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Theon the Bridge is gone

The lass is twisted, ripped apart, scraggly at the ends like the paintings from Sol-Earth of creepy dead trees in winter The vacuuine rooht up in its maelstrom, the chairs, desks, tables, tools—and people

Shelby’s crew is hit the worst—soht onto the control tables or the bolted-down chairs, but I don’t see everyone I do see blood and bone and organs at the front, near the hole—whatever blew apart the Bridge’salso blew apart the people sitting closest

A Shipper—Prestyn—tries to stand but stuh the doors His body catches on the h hilobs of blood float off him in crimson spheres

I slae’s doors so hardout theI stand, pressing against the back wall for support, trying to breathe through the rushing wind It won’t take long—minutes maybe—for the vacuum of space to suck out all the air from both rooms

Clutching the metal supports on the wall, I twist e

It’s too late—the gaping e Shelby clings to a chair that’s bolted to the floor Her hair is plastered back, and her eyes are red and strea

“Don’t!” she screams “Don’t!”

She means the button This one, here, by my hand

The one that would seal the Bridge doors

The one that would protect us from space—but leave her in it

She’s reaching for , but she’s too far away, she’s just barely too far away, and I’ll never be able to get to her, it’s too late Too late

“No, no, no, no, no,” she pleads

She reaches toward ers are almost within reach If I reached out—maybe I could pull her to safety before I seal the doors shut?

But I can’t take that chance I can’t risk the whole ship to save one person