I think I fell the last ten feet to the deck. The roaring in my ears, the bands tightening about my chest encompassed all the world.
Then I was on my feet again, and I stumbled over another body. It was garbed in a space-suit, with the helmet beside it. I stripped it of the suit. I was panting, with all the world whirling in a daze, bursting spots of light before my eyes.
Ten feet away down the deck was the opened door of the pressure chamber. A bloated figure came into my dreamlike vista, moving for the pressure door. It turned, saw me, came leaping and bent over me. I saw behind the vizor that it was Grantline. His bloated, gloved hands helped me don my suit.
He helped me with my helmet. The metal tip on Grantline's gloved hand touched the contact-plate on my shoulder. His voice sounded from the tiny audiphone grid within my helmet. "Gregg! Thank God I found you! All right?"
"Yes." My head was clearing.
"I've got the chamber ready. We're the last, Gregg."
I gripped his shoulder. "You're sure there's nobody else?"
"No. I've been everywhere I could reach. The central bulkheads are almost gone."
He pushed me into the pressure chamber. There was hardly need to close the door after us. I stood gripping him as he opened the small outer slides. The abyss was at our feet; the outgoing wind tore at us like a gale, so that we stood gripping the casements.
"Thank God you've got a power-suit, Gregg. So have I. We must keep together."