Frank Schätzing - Limit

‘My legs are freezing,’ Rebecca Hsu said suspiciously, inflated in her dressing-gown until she looked like a globe made of terry towelling. ‘Is that normal?’

‘Quite normal. In accordance with the redistribution of your bodily fluids your legs will feel rather cold. You’ll get used to that, as you will to your outbreaks of sweating and temporary disorientation. I heard that one of you suffered quite badly from that?’

‘Madame Tautou,’ Miranda Winter said. ‘Wow! The poor woman keeps—’ She lowered her voice. ‘Well, it’s coming out everywhere, in fact.’

‘Space sickness.’ Lurkin nodded. ‘No reason to be ashamed, even experienced astronauts suffer from it. Who else has any other symptoms?’

Olympiada Rogacheva hesitantly raised her hand. After a few seconds Momoka Omura pointed an index finger, before immediately retracting it again.

‘Nothing important,’ she said.

‘Well, with me it’s like this,’ Rebecca said. ‘My sense of balance is a bit confused. Even though I’m actually used to sailing.’

‘I’m just happy if I can keep everything down,’ Rogacheva sighed.

Lurkin smiled. Of course she had been informed that the oligarch’s wife had a breakdown-related alcohol problem. Strictly speaking, Olympiada Rogacheva shouldn’t even have been here, but during the two-week training programme she had drunk nothing but tea, confounding all the sceptics. She could clearly manage without vodka and champagne, after all.

‘Never mind, ladies. By the day after tomorrow you’ll be immune to space sickness. But what affects everybody are physiological long-term changes. In zero gravity your muscle mass declines. Your calves will shrink to chicken legs, your heart and circulation will be overtaxed. That’s why daily sport is the chief duty of every astronaut, meaning exercise machine, gymnastics, weight-lifting, all nicely strapped in, of course. On long-term missions a considerable decline in bone substance has also been observed, particularly in the spine and leg areas. The body loses up to ten per cent of its calcium over six months in space, immune disorders appear, wounds heal more slowly, all concomitant effects that Perry Rhodan shamefully fails to mention. You’ll only be spending a few days in zero gravity, but I urge you to get some exercise. So what shall we start with? Rowing, cycling, jogging?’

Momoka stared at Lurkin as if she had lost her mind.

‘No way. I want to go to the steam-room!’

‘And you’ll get to the steam-room,’ said Lurkin, as if talking to a child. ‘But first we’ll do a spot of fitness training, okay? That’s how it is on board space stations. The instructor’s word is final.’

‘Okay.’ Amber stretched. ‘I’m going on the exercise machine.’

‘And I’m going on the bike,’ Miranda cried with delight.

‘An exercise machine is a bike.’ Momoka pulled a face as if being subjected to a serious injustice. ‘Can we at least swim here?’

‘Of course.’ Lurkin spread her muscle-bound arms. ‘If you can find a way of keeping water in the pool in zero gravity, we can talk about it.’

‘And what about that?’ Rebecca looked at a device on the ceiling just above her head. ‘It looks like a step machine.’

‘Bingo! It trains up your bottom and your thighs.’

‘Exactly right.’ The Taiwanese woman peeled herself out of her dressing-gown. ‘You should never miss an opportunity to fight against physical decay. It’s dramatic enough! I feel as if it’s only my tight underwear that’s keeping me from exploding!’

Amber, who knew Rebecca from the media, raised an eyebrow. Without a doubt, the queen of luxury had put on a fair bit of weight over the past few years, but her skin looked as smooth and tight as a balloon. What was it that Lurkin had said about ‘puffy faces’? Why should the effect be restricted to the face alone? It was obvious that upper arms shouldn’t wobble in zero gravity, that breasts were lifted because they weren’t being drawn towards the Earth’s core, that everything was deliciously rounded and firm. The whole of Rebecca Hsu looked somehow puffy.

‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘You look great.’

‘For your age,’ Momoka added smugly.

With Lurkin’s help, Rebecca wedged herself onto the step machine, allowed herself to be belted in and smiled down at Amber.

‘Thanks, but when the paparazzi need helicopters to get all of you into shot, it’s time to face the facts. I’m starting to turn to jelly. I distribute anti-cellulite miracle cures by some of the most famous cosmetic brands in the world, but slap me on the bum and you have to wait for a quarter of an hour until the waves have subsided.’

And she started jogging like a peasant treading grapes, while Miranda Winter doubled up with laughter and Amber joined in. Momoka’s gestures passed through various stages of human development, then she laughed as well. Something was dissolved, a deep-seated, unconfessed anxiety, and they all rolled around cackling and panting.

Lurkin waited with an indulgent expression on her face and her arms folded.

‘Glad we all agree,’ she said.

‘Out you go!’

Heidrun’s words were followed by a boisterous chortle.

It was the last thing O’Keefe heard before he drifted out of the airlock. Heidrun, that bitch! Frank Poole, the unlucky astronaut from 2001 , had fallen victim to a paranoid computer, now he to a homicidal Swiss woman. His fingers grasped the thruster controls. The first stimulus stopped his flight; the second, intended to turn him back towards the airlock, instead sent him into a spin.

‘Very good,’ he heard Nina say, as if she were sitting in the corner of his helmet with fairy-wings. ‘Wonderful reaction speeds for a beginner.’

‘Don’t start,’ he snarled.

‘No, I’m serious. Can you stop the spinning too?’

‘Why should he?’ laughed Heidrun. ‘It looks good. Hey, Finn, you should catch yourself a moon to orbit around you.’

He rotated clockwise. Into the spin.

And it worked. Suddenly he was hanging there motionless, watching the others spin out of the airlock like space debris. The new, close-fitting generation of space-suits had the advantage of not making everyone who wore them look exactly the same. They let you have an idea of who was in front of you, even if their face was barely recognisable through the mirrored visor. Heidrun, clad like a Star Warrior, was given away by her anorexic, elf-like figure. He longed to give her a good kick.

‘I’ll get you for that,’ he mumbled, but couldn’t stop himself grinning.

‘Oh, Perry ! My hero.’

She carried on giggling, then got into difficulties and began to turn upside down. Someone else, it might have been Locatelli, Edwards or Mimi, started to retreat back inside the airlock. A third flailed his arms about. Nothing about the movement suggested it was happening voluntarily. Apart from Nina and Peter, only one member of the group displayed any signs of controlled movement, turning in a neat half circle and coming down to rest next to the two leaders. O’Keefe had no doubt it was Rogachev. Then, suddenly, they all floated back towards each other as if by magic.

‘A bit treacherous, isn’t it!’ laughed Peter. ‘Navigating in a vacuum is like nothing else. There’s no friction, no current to carry you, no resistance. Once you’re in motion you carry on that way until an adequate counter-impulse occurs, either that or you’ll drift into the sphere of some celestial body and end up as a meteor or make some pretty little crater. Using a thruster properly takes practice; practice you haven’t had. So that’s why, from now on, you don’t need to do anything. The remote control will take over. For the next twenty minutes we’re putting you on control beam, which means you can just sit back and enjoy the view.’