VII

           ’Whatdoyouthink?’

           Parkerwasleaningascloseashecould,sweatingalongwithBrettasthelatterattemptedtosealthedelicatelastconnectionswithinthecrampedconfinesoftwelvemodule.Theyweretryingtoperformworkthatnormallyemployedtheservicesofaremoteautomatictracerandthefacilitiesofacomputerizedtoolrunner.Sincetheypossessedneitherrunnernortracertheywereforcedtocopewiththetroubleutilizinginstrumentsnotdesignedforthepurpose.

           Wrongtoolsforthewrongjob,Parkerthoughtangrily.Somehow,theywouldhavetomanage.Unlesstwelvemodulewasproperlyrepairedandmadeoperativeoncemorethey’dhaveonehellofatimetryingtoliftoff.Togetawayfromthisworld,Parkerwouldhavemadethenecessaryinternalreplacementswithhisteeth.

           Rightnow,though,itwasBrett’sturntofightwiththerecalcitrantcomponents.LikeeveryotherinstrumentaboardtheNostromo,themoduleusedsnap-in,factory-sealedreplacementparts.Thetrickwastoremovetheruinedgarbagewithoutinterruptingothercriticalfunctionsordamagingstillmoredelicateportionsoftheship’sdrive.Thenewpartswouldfitineasily,iftheycouldonlygetridofthecarbonizedjunk.

           ’IthinkI’vegotit,’hiscompanionfinallysaid.’Giveitatry.’

           Parkersteppedback,touchedtwobuttonssetintotheoverheadconsole,thenglancedhopefullyataneighbouringportablemonitor.Hetriedthebuttonsasecondtime,withoutsuccess.Themonitorremainedblissfullysilent.

           ’Nothing.’

           ’Damn.Iwassurethatwasit.’