Among the stars... all he could think at first was that he really had died, and that no one was quite willing to tell him. He was in the sky, apparently. It just didn't look much like pearly white gates and angels playing harps on clouds. Maybe it was purgatory.
But then Dr O'Hara chimed in, and half of it made sense, half of it was near incomprehensible. Darcy knew that no matter how hard he had banged his head, he would never have been able to invent most of what the man was saying to him. He also wasn't sure how it was relevant at first, because where he was clearly had a breathable atmosphere, he wasn't frozen - but then he got to the explanation of the space station.
Did that help? Darcy wasn't sure if it did help. He certainly didn't feel any less sick. "How? Why?" he started to ask, and then felt like despairing. What broad, open-ended questions. "Apologies, what I mean to say is, how does one go from England to Space Station in the blink of an eye? And for what possible purpose?"