Skriiiiiiiitch...

N-XS drew alongside the entrance to Smit's cabin. The door rolled aside and she collapsed onto his floor, dragging her failing legs up so it could close behind her. Accessing ship security, she locked down the gate controls. Sealing the noisemaker out, or her in, it was hard to tell.

She looked around. Smit's room was oddly immaculate. Neatly organized, not at all as it usually appeared.

It felt...

"Sterile..."

The music changed again, and N-XS recognized it as an alternative composition from the last great age of Rock.