The hose jerked back, but he held on tight. He aimed it at his friend, but she was still half a meter away. A few wispy tendrils of the ruddy fog reached her thread-like cocoon, but he could not tell if they were enough to dissolve the strands. Then the hose ripped out of his scoop, its momentum tilting Aloysius to his side. He heard the rustle of it whipping into its compartment, followed by the clang of its panel.

Then he fell.

His head hit the stone floor, knocking his helmet ...