Before I could agree with one of his theories for once, a streak of spice shot past us. It bounced back tangily and made a bitter rip between the two of us. There was no time to judge its size, if it had size, or its decibel range, or its caloric count, before a small, sharp pain dug in and dwindled down to nothing in one long second.
The new odor pattern in my head told me Quade was saying something I couldn't quite make out.
Quade then pulled me in the direction of the nasty little pain.
"Wait a minute, Spaceman!" I bellowed. "Where the devil do you think you're dragging me? Halt! That's a direct order."
He stopped. "Don't you want to find out what that was? This is an exploration party, you know, sir."
"I'm not sure I do want to find out what that was just now. I didn't like the feel of it. But the important thing is for us not to get any further from the ship."
"That's important, Captain?"
"To the best of my judgment, yes. This—condition—didn't begin until we got so far away from the spacer—in time or distance. I don't want it to get any worse. It's troublesome not to know black from white, but it would be a downright inconvenience not to know which way is up."
"Not for an experienced spaceman," Quade griped. "I'm used to free-fall."
But he turned back.