Ossanlin dials back the power level slowly on the pulse mine and brings up data on human brain-wave activity. He uses the information in the computer banks to home in on the correct electro-magnetic amplitude, and locks the level in. Then he tinkers with the ignition mechanism, taking out the proximity switch and installing a remote igniter instead, setting the frequency to one of the emergency signals. Next he takes a small controlled-beam torch from the work bench and carefully draws a line around the seam of one of the six square panels, separating the careful welds Myitt had made. He has the computer measure the inside of the box and designs a framework to drop into the box to hold the mine in place. He goes to work fabricating the schematic from what the computer has drawn up.
Time seems to blur as he works...this kind of work, it was so simple, so wholesome...working with tool and metal. If only life were this simple, but the complexities made life what it was. You had to make do and do what you thought was best. That was all Ossanlin had ever done. He finally finishes the small frame, having built the pulse-mine into the framework itself. This was meant for one use only. He places the frame inside the box and seams it in. He places six scramble relays into the mounts he'd built on the frame, one for each side, and activates them. The batteries would last for months. Lastly he arms the pulse-mine, synching a remote unit, before replacing the removed side and seaming it back into place with the beam-torch. He holds up his and Myitt's handiwork and hefts it from hand to hand. Lighter than an Escafil, but not by much. He sets it back on the workbench and braces his arms against the bench, preparing to transform again. This would take supreme effort due to his lack of energy.
He closes his eyes and his fur ripples silver and blue a couple of times before settling on silver, his hooves and blade following suit. His legs almost give way but he manages to keep himself erect. He places one hand on the surface of the cube and concentrates. The thing almost seems to flow as Ossanlin rearranges the molecular structure of the steel casing. He removes his hand and immediately reverts. He sighs heavily, getting his legs back under himself fully again, and looks down at the steel box. Instead of dull silver it was now a deep blue, the cube seeming to glow with an inner light. The surface was impossibly smooth for steel, feeling somewhat like oil-slicked graphite. The light even pulsed from time to time. It looked supremely convincing, and only someone overly familiar with an Escafil would be able to see anything amiss, and they probably woud notice only the slight difference in weight. Ossanlin smiles despite himself. The scramble relays would divert any short or long-range scans, the very same relays were used in true Escafils. This was a supreme replica...hopefully it would perform its job perfectly.
