"How long have you birds run this damned exercise?" I called. "I feel
lousy. What's going on around here?"
No answer.
This was supposed to be the terminal test series. They couldn't all be
out having coffee. The equipment had more bugs than a two-dollar hotel
room. I slapped the emergency release lever. Mackenzie wouldn't like
it, but to hell with it! From the way I felt, I'd been in the tank
for a good long stretch this time--maybe a week or two. And I'd told
Ginny it would be a three-dayer at the most. Mackenzie was a great
technician, but he had no more human emotions than a used-car salesman.
This time I'd tell him.
Relays were clicking, equipment was reacting, the tank cover sliding
back. I sat up and swung my legs aside, shivering suddenly.
It was cold in the test chamber. I looked around at the dull gray
walls, the data recording cabinets, the wooden desk where Mac sat by
the hour re-running test profiles--
That was funny. The tape reels were empty and the red equipment light
was off. I stood, feeling dizzy. Where was Mac? Where were Bonner and
Day, and Mallon?
"Hey!" I called. I didn't even get a good echo.
_Someone_ must have pushed the button to start my recovery cycle;
where were they hiding now? I took a step, tripped over the cables
trailing behind me. I unstrapped and pulled the harness off. The effort
left me breathing hard. I opened one of the wall lockers; Banner's
pressure suit hung limply from the rack beside a rag-festooned coat
hanger. I looked in three more lockers. My clothes were missing--even
my bathrobe. I also missed the usual bowl of hot soup, the happy faces
of the techs, even Mac's sour puss. It was cold and silent and empty
here--more like a morgue than a top priority research center.