A sentimental sap? Well, maybe I am. But when you have laughed and cried and fought and triumphed and shared sadness and joy with a right, tight, snug little gang of men, all of whom you love like brothers, you hate to think of one of them leaving you.
And that's the way it was aboard the Saturn. Sure, we had our little squabbles and fusses. Wilson is a sort of show-off, and Todd sometimes has a tendency to let others do his work. The Old Man's not much of an astrogator any more; after all, he's been pushing ether for more years than I've been alive; he's not as smart and alert as some of the fresh young brevetmen. And Biggs' genius for getting us in tough spots is second only to his ability at getting us out again.
But we're a team, see? And now, with Biggs moving up the ladder, some strange new guy would come in.
It was hot!
I'd been so busy with the crying towel, that for a few minutes I didn't realize just how hot it was. But now, glancing at the thermometer on my wall, I was jolted to see the mercury standing at 98 degrees!
Without pausing to recollect that the audio system was out of order, I reached for the wall phone, bawled into it, "Ahoy, the bridge! Something's gone wrong with the—"
That's what I meant to yell, anyway. As a matter of strict truth, I got just as far as, "Ahoy—blub!"
For the moment I yanked the earpiece off the audio, a pencil of clear, cold water shot from the instrument like a diminutive geyser! Smack in the tonsils it slapped me—and I turned and hightailed it for the door!
My guard, a gob named Jorgens, let loose a roar as I appeared.
"Oh, no, Sparks! I got orders to keep you in your cabin!" he bellowed.