As Al and Salem continued to speak quietly, Salem found what he'd been rummaging for- a small, matte black device with green streaks, that looked something like a four-legged spider. He clamped it over his wrist and said something to it aloud, then went back to speaking to Al. After a few seconds, it emitted a short buzzing sound, and he removed it from his wrist, set it back on the bench, and flexed his wrist a few times- it appeared to be at least feeling better.
Finally, Salem shook his head, turned, and walked to one wall of the craft. "Fine," he said loudly to Al. "I'll talk to them. Just don't get your hopes up. I've never really seen either of us as the 'Knight in Shining Armor" type." He gently ran his hand along the wall, and a compartment opened in front of him- this one held what looked like a large helmet of metallic framework. He pulled it out and set it on his head, gently, where it began emitting a blue glow.
Al laughed, "Yeah, not sure shining armor's really a fashion statement I want to make at the moment."
Salem rolled his eyes, "You and your fashion... I'm sure there's some planet somewhere where shining armor is fashionable."
Al shook his head, "Nope. I've looked. Even when used as a status symbol, shining armor always just makes you look like a jerk."
Salem laughed, in spite of himself. "Okay, give me just a minute here, and we can go." The glow on the 'helmet' he'd been wearing died, and he placed it back in its compartment, which immediately closed, leaving no visible seam. He then pulled up his right pant leg, removed what looked like a gun made from copper pipe that he had strapped there, and began sending thought-speak commands to the ship, causing several displays to appear on the walls and ceiling near him. Most of them were writing, in the Atazin galactic language, but one in particular showed an abbreviated version of recent events in and around the bar, as viewed by his ship. Some of the more recent events began replaying, with colors and symbols and labels pointing out different people and actions that had taken place. Salem half payed attention as he continued to scroll through another wall of text and communicate with the computer via thought-speak.
Al, in the meantime, crossed his arms, leaned back against the 'workbench,' and smiled at Mar. "So how're things?"