Art reminded him over the intercom diplomatically, "I'm not counteracting the spin, Fred."
"That's all we can do," the commander returned. "We're going to have to spin through and like it."
"We'll be in the thickest in a couple of minutes." It was Hollender's voice. "I think the patch crew ought to get some business."
"Belt in unless you're traveling," Hiller reminded. Only then did he bring himself to relate to the crew how Bleck died, hoping it would be of constructive value, provided they didn't frighten.
With the next oblique collisions Hiller found the suit better muffled the sound. He wished there was something to be done about the wrenching of his insides at each impact.
The suits helped little on the more direct collisions. Added to that, the ship was gyrating faster and pseudo-gravity pulled at him from the front ports. Giddiness on top of everything else was not improving matters.
He crumpled under the wave of heat and compression when the first particle penetrated the air compartments of the ship. Three of his instrument dials cracked and he felt as if he had received a blow on each square inch of his body. The penetration he located as in the sleeping quarters and sent the patch crew there at once.
