Fantastic Voyage - By Isaac Asimov Page 0,72

he carrying the laser, she the power unit.

Cora said, "I don't see any white cells, do you?"

"I'm not looking for them," said Duval, brusquely.

He looked thoughtfully ahead. The beam of the ship's headlight and their own smaller ones were weakened by the tangle of fibers that seemed to encase the clot just on the other side of the point at which the nerve impulses seemed to stop. The wall of the arteriole had been abraded by the injury and was not entirely blocked by the clot which embraced the section of nerve fibers and cells tightly.

"If we can break up the clot and relieve the pressure without touching the nerve itself," muttered Duval, "we will be doing well. If we leave only a basic scab to keep the arteriole plugged - Let's see now."

He maneuvered for position and raised the laser, "And if this thing works."

Cora said, "Dr. Duval, remember you said that the most economical stroke would be from above."

"I remember exactly," said Duval, grimly, "and I intend to hit it precisely."

He pressed the laser trigger. For the barest moment, a thin beam of coherent light flashed into being. "It works," cried Cora, gladly.

"This time," said Duval; "but it will have to work a number of times."

For a moment, the clot had stood out in relief against the unbearable brilliance of the laser beam and a line of small bubbles formed and marked out its path. Now the darkness was greater than before.

Duval said, "Close one eye, Miss Peterson, so that its retina will not require resensitization."

Again the laser beam and when it was over, Cora closed her open eye and opened the closed one. She said, excitedly, "It's working, Dr. Duval. The glitter is progressing out of sight now. A whole dark area is lighting up."

Grant was swimming up to them. "How's it coming, Duval?"

"Not bad," said Duval. "If I can cut it through transversely now and relieve the pressure on one key spot, I think the entire nerve pathway will be freed."

He swam to one side.

Grant called after him, "We have less than three minutes."

"Don't bother me," said Duval.

Cora said, "It's all right, Grant. He'll do it. Did Michaels make trouble?"

"Some," said Grant, grimly. "Owens has him under guard."

"Under guard?"

"Just in case . . ."

Inside the Proteus, Owens cast quick glances outward. "I don't know what to do," he muttered.

"Just stand here and let the murderers work," said Michaels, sarcastically. "You'll be held responsible for this, Owens."

Owens was silent.

Michaels said, "You can't believe I'm an enemy agent"

Owens said, "I'm not believing anything. Let's wait for the two minute mark and if they're not back, we'll leave. What's wrong with that?"

"All right," said Michaels.

Owens said, "The laser is working. I saw the flash. And you know..."

"What?"

"The clot. I can see the sparkle of the nerve action in that direction where it couldn't be seen before."

"I don't," said Michaels, peering outward.

"I do," said Owens. "I tell you, it's working. And they'll be back. It looks as though you were wrong, Michaels."

Michaels shrugged, "All right, so much the better. If I'm wrong and if Benes lives, I could ask for nothing more. Only," his voice grew tightly alarmed. "Owens!"

"What?"

"There's something wrong with the escape hatch. That darned fool Grant must have been too excited to close it properly. Or was it excitement?"

"But what's wrong? I don't see anything?"

"Are you blind? It's seeping fluid. Look at the seam."

"It's been wet here since Cora and Grant got away from the antibodies. Don't you remember?"

Owens was, staring down at the hatch and Michaels' hand, having closed around the screw-driver Grant had used to open the wireless panel, brought its handle down hard upon Owens' head.

With a muffled exclamation, Owens dropped to his knees, dazed.

Michaels struck again in a fever of impatience and began jamming the limp figure into its swim-suit. Perspiration stood out on his bald head in great drops. Opening the escape hatch, he thrust Owens into it. Quickly, he let the hatch fill with water then opened the outer door by the panel controls, losing a precious moment searching for it.

Ideally, he should now have flipped the ship to make certain that Owens had been thrown clear, but there was no time.

No time, he thought, no time.

Frantically, he leaped to the bubble and studied the controls. Something would have to be thrown to start the engine. Ah, there! A thrill of triumph surged through him as he felt the distant drumming of the engines begin again.

He looked ahead toward the clot.