Another day, another ticket. Understaffed and underfunded by the bean counters at Central, your base has to make do with just one technician - you. As you mark that request as complete, the door slams wide open. A shipgirl. Kamikaze. The destroyer proudly strides into the lab towards your workbench, purple hair fluttering along, and holds up her smartphone next to you.

Hand on her hip, she asks, "Commander, you ought to be good with computers. This phone isn't working, can you fix it?"