Fantastic Voyage - By Isaac Asimov Page 0,47

white face toward him, "I don't understand."

The laser over the working counter was swinging loose on one hook, its plastic cover off.

"Didn't you bother securing it?" demanded Grant.

Cora nodded wildly, "I did! I did secure it! I swear it."

"Then how could it ... "

"I don't know. How can I answer that?"

Duval was behind her, his eyes narrowed and his face flushed. He said, "What has happened to the laser, Miss Peterson?"

Cora turned to meet the new questioner. "I don't know. Why do you all turn on me? I'll test it right now. I'll check... "

"No!" roared Grant. "Just put it down and make sure it won't knock around any further. We've got to get our oxygen before we do anything else."

He began handing out the suits.

Owens had come down from the bubble. He said, "The ship's controls are locked in place. We won't be going anywhere here in the capillary anyway. My God, the laser!"

"Don't you start," screamed Cora, eyes now swimming in tears.

Michaels said, clumsily, "Now, Cora, it won't help if you break down. Later, we'll consider this carefully. -It must have been knocked loose in the whirlpool. Clearly an accident."

Grant said, "Captain Owens, connect this end of the snorkel to the miniaturizer. The rest of us will get into our suits and I hope someone shows me quickly how to get into mine. I've never tried this."

Reid said, "There's no mistake? They're not moving?"

"No, sir," came the technician's voice. "They're on the outer limits of the right lung and they're staying there."

Reid turned to Carter. "I can't explain it."

Carter stopped his angry pacing for a moment and jerked a thumb at the Time Recorder, which was reading 42. We've killed over a quarter of all the time available and we're farther from that damn clot than when we started. We should have been out by now."

"Apparently," said Reid, coldly, "we are laboring under a curse."

"And I don't feel whimsical about it, either, colonel."

"Nor do I. But what am I supposed to feel in order to satisfy you."

"At least, let's find out what's holding them up." He closed the appropriate circuit and said, "Contact the Proteus."

Reid said, "I suppose it's some sort of mechanical difficulty."

"You suppose!" said Carter, with urgent sarcasm. "I don't suppose they've just stopped for a quiet swim."
Chapter 12 : LUNG
The four of them,. Michaels, Duval, Cora, , and Grant, were in 'their swim-suits now - form-fitting, comfortable, and an antiseptic white. Each had oxygen cylinders strapped to he back, a flashlight on the foreheads, fins on the feet and a radio transmitter and receiver at mouth and ear respectively.

"It's a form of skin-diving," said Michaels, adjusting the head-gear, "and I've never gone skin-diving. To have the first try at it in someone's blood-stream . . .'

The ship's wireless tapped urgently.

Michaels said, "Hadn't you better answer that?"

"And get into a conversation?" said Grant, impatiently. "There'll be time for talk when we're done. Here, help me."

Cora guided the plastic-shielded helmet over Grant's head and snapped it into place.

Grant's voice, transmuted at once into the faintly distorted version that comes over a small radio, sounded in her ear, "Thanks, Cora."

She nodded at him-dolefully.

Two by two they used the escape hatch and precious air had to be consumed by forcing blood plasma out of the hatch each time.

Grant found himself paddling in a fluid that was not even as clear as the water one would find on the average polluted beach. It was full of floating debris, flecks and bits of matter. The Proteus filled half the diameter of the capillary and past it red blood corpuscles nudged their way along with the periodic easier passage of the smaller platelets.

Grant said uneasily, "If platelets break against the Proteus, we may form a clot."

"We may," said Duval, "but it won't be dangerous here; not in a capillary."

They could see Owens within the ship. He lifted his head and revealed an anxious face. He nodded and moved his hand without enthusiasm, trying to dodge and turn so as to be visible between and among the endlessly passing corpuscles. He put on the head-gear of his own swim-suit and spoke into its transmitter.

He said, "I think I've got it arranged here. Anyway, I've done my best. Are you ready to have me release the snorkel?"

"Go ahead," said Grant.

It came out of the special release hatch like a cobra coming out of a fakir's basket at the sound of the pipes. Grant seized it.

Michaels said, "Oh, heck," in a sort of whisper. Then,