"Can you fix it?" Stephen asked irritably as he stood over Connor who was flat on his back under the instrument panel. The only response he got was the whir of a sonic screwdriver. "Well?! We're sitting ducks here, Connor."
Connor pushed himself out from the tangle of wires, exasperation written all over his face. "I'm trying, mate. This isn't a child's toy I'm retooling here! I can't work with you hovering over me like that. Go lift the blast shutters and watch for aliens or something."
Stephen chewed his frustration while Connor disappeared back under the panel. Too tense over their vulnerable position and limited oxygen supply to stand still, he finally stalked off to obey, grumbling under his breath "Some genius, can't even fix a broken circular filter."
Connor wore a grim smile as he worked. Genius, eh? Maybe Stephen liked him a bit more than he let on. Well, they certainly couldn't die before he got Stephen to admit it. Perhaps if he bypassed the safeties and accessed the micropetrol drive directly… With the connection made, the engines hummed to life and Connor laughed. This fix should get them to nearest inhabited moon before the air ran out, if it didn't malfunction blow them up first. Allons-y!