Something had to give.
... Suddenly he thought of how he must have looked, crossing to the pilot ship—how awkward he must have seemed to the trained spacemen around him.
He started to laugh, explosively. At himself. Twisting awkwardly in space. It was funny.
He laughed, and he didn't care what the Earthmen thought, seeing him laugh. Even if they thought he had gone crazy, he didn't care.
That was the first thing he did. Laugh.
After that....
At first he could not understand what was wrong. The laughter died; it sputtered and died in a strangled gasp.
Then he thought he had eaten fire, and his throat and lungs were raw.
Johnny Nine swayed on his feet. The magnetized soles kept him erect. The Earth-faces spun dizzily around him. He reached for his helmet, instinctively, reached and missed, reached again.
He clawed frantically at his helmet, and everything around him turned black.