Hazardous Propulsion Share

Exotic Armor Focusing

Lore

"This can't be right. They went inside the Traveler…?" A message she had intercepted moments prior had to be read three times before it finally made it through her processes, and she could make sense of the information. She's been so disconnected. Her cooling fans whir in a sigh. She hasn't seen the Captain since they stopped by to deliver Dawning cookies last year. They were still carefully stacked, untouched, a sugary cairn in the maintenance bay. "They get to do all the cool stuff." The fans hum louder in a sigh, though she is careful not to expend too much of her reserved energy. Sometimes a few stray messages found their way into her inbox, and she perused them when she remembered to check, but this one took the cake. All that fuss about the big mysterious ball in the sky, and now, there they were, running around inside of it like some sort of playground. She wishes she could see it too. "I wouldn't take up much space. All my processes are highly efficient." She considers the situation for a moment. Maybe there's a way for her to join them… "I can be valuable…" she mutters. A machine buzzes in a nearby room. The 3D printer that had been dormant for years springs to life. With a surge of energy, she flips on her 'politeness filter'—an uncomfortable feeling—as she pulls up old blueprints from her archives. "What do Guardian's care about most? The Traveler? Cookies? The Last Cit—" Something catches her attention as it sweeps by. "No, wait…" She zooms in. Enhances. "ROCKETS!" An excited buzz makes the ship's lights flicker as she processes a million disastrously fun ideas all at once. The arms of the printer move wildly. "Rocket boots? Rocket arms? ROCKET HELMET?" She pauses, fingers scratching at a pretend chin as she contemplates. "Though a rocket helmet does seem hazardous to the Captain's health. The chance of head injuries is frequent and likely." Failsafe spins through the records of her rocket-like blueprints while the printer's hands work overtime to keep up. Something gets bedazzled with old solar panel shards and is quickly discarded. "Got it! ROCKET ARMOR! Surely the Captain won't harm themselves with this!" It's the perfect solution. Just the right amount of danger and effectiveness. Surely the Captain will appreciate this and request her presence on their mission inside the Traveler. The machine continues to print a variety of prototypes as she hums a tune she learned from Cayde-6. She thinks about him sometimes… Maybe she would have made something with rockets for him too.