"From the tapes, we think we know what happened. Apparently there was a leak in the habitat wall, and the scrubber cylinders got wet. They became inoperable, and the ambient atmosphere went bad."
"I see."
"It must have happened very suddenly, sir."
"Yes," Johnson said. "Yes, it did."
"So, are you ready to talk to someone now?"
"I think so. Yes."
Norman turned away from the porthole. He put his hands in the pockets of his jacket, and felt a piece of paper. He pulled out a picture and stared at it curiously.
It was a photograph of a red Corvette. Norman wondered where the picture had come from. Probably a car that belonged to someone else, who had worn the jacket before Norman. Probably one of the Navy people who had died in the underwater disaster.
Norman shivered, crumpled the picture in his fist, and tossed it into the trash. He didn't need any mementos. He remembered that disaster only too well. He knew he would never forget it for the rest of his life.
He glanced back at Beth and Harry. They both looked tired. Beth stared into space, preoccupied with her own thoughts. But her face was serene; despite the hardships of their time underwater, Norman thought she looked almost beautiful.
"You know, Beth," he said, "you look lovely."
Beth did not seem to hear, but then she turned toward him slowly. "Why, thank you, Norman," she said.
And she smiled.
THE END.