“He tried pushing next, heaving one-handed against the obstruction above him, a pointless effort that cost him a fresh parcel of air, a surge of bubbles rising wasted to the surface, flattening against the immovable fuselage before skittering off in all directions. Dale thought, The plug!, and reached for it with his free hand, scrunching down as far as the tub would allow, the tips of his fingers just brushing its cracked-rubber edge—but he couldn’t get it, couldn’t reach that vital center ring, and his lungs were on fire now, the urge to suck air more compelling than any he’d ever experienced.”
―
Sean Costello,
Squall