Caroline's hands were busy with her braids. "It's long," she said. "I was proud of it and I let it grow.”
"It'll have to be braided," said Gary. "Twisted into a cord.”
"Your knife," she said, and he handed it over.
The knife flashed close to her head and one of the braided strands dangled in her hand.
"We'll have to work fast," said Gary. "We haven't got much time.”
The air was dry and hard to breath. It burned one's lungs and dried out the tissues of the mouth. When he bent over and placed a hand against the steel plates of the ship's deck, the steel was warm, like the pavement on a summer's day.
"You'll have to help," said Gary. "We have to be fast and sure. We can't afford to bungle. We won't have a second chance.”
"Tell me what to do," she said.
Fifteen minutes later, he nodded at her.
"Open the port," he said, "and when you do stand back against the wall.