Matt answered, "I'll only be a minute. We've got no weapons and no survival kits. Ill duck in and toss them out."
"Don't try it." Matt stood still a moment, balanced between Oscar's unquestioned seniority and the novelty of taking direct orders from his roommate. "Look at the door, Matt," Oscar added. "You'd be trapped."
Matt looked. The far end of the door was already in the mud and a steady stream was slopping into the ship, like molasses. As he looked the jeep rolled about a quarter turn, seeking a new stability. Matt made it to the bank in one flying leap.
He looked back and saw that the door was out of sight; a big bubble formed and plopped!-and then another. "Thanks, Oz!"
They stood and watched as the tail slid away from the bank. A cloud of steam came up and joined the mist as the jet tube hit the wetness; then the tail lifted and the jeep was almost vertical, upside down, for a few moments, with only her after end showing above the slime.
She sank slowly. Presently there was nothing but bubbles in the mud and a ragged break in the false lawn to show where it had been.
Mart's chin was trembling. "I should have stayed at the controls. I could have caught her on her gyros."
"Nonsense," said Oscar. "He didn't tell you to stay put."
"I should have known better."
"Quit beating yourself with it. The procedures say it's the pilot's business. If there was any doubt in his mind he should have left her stabilized on gyro until he inspected. Right now we got to take care of him, so cut out the post- mortem."