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But the rush of air through the inner passage and out through the wound kept building, and it was all Lobot could do to keep himself from being sucked through.

Nor was he the only one in trouble. Artoo’s thrusters could not hold against the screaming wind, and he squawked loudly as he was dragged inexorably back down the inner passage toward the opening, clinging determinedly to the equipment grid.

Meanwhile, Lando dangled helplessly at the end of his safety line, his feet banging against the edge of the outer airlock as the air grabbed at him on its way into the vacuum beyond.

Only Threepio was relatively secure, his metal body braced across one end of the sled frame, blocking part of the opening. But he was waving his arms wildly like a shell-spined mud crawler that’d been flipped on its back. “Oh, Artoo, we’re doomed!” he cried. “I never did like space travel. Look where your adventuring has led us—”

“You have to cut the frame,” Lando was shouting into the comlink. “Cut the frame and it’ll pull out—the rest of the hole will close. Do it!”

“Not with you on that side,” Lobot said, climbing across Threepio to where the safely line was attached. “There’s a take-up crank on that belt line. See if you can pull yourself up that way.”

“No good,” said Lando. “Too much load. Just cut the frame, will you?”

Lobot glanced sideways down the corridor to see if he and Threepio were in danger of being knocked through the hole by an out-of-control Artoo and his cargo. But to Lobot’s relief, he saw that Artoo had made his way to the edge of the passage, burned a small hole with his arc welder, and let the hole close around a repair arm. So far, the anchor was holding against the current—which seemed to Lobot to be weakening.

“Forget it,” Lobot directed, reaching down between his braced legs and catching hold of the thin safety line. He began hauling on the line hand over hand, reeling Lando in like a great white fish. The cyborg’s wiry body concealed surprising strength, and soon he had hold of the tow ring on Lando’s suit, at the back of the neck. “Use your thrusters now—full vertical.”

“Full vertical,” Lando echoed.

With one smooth, powerful motion, Lobot pulled Lando up between his widely spaced knees, lying straight back to drag Lando’s legs clear and hurl him free down the passage.

Quickly sitting back up, Lobot pulled out the cutting blaster and slashed the frame in two places. There was a shower of sparks each time, then a puff of D20 propellant from the broken lines as he kicked out the section between the cuts. It spun free and tumbled out through the airlock on the breeze.

The bulkhead groaned under Lobot, and the rest of the frame began to collapse, twisting sideways as it did, until it, too, was carried away. Seconds later the hole had closed under them, the pitch of the roaring air rising to a shrill note before it cut off entirely, leaving them in silence.

“I guess we only get to use that doorway trick once,” Lando said. The inside of his faceplate was fogged with sweat. “Where’d you learn that?”

“I learned it wild-water rafting on Oko E,” Lobot said. “It is the preferred method for getting a raftmate out of the river before the sulfur ice pulls him under. That was my last vacation,” he added.

“You have unexpected depth, Lobot,” said Lando. “Is everyone all right?”

“I am certain that several of my circuits are overheated,” Threepio pronounced. “With your permission, Master Lando, I would like to perform a self-diagnostic.”

“Go ahead,” Lando said. “While you’re doing that, we’ll get Artoo free. And then we can start figuring out what to do next.”

“That should not prove too taxing,” said Lobot. “The choices appear to be to go that way”—he crossed his arms over his chest, pointing a finger in each direction—“or that way.”

“Shhh,” Lando said, craning his head. “Wait. Listen.”

They listened in silence, with sinking hearts. In the mysterious hollow spaces of the vagabond, the fading rumble of the entry growl echoed for a long time.

“Blast.” Lando sighed.