“You could move faster,” Lyra said. She ratcheted a stabilizing cable a half turn tighter, binding the Casanova and Bossa Nova together. “It’s the suit. I don’t care how advanced they are, I still feel like a balloon animal with arthritis.” Cetus peeled the back off a plastisteel cable hook, then placed it on the Casanova’s hull. Eight done, two more to go. He shook his head to see if he could move the condensation on the inside of his helmet. It exactly blocked what he was trying to see. “Complaining won’t help.” She unspooled another length of cable to
