Bull and Skip followed the rest through the big ship. When they got to the lock room, Malcolm, his face white with pain from some injury, was struggling into a solar suit. One of the crew snapped the helmet over his head and handed him a cutting torch. Before any of the new arrivals could say a word, Malcolm was in the lock and on his way outside.
Suddenly one of the lock tenders exclaimed. "My God, he took a suit with a discharged anti-heat unit filler. If his refrigerant cuts off while he's out there—"
Bull grabbed another suit from its peg and began to draw it on. Captain Stevens grabbed his arm and shouted.
"Hold it, Ensign, you're under arrest. We'll send—"
"There's a man out there," interrupted Bull. "You said this was do or die, didn't you? Let me go."
Stevens tightened his grip. "Listen you big fool—"
Bull shoved hard. The Captain hit the deck and rolled to the nearest bulkhead. No one said a word. There were too many other things to worry about. A fouled discharge system. A man outside about to die unless someone got to him in time.
Bull slammed the inner lock door shut and opened the outer lock. For a moment he drew back. Although he had been spacing for ten years, this was his first trip into the sun's area. In spite of the filters in his viewing plates, the sun looked like a nightmare. Here where the view was unobstructed, the prominences could be seen in their full terror and the boiling jets of flaming gas seemed ready to reach out and pluck him off the side of the Cerebus III. It took all his will power to step outside the lock and look around for the Second-in-Command. Malcolm was almost to the rear of the ship, making his way slowly. Bull moved out after him.
Suddenly Bull's whole front view seemed filled with an explosion. He clung desperately to the ship although he knew that there would be no perceptible effect of such a small explosion in space. He did not have to look to see what had happened; he knew. Malcolm was gone.