"How much oxygen you got left?"
Karlovic peered at the illuminated indicator on the wrist of his suit. "Hour. Maybe less."
Both men were breathing hard, panting, burning up the precious stuff of life. Durham said,
"I won't last that long. Listen, Karlovic. Where is the Bitter Star?"
Karlovic's face was a pale blur inside his helmet. "You crazy? You can't—"
Durham put his two hands on the shoulders of Karlovic's suit and leaned his helmet close so that it clicked on Karlovic's.
"Maybe I'm crazy. In thirty, forty minutes I'll be dead, so what will it matter then? Listen, Karlovic, I want to live." He pointed back the way they had come. "You think we can walk through that to the spaceport in time?"
"No."
"We got anyplace else to go?"
"No."