"The hyper-drive's synchronizer is toasted, Cap," Jax said, his voice raspy from inhaling ion fumes. "And by toasted, I mean it’s currently a very expensive paperweight."
He didn't have a spare synchronizer. No one carried spares for a Class-4 freighter out here. But he did have a locker full of "junk." fantastic_mechanic.rar
The air in the ship was getting thin, that metallic, recycled taste of a dying vessel. The crew huddled in the galley, watching the shadows dance as Jax’s welding torch flared in the hold. "Ready?" Jax croaked into his comms. "The hyper-drive's synchronizer is toasted, Cap," Jax said,
For the next six hours, Jax worked in a fever dream of sparks and profanity. He stripped the plating from the kitchen’s microwave emitter. He salvaged a crystal from a broken navigation buoy they’d picked up for scrap. He even used his own prosthetic finger—the one with the built-in screwdriver—as a permanent conductive bridge. But he did have a locker full of "junk