Then he was busy getting at the tools, getting at the heart of the Justifier.
Stine's men had messed it up pretty badly. B-Haaq's men had not made matters any better. The operation itself was a simple one, but there was so much to be undone.
Wordlessly, Deanne worked with him in the awful silence. He thought as he worked how ridiculous it must seem to whoever watched—two pygmies on the face of a mechanism hardly a hundred yards across, pitting their wits against a Nature gone mad—two pygmies, attempting to come to grips with an entire solar system! Working alone, in the cold and the dark, with only their helmlanterns to guide their eyes and hands.
Deanne worked smoothly where she recognized the few standard procedures that Jon employed, fumbled a little as he took shortcuts that she had never imagined possible. Yet somehow, he noticed, she managed almost to keep up with him, seemed to be following his thinking almost by instinct.
And that was about all it was that differentiated him from the standard ITA technician. Instinct; imagination coupled with it, and the knowledge that could only be learned by an ever-inquiring mind. Jon Kane. Scientist.
Finally, he touched her helmet again.
"That does it, girl. She's going. Within twenty hours the storm'll be over; within less than one, things will start taming down on the planets. And then we'll get your uncle to take us back to Sol system, and do a real job on the one there."
He saw her eyes widen. "My—uncle?"
"Yeah. Now keep quiet a minute. I—"
"Turn around, both of you! I want to see your faces just once more!"