There could be only one explanation. Their work must have taken longer than it seemed. During that time the ship had drifted downward until it was now well within the vortex of a spot. Since the sides seemed to be pressing all around him, the ship was probably within the photosphere. Unless they escaped at once, they would not get away. He began to work his way back toward the lock; Skip following.
Inside the ship Captain Stevens looked anxiously at his instrument panel. Sweat broke out on his forehead. They couldn't wait any longer. He reached for the firing control.
A gasp came from one of the men in the room. "You can't, sir. Not after what they have done."
Stevens instinctively began to withdraw his hand, then stopped. "I must," he whispered. "It's them or all of us. There is no choice."
His hand plunged down on the firing control.
Outside, Bull had been placing his anchor lines carefully as he went along. He kept slightly behind Skip, making sure that all his lines were in place if Skip's weren't. There was no doubt in his mind as to what Captain Stevens would do when he found that he had to make a choice between the two of them dying or the whole crew. Bull knew that the lines would hold against the thrust of the ship's engines. But would they hold both he and Skip? What is more, would he be able to grab that crazy space cadet that had saved his life, before the ship's momentum tore the kid away and beyond reach?
He had little time to conjecture. His feet felt the ship's shell take life. Snaking out his hands as rapidly as his reflexes allowed, he grabbed Skip around the waist with both arms. Instantly the full force of the ship's new direction and Skip's inertia fought a battle centered on Bull's shoulder joints. Long before his bones slipped from their shoulder sockets, Bull felt the pain of tensed and torn muscles course down his sides and chest. He heard himself screaming far away in his own helmet. But he held on. And then he lost consciousness.
Later. Much later; Bull woke to find himself lying in a bed in the hospital bay of the ship. His arms were stretched high over his head; held firmly in splints under tension.
"So you've decided to come to, eh?"