with a doll with a crimson
dress on?"

A smile. But she was deadly serious. "Not me, young lady."

She walked for a while aimlessly on B Deck. She saw two little boys, but
they weren't the right ones. Pouting now, almost in tears, she was on
the verge of giving up. Mom and Dad could buy her a new doll. Mom and
Dad were richer than anybody, weren't they?

Then, all of a sudden, she saw him. He was just ducking out of sight up
ahead. Under his arm was tucked the doll with the crimson dress, her
favorite doll.

"Hey!" she cried. "Hey, wait for me!"

Her little feet pounding, she raced down the companionway. As she
reached the irising door in the bulkhead, an electric eye opened it for
her. She had never come this way before. It was not as bright and clean
as the rest of the ship. She had not even seen the sign which said
PASSENGERS NOT PERMITTED BEYOND THIS POINT. But then, she could barely
read, anyway.

She caught a quick second glimpse of the boy, and started running as he
rounded a turn in the corridor. Shouting for him to stop, she reached
the turn and saw him up ahead. He looked back at her and stuck out his
tongue and kept running.

* * * * *

It was then that the whole world shuddered, like it was trying to shake
itself to pieces.

Alarm bells clanged everywhere. Whistles shrilled. Pretty soon
uniformed men were running in all directions. Robin Sinclair was
suddenly very frightened. She wanted to go back to A Deck, to her Mom
and Dad, but she had followed the boy through so many twisting, turning
corridors that she knew she would be lost if she tried. She looked
ahead. The boy seemed confident as he made his way. She followed him.
But she was really mad at him now. It was his fault she was so far from
Mom and Dad when a thing like this happened.

* * * * *

Uniformed members of the crew continued rushing by. She heard snatches
of conversation she didn't understand.

"Trying to patch it ..."

"The whole stern section of the ship. Losing air fast ..."

"The lifeboats. I was just down there. Every last one of 'em. Gone. The
meteor took 'em right off into space."

"If the damage can't be repaired ..."

And one man, finally, with a face awful to behold: "Patches won't hold.
We're losing air faster'n it can be replaced. Better tell the Captain."

A man in a lot of gold braid rushed into view. He was
distinguished-looking, but old. Boy,