“Oh, sure, Cap’n,” Thomas said. “You can get through ’em easy. But are you sure you feel like inspectin’ with them busted ribs?”
I was beginning to realize that Thomas was not precisely a genius. “I can make it,” I said.
“Cap’n,” Thomas said diffidently, “it ain’t none a my business, but don’t you think maybe I better get the doctor for ya?”
“Thomas,” I said, “maybe you don’t know; there’s a mutiny under way aboard this ship. The doctor is leading it. I want to get to the Bridge in the worst way. Let’s get started.”
Thomas looked very shocked. “Cap’n, you mean you was hurt by somebody? I mean you didn’t have a fall or nothin’, you was beat up?” He stared at me with an expression of incredulous horror.
“That’s about the size of it,” I said. I managed to sit up. Thomas jumped forward and helped me to my feet. Then I saw that he was crying.
“You can count on me, Cap’n,” he said. “Jist lemme know who done it, an’ I’ll feed ’em into my converter.”
I stood leaning against the wall, waiting for my head to stop spinning. Breathing was difficult, but if I kept it shallow, I could manage. Thomas was opening a panel on the side of the converter unit.
“It’s O.K. to go in Cap’n,” he said. “She ain’t operatin’.”
The pull of the two and a half gees seemed to bother him very little. I could barely stand under it, holding on. Thomas saw my wavering step and jumped to help me. He boosted me into the chamber of the converter and pointed out an opening near the top, about twelve by twenty-four inches.