"Be quiet," growled Jordan. "Anti, explain what you've rigged up. I'm not sure we can let you do it."
"Any kind of pressure will do as far as the outside of the body is concerned," answered Anti, flipping back the helmet. "Mechanical pressure is as satisfactory as air. I had Nona cut the spacesuit in strips and wind them around me, very hard. That will keep me from squishing out. Then I found a helmet that would cover my head when the damaged part was cut away. It won't hold much air pressure even taped tight to my skin. It doesn't have to as long as it's pure oxygen."
"So far it makes sense," admitted Docchi. "But what can you do about temperature?"
"Do you think I'm going to worry about cold?" asked Anti. "Me? Way down below all this flesh? Mountains and mountains of it?"
"I've heard enough," said Cameron, standing in front of Anti. "Now listen to me. Stop this nonsense and take off that childish rig. I can't permit you to ruin my career by deliberate suicide."
"You and your stinking career," said Jordan disgustedly. "You don't know what success is and what it means to give it up. Stay out of this. We don't have to ask your permission to do anything." Cameron retreated from the toaster and Jordan turned to Anti. "Do you understand what the risk, is, Anti? You know that it may not work at all?"
"I've thought about it," said Anti. "On the other hand I've thought about the asteroid. I don't want to go back."
"We should have viewers outside," said Docchi. "One directly in back, one on each side. At least we'll know what's happening."
At the control panel Jordan began flipping levers. "They're out and working," he said at last. "Anti, go to the freight ramp. Close your helmet and wait. I'll let the air out slowly. If everything doesn't work perfectly let me know on the helmet radio and I'll yank you in immediately. Once you're outside I'll give you further instructions. You'll find the tools and equipment that opens to space."
Anti waddled away. Huge, but she wasn't any bigger than her determination.