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Later, with many cameras and millions of people watching, Kieran's body, in a pressure-suit, was ceremoniously taken to a selected position where it would orbit the Moon. All suggestions of the funerary were carefully avoided. The space-struck man nobody at all referred to him as "dead" would remain in this position until a revival process was perfected.
He tore open a pressure-suit cupboard in the wall beside the lock door. "He'll make the Plumies think it's a return-gift for the generator!" He eeled into the pressure suit and zipped it up to his neck. "The man's crazy! He thinks we can take their ship and stay alive for a while! Dammit, our air would ruin half their equipment! Tell the skipper to send help!"
"What I need now is a ten-volume history of the last century, and time enough for you to read it. But since we don't have either " She broke off, then after a pause asked, "Your date was 1981, wasn't it? It and your name were on the tag of your pressure-suit." "That's right." "Well, then. Back in 1981, it was expected that men would spread out to the stars, wasn't it?" Kieran nodded.
The automatic safety bulkheads had all closed, and the big spoke Section T2 was the only section to blow its air, and Kieran was the only man caught in it. The alarms went off, and while the wreckage of the ferry, with three dead men in it, was still drifting close by, everyone in the Wheel was in his pressure-suit and emergency measures were in full force.
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