Airlock

By John R. Mabry | Jr. High

PART I

Colonel Martin Collier strode quickly to the nearest intercom. He knew the space station like the back of his hand. He found one. "Eustace, you thar'?"

Eustace's thick British accent was extremely noticible as his voice came over the intercom. "Aye, sir. I'm here."

"Good. When's the ship from Canada to arrive?"

"In exactly six hours, sir."

"Excellent, that'll give me time for a workout in the hub."

"Yessir."

"Okay. Ah--," he hesitated. Then suddenly remembering, he blurted, "Any Commie ships around?"

"Aye, sir, but the computer says it's too far to do any harm; its an expedition on one of Jupiter's moons."

"Yeeeah, okay, thanks Eustace."

"Any ti--" Collier shut off the intercom. Making his way to the general locker area, he thoughtfully reviewd his predicament: "Colonel of this place, in charge...who would have thought...oops! Here's the door...motion's making me sick.

Martin Collier was referring to the motion of the space station. It was over one hundred kilometers across, and three hundred kilometers around. Wagon-wheel shaped, it spun on its hub, creating an artificial gravity outwards from the center. The hub was immobile, and the wheel spun around it. Therefore, the hub was weightless. It ws the ship docking area, and also the recreation area when pressurized.

Worried thoughts crossed Martin's mind: "So," he said to himself, "A Canadian supply ship is bringing up provisions. Earth is at war; us against the commies. I hope Graynold gets that solar panel fixed. The United States is working on half-power as it is! If it isn't fixed, the war is lost. He and I are the only ones who know how to fix that panel; it's so complex. Darnnit, if he doesn't, I'll rip up his guts and throw them in the ashcan!"

With that, he slammed the door to his locker, and walked into the elevator that would bring him into the hub .

His stomach heaved as the elevator stopped its ascencion and weightlessness overcame him.

He backstroked over boxes bolted down, and great springs, whose purpose ws to hold down crates until they could be moved inside. They reminded Martin of giant moustraps. Several had been emptied in order to hold new shipments. He Australian crawled over to one and inspected it.

While swimming away in thin air, his hand tripped the traping lever, and it came down, instantly crushing his rib cage, pinning him to the floor!

PART II

Arnold Greynold looked at the clock--01:42 hours; fifteen minutes until the ship came in. He remembered the solar panel, "Oh, well, I'll do it after lunch," he thought. He went and took his place in the control booth.

"Hi, Arn," said Sydney Cloncurry, in his frothy Australian accent. "Sit down, mate. 'Ave a look-see."Arnold sat. Sydney spoke a third time, "Come to watch the docking, 'ave you? Me too. A Coke?"

"Yeah, thanks." He paused. "Shhh, quiet! Listen!" A muffled "help" came from the three-inch-thick viewing glass. The men rushed to the edge of the window. Sydney screamed, "Look, in the crate--trap!"

Arnold looked at the clock; they had seven minutes until the docking of the Canadian ship.

He rushed to the elevator. Upon entering, he shot as fast as he could to Martin. Martin groaned. Arnold unbolted the trap, and started the journey back to the elevator door [with the injured Collier floating behind--teacher insert].

Two minutes 'til docking. Sydney heard a click of the computer taking over the docking procedure. It couldn't be stopped by any man. Cloncurry, feeling quite helpless, for indeed he could do nothing, turned to the computer and tapped out the question:

"Inquiry--at present rate, will humans make it inside the elevator before depressurizing?..."

In seconds he received an answer:

"Statement: affirmative, with 1.58662 (etc.) seconds to spare..."

Sydney looked at the clock: fifty-eight seconds.

Arnold and the trap containing Martin's crushed body were at the door. Sydney's face pressed the glass as he saw Arnold push the "down" button on the elevator.

Then, suddenly, as the elevator door opened, also did the great outer door. Sydney shrieked. A great rush of air overcame the two men. Arnold's limbs strained to the breaking point, with one hand on Collier, and the other on the opening door. As the air rushed out, the great door creaked on its tracks, and the remaining storage traps strained to their limits.

With adrenalin now bursting his veins, Graynold struggled to get inside the elevator. With seeming super-human strength, he gave one last tug. He couldn't make it. The strain on his lungs and body ws intense. The ship's nose ws coming into the hub. He couldn't hold on or move ahead. The nose inched still nearer. As it reached the hub, a short blast of the retro-rockets came toward Greynold. The thrust was just enought to push the two into the elevator. The door shut and pressurized.

PART III

"Well," said Sydney, puffing liesurely on a cigarette, "Even computers make mistakes."

"You know, Sydney," croaked Collier, his bandaged ribs showing through the gauze. "That's illegal, smoking."

"On such an occasion, who could resist celebrating?"

"I guess you're right," said Arnold, who was bandaged from the shoulders down; his arms had been pulled from their sockets. "That solar panel still needs mending, you know."

"Yeah, Sydney," Arnold answered, "I'll be out of here in a couple of days; I'll do it then. But it looks like Martin's gonna be here quite a while."

Martin groaned.

"Well, I best be off; gotta view a cricket match beamed from Wimbleton. Tally ho!"

"Bye, Sydney, and thanks!"

"Bye," Martin groaned.

On his way out, Sydney threw his cigarette.

Martin and Arnold watched in horror as the plastic nozzle on the oxygen bottle melted, and watched no more as it exploded, sending them both into endless oblivion.