After a long silence Konski said, "Jack, give us the light again. I got something figured out."
"What is it?" Knowles asked.
"If we had a patch, you could put on my suit and go for help."
"There's no oxygen for the suit."
"That's why I mentioned you. You're the smallest-there'll be enough air in the suit itself to take you through the next section."
"Well-okay. What are you going to use for a patch?"
"I'm sitting on it."
"Huh?"
"This big broad, round thing I'm sitting on. I'll take my pants off. If I push one of my hams against that hole, I'll guarantee you it'll be sealed tight."
"But-No, Fats, it won't do. Look what happened to your hand. You'd hemorrhage through your skin and bleed to death before I could get back."
"I'll give you two to one I wouldn't-for fifty, say."
"If I win, how do I collect?"
"You're a cute one, Mr. Knowles. But look-I've got two or three inches of fat padding me. I won't bleed much-a strawberry mark, no more."
Knowles shook his head. "It's not necessary. If we keep quiet, there's air enough here for several days."
"It's not the air, Mr. Knowles. Noticed it's getting chilly?"
I had noticed, but hadn't thought about it. In my misery and funk being cold didn't seem anything more than appropriate. Now I thought about it. When we lost the power line, we lost the heaters, too. It would keep getting colder and colder ... and colder.
Mr. Knowles saw it, too. "Okay, Fats. Let's get on with it."
I sat on the suit while Konski got ready. After he got his pants off he snagged one of the tag-alongs, burst it, and smeared the sticky insides on his right buttock. Then he turned to me. "Okay, kid-up off the nest." We made the swap-over fast, without losing much air, though the leak hissed angrily. "Comfortable as an easy chair, folks." He grinned.
Knowles hurried into the suit and left, taking the light with him. We were in darkness again.
After a while, I heard Konski's voice. "There a game we can play in the dark, Jack. You play chess?"
"Why, yes-play at it, that is."
"A good game. Used to play it in the decompression chamber when I was working under the Hudson. What do you say to twenty on a side, just to make it fun?"
"Uh? Well, all right." He could have made it a thousand; I didn't care.
"Fine. King's pawn to king three."
"Uh-king's pawn to king's four."
"Conventional, aren't you? Puts me in mind of a girl I knew in Hoboken--" What he told about her bad nothing to do with chess, although it did prove she was conventional, in a manner of speaking. "King's bishop to queen's bishop four. Remind me to tell you about her sister, too. Seems she hadn't always been a redhead, but she wanted people to think so. So she-sorry. Go ahead with your move."
I tried to think but my head was spinning. "Queen's pawn to queen three."
"Queen to king's bishop three. Anyhow, she--" He went on in great detail. It wasn't new and I doubt if it ever happened to him, but it cheered me up. I actually smiled, there in the dark. "It's your move," he added.
"Oh." I couldn't remember the board. I decided to get ready to castle, always fairly safe in the early game. "Queen's knight to queen's bishop three."
"Queen advances to capture your king's bishop's pawn-checkmate. You owe me twenty, Jack."
"Huh? Why that can't be!"
"Want to run over the moves?" He checked them off.
I managed to visualize them, then said, "Why, I'll be a dirty name! You hooked me with a fool's mate!"
He chuckled. "You should have kept your eye on my queen instead of on the redhead."
I laughed out loud. "Know any more stories?"
"Sure." He told another. But when I urged him to go on, he said, "I think I'll just rest a little while, Jack."
I got up. "You all right, Fats?" He didn't answer; I felt my way over to him in the dark. His face was cold and he didn't speak when I touched him. I could hear his heart faintly when I pressed an ear to his chest, but his hands and feet were like ice.
I had to pull him loose; he was frozen to the spot. I could feel the ice, though I knew it must be blood. I started to try to revive him by rubbing him, but the hissing of the leak brought me up short. I tore off my own trousers, had a panicky time before I found the exact spot in the dark, and sat down on it, with my right buttock pressed firmly against the opening.
It grabbed me like a suction cup, icy cold. Then it was fire spreading through my flesh. After a time I couldn't feel anything at all, except a dull ache and coldness.
There was a light someplace. It flickered on, then went out again. I heard a door clang. I started to shout.
"Knowles!" I Screamed. "Mr. Knowles!"
The light flickered on again. "Coming, Jack--"
I started to blubber. "Oh, you made it! You made it."
"I didn't make it, Jack. I couldn't reach the next section. When I got back to the lock I passed out." He stopped to wheeze. "There's a crater--" The light flickered off and fell clanging to the floor. "Help me, Jack," he said querulously. "Can't you see I need help? I tried to--"
I heard him stumble and fall. I called to him, but he didn't answer.
I tried to get up, but I was stuck fast, a cork in a bottle...
I came to, lying face down-with a clean sheet under me. "Feeling better?" someone asked. It was Knowles, standing by my bed, dressed in a bathrobe.
"You're dead," I told him.
"Not a bit." He grinned. "They got to us in time."
"What happened?" I stared at him, still not believing my eyes.
"Just like we thought-a crashed rocket. An unmanned mail rocket got out of control and hit the tunnel."
"Where's Fats?"
"Hi!"
I twisted my head around; it was Konski, face down like myself.
"You owe me twenty," he said cheerfully.
"I owe you--" I found I was dripping tears for no good reason. "Okay, I owe you twenty. But you'll have to come to Des Moines to collect it."
The Black Pits of Luna
THE MORNING after we got to the Moon we went over to Rutherford. Dad and Mr. Latham - Mr. Latham is the man from the Harriman Trust that Dad came to Luna City to see.
Dad and Mr. Latham had to go anyhow, on business. I got Dad to promise I could go along because it looked like just about my only chance to get out on the surface of the Moon. Luna City is all right, I guess, but I defy you to tell a corridor in Luna City from the sublevels in New York-except that you're light on your feet, of course.
When Dad came into our hotel suite to say we were ready to leave, I was down on the floor, playing mumblety-peg with my kid brother. Mother was lying down and had asked me to keep the runt quiet. She had been dropsick all the way out from Earth and I guess she didn't feel very good. The runt had been fiddling with the lights, switching them from "dusk" to "desert suntan" and back again. I collared him and sat him down on the floor.
Of course, I don't play mumblety-peg any more, but, on the Moon, it's a right good game. The knife practically floats and you can do all kinds of things with it. We made up a lot of new rules.
Dad said, "Switch in plans, my dear. We're leaving for Rutherford right away. Let's pull ourselves together."
Mother said, "Oh, mercy me-I don't think I'm up to it. You and Dickie run along. Baby Darling and I will just spend a quiet day right here."
Baby Darling is the runt.
I could have told her it was the wrong approach. He nearly put my eye out with the knife and said, "Who? What? I'm going too. Let's go!"