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tough enough coming out of hypersleep without your belly rumbling.
Better if you go under with a full stomach. Makes it easier coming out.?
?I won't argue that.?Dallas felt some sort of celebration was in order.
In the absence of partying material, a final presleep feast would have
to do. ?We could all use some food. One meal before bed ...?
168
169
Coffee and tea had been joined on the mess table by individual servings
of food. Everyone ate slowly, their enthusiasm coming from the fact they
were a whole crew again rather than from the bland offerings of the
autochef.
Only Kane ate differently, wolfing down huge portions of the artificial
meats and vegetables. He'd already finished two normal helpings and was
starting in on a third with no sign of slowing down. Unmindful of nearby
displays of human gluttony, Jones the cat ate delicately from a dish in
the center of the table.
Kane looked up and waved a spoon at them, spoke with his mouth full.
?First thing I'm going to do when we get back is eat some decent food.
I'm sick of artificials. I don't care what the Company
170 manuals say, it still tastes of recycling. There's a twang to
artificials that no amount of spicing or seasoning can eliminate.?
?I've had worse than this,?Parker commented thoughtfully, ?but I've had
better, too.?
Lambert frowned at the engineer, a spoonful of steak-that-wasn't
suspended halfway between plate and lips. ?For somebody who doesn't like
the stuff, you're pounding it down like there's no tomorrow.?
?I mean, I like it,?Parker explained, shoveling down another spoonful.
?No kidding??Kane didn't pause in his eating, but did throw Parker a
look of suspicion, as though he thought the engineer might not be
entirely right in the head.
Parker tried not to sound defensive. ?So I like it. It sort of grows on
you.?
?It should,?Kane shot back. ?You know what this stuff is made out of.?
?I know what it's made out of,?Parker replied. ?So what? It's food now.
You're hardly the one to talk, the way you're gulping it down.?
?I've got an excuse.?Kane stuffed another huge forkful in his mouth.
?I'm starving.?He glanced around the table. ?Anyone know if amnesia
affects the appetite??
?Appetite, hell.?Dallas picked at the remnants of his single serving.
?You had nothing in you but liquids all the time you were in the
autodoc. Sucrose, dextrose, and the like keep you alive but aren't
exactly satisfying. No wonder you're starving.?
?Yeah.?Kane swallowed another double mouthful. ?It's almost like I ...
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like I ...?He broke off, grimaced, then looked confused and a little
frightened.
171 Ripley leaned toward him. ?What is it ... what's wrong? Something in
the food??
?No ... I don't think so. It tasted all right. I don't think ...?He
stopped in midsentence again. His expression was strained and he was
grunting steadily.
?What's the matter then??wondered a worried Lambert.
?I don't know.?He made another twisted face, looking like a fighter
who'd just taken a solid punch in the gut. ?I'm getting cramps ...
getting worse.?
Nervous faces watched the exec's twist in pain and confusion. Abruptly,
he let out a loud, deep-toned groan and clutched at the edge of the
table with both hands. His knuckles paled and the tendons, stood out in
his arms. His whole body was trembling uncontrollably, as if he were
freezing, though it was pleasantly warm in the mess room.
?Breathe deeply, work at it,?Ash advised, when no one else offered any
suggestions.
Kane tried. The deep breath turned into a scream.
?Oh, God, it hurts so bad. It hurts. It hurts.?He stood unsteadily,
still shaking, hands digging into the table as if afraid to let go. ?Ohhhh!?
?What is it??Brett asked helplessly. ?What hurts? Something in... ??
The look of agony that took over Kane's face at that moment cut off
Brett's questioning more effectively than any shout. The exec tried to
rise from the table, failed, and fell back. He could no longer control
his body. His eyes bugged and he let out a lingering, nerve-chilling
shriek. It echoed around the mess, sparing none of the onlookers,
refusing to fade.
?His shirt...,?Ripley murmured, as thoroughly
172
paralyzed as Kane, though from different cause. She was pointing at the
slumping officer's chest.
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