Cold water splashing in his face revived him. His head was nestled in her lap.
"What are you doing here?" he raged. "If you don't hurry, it will be too late."
She answered with quiet assurance. "Listen, tough guy, you didn't have to come back for me. D'you think I'd leave you to save my skin after that?"
Coran shook his head to clear the mist of dizzy weakness, and she helped him to his feet.
"Let's get going," he urged. "If the lifeboats leave before we reach the airlock, you'll really be in a jam."
With the girl's arm tight around his waist to support him, he managed to make it to the sally-port. The airlock door was closed.
"The boats have gone," he said. He sat down hopelessly on a casket-like metal toolbox.
"Maybe someone will come," she said.
"That's what I'm afraid of," he snapped.
"In the meantime, I think we need some coffee ... if I can find an unopened can."