Drake gazed out the viewport as space-time bent to the implacable will of the ship’s hyperdrive, admiring the vicissitude of colors that expanded out before him. The FTL pattern was different than that of the old NTR ships though, and Drake scowled, enraptured by the archaic display. “[b]The new ship’s Alcubierre Drive must be v2.43/01 at the latest. Shit’s ancient.[/b]” he said to nobody in particular, leaning in closely to inspect the plasma screen display. A suite of cameras on the outside of the ship simulated glass, whereas in reality there were several feet of polycarbonate separating Michael from the vacuum. “[b]Sawyer, remind me to get a new FTL drive when we touch down... and get rid of the small dick statues. Replace them with guns or boobs or somethin’[/b] The ship exited hyperspace moments later, noticeably slower than even Alpha’s fighter, which was far slower than the original Arrowhead had been in FTL. That being said, he couldn’t help but love this new vessel—a spark of warmth that he’d only felt for three ships before. Beneath its maudlin extravagance, its sleek exterior, and it’s gaudy architecture, there was a rugged fusion heart within this ship, and Drake wished to make it his own. With a few days of modification... it could become something.