Adapted to the thin air of Mars, it seemed likely the animals would remain alive. He groped about until he located another suit that would fit, cursed as he found it zippered closed, and finally worked it open. Once in, he sealed it, and headed toward the personnel lock on the big emergency airseal.
He got through just as the guards were about to enter in their own spacesuits, dragging rescue equipment. Miles was with them, waiting impatiently while Norden slipped his helmet off. "Who was it?" he demanded.
"Armsworth," Norden told him. "After he passed the fluoroscope test!"
Miles sighed, but there was no surprise. "Damn! I should have had him checked when he came back from inspecting the other side. They must have had a spy all ready to make the switch as soon as they got him. Or maybe the test doesn't mean anything."
The guards had come back. One of them began to report on what they had seen. Most of the damage had been confined to the roof of the building, and to the big protogravity generator, which apparently had shielded the rest of the equipment.
Norden and Pat, who had finally been called, went inside in their suits to supervise clearing away the debris. Outside, a crew was already erecting a new roof on the laboratory, using prefab sheets. Aside from the generator they had never used, nothing irreplaceable had been hurt. And the two little male lizards were doing well enough. Inside of two hours the laboratory was back in full operation.
By common consent, Pat and Norden abandoned all idea of sleeping. Norden started to draw up a list of new tests, and then went back to the potassium shield. It seemed to produce a very slight quantitative difference in the reaction of the females. He consulted the vague speculations in his own works on possible other spectra, and came back.
The trouble was that he wasn't working with any natural phenomenon, but with life. He grimaced at the twist of his logic, but the sense remained. Something came into the back of his mind from a phrase in Hardwick's notes. It teased him, until his mind almost had it, and then another taboo clamped down on his thoughts.
He fought it out, standing still while Pat stared at him doubtfully. Twice he could feel himself almost black out, but he tracked the taboo down in his mind, pursued it into its lair, and strangled it. It died hard, but left his answer available.
"K-40," he said. His voice was steady, and Pat relaxed, unable to see the complete fatigue inside him. Disciplining himself seemed to be the hardest possible task. "Radio-active potassium isotope. It's supposed to be mixed up somehow with the life processes. Some scientists claim it's essential to life."