The Cookie Monster p.2
"Awp!" Rose grabbed the deck plating at the edge of the well, instinctively jumping to her feet. But her feet continued on up, above her head. She hooked her fingers into the grating and tried to pull herself back down, one arm pinwheeling, kicking her legs in the air, looking for traction. She found it, her ankle cracked against the metal rim of the repair well, shattering pain shot up the side of her body and she started to spin, away from the angle of the blow, wrenching her arm at the shoulder as her body tried to twist her grip free.
Cussing under her breath, surrounded by a smothering, cold, darkness, she flailed with her other hand, trying to "swim" her way back around so she could get another handhold. Her shoulder throbbed, and every attempt to pull herself back around resulted in a twanging weakness and a screaming pain. It was all she could do to keep her fingers hooked in the grate. Although her fingers were so twisted the grate was practically cutting into her.
"Okay, okay, calm down. You're just in the Tardis. Your fine, you've got air, the gravity's just gone out." She slowed her breathing, trying not to hyperventilate. Somehow, whenever she'd thought of swimming in no gravity, she'd always thought it would be like swimming in water. Air, apparently, was a lot thinner than water. She stopped moving, floating there, twisted, upside down with her feet sticking in the air, her arm twisted over her head, and her hair floating in her mouth. She spat it out. "Pthew!'
Hey! Astronauts always maneuvered around by puffing air didn't they? She took a deep breath, and blew it out as hard as she could. She couldn't tell if she'd moved in the darkness. It didn't feel like it. "Figures."
She could feel her hair tickling her face. She shook her head to get rid of it. It floated right back and tickled more. In the darkness it felt like spiders. "Aargh!" She slapped it aside with her free hand, then froze when the wrenching motion made her heel strike the edge of the console. She must have floated to a lower angle. And she'd turned, her shoulder wasn't so twisted now. Tapping tentatively with her foot she found the edge of the console again.
Bracing herself between her foot on the console and her hand in the decking, she walked her injured foot down her braced leg and hooked it under the edge of the console, pushing herself down, ignoring the pain as she tried to reach the decking. She groped below with her free hand but couldn't find the floor. Just empty space. Cursing herself, cursing the Doctor and the darkness, she eased her fingers looser in the hold she had on the deck plates, being sure to keep just enough pressure between her hand and her foot to steady her. If she could just twist around and get a hold on the console.
She twisted, stretching her free arm down along her body, straining for the console. But her armspan wasn't long enough. She was stretched out full length with one arm above her head.
She was going to have to risk it. She'd have to push off and hope she could get a grip on the controls somewhere. It wasn't like she was in space. The worst that could happen is she would bounce off and go careening around the room like a pinball, bouncing off the columns. Before she could think about it, she shoved her fingers free and jackknifed, reaching for the console. She felt her feet lose contact and float down as her body bent. They hit the floor and she instinctively pressed down, trying to stand up. "NO!" she realized her mistake instantly as she catapulted higher. She felt her fingers stub on the console and one hooked, briefly, painfully, under a handle before skinning free. She threw her hands out where she knew the column should be. She made contact, but the plasti-glass was too wide to grip and too smooth to hold. Her hands slid loose as she floated into free air.
"I'm going to kill him." she yelled to the empty, darkness. "I didn't sign up for this! If that stupid console hasn't eaten him I'm going to make him eat his overcoat!"
Feeling better for the rant, although still secretly terrified in the combined sensory deprivation of no contact and total darkness, she made herself calm down and think. She was apparently still moving. She could feel the slightest brush of cold air flowing over her. Barely a puff but it was something. If she could just move faster she'd eventually hit a wall or something and be able to get a handgrip. At least in no gravity there was no strain on her banged ankle or her sprained shoulder. Although there was also no indication if she was right side up or upside down. The blood wasn't rushing to her head, as if she was upside down, or to any other part of her that she could discern. Must be good for the blood pressure. Except when you're scared, she admitted. Or angry.
Forcing herself to think, and after another aborted attempt at swimming. She took stock of her resources, her hair and her clothes. Her hair was useless. She didn't have anything to cut it with, and it wasn't long enough to make a rope out of, even if she could see where to throw it. Her clothes. She had her jacket, shirt, bra, panties, pants, socks and shoes. Shoes. The Doctor had told her some story about using a cricket ball to bounce off a wall and shove himself backward in space. But her shoes would probably just thud and go haring off in a whole different direction. That's if she could even find a wall.
Don't think about the dark.
Maybe she could use her bra to hook the railing, or the coatrack. If she could find them.
Don't think about the dark.
The air was getting weirdly stale. Almost metallic. She couldn't tell if that was because she was running out, despite how big the Tardis was, or if it was just the taste of fear, she didn't know.
Don't think about the dark.
Next Chapter