"For God's sake, Monty!" Rosemary exclaimed. "The people in that tower are facing a crisis right now. We've got to take some kind of action, and I'm for taking it straight to the top."
The pair made their way in silence to the lift at the end of the hall, riding it up to the habitation deck three levels above. It occurred to Lamont that it seemed vaguely strange to him now that they would stand in the middle of the lift and use a button beside the doors to control it. As the doors slid open with a mechanical hiss, Lamont mumbled a vague "good night" to the ginger-headed medic and turned started down the corridor to their right, expecting that she would continue on in that direction toward the crew cabins while he entered his suite. Instead, she slapped him on the arm and marched straight, into the corridor that led to the starboard side of the ship.
"Suit yourself," she said. "I'll see you in the morning."
"Where are you going?" Lamont asked.
"To see the captain," Rosemary answered, as if the answer was obvious.
"In his room? In the small hours?" The astonished tone of his voice prompted Rosemary to stop and turn toward him again. If there was one thing everyone knew about Francis Carter, it was that he was a man who valued his privacy. Lamont couldn't predict how the veteran astronaut would react to being imposed upon in such a way; it had never occurred to him to find out.
"That's where he is, and we've got important things to tell him," Rosemary answered. "It would be better if you were there, but if you've got better things to do, I'll go myself."
"You don't think it would be better to wait until morning?" Lamont asked, scrambling to catch up with the medic, who had resumed her double-time trot up the hall. Even that small amount of exertion made the newspaperman feel slightly dizzy. The air quality had improved on Westward in the time since the disaster, but it was still a little thin and a little cold. It reminded him uncomfortably of the mountain air in Tibet.
"For God's sake, Monty!" Rosemary exclaimed. "The people in that tower are facing a crisis right now. They can't stay where they are without apparently suffering some kind of dissipation, and they can't leave because there's no where else to go. We've got to take some kind of action, and I'm for taking it straight to the top."
Lamont found himself unable to argue with her reasoning. With an exasperated gesture, he glumly matched her pace and followed her across the ship to the senior staff suites. He consoled himself on the way by fishing a cigarette from his coat, which felt like it weighed 20 pounds at the moment, and lighting it. By the time he returned his lighter to its pocket, they had reached the door of the captain's cabin and Rosemary's finger was poised over the door chime.
"Are you sure I won't be, um, a third wheel?" Lamont asked.
"What are you going on about?" Rosemary retorted, punching the button.
"Well, he might be happy to see you, I suppose…" Lamont ventured, scratching the back of his neck again.
Lighting up a cigarette in an oxygen deprived atmosphere. Classic Monty!