Icarus worked on the steering mechanism as best he could. Since it was in use, he was only able to make some minor fixes, but he told himself that as soon as they landed, he could make some more permanent adjustments. The gearbox itself was sounding a little strained as well, and he shook his head as he frowned at it, "I'm gonna have to tell that girl to land this bucket soon, her little clash with the terra really took it out of the old girl," he mumbled as he took a wrench to one of the box's mounting bolts. "If she had hit it any harder, we might not even be in the air right now," he told himself as he tightened to bolt. He shook his head for the hundredth time and sighed, "What could she be thinking? Why is she doing this, I mean... what can she possibly hope to achieve?" As was his custom, he asked himself questions he couldn't answer as he continued to work. He took another look at the gearbox and frowned again, 'There's no way around it, I'm gonna have to tell her to land..." just then he felt the ship coming to a stop and heard the familiar sound of the anchors dropping. "Well, at least she not crazy enough to fly at night," he said as he took up a special wrench and caliper out of a toolbox. He went to work on the gearbox then and concentrated on it for about half an hour. As he was nearly finished with the adjustments, a smell wafted over him that was mouthwatering. His stomach rumbled as he sighed; he hadn't eaten for quite some time and the smell wasn't helping. He wondered if Rawlin had cooked enough for the both of them, but he didn't want to assume. He chuckled and shook his head, "She probably doesn't even want to see you, you threw a wrench it her plans," he said as he glanced at the wrench he was holding, "Maybe literally." He tried to ignore the wonderful smell as he continued to work, telling himself that he would see what he could find in the kitchen when she was finished it.