My storage-bladder clutched the loot tighter as I sprinted for the airlock and my stochastic parrot started posting dire survival probabilities on the body-bus.
The recent mods I'd made for the job had pros and cons. On the one hand the ablative scales on my back did a wonderful job dealing with incoming energy and ballistic fire, on the other hand all that shit was weighing me down and I couldn't get into my usual groove. I was way too slow and I would die.
"Fuck it, fire at will."
As soon as the free-for-all message was on the bus all hell broke loose. My third arm took control of the cam, overrode its own power and projectile budget and went to town on anything that moved and was not me. Nutrient-transport fluids and excrement splashed on the walls behind me.
The locomotion subsystem erased all wear protection on joints and connected tissues. With a jolt (and a lot of cracks and creaks) my body was launched towards the door.
Eris, my delightfully named security subsystem, unlocked all of our precious zero days and started burning out any system stupid enough to still accept any incoming comms.
"Not the DOOR, Eris!"
"I'm having fun, I'm not stupid 
."
I flew through the door and broke some carapace as I slammed into the back wall of the airlock. The door closed with a lot more force than allowed by regulation and instead of a soft disengagement I had to hold on for dear life as the emergency detach bolts exploded.
I dropped on the floor. Smiling. Nothing like a good near-death experience to make you feel alive.
I could hear faint sobbing from Excel, the new accountant AI as it tallied the cost for burnt exploits.