Larssen's eyes wanted to close, and she fought to
keep them open and failed. ~I'll just rest them for a
moment,~ she thought. ~Just a moment.~ She was
freezing cold. The blanket didn't seem to help. It
was too cold in here, it was ridiculous that anywhere
could be so cold! ~Someone should do something about
it. Someone should ... ~

Madison, taking an occasional breath from the mask,
waited until Larssen's head drooped forward to rest on
her knees.

"Lady?" he said. She stirred a little.

"What time is it, Madison?" Her voice was so faded he
had to guess at what she asked.

"Nearly plus thirteen." he said.

"Lucky thirteen..." her voice trailed off. He thought
she had gone unconscious after that, but then she
moved once more and muttered something. Someone
called 'Bob'. He guessed it was her lover. Madison
had to wait another five minutes until she was no
longer responded to his queries or even when he shook
her shoulder.

He had to move fast now. The drill from his first
years out, when life support failure had been much
more common that it was these days, was as clear in
his mind as if he'd heard it yesterday and not ten
years ago.

Old Pedrigan had stood up the front of the Wilcania's
Main Engineering, running through the standard lecture
in a bored tone and farting occasionally as if to
show them all what 'bad air' *really* meant. You are
all no doubt terrifyingly resilient young men, he had
said, but one part of your body that does *not*
recover in ten minutes is your brain cells. If you
lose consciousness during a life support failure, you
had better pray someone gets a mask on your face in
the next two minutes. If they don't, you probably
won't ever pray again.

Madison, along with the rest, had laughed in the right
places and looked solemn in the others and hoped like hell they'd
never have to put it into practice.

Madison took two quick, deep breaths from the mask and
then laid it to one side. He spread his own survival blanket on
the floor to provide some insulation against the decking's
bitter chill, and then pulled Larssen's blanket away from
her shoulders.

If one of your crew mates collapses, Pedrigan had said, see
to your own safety before you see to theirs. That might
sound hard-hearted: it's practical. Even if you get a mask
on them in time, they're likely to be out for a while. They
won't be waking up next to your unconscious body if you
wait too long before you get the mask on your own face: they'll
be waking up next to your cold corpse. And I'm sure they'll
be very grateful, and very sorry, but you'll still be very dead.

Larssen was heavier than he had expected when he went to
lift her, and he lost precious seconds there, the clock ticking
down in his mind like one of the engineering displays.
Laid her down, no time for the other blanket just yet, the mask
was to hand and it took less time than he'd thought to get
the straps fastened and the valve opened. Then the other
blanket over her. For an instant he thought she wasn't
breathing and his heart hammered with panic but then he
saw the condensation coming and going on the inside of the
mask.

He might have hoped back then in Pedrigan's lecture that
he'd never have to put use the drill in real life but years on
merchant ships had given him plenty of practice. With
delicate skill he adjusted the airflow on the mask to the
minimum necessary to keep Larssen alive, undamaged.
The bottle would last her more than four hours, now, maybe
five or six. That was all Madison could do. He couldn't change
the laws of physics to bring the Lydgate here any faster,
and he couldn't get through the section seals with his bare
hands to repair life support. The merchant navy had taught him
to respect the limitations of the possible. As chief engineer,
new crew always thought he was a powerful man but
Madison knew the small powers of an engineer were insignificant
beside the larger powers that rule their lives. And their
deaths. He had the power to baby an air bottle to get the
most from it, and that was all.

He had worried that he would run out of air himself
before he was finished, but he still felt no need to
take a breath. The strand of hair that Larssen had
been twirling 'round her finger before she lost the
energy for even that small fidgeting was still loose,
had caught in the straps of the mask. He freed it
gently and tucked it behind her ear. After a moment,
he unfastened the thong around his neck and tied it
around hers, tucking the amulet under her collar.
His fingers lingered on the small bump it made in her
uniform for a moment, and then he lay down beside
her, flinching at the cold of the deckplates.

Between one heartbeat and the next his lungs started
to want to breathe. Knowing that there was still
more oxygen in the air in his lungs than in the air
in the room, he fought against the urge to exhale.
It was a pointless struggle, but one he couldn't help
making. On impulse, he crossed his arms over his
chest and then felt silly and put them down at his
sides again. Sweet hell, it was cold without the
blanket. His blood drummed in his ears so loudly he
could no longer hear Larssen breathing and he fought
to turn his head to reassure himself. ~ Breathe,
Lady, breathe, ~ he willed her. His head was so heavy
turning it was like trying to pushstart a starship,
but he managed. Larssen's chest rose and fell in a
steady rhythm.

He would have to breathe soon. He ground his lips
together to keep air from escaping but his lungs
spasmed and a gasp slipped out. Darkness gathered
around the corners of his vision. Beyond Larssen, he
could see the spirits that old spacer legends said
came to welcome the dying spacer and guide him to his
berth on the Shadow Fleet. Madison wasn't surprised
to see that the legends were true, but it pierced him
like an arrow to see how much the spirits looked
like Larssen. As they came closer he worried that
they would mistake her for one of them, and take her
as well. He tried to tell them not to, but all that
came out was a dull croak and the last of his air.

They were all around him now, dim shapes in the
blackness that crept across his sight. ~ An eternity
of the same hell I've lived here,~ he thought. ~
Jesus fucking Christ on a crutch, that's as rich as
it gets!~

As they bent to gather him to them, he slipped down
into the darkness like a pebble in a pool.
~Mitchell,~ he thought, and then even that was gone.