"You'll play hell getting that welded."
"It might be possible."
"There may be more breaks." They lay there for a moment playing their beams along the visible underside of Red Dog until they were satisfied that, in this section at least, there was no more damage.
"What now?" Larkwell asked, when they had crawled back from under the rocket.
"The plans haven't changed," Crag said stonily. "We repair it ... fix it up ... move in. That's all there is to it."
"You can't fix it by just saying so," Larkwell growled. "First it's got to be fixable. It looks like a cooked duck, to me."
"We gotta start back," Nagel said urgently, "oxygen's getting low."
Crag looked at his gauge. Nagel was right. They'd have to get moving. He was about to give the signal to return to Bandit when Richter spoke up.
"It can be repaired." For a moment there was a startled silence.
"How?"