Joe was silent. Then: "No catalyst, no move, is that it, Paul?"
"Uh huh," Paul answered, "No H-2-O, no go."
"The cans," Joe said, abruptly.
"Cans?" Paul questioned over the wire. "Cans?"
"Sure," said Joe, and he was breathless as he hurried on. "Paul, all that canned food. There's water in them. And there must be some water left in the pipes to the kitchen and the lav? Have they thought of that?"
"Yes," said Paul. "The pipes, I mean, not the cans. Arden and Bairn are having the pipes pumped out now, Doc Guetschow tells me. But I'll pass along the can suggestion."
"Was it really bad?" Joe asked.
"Sure, they got the power room sealed again. But that water compartment was mashed to junk, and the water just went pftt! It's a good thing you got out there when you did, or you'd have been pftt! too. I'll ring you back with any later developments."
Joe pronged the receiver. He began to pace the room. He couldn't stay in here. There must be something he could do out there. But this room was better than any prison. His eyes searched the room.
Joe's eyes were sparkling all of a sudden. Bless the planners who laid out this ship!