That was the one and only time Hasa had worked with a partner.
Others had offered, only to be rebuffed. Hasa was smart enough to know his personal limitations. They did not include having to deal with the individual peccadilloes of others less competent than himself. Since he believed firmly that nearly everyone else in his field fell into the latter category, it seemed that he was destined to always work alone.
Others would have listened to music or maybe watched a headsup while they were working in the heat and the rain. In contrast, Hasa’s efforts in the field were accompanied by a steady muttering the likes of which were unlikely to ever make the numerous lists that charted the rise and fall of popular culture. He couldn’t even keep himself good company, the realization of which fact did nothing to improve his demeanor.
Reaching back for the small laser welder, he touched something sticky. Turning, he saw that a branch or root had fallen through a crack in the canopy and onto the skimmer’s slanting deck. The broken wood was oozing sap, into which he had inadvertently pushed a few fingers. The same yellow-tinged goo covered half the welder. His muttering rose in intensity for a moment as his face twisted into an even tighter grimace than usual.
His fingers would not move.
They might as well have been welded to the deck. Cursing aloud, he turned around and grabbed his imprisoned right hand with the other. As he did so, rain slid down the front of his rain cape and the shirt beneath, warm and cloying and alien. A sharp yank failed to dislodge the blond substance. So did a steady pull. His booted feet slid on the smooth deck, unable to gain much of a purchase.