At full, would be 27.6 Earth gravities. We are at a tenth that already.

“What! Why didn’t you tell me?” Claire demanded.

I did not think of it myself until I began registering effects in the ship. After all, I am close-monitoring all systems in unusual stressed conditions of—

Claire snorted. “Can it.”

Rachel thought, Yeah, and you decided to teach us a little lesson in physics and humility. It was all their own fault, though—the physics was simple enough. Orbiting meant that centrifugal acceleration exactly balanced local gravity. Silver Metal Lugger could take 27.6 gravs, when most of its cargo mass was gone. The ship was designed to tow ore masses a thousand times its own mass.

Nothing less than carbon-stressed alloys could withstand that grav, though. Leave orbit, hover—and you got crushed into gooey red paste.

She crawled back into her couch. Her joints ached. “Got to be…”

Shall I abort the flight plan?

“No! There’s got to be a way to—”

I have adjusted. 5.94 minutes until arrival flyby.

The sim’s voice radiated malicious glee. Rachel felt a tight, cold sensation of pure fear. But Claire grunted. “The water, gotta get it in—”

I have difficulty in picking up your signal.

Claire said, “Because this suit is for space, not diving.”

It was four minutes later. Claire floated over her leather couch. They had suited up in quick time. Fraq had struggled into his awkward suit and inflated it just in time, before the water sloshed up over his neck collar. He gave her an uneasy smile, visible through his helmet fog. His oxy rate was twice hers, and his nostrils coated the faceplate with ivory moisture.

Danger made Fraq calm, focused. Her, not so much….

Close call, yes. But it felt good to act, not just sit in their acceleration chairs.

Rachel and Fraq stayed put as the surprisingly cool water swept over them. Too bad about all the control room’s expensive interior decoration, Rachel thought. The entire living complex was filled with their drinking and maintenance water. Claire had made that available through the forward storage and pumps. Triggered, swift currents came in fast. It had been either that, fast, or be crushed, lumpy tomato paste.

They had crawled through a hatchway and pulled their pressure suits down from clamp lock. Getting hers on was a struggle. Being slick with sweat helped, but not much. Then Rachel had snagged her arm in a sleeve and couldn’t pull the damned thing off to try again.

She had nearly panicked then. Maybe pilots didn’t let their fear eat at them, not while there was flying to be done—and Claire looked just that cool. Not so for passengers. Rachel had made herself work the sleeve off one step at a time, ignoring everything else as the water rose around them, making it easy to dog-paddle back to her couch. Fraq remained calm through it all. Predators stayed focused.

As soon as Erma pumped the water reserve into the rooms, Archimedes’ principle had taken over. With her suit inflated, the water Rachel displaced exactly balanced her own weight. Floating underwater was a rare sensation on Mercury or Luna. She had been in the zero-g droplet on the Aldrin, but this felt different. This was remarkably like being in orbit. Cool, too.