They sat on the deck for nearly five minutes gasping for air.
"Like—" began Roger, "like father—like son!" He blurted the words out bitterly.
"Like who?" asked Astro.
"Like my father," said Roger in a hard voice. He got up and walked unsteadily over to the oxygen bottle and kicked it. "Empty!" he said with a harsh laugh. "Empty and we only have one more bottle. Empty as my head the day I got into this space-happy outfit!"
"You going to start that again!" growled Astro. "I thought you had grown out of your childish bellyaching about the Academy." Astro eyed the blond cadet with a cold eye. "And now, just because you're in a tough spot, you start whining again!"
"Knock it off, Astro," snapped Tom. "Come on. Let's give this hatch another try. I think it gave a little on that last push."
"Never-say-die Corbett!" snarled Roger. "Let's give it the old try for dear old Space Academy!"
Tom whirled around and stood face to face with Manning.
"I think maybe Astro's right, Roger," he said coldly. "I think you're a foul ball, a space-gassing hot-shot that can't take it when the chips are down!"
"That's right," said Roger coldly. "I'm just what you say! Go ahead, push against that hatch until your insides drop out and see if you can open it!" He paused and looked directly at Tom. "If that sand has penetrated inside the ship far enough and heavily enough to jam that hatch, you can imagine what is on top, outside! A mountain of sand! And we're buried under it with about eight hours of oxygen left!"