“Jareth!” Paol cried out. He dropped his mask and caught Jareth’s arm as the soldier struggled to stand.
“I’m fine.” But Jareth didn’t sound fine. He sounded sick—couldn’t anyone else hear that? He shrugged Paol away and pulled his mask on over his head. Under Paol’s close scrutiny, he tightened the seals connecting the mask to the rest of his suit and started to fiddle with the tank on his back. “I’m not getting any air.”
Paol turned him around to check his tank. The main oxygen cable had twisted free when he hit the wall. Ansel watched the two of them as Paol fixed the problem. “You going to be all right to head out today?” the captain asked.
Jareth nodded. “I’m fine,” he kept saying. Why did we all believe him?
“There.” Paol tightened the cable into Jareth’s air tank and stepped back. “That any better?”