and buttons pressed down upon themselves, levers moved autonomously, nozzles twisted independently. Sawyer got up from his chair and busted through the door to the airlock, a space-faring suit transmitting over his own. As the helm wrapped around his sullen and serious face, he jumped from the airlock which disappeared behind him. Small thrusters sprouting blue flames propelled him towards the liner, and he easily slid into the docking bay where Drake previously entered. "Y'all heard the man. Comply and no one'll get hurt," he said in his traditional Scott drawl, a carbine warping into his hands with a blue flourish.