"Predict that orbit!"
Nibley's eyes jerked. "Gonna miss it!"
The cigarette lay smouldering on the deck.
Douglas scowled at the cigarette.
Nibley made wheezy laughter. He minced to his shock-hammock, zipped into it. "Not bad, not bad, eh?"
The ship rumbled.
Angrily, Douglas snatched up the cigarette, carried it to his own hammock, rolled in, zipped the zipper, then, deliberately, he flicked the cigarette once more. It flew.
"Another miss," predicted Nibley.
Douglas was still glaring at the floored cigarette when the Rocket burst gravity and shot up into space toward the asteroids.