“Trying to patch,” she reported.
But with what? Her hand slipped around it, air rushing past. She couldn’t stem that flow with her palm.
She drew in a deep breath. Or tried to.
Time slowed. Her heart thumped in her ears.
Quickly she glanced around. Across the greenhouse all the plants were whipping in the wind. Her kit—
It was on the other side of the box. And the patches in there probably wouldn’t handle this awkward split, anyway.
Screaming wind. She grabbed a sample bag and crammed it into the corner. It stuck, but only over part of the crack.
Get more.
She leaped up and moved around the box. Marc’s voice squawked at her from her comm. The damned sample bags were blowing around. She snatched for one, missed. Her ears popped again.
She caught a bag and started back toward the breach. Something tripped her. She fell in slow motion. Reached out, grabbed. Hand on the box edge. Caught herself, jerked upright. Went on. Something tapped her on the head.
She looked up. The ceiling was falling. No more pressure to hold it up.
She dropped down, struggled toward the breach. It was like an angry mouth, screaming. She slapped the bag over it, but—
Not enough. Where are the rest? Losing air fast.
Only then did she think about her helmet.
Idiot! Where did you—
She stood up and the collapsing heavy plastic smacked her in the face. Crouching, she waddled around, trying to remember where she had put the helmet.
Usually by the lock, on the workbench.
She duck-walked toward it. She was breathing hard but nothing was coming in. It took forever to cover the ten meters. Before she got there the ceiling settled down over her. She pushed up but it was surprisingly heavy. She could raise it a foot or so but no more.
Where’s that helmet?
She couldn’t see in the foggy air. The density was dropping fast and water condensed out in thick clouds.
She blinked to clear her eyes. Her eyelids were slow.
Freezing? Drying out?
Helmet!
The idea came to her and without hesitation she knew it was right. The helmet was somewhere around here but already her eyes were getting a gluey feeling. She was not going to find it in time. Too hard to see.
Got to get to the hab.
The lock is right here!
She rolled sideways. The lip of the lock was easy to see. She felt upward under the still settling plastic.
There. The release was simple, a lever. She pulled.
The hatch swung open under the fading greenhouse pressure. The shrieking was thinner now, running out of air. Just like her.
She crawled through into the short space. Fumbled up for the outer hatch release. Found it. Pulled.
Her shoulder shoved it open. Dimly she remembered what they had said a few thousand years ago about low pressures.
Don’t try to hold your breath.
She got to her feet and shoved the hatch open the rest of the way. It seemed heavy.
No sound at all now. But her heart hammered in her throbbing ears.
Keep the main air passages open and the pressure will not build up, she remembered that much. Opening her throat let a gush of air out, expanding so much she felt the rush of it.
Brilliant light all around. She blinked again. Something like sand in her eyes.
The sun was a hard bright ball on the horizon. Lancing light struck her face. Full UV. And cold.
She made herself run. The prickly sensation in her face was swarming down over her whole body and some part of her mind struggled to understand it. Never mind.
The blazing sunshine helped, framed each detail. She had never realized how much of Mars she was missing, seen through the helmet.
Go. Her legs pumped and her throat boiled with suppressed air. The one lungful of air was foaming out of her, a stream of vapor condensing into tiny crystals that glinted in the blaring light. Above the collapsing greenhouse a mushroom of rising vapor was turning into snow.
