A speaker from the wall said sharply:
"Hear this! Hold fast! Gravity going off!"
Hardwick caught at a nearby pipe, and snatched his hand away again—it was hot—and caught on to another and then put his other hand below. He applied a trifle of pressure. The young officer said kindly:
"Hold fast, sir. The ship's gravity is going off. If I may suggest—"
The gravity did go off. Hardwick grimaced. There'd been a time when he was used to such matters. This time the sudden outward surge of his breath caught him unprepared. His diaphragm contracted as the weight of organs above it ceased to be. He choked for an instant. He was irritated. He said evenly:
"I am not likely to go head-over-heels, lieutenant. I served four years as a junior swot on a ship exactly like this!"
He did not float about. He held onto a pipe in two places, and he applied expert pressure in a strictly professional manner, and his feet remained firmly on the floor. He startled young Barnes by the achievement, which only junior swots think only junior swots know about.
Barnes said, abashed:
"Yes, sir." He held himself firm in the same fashion.