"Turn the ship. There's something dead ahead."
I had a glimpse of his contorted face as I dove at the control board. My hands hit buttons, thumbed a switch and then a sudden force threw me to the right. I slammed into the panel on the right, as the pressure of the change dimmed my vision. Reflex made me look up at the radar control screen.
It wasn't operating.
John let go of the padded chair, grinning weakly. I was busy for a few seconds, feeding compensation into the gyros. Relief flooded through me like warm liquid. I hung on the intercom for support, drawing air into my heaving lungs.
"What—made you—think of that," I asked weakly.
"Shock treatment."
"I must have acted on instinct."
"You did. Even for a sick man that was pretty fast," he laughed.
"I can think again, John. I know who I am," I shouted. I threw my arms around his massive shoulders. "You did it."
"You gave me the idea, Mister, talking about Dr. Thiesen."