Adventure!

Dr. Robo-Barbie is more than happy to do this. "With pleasure, Commander."

She hops onto the floor an klak-klak-klacks her way starboard side, looking for the best view. Is there anybody out there? she wonders.

I’ve got to concentrate concentrate concentrate… I’ve got to concentrate concentrate concentrate… hello? hello? hello…?

Hopefully, psychic waves will echo echo echo back to the android.

We find Ambrose underneath a console, using a plasma wrench on the guts of the machine. He is muttering under his breath, and wiping the sweat from his brow as he works. He tweaks the wrench a little too hard out of frustration and a bang can be heard in the rest of engineering, along with some swear words in an unidentifiable language. He pulls himself out from under the console with a huff and stands up, shaking his head. He mutters something about needing a breather, and heads up to the bridge to see if he can't use the engineering console there to get some work done that doesn't require him to be in a cramped space.

He enters the bridge, and, seeing the diminutive figure of Dr. Robo-Barbie, he stops and watches. He does not want to interrupt her concentration with his sudden appearance. He walks slowly over to the engineering console and begins his work.

The ship's Abayan (shark-person) pilot Logic Bodily (Loggy to his friends) enters the bridge still blinking sleep from his inky-black eyes. His flight suit is rumpled and his silver-grey sandpaper skin is still slick from his hydrobunk (i.e. saltwater sleeping tank).

"Pardon my tardiness." His voice is mellifluous, almost comically so paired with his sharp teeth and unsettlingly predatory face. "I was assured the run to the gate would be easy, even for a human." He looks to the other senior officers and continues, oblivious to the delicate psychic operation going on near his feet. "What's our next move?"

An ensign shushes him and points to the tiny robot; he shrugs, stalks over to the pilot's station, and starts scrutinizing the readouts over the shoulder of a nervous looking junior Lieutenant.

"It’s never too late to help," Robo-Barbie says. She ignores her CPU as it floods her mind with a multitude of examples in which it was objectively too late to help.

She flits onto Briggs’ console. "The distant ships seem to be under no pretense, though what I can glean from afar is limited."

When the shark man asks what the next move is, the doll-doctor waits patiently for the humans to answer.

"Thanks for your kind assistance and insight, Dr. Robo-Barbie, very much appreciated."

"And, oh, glad to see you Logic Bodily on the bridge, helmsman Steede will be relieved to have a ma...uh, person of such expertise to watch over his operations."

Looking around to his fellow officers, Envoy Abara Biggs points out: "Well, diplomatic protocol might demand that we pay them a more close up and personal visit, of course bolstered by the appropriate security of our trusted Mr. McGunner. What do you say?"

Robo-Barbie definitely prefers diplomacy over shooting people. Her stun-gun is an unwieldy thing, and she cannot take a life.

If the ships will shoot each other, she can only help by anticipating the other ships’ maneuver. But Scott would be the one to McGun it down…

Do no harm.

She looks back at the distant ships. The current situation is not kill or be killed*.

"I am happy to assist with the diplomacy, Commander."

(*Or in her case, do what she can to keep The Raptor intact and her crew alive.)

Logic slides into the co-pilots station.

"Alright Lieutenant, take us in for a reconnaissance pass. If they don’t explain themselves we’ll want to be right on top of them anyways."

He keys in a trajectory that minimizes the Raptor’s exposure during approach and keeps his rough gray claws on the controls in case he needs to quickly make evasive maneuvers for the mammal at the helm.

Abara looks around his fellow officers: "Maybe it's time for a more up close and personal approach? Any volunteers for an away mission? I would go too, of course."

Logic, frustrated at the Lieutenant's timid piloting, rises to join Abara.

"An Abayan must never let a minnow go into danger when a shark could take their place. I'm with you."

He instructs the current pilot: "Activate the cloaking device and set us down near the nearest freighter. Steady as she goes".

And with that, heads to the airlock to get suited up.

Robo-Barbie is quick to step up to the proverbial plate.

"Though ‘minnow’ most accurately describes myself, it would give me great please to serve," she says matter-of-factly. But just to be on the safe side, she clarifies, "Diplomacy is among my primary functions. If you’re looking for bodyguards, well… that is a tertiary function for me at best."

She suddenly looks quite sheepish for a robot, "And it would depend on the body and the threat. I…" There are apparently little red lights under her cheeks, because now the robo-doll is actually blushing. "…I couldn’t…"

And in a nanosecond, she snaps out of it. (And the blush-lights turn off.)

"Haha. Not important to the mission. Which is diplomatic in nature, barring hostiles, correct, Commander?"

Abara gives Robo-Barbie an encouraging look: "As acting envoy of this vessel, I prefer a more civil approach myself, my dear, and am confident that words can solve most conflicts."
And as if to make a show of his diplomatic competence: "Yet a show of force can serve a valuable tool in any interaction. Glad to have you on the team, Mr. Logic!"

With that Abara touches a button on his belt, and the vacc-suit deploys out of his Consortium uniform, enclosing him like a well fitted glove.

"Of course I'll go with y'all too. Someone needs to stop you from gettin' yer asses handed to you when negotioations break down."

Scott stows a large glowing fighting knife and a small caliber pistol in the small compartments on his belt, and a backup laser revolver in his butt pocket.

"Anyone else, or are we headed off?"