Navigating the obstacle course of torch-wielding greasy dogs and toxic lubricants brought me to the master machinist herself. Reclining in one of the rover's old chairs she lorded over the back of the garage like some great thane in her mead hall. Curious shadows veiled most of the superstructure making me wonder what corroded treasures she had stockpiled in the darkness. I was able to explain my situation with only a few air drill interruptions while the steady pthunk-clang of compressors measured our time together. 'I'll see what I can do for ya, ' she said with a wink and wolfish grin, ' you know what I want.' My choices were simple ones now.