“It appears to be at some kind of equilibrium, Captain. It’s where it wants to be.”

“Doctor?”

“Other than vitals from the suit monitors, I can’t tell you much, Captain. Pritchard’s heart rate and respiration are way up, of course, but nothing indicates anything other than adrenaline.”

“Can anyone assure me that this is safe to bring into the ship?”

Silence answered the captain’s question.

“Any suggestions for a resolution?”

Dr. Kemp spoke up. “I might have one, Captain. We could cut off the suit arm.”

“Amputate?”

“Not the arm itself, sir, just the suit. The gunk doesn’t even reach Pritchard’s elbow. We could cut the material above the elbow and strip it off.”

“Will he lose the arm?”

“No sir, he shouldn’t. The others can start spraying suit sealant on the arm as the fabric is being pulled back. That should protect the arm somewhat from depressurization.”

“Suit sealant is for patching small holes in suits, to prevent hematomas on the skin, doctor. How well do you expect it to work when it’s covering an entire arm?”

“It’ll be better than nothing, sir. That’s really all I can promise. People can survive vacuum for a short time. There’s normally far more risk to the lungs, eyes, and ears. Worst case, he will probably suffer some bruising on the arm.”

There was a pause before the captain addressed Davies. “Mr. Davies, you have a fabric saw?”

“Yes sir, standard kit.”

“All right. Understand that if the substance has penetrated through to his arm, he might be allowed to die out there. At your discretion, please begin. Ms. Nevin, be prepared to ferry him to the airlock with all haste if results permit.”

A series of “Yes sir’s” answered.

Tenn’s face moved into Ivan’s field of view. “Ivan, stick out your arm.”

Ivan did so, and someone sprayed something on his arm. Then Tenn ran something around his arm, and a ring of agony formed around his biceps. Two crew members grabbed his suit arm and pulled. The pain was beyond description, as if they were stripping his skin off. Ivan heard whimpering coming from inside his helmet.

Finally, the pain stopped, and Ivan felt himself fade out…

* * *

Seth peered through Ivan’s helmet visor. The sprout’s eyes didn’t look quite so much like white saucers anymore, and he seemed to be in better control. According to the suit’s external readouts, Ivan was still hyperventilating a little, but the environmentals were keeping up, so far.

Seth was more concerned about some of the other crew members, who seemed to be heading for panic attacks of their own. The doctor’s plan would require careful coordination. If someone went off-script at the wrong time, Ivan could die.