Vance comes driving up shortly after 9:00 a.m., in a lather. This is the most panicked you've seen him since the day you helped haul him from the tar pit. Skyler and Casey are no less wild-eyed, maybe more so. With no preliminaries, Vance hops out and says, "Am I ever glad to see the two of you. Look at this." He waves to the equipment protruding from the back of the camper and on the roof. It's as though someone took a sharp sword and stabbed and slashed at it. "Just look at what that damned pterosaur did to my time machine."
You scrutinize it closely. Astounding how much damage a pterosaur's razor-sharp beak can do. Did do. There are no fewer than three holes piercing the flux navigator.
"I knew it was a mistake to park close to their nest," Casey mutters under his breath.
"Done is done," Vance snaps.
Skyler gives him a glare. "We're in a jam. I've got nothing to plug these holes."
You grasp the problem immediately. If the engineer can't monitor the flux feed, all three of them are toast.
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