The steel bell of the oxygen cylinder crashed into the brass faceplate with an explosion of orange sparks.
Elena Rostova had swung the forty-pound tank like a battering ram. The rounded iron base wedged itself deep into the open mouth-slot of the diving helmet, jamming the counter-rotating head-rollers with a screech of breaking bronze teeth.
CRUNCH-SPARK.
Captain Laminate’s head snapped back. His brass neck-bolts groaned under the lateral strain, grease and pressurized steam spraying from the seals.
“Cut it, Corvo!” Elena yelled, her boots sliding on the wet grating as she threw all her weight against the cylinder. “I can’t hold his cervical ring for more than three seconds!”
Dr. Victor Corvo did not waste a fraction of a second.
The coroner’s hand moved with surgical speed. His diamond-tipped autopsy scalpel flashed through the amber emergency light, tracing the perforated seam along the top edge of Layer One-Hundred and Fifty.
The heat-softened laminate offered no more resistance than warm wax.
