And she blew. Like a dirty ragged bit of fireworks, throwing tiny handfuls of sparks into the blackness. Something glowed red for a while, and slowly faded.
There, but for the grace of God.... Paul shuddered in a confused mixture of relief and revulsion.
He cut back to 4 G's, noting that RVS registered about a mile per second away from station, and suddenly became aware that the red light was on for loss of air. The cabin pressure gauge read zero, and his heart throbbed into his throat as he remembered that pinging sound, just as they passed the enemy ship. He told Garrity to see if he could locate the loss, and any other damage, and was shortly startled by a low amazed whistle in his earphones.
"If Ah wasn't lookin' at it, Ah wouldn't believe it. Musta been one of his shells went right around the fuel tank and out again, without hittin' it. There's at least three inches of tank on a line between the holes! He musta been throwin' curves at us. Man, cap'n, this is our lucky day!"
Paul felt no surprise, only relief at having the trouble located. The reaction to the close call might not come till hours later. "This kind of luck we can do without. Can you patch the holes?"
"Ah can patch the one where it came in, but it musta been explodin' on the way out. There's a hole Ah could stick mah head through."
"That's a good idea." Johnson was not usually very witty, but this was one he couldn't resist.
"Never mind, Guns. A patch that big wouldn't be safe to hold air."