"Hey, what's the matter with it?"
Pintu lying on his back under the wing just turned and looked at him with a look of disgust.
"You going to be able to fix it?" he said with an unsure voice.
Pintu did not turn from his work this time.
"Did you try the centrifugal intake modular? Those are pieces of junk."
Pintu's dirty hands paused a moment, shaking his head, then back to work.
"Well, good luck. You'll need it," as he turned and walked away scratching a spot under his hat.
Pintu continued his work under the burned out fuselage.
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