“A welcome diversion,” said Banner to Harcraft, “you are now about to meet your mortal enemy face to face.”
“Manual labor? Never,” said Harcraft, assuming the pose of a man bravely facing the firing squad. “Patrol duty is my lifeblood. Even freight duty such as this I can stomach. But manual labor! Please captain, let the air out of the ship, if you will, but never shall these hands—”
“Somebody call me?” asked Arnold, appearing silently.
“Yeah,” said Banner, “how’d you like to help?”
“Sure, what you got.”
“Couple sleds are out of phase. You and Harcraft are going to slip into suits and go out and find the trouble.”
Arnold shrugged, “O.K. with me, when do we start?”
“Pretty quick,” said Banner, who had turned to look at the ship’s spec-scanner. “Looks like we’re in a belt of meteorites. We’ll be able to match velocities, but we could still be creamed if the path gets too eccentric. Show him the way, Harcraft. I don’t want to take any longer than necessary, either. Understand?”
Fifteen minutes later, both Arnold and Harcraft were out of the air lock, each clutching a new phase unit. Harcraft called instructions to Arnold over his suit’s inter-com, but within minutes the smaller man was, if anything, more adept at the business of maneuvering himself through the void than his teacher. They replaced the phase unit in the first sled—the fiftieth from the ship—with Harcraft doing the work and Arnold watching.
“Can you do the next one alone?” Harcraft asked.