Within a minute Grantline was ready. The duty man called from the window, "Still at it, the fools. By the infernal—they'll kill themselves!"
"Franck, let me out."
"I'll go with you, Commander." But the volunteer was not equipped. Grantline would not wait.
The duty man turned to his panel. The volunteer shoved a weapon at Grantline.
Grantline jammed on his helmet, took the weapon.
He moved the few steps into the air chamber which was the first of the three pressure locks. Its interior door panel swung open for him. But the door did not close after him!
Cursing the man's slowness, he waited a few seconds. Then he turned to the corridor. The duty man came running.
Grantline took off his helmet. "What in hell—"
"Broken! Dead!"
"What!"