Sammel jumped so hard when the alarm went off he dropped his power wrench. Cursing, he crawled out from under the housing of the second star drive on the Day Wanderer and scowled at the control panel.
"Shut it," he snapped, pounding at the thing with his fist.
The klaxon ignored him for a full three seconds then turned off again.
Sammel was sick to death of the damned thing. It had been flickering on and off ever since the crash, giving him a queasy feeling in his stomach. But no matter what he did to shut down the disabled protocol making the thing malfunction, it continued its random wailing, often when he least expected it. He refused to acknowledge the odd twinge in his side when the klaxon went off, insisting there was no way they were connected.