Refugee
“We had separated far enough from the planet and were about to go into spin. That meant gravity, or a reasonable facsimile, and we didn't want to be sleeping in midair when it started. I had, of course, been doing exactly that.
But it started gently enough. I heard noises from the hull and realized someone was out there in a space suit, doing something. “They're moving the drive unit around to the equator,” I said, catching on. “If they angled it side-wise at the pole, it would start the bubble turning pole over pole, and it's not designed for that. So they have to fasten it where it belongs for proper spin.”
Then the room began to drift to the side. “Now they're starting the spin,” I said, working it out in my own mind. “But at the start it's spin acceleration, so we feel it mostly sidewise. Once it gets up to proper torque, we'll feel it outwards. But it's not much of a jet, so it's slow.”
“You're good at physics,”
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