“Is it six?” Dan demanded, his voice rising.

Larry didn’t answer, he merely nodded slowly.

“My father’s in there!”

By now Larry had crossed the plastic tiled floor of the bridge and was within arm’s reach of Dan. He took him by the arm.

“So is mine! There’s nothing you can do, Dan. The Damage Control group’s already there, but…”

“My father!”

Dan pulled loose and yanked the door open. Larry stood there and watched him disappear down the corridor running, until the door automatically slid shut again.

With a sad shake of his head, Larry went back to the control desks and viewscreens.

“You still in contact with the Damage Control party?”

The fellow nodded and pointed to the main screen over his desk, in the center of a group of seven screens. A scared-looking teenager was in view. He was looking somewhere off camera, coughing in the smoke that was drifting past him.

“What’s going on up there?” Larry asked sharply.

The kid in the screen seemed to jerk with surprise. Then turning full face toward the screen, he said:

“Mr. Campbell and the crew are in there I saw flames coming through the main hatch a few minutes ago, but there’s only smoke now.”

“Is anybody hurt?”

“I don’t know. They’re all inside; there nobody’s come out.”

“Did they have smoke masks?”

“Yeah “

“Where’s yours?” Larry asked.

The kid looked startled again “I—uh—yeah, it’s right here. I got it.”

More gently, Larry said, “Don’t you think it might be a good idea to put it on? It can’t protect you while it’s zipped to your belt.”