“His belly. Never saw anything like it. Those black squares keep appearing and disappearing. If I’ve ever seen a truly random pattern—”
“It started right after they froze him the first time,” Fromer said disconsolately.
“Fascinating, by Heaven,” said Candle, who was now down on his hands and knees. “Look at that top sequence! Random, yet physiological. I’ve got a friend on Bridan III who’d trade anything for some photos of this. Get me some photo equipment, will you?”
Captain Fromer ran his hands through what was left of his hair. “Get him some photo equipment,” he said to no one in particular, “and somebody make a truce with that idiot doctor long enough to get me a sedative.” About this time the ship turned upsidedown.
“But there’s no reason for it!” the chief engineer said, running alongside Hansen and Candle. “The ship can’t turn upsidedown. Everything is functioning perfectly!”
“Really not interested,” said Candle, running down the corridor’s mile-long ceiling. “Figure something out for yourself for a change.”
“But what I can’t understand,” said Hansen, dutifully trotting alongside, “is how you knew with such certainty how the door mechanism was made. Even if submarines were built like that, you’d have no way of knowing. There haven’t been any submarines in centuries.”
“The hell you say,” said Candle, increasing his pace, “I built one five years ago.”
“Built one! What for?”