"This was all a few years ago," finished Guybrush. "So is that it? Can I stop now?"
"You can." The Hermit looked moderately pleased. "Not a bad story, but then I haven't heard one in a long while."
"What are you going to do with us?" said Wally.
"*Do* with you?" asked the Hermit rhetorically. "There's nothing I can *do* with you. You're stuck here until you can repair your ship. Luckily for you I keep a good set of tools maintained."
Guybrush rose. "I think it's time we took a look at Boss Hog."
Several minutes later, three figures in old rusty spacesuits stepped out
onto the asteroid surface.
The spacesuits had come from a locker in the Hermit's dwelling. Guybrush hated wearing a spacesuit at the best of times, and this unfamiliar garment seemed to have mothballs inside. It chafed his joints. Beside Guybrush waddled Wally, the waddle coming about because the Hermit didn't have very many spacesuits, and this one was far too big.
Then, beside them both, was the Hermit with his transparent legs. Guybrush tried not to look much in that direction.
It wasn't hard, because just over the asteroid's tiny horizon Guybrush saw Boss Hog. It was a complete wreck. The whole upper deck was open to the vacuum of space. Holes dotted the outer superstructure. Seen under the pitiless black sky of space, Guybrush's ship looked like a pathetic has-been. Only one area of the ship looked in remotely servicable condition, and that was the storage basement, the tiny room which had sustained them all the way to this asteroid. Looking at that tiny room, Guybrush felt a surge of love for his ship.
All the spacesuits had intercoms in their helmets, and now Guybrush heard Wally's voice. "We'll never be able to fix this," said Wally despairingly.
"No, it looks worse than it is," said the Hermit. "Most of the inner structure seems intact."
"Nevertheless," said Guybrush, "we're going to be here a long time."