"Never mind Tapling. Let me have your flask."
But Alice didn't need the whisky to revive. She opened her eyes just as Anthony lifted her again, and then, as her gaze met his own, she sighed. "What a wonderful man I married. Always just in time."
"That Idiot Tapling," growled the newcomer.
Alice looked at him questioningly, and Anthony said, "This is Carl Dowley. From the mines. He came along when I told him that I might need help. And look at what he has."
"A new gun!" exclaimed Alice.
"That's what it looks like," said Dowley. "From surplus, courtesy of Regulation ND7-Z5. And that's exactly what it isn't." He said to Anthony, "You saw me aim and fire. But you didn't see anything happen. Because it didn't go off."
"Let me take a look at it." Anthony opened it up, and stared. "No loader, no radiation shield, no charge chamber—the guts are missing!"
They looked at each other, and all three said, at the same moment, almost as if they had rehearsed it, "That Idiot Tapling!"
It was only then that Alice heard Small's wailing and opened the inner door.
They had thought that day was bad enough. The next day topped it.