The suits aren’t built for punishment, Dan knew. But they sure hand it out when you thump around inside them.
“Laurel and Hardy open a hatch,” O’Donnell muttered. Dan did not need to tell him to get up and start again.
It took two more tries, but finally the wheel turned, the lock released, and the hatch popped open. O’Donnell pushed Dan through. Then Dan reached down and hauled O’Donnell into the connecting tunnel. They were both drenched with sweat.
“Command module,” Dan said.
“I’m going to The Bakery,” responded O’Donnell. “My lab.”
In microgravity the tunnel had been a long corridor that they could swim through. Now it was a long slanting tube that they had to climb up. Laboriously, on their hands and knees, they started up opposite sides of the tunnel. The space suits felt as if they weighed tons.
“Like climbing Mt. Everest,” Dan grunted.
O’Donnell’s panting voice answered, “Look out fur the Abominable Snowman, pal.”
For Chakra Ramsanjawi, the first indication that something was amiss occurred when an orange-colored liquid spilled out of a vial. Rather than separate and disperse into a thousand orange beads, the liquid held together like a tongue-shaped river and streamed toward the bulkhead. It formed a puddle into which Ramsanjawi, suddenly drifting himself, splashed belly first. The lab door, still held by its padlocked hasp, slammed shut against its disconnected hinges.
Alarms clanged over the intercom system. A synthesized female voice calmly intoned: “Emergency. Emergency. Major malfunction. All personnel to CERV stations. All personnel to CERV stations. Prepare to abandon the station.”
“What the bloody hell is this?” Ramsanjawi grumbled to himself. He tucked the satchel under his arm and scrambled upright. He found himself standing on the bulkhead nearly perpendicular to the module’s usual vertical. Several vials cascaded slowly out of the compartments that once corralled them. They tinkled around his feet.
He felt heavy. Ramsanjawi tried pushing the door with one hand. He had not bothered with Trikon’s suggested exercise regimen, and he was unpleasantly surprised to learn how much his muscles had atrophied. He placed the satchel in a nearby compartment and used both hands along with a slight bend in his knees to throw open the door. Grabbing the satchel, he climbed out.
The Bakery looked even more a mess than before. Every loose object had slid to one side of the module. No one seemed concerned; gravity only added to the fun of Lethe. Scientists and technicians tumbled and frolicked in the multihued mayhem.
Ramsanjawi hoisted himself through the hatch. Something was very wrong. He could not imagine the exact cause of the problem, but he knew one thing very clearly: he was getting the hell out of The Bakery.
Lance stared through the command module’s viewport. The Earth had slipped completely out of view and now the stars slid across his field of vision.
He had done it—seized control of the command module, blasted the station into a cartwheel that would tear it asunder. But there was one minor problem, one detail he hadn’t foreseen: no one seemed to care. Where were the Trikon scientists, the Martians, his fellow crewmen? Why weren’t they jamming the command module, whimpering, pleading, begging for their lives?
He stole a glance at Lorraine, hovering in the area between the command center and the utilities section. Her face was pretty in repose. And she had been so kind when he was sick and when he was troubled. Damnation, why did he always go for the bad ones, the Beckys, the Carla Sues, the ones who looked so fine and talked so fine and stabbed you in the back. Maybe he should save her. There would be more than enough room in the lifeboat.
Suddenly he realized why everyone was avoiding him. They were using psychology. That was it. They were ignoring him. Ignore him and he’ll go away. Ignore him and he’ll stop fussing. Ignore him and he’ll go to sleep. His parents had used that psychology whenever his stomach hurt him. He would hear them from his bed, carefully raising their voices so he would hear. Ignore him and he’ll go to sleep.
He fired off more commands to the translation thrusters. Let them ignore this one!