He took time to look around him and saw that he was a good five feet above the asteroid. Below him, a Connie belt light sent its shaft parallel with the ground, and he knew the second man was down.
The question was, had either of them shouted before their communicators were cut off?
"Dowst," he called urgently. "All okay?"
"No," Dowst said grimly. "We got the Connie, but he got Dominico. Cut his leg with a space knife. I'm putting a patch on it. You okay?"
"Yes. When you can, pull me down."
"Right."
Dominico spoke up. "Don't worry about me, sir. Nothing bad. I don't lose much air."
"Fine, Dominico. Glad it wasn't worse."
But Rip knew it wasn't good, either. A cut with a space knife let air out of the suit and created at least a partial vacuum. If it also cut flesh, the vacuum let the blood pressure force out blood and tissue to turn a minor wound into an ugly one.
They would have to bring this spaceflap with the Connies to a quick end, Rip thought. He had to get his men into air, somehow, to take a look at their wounds. Bradshaw needed attention, and now so did Dominico.