We still might.
I pulled off the outer layers of my gloves and turned up the heat in the skin-thin layer remaining.
The bar was still jammed when I got it back together, sixty-seven hours later.
"Well, disconnect the damn things and let's move out. We've wasted enough time already." Helene's voice rasped tinnily inside my helmet, barely audible over the gurgle of the air compressor on my back.
I already had the left brake actuator off when she spoke. For a fraction of a second I wanted to go up front and slap her fool head off, then I caught myself and disconnected the right actuator and climbed onto the 'dozer. From now on, one of us would have to ride it, braking with its own controls when necessary.
"Let's go," I said, and then, without thinking, I added: "And be sure you give me plenty of warning when you're going to put on the brakes or turn." I was getting as bad as she was.