The Asgard

[darthbeck]

[font=System]Omega 56, 810 A.S.

Kress stormed down the corridor to the bridge, fuming silently.

"What is the meaning of this?!" he yelled at the startled workmen who were installing the control panels on the bridge.
"This is my damned ship, and i dont care what you have been ordered to do by the stationmaster. I want the best for this ship, and i intend to have it, with or without your help."

"What's wrong sir?" one of the workers asked, the rest watching silently.

"Wrong? WRONG?" Kress yelled.

"Whats wrong, is that you Idiots plated the hull with destroyer armor, armor not fitting of a bullhead Battlecruiser!"

"Sir, armor is decided by the engineers and the station master, we dident choose it...." The worker said meekly.

Kress glared at him before storming off the bridge.

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<span style="font-family:Century Gothic">Violence is Golden</span>