“Damage report!” Beth shouted. “Main power out! E Cylinder out! C Cylinder out! B Cylinder…”

Norman spun, looked at her. If B Cyl was gone, their life support would be gone, they would certainly die. “B Cylinder holding,” she said finally. Her body sagged. “We’re okay, Norman.”

Norman collapsed on the carpet, exhausted, suddenly feeling the strain and tension in every part of his body.

It was over. The crisis had passed. They were going to be all right, after all. Norman felt his body relax.

It was over.

1230 HOURS

The blood had stopped flowing from Harry’s broken nose and now he seemed to be breathing more regularly, more easily. Norman lifted the icepack to look at the swollen face, and adjusted the flow of the intravenous drip in Harry’s arm. Beth had started the intravenous line in Harry’s hand after several unsuccessful attempts. They were dripping an anesthetic mixture into him. Harry’s breath smelled sour, like tin. But otherwise he was okay. Out cold.

The radio crackled. “I’m at the submarine,” Beth said. “Going aboard now.”

Norman glanced out the porthole at DH-7, saw Beth climbing up into the dome beside the sub. She was going to press the “Delay” button, the last time such a trip would be necessary. He turned back to Harry.

The computer didn’t have any information about the effects of keeping a person asleep for twelve hours straight, but that was what they would have to do. Either Harry would make it, or he wouldn’t.

Same as the rest of us, Norman thought. He glanced at the monitor clocks. They showed 1230 hours, and counted backward. He put a blanket over Harry and went over to the console.

The sphere was still there, with its changed pattern of grooves. In all the excitement he had almost forgotten his initial fascination with the sphere, where it had come from, what it meant. Although they understood now what it meant. What had Beth called it? A mental enzyme. An enzyme was something that made chemical reactions possible without actually participating in them. Our bodies needed to perform chemical reactions, but our body temperatures were too cold for most chemical reactions to proceed smoothly. So we had enzymes to help the process along, speed it up. The enzymes made it all possible. And she had called the sphere a mental enzyme.

Very clever, he thought. Clever woman. Her impulsiveness had turned out to be just what was needed. With Harry unconscious, Beth still looked beautiful, but Norman was relieved to find that his own features had returned to pudgy normalcy. He saw his own familiar reflection in the screen as he stared at the sphere on the monitor.

That sphere.

With Harry unconscious, he wondered if they would ever know exactly what had happened, exactly what it had been like. He remembered the lights, like fireflies. And what had Harry said? Something about foam. The foam. Norman heard a whirring sound, and looked out the porthole.

The sub was moving.

Freed of its tethers, the yellow minisub glided across the bottom, its lights shining on the ocean floor. Norman pushed the intercom button: “Beth? Beth!”

“I’m here, Norman.”

“What’re you doing?”

“Just take it easy, Norman.”

“What’re you doing in the sub, Beth?”

“Just a precaution, Norman.”

“Are you leaving?”

She laughed over the intercom. A light, relaxed laugh. “No, Norman. Just take it easy.”

“Tell me what you’re doing.”

“It’s a secret.”

“Come on, Beth.” This was all he needed, he thought, to have Beth crack up now. He thought again of her impulsiveness, which moments before he had admired. He did not admire it any more. “Beth?”

“Talk to you later,” she said.

The sub turned in profile, and he saw red boxes in its claw arms. He could not read the lettering on the boxes, but they looked vaguely familiar. As he watched, the sub moved past the high fin of the spacecraft, and then settled to the bottom. One of the boxes was released, plumping softly on the muddy floor. The sub started up again, churning sediment, and glided forward a hundred yards. Then it stopped again, and released another box. It continued this way along the length of the spacecraft.

“Beth?”

No answer. Norman squinted at the boxes. There was lettering on them, but he could not read them at this distance. The sub had turned now, and was coming directly toward DH-8. The lights shone at him. It moved closer and the sensor alarms went off, clanging and flashing red lights. He hated these alarms, he thought, going over to the console, looking at the buttons. How the hell did you turn them off? He glanced at Harry, but Harry remained unconscious.

“Beth? Are you there? You set off the damn alarms.”

“Push F8.”

What the hell was F8? He looked around, finally saw a row of keys on the keyboard, numbered F1 to F20. He pushed F8 and the alarms stopped. The sub was now very close, lights shining into the porthole windows. In the high bubble, Beth was clearly visible, instrument lights shining up on her face. Then the sub descended out of view.

He went to the porthole and looked out. Deepstar III was resting on the bottom, depositing more boxes from its claw hands. Now he could read the lettering on the boxes:

CAUTION NO SMOKING NO ELECTRONICS TEVAC EXPLOSIVES

“Beth? What the hell are you doing?”

“Later, Norman.”

He listened to her voice. She sounded okay. Was she cracking up? No, he thought. She’s not cracking up. She sounds okay. I’m sure she’s okay.

But he wasn’t sure.

The sub was moving again, its lights blurred by the cloud of sediment churned up by the propellors. The cloud drifted up past the porthole, obscuring his vision.

“Beth?”

“Everything’s fine, Norman. Back in a minute.”

As the sediment drifted down to the bottom again, he saw the sub, heading back to DH-7. Moments later, it docked beneath the dome. Then he saw Beth climb out, and tether the sub fore and aft.

1100 HOURS

“It’s very simple,” Beth said.

“Explosives?” He pointed to the screen. “It says here, ‘Tevacs are, weight for weight, the most powerful conventional explosives known.’ What the hell are you doing putting them around the habitat?”

“Norman, take it easy.” She rested her hand on his shoulder. Her touch was soft and reassuring. He relaxed a little, feeling her body so close.

“We should have discussed this together first.”

“Norman, I’m not taking any chances. Not any more.”

“But Harry is unconscious.”

“He might wake up.”

“He won’t, Beth.”

“I’m not taking any chances,” she said. “This way, if something starts to come out of that sphere, we can blow the hell out of the whole ship. I’ve put explosives along the whole length of it.”

“But why around the habitat?”

“Defense.”

“How is it defense?”

“Believe me, it is.”

“Beth, it’s dangerous to have that stuff so close to us.”

“It’s not wired up, Norman. In fact, it’s not wired up around the ship, either. I have to go out and do that by hand.” She glanced at the screens. “I thought I’d wait a while first, maybe take a nap. Are you tired?”

“No,” Norman said.

“You haven’t slept in a long time, Norman.”

“I’m not tired.”

She gave him an appraising look. “I’ll keep an eye on Harry, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m just not tired, Beth.”

“Okay,” she said, “suit yourself.” She brushed her luxuriant hair back from her face with her fingers. “Personally, I’m exhausted. I’m going to get a few hours.” She started up the stairs to her lab, then looked down at him. “Want to join me?”

“What?” he said.

She smiled at him directly, knowingly. “You heard me, Norman.”

“Maybe later, Beth.”

“Okay. Sure.”

She ascended the staircase, her body swinging smoothly, sensuously in the tight jumpsuit. She looked good in that jumpsuit. He had to admit it. She was a good-looking woman.