The black nail fixed Parel's left heel to the carrier board. Lower service rolled around everything else.
Pipes passed beneath the board, climbed the wall, and became rails above the blank helm. Parel's right leg swung with each change. One direction ran from heel to hip and held the spine against the board through every turn.
Air entered through the helm's side vents. It carried machine oil and the blood from the operator's bare foot.
He crawled ahead using both hands and one good boot. Five broken pieces of a nail ring hung from the other boot tied behind him. Each brace left a wet print on the metal.
"Keep your heel loaded because the waiting deck seals after this turn."
Parel pushed the left boot down. The stomach settled. Weight returned to the right knee, and the carrier straps quit sawing across the ribs.
That relief had sold the implant.
