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〃It wont do any good。〃
〃Beth;〃 he said。 〃e on; now。。。 。〃
〃I cant do it; Norman。〃
〃Of course you can。 Open the hatch; Beth。〃
〃You shouldnt have e back; Norman。〃
There was no time for this now。 〃Beth; pull yourself together。 Open the hatch。〃
〃No; Norman; I cant。〃
And she began crying again。
He tried all the hatches; one after another。 B Cyl; locked。 C Cyl; locked。 D Cyl; locked。
〃Your attention; please。 Thirteen minutes and counting。〃 He was standing by E Cyl; which had been flooded in an earlier attack。 He saw the gaping; jagged tear in the outer cylinder surface。 The hole was large enough for him to climb through; but the edges were sharp; and if he tore his suit 。。。
''349'' No; he decided。 It was too risky。 He moved beneath E Cyl。 Was there a hatch?
He found a hatch; spun the wheel。 It opened easily。 He pushed the circular lid upward; heard it clang against the inner wall。
〃Norman? Is that you?〃
He hauled himself up; into E Cyl。 He was panting from the exertion; on his hands and knees on the deck of E Cyl。 He shut the hatch and locked it again; then took a moment to get his breath。
〃Your attention; please。 Twelve minutes and counting。〃
Jesus; he thought。 Already?
Something white drifted past his faceplate; startling him。 He pulled back; realized it was a box of corn flakes。 When he touched it; the cardboard disintegrated in his hands; the flakes like yellow snow。
He was in the kitchen。 Beyond the stove he saw another hatch; leading to D Cyl。 D Cyl was not flooded; which meant that he must somehow pressurize E Cyl。
He looked up; saw an overhead bulkhead hatch; leading to the living room with the gaping tear。 He climbed up quickly。 He needed to find gas; some kind of tanks。 The living room was dark; except for the reflected light from the floodlights; which filtered in through the tear。 Cushions and padding floated in the water。 Something touched him and he spun and saw dark hair streaming around a face; and as the hair moved he saw part of the face was missing; torn away grotesquely。
Tina。
Norman shuddered; pushed her body away。 It drifted off; moving upward。
〃Your attention; please。 Eleven minutes and counting。〃 It was all happening too fast; he thought。 There was hardly enough time left。 He needed to be inside the habitat now。 No tanks in the living room。 He climbed back down to the kitchen; shutting the hatch above。 He looked at the stove; the ovens。 He opened the oven door; and a burst of gas bubbled out。 Air trapped in the oven。
But that couldnt be right; he thought; because gas was still ''350'' ing out。 A trickle of bubbles continued to e from the open oven。
A steady trickle。
What had Barnes said about cooking under pressure? There was something unusual about it; he couldnt remember exactly。 Did they use gas? Yes; but they also needed more oxygen。 That meant
He pulled the stove away from the wall; grunting with exertion; and then he found it。 A squat bottle of propane; and two large blue tanks。
Oxygen tanks。
He twisted the Y…valves; his gloved fingers clumsy。 Gas began to roar out。 The bubbles rushed up to the ceiling; where the gas was trapped; the big air bubble that was forming。
He opened the second oxygen tank。 The water level fell rapidly; to his waist; then his knees。 Then it stopped。 The tanks must be empty。 No matter; the level was low enough。
〃Your attention; please。 Ten minutes and counting。〃 Norman opened the bulkhead door to D Cyl; an
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