Alarm bells clanged everywhere. Whistles shrilled. Pretty soon uniformed men were running in all directions. Robin Sinclair was suddenly very frightened. She wanted to go back to A Deck, to her Mom and Dad, but she had followed the boy through so many twisting, turning corridors that she knew she would be lost if she tried. She looked ahead. The boy seemed confident as he made his way. She followed him. But she was really mad at him now. It was his fault she was so far from Mom and Dad when a thing like this happened.
Uniformed members of the crew continued rushing by. She heard snatches of conversation she didn't understand.
"Trying to patch it ..."
"The whole stern section of the ship. Losing air fast ..."
"The lifeboats. I was just down there. Every last one of 'em. Gone. The meteor took 'em right off into space."
"If the damage can't be repaired ..."
And one man, finally, with a face awful to behold: "Patches won't hold. We're losing air faster'n it can be replaced. Better tell the Captain."
A man in a lot of gold braid rushed into view. He was distinguished-looking, but old. Boy, he was old, Robin thought. He looked as old as her grandfather.
"Captain! We're losing too much air. It can't be replaced."