Free Space Station Crisis: Star Challengers Book 2 by Kevin J. Anderson, Rebecca Moesta, June Scobee Rodgers Page A

Stationmaster, but I can now report that microgravity barfing is not pretty. I can also verify that Kimbrell did indeed have the beef stroganoff, while I had the mushroom curry. Right now, though it’s a bit hard to separate them.”
    “Ick!” Dyl said. Song-Ye felt her stomach twitch with sympathetic nausea.
    Major Rodgers and Lifchez let out moans of distress as they hunched together, drifting near a wall of the control module. Rodgers said in a wobbly voice, “Sorry to interrupt the festivities, my friends, but I’m about to be ill. Doc, I’ll take you up on your offer to go to Med.” Lifchez moaned his agreement.
    “That does it.” The doctor’s stern voice allowed no room for argument. “I’m taking the whole Sat team to Medical, Stationmaster. Something’s not right here.”
    “Better … hurry.” Lifchez covered his mouth, looking green behind the gills. Dr. Romero and her queasy patients scooted through the hatch heading toward the medical module.
    Pi looked concerned. “That’s all four members of the satellite crew, Stationmaster. We’re supposed to launch the Eye in the Sky tomorrow—it’s vital.”
    “It definitely sounds like food poisoning,” Ansari said. She turned toward Mira. “You ate with them, Cadet. Do you feel any ill effects?”
    “I ate very little,” she said. “I didn’t have much of an appetite.”
    “Kimbrell and Kontis, as soon as you’re out of your suits, get to Medical.”
    “Aye, Stationmaster,” the lieutenant said with a quiet groan.
    “It sounds like Dr. Romero will have her hands full. I’d like to help her, if you don’t mind,” Song-Ye said. Ansari gave her an approving nod.
    “Uh, one more thing?” Lieutenant Kontis said over the intercom. “Somebody better bring handheld vacuums to the Equipment Module to take care of the, um, mess in the air.”
    “Volunteers?” Ansari turned and looked directly at Dylan and King.
    JJ elbowed her brother, who drifted sideways while she floated in the opposite direction.
    “Uh, okay, we … volunteer?” Dylan said unconvincingly. “No problem.”
    “Uh-huh. We’ll get that cleaned up for you, ma’am.” King seemed amused by Dyl’s discomfort. He started singing a song about a carwash under his breath.
    ***

Eleven
    After he and King finished cleaning up the Equipment Module, Dyl joined Song-Ye in helping Dr. Romero with the queasy crewmembers in Medical, which had rarely seen more than two patients at a time in the history of the International Space Station Complex.
    The Medical module looked clean and spare, exactly as Dyl had always imagined a futuristic space station would look. The white walls looked like ceramic, although the panels felt warm to his touch. Storage cabinets, instruments, and readouts were built into the smooth material. The place reminded Dyl of sickbays in the science fiction shows he loved most.
    Simple examination tables were firmly attached to the module walls. “Why do you need beds?” Dyl asked. “Wouldn’t your patients be more comfortable if they just floated around?”
    Dr. Romero had guided a groaning Kimbrell to one of the beds and strapped him in place with crash webbing. “It’s hard to treat patients who float around at the slightest touch.”
    “I can see how that would be a problem.”
    Song-Ye helped Lieutenant Kontis onto an examination pallet and strapped her to it. Though the Korean girl still looked a bit spacesick, it was nothing compared to what the ill crewmembers were feeling.
    Lights blinked on video screens above each patient. Doctor Romero pointed to the status. “Each medbed measures the patients vital signs—blood pressure, temperature, pulse rate, levels of blood gasses, and so on.”
    Lifchez started to make retching noises on his medbed. Dyl grabbed a vacuum nozzle and moved away from the side of the module to help the man, who looked like he was about to throw up again. He arrived with the apparatus just in time to vacuum the barf out of the