They buried the pilot with quick efficiency after Neblae changed clothes with the dead girl. Narchi went over to the wreck and entered Ahrini's access code and started the transfer of charged-particle power from the aft cell to the forward cell. He started looking around in the engineering panels as Neblae came up behind him. "I...I don't think I like these clothes." She shifted around uncomfortably. Narchi pulled open another panel and pulled out a strange looking circuit board he didn't recognize and stuck it in his bag. He asked, "Why not? Because it's from a dead woman?" Neblae colored a little and said quietly, "No. I'm having an unnatural relationship with these clothes." Narchi poked himself in the eye with one of the joy-sticks, he laughed so hard. He gasped for breath and coughed out, "God! You're not use to wearing skin-tight clothes. They are armored and compatible with the common clothes color-chips laying around. I'm sure the Trow in Trashtown have something you could use. Hey HO!" She frowned. "What? What did you find?" He pulled out a Trow-sized carbine from under the console. "A three-hundred year old Trow Pulse-blaster carbine, property or the Imperial Armed Forces! Back from the Mechwars, during the first Adamesh Insurgency against the Jade Empire of Balaam! Whoohoo! If we're in luck--this is a sabotaged version with the amputation iris disengaged." "AMPUTATION IRIS? What is that?!" She looked shocked. "The forearm rest will amputate your arm at the forearm if you fire it at a live human. All the pre-apocalypse humans all had chips in them. Had their bank-account info, medical records, transactions, criminal records and such in them. These read the chips and blammo! No revolts if the slaves can't use any weapons against the masters." Neblae frowned and asked, "How can you tell?" Narchi shrugged. "Dunno. The Trow in Trashtown would know. Only peoples with chips left are the Sky-people. Be nice to shoot dinner for a change. Or dumbasses with bad-attitudes." Narchi chuckled. Be nice to not have to run away all the time, too, he added silently to himself. Neblae pointed skyward and asked, "What's that?" Narchi looked. "It's a mech-eagle spy. The sky-cities use them to watch below them. One's swooping this way. We should hide so it doesn't get a clear view of us." Neblae stared at it in wonder. "It's a FAKE bird?" A loud shot echoed out from among the buildings near them. Narchi and Neblae ducked for cover. Media is Poser 6.