"No worries, Mate! No problem." -- Anon Guest
[AN: Other phrases that Aussies have learned to fear, especially those who remember Joh "I live to fuck up your life" Bjelke-Peterson, are "Don't you worry about that" and "She'll be right" ::twitch::]
If there was a worse curse for a ship's human, T'kethi couldn't think of a worse option than a N'Ozzie Engineer. T'kethi repeatedly set herself reminders to never again pick a human based on pure aesthetics.
They were all ugly, squishy things, but at least this one was the right shade of brown. And T'kethi could tolerate them bending in every wrong way possible but...
Someone should have warned her that for N'Ozzies... the term 'deathworlder' really applied. The most unnerving quality was the chipper, cavalier, can-do attitude to near-death situations.
Micrometeor punctures in her livesuit? "No worries, mate. Got loads o' gaff. She'll be right." And, strangely enough, she was. She even weathered the wounds from the micrometeor with a cheerful, "Jeez, I didn't even notice. Cold must'a cauterised it. See meself to the autodoc, shall I. Reckon I programmed it right this time."
Broken bone? "Yeah, I taped something solid to it and made a walkin' stick outta some rubbish I found around. Soon as I get a good brace on it, I'll be right."
Poor resupply opportunities? "Don't you worry about that, I got me loads of rice. Reckon I can make this lot stretch a fair while. Still, wouldn't mind goin' walkabout in the next port o' call. See what's what."
T'kethi learned that human females shed part of their internal organs as part of their active fertility cycle. To which the human cheered, "No worries. Just feels like a possum in me guts is all. I'll be right. Just don't get on me bad side fer a week."
Given the things that the human dealt with... with a smile on her face and ductape in hand... T'kethi did not want to know what her human's bad side might be like.