Diane went aft while he remained there in the tiny control cabin. By the time she brought the heated cans back with her, he knew it was hopeless. Diane was not the sort of woman you had to humor about a thing like that. She offered him a can of pork and beans and looked at his face, and when he nodded she said:
"It's no use?"
"We couldn't fix it. The scopes just wore out, Diane. Hell, if they haven't been replaced since this tub rolled off the assembly line, they're thirty years old. She's an '87."
"Is there anything we can do?"
He shrugged. "We're going to try. We'll check the air and water and see what we have. Then we start looking."
"Start looking? I don't understand."
"For a series eighty Gormann cruiser."
Diane's eyes widened. "You mean—out there?"
"I mean out there. If we find a series eighty cruiser—and we might—and if I'm able to transfer the radarscopes after we find out they're in good shape, then we have a chance."
Diane nodded slowly. "If there are any other minor repairs to make, I could be making them while you look for a series eighty Gormann."