Stranded in Space

- 7 -

I look at the resin left on my hands. It has dried up. I might have been able to take off the resin just after the repair. I might have rolled up a few milli grams. Then I would have . . . already I'm almost too exhausted to even calculate.

I swing my toe in circles once again in a futile struggle. Perhaps this time, I might touch the spanner. But the toe only kicks the vacuum. Perspiration appears, and I feel suffocated. But there's still enough oxygen left. Probably, I made too much bending and winding with my body. My helmet becomes murky from perspiration and sigh. I feel pain in my gut. Suddenly, something turns within me. A sharp nausea thrusts up through the gullet. I can't hold it any longer.

Involuntarily, I start to bend myself to take the posture for vomiting. But I hit upon an idea and I force my body to straighten up. I raise my head and thrust up my jaw. It comes rushing up all at once. The substance gushes out into my helmet. It entered my stomach only a few hours ago and is still not fully digested in non-gravity.

I fling my legs in agony . . . for a fraction of a second, I feel something hard bounce against my toe. My sight is robbed by the puke. It's intruding my eyes and nose. I can't possibly keep my eyes open. I can't wipe my face with my own hands. I can only swing my head to shake the puke off my face. But the reaction on my toe is more important now. Is my body moving? I open my eyes. I can't confirm it. The inner side of the helmet is covered with brownish liquid; what's more, my eyes are blurred from tears.