There was an empty roaring in his ears as he struggled for consciousness, and he could only half-feel the tugging at his body, half-hear the frightened sound of Terry's voice.
"Dad—dad, you've got to get up, dad!"
Painfully, he made his shaking muscles take over the burden of his weight, forced himself to his feet.
The viewscreen was black save for the receding white disk that was Venus. The acceleration needle quivered at just under two gravities.
"—Dad, everything feels funny. So heavy. For a long time we couldn't even move out of those bed-things."
His head hurt and there was drying blood on the side of his face. His body felt as though it had been flailed by a thousand of the maces, and his back wound was a long, throbbing ache, and it was sticky-wet again.
He tried to force a grin to his face, and even that drew tiny shards of pain.
"Wish I could've gotten to one of those bed-things, Mike! Believe me I never want to hear the expression 'hit the deck' again."
"Well you sure hit it. Anything feel busted?"