We all do it, either repair something broken with improvised stuff (paperclips are highly favoured), or hit it or kick it. -- Anon Guest
Rael opened up the exterior panel. And nearly had the urge to purge his internal organs. This was a temporary patch job that was actually a flock of temporary patch jobs. A mountain of kludges. Paperclips, ductape, and random bits of fabric, string, and parts that never should have come into conjunction were all there. He recognised desperate measures on top of inspired desperation on top of even more desperate measures.
In the old words of emergency repair-people everywhere, it just had to last for long enough.
In this case, long enough to bring this junkpile of a spaceship into drydock with her cargo intact. All the other signs were there. Low-bid vessel with a welded-on cargo hold from a different one with not enough engines. The wiring that had been gone over by every known sample of vermin in the Galactic Alliance. Short circuits, leaks and mystery substances all over the place.