minutes.

The pencil flash, mercifully, still rested in a fold of his shoulder
joint fabric. The insulation tape floated near his waist; he grabbed it
and stowed it between his knee and the brace, then reached once again
for the wiring.

This time the splice went on without a hitch. He pinched the splice lug
and taped the whole works feverishly. It was done; he had won. The trip
back should take only a couple of minutes. Replacing the wire cutters in
his kit, he held the pencil flash before him and started retracing his
route.

He passed the twelve o'clock brace, pinned it in place again and saw one
of his tools floating to the right of his head. He gathered it in and
swept his tiny flash around in search of other jetsam from his tool kit.
He collected a wrench and the skittish flashlight, started toward the
last brace between him and the ladder, and felt his legs go limp. He
wasn't particularly alarmed about it; his arms and vision failed him
too, but his brain hadn't enough incoming oxygen to care much, one way
or the other. The few remaining feet seemed to lengthen into a sewerlike
passageway, then vanished as did all else as his perceptions died.

* * * * *

MacNamara was not the sort to wonder about heaven or hell when he first
awoke. He saw a faintly rounded ceiling, a soft yellow tint accentuating
its featurelessness. "How the devil--", he began. His voice failed him.

"Hi, Mac." Logan's beaming face loomed over him. "You rugged character,
you. Cold as a pickle an hour ago, and already you're askin' silly
questions." He held up his hand as Mac started to speak. "I hear you
thinkin'. 'How the devil did I get here, and where is here?' In reverse
order, this is the most comfortable berth in the doughnut's facilities,
and you got here courtesy of one Johnny Ruiz. Myself, I wouldn't have
taken the trouble."

Mac grinned back at his pilot and cleared his throat. "Well, where is
he? I wanta shake his hand, or give him half my kingdom, or something."

"You know Johnny; the shy type. He'll be along after a while. You know,
I think he kinda likes you; when you quit transmitting out there, Johnny
was like a cat on a hot skillet. Finally decided to go back and have a
look for himself, but I told him you probably had a hot game of
solitaire going. Anyway, he went back and found you asleep on the job,
and lost a good ten pounds getting your fat carcass through the air
lock." That was a j