Tight Squeeze | Page 4

could prove disastrous if, through some malfunction,
the ship should veer off course.
The autopilot functioned perfectly, however, and Logan trusted it to the
point of insouciance. The three men lounged in midair, grinning
foolishly as they "swam" about the tiny cabin. No more satisfying
stretch was ever enjoyed.

A few minutes of this was enough. Ruiz was the first to gingerly pull
himself into his couch and his companions followed. Not a word had
passed between them, since they were at all times in contact with
monitor stations spaced across the world below. The first time they had
enjoyed this irregular horseplay, on the second trip, Logan had made
the mistake of saying, "Race you to the air lock!", and was hard put to
explain those words. Nor could Logan switch to "intercom only," since
a sudden radio silence would create anxiety below. Only their heavy
breathing would indicate unusual activity to Earthside.
* * * * *
They were nearing the intercept point, a thousand miles above the
Atlantic, when they realized their predicament.
"I'm in a fix, Carl," said Ruiz, meaning that he had tentatively fixed a
position of intercept. "Correct our elevation; we're point-nine degrees
high."
"Right-o. Correction in five seconds from my mark--mark!"
For slight corrections in the flight path, small steering motors were
utilized. These motors were located near the rear lip of Valier's conical
cargo section on retractable booms. Extension of the motors with no
resultant air friction gave a longer pivot arm and consequently better
efficiency. Mac pressed the "Aux. Steer" stud and immediately three
amber lights winked on in their respective instrument consoles.
Carl Logan fired the twelve o'clock motor briefly--only it didn't fire.
The change in momentum wouldn't be much in any case, but it was
always perceptible by feel and by instrument. There was no change.
Logan tried the firing circuit again, and again. Still Valier streaked
along, now miles above the intended point of intercept. By this time,
the embryo space station was quite near, sailing along in the 'scope
beneath them. It slowly moved toward the top of the 'scope, passing
Valier in its slightly higher relative velocity.

"We've got troubles, Mac--find 'em!" Logan had finally lost the
devil-may-care attitude, but that fact was small consolation to
MacNamara.
"Keep your mitts off those firing studs, Carl," he growled, unstrapping
himself quickly. The malfunction was definitely in the auxiliary motor
setup, he thought. A common trouble? It wouldn't pay to find out. If the
other motors fired, it would only throw them farther off-course. If worst
came to worst, they could roll Valier over and use the six o'clock
auxiliary; there was a small arc through which the motors could turn on
their mounts. But the trouble was unknown, and they might end up
rifling or pinwheeling if they didn't let bad enough alone.
During his mental trouble-shooting, Mac was busily worming his bulk
into a balloonish-looking suit identical to those worn by the doughnut's
construction crew. Ruiz gave him some aid, helping him thrust his arms
past the spring-folded elbow joints. For some reason, the legs gave less
trouble. Within a fumbling few moments, he was ready for work.
He glanced at Logan through his visor, feeling a vicious pleasure over
the beads of sweat on Logan's forehead. Time he sweated a little,
thought the mechanic.
A final check of his headset followed, after which Mac oozed into the
Lilliputian air lock at the bottom, now rear, wall of the cabin. He
nodded to Ruiz, who secured the air lock, then adjusted his suit control
to force a little pressure into his suit. Gradually the suit became livable.
Then he cracked the other air-lock valve and allowed pressure to leak
out around him.
His suit puffed out with soft popping noises and Mac heard the last
vestige of air hiss out of the chamber. He found the hatchway too tight
for comfort and had a moment of fear when his tool pack caught in the
orifice, wedging him neatly. He could hear Logan and Ruiz through his
earphones, explaining their plight to Ground Control. They wanted to
know why in blue blazes Valier hadn't contacted the doughnut when it
came within range, and Logan had no defense save preoccupation with
his own plight. Belatedly, Ruiz made radio contact with the doughnut,

which was still well within range. All this time, Mac busied himself
with his inspection light, tracing the electrical leads to the small,
turbine operated auxiliary motor fuel pumps.
"Mac?" Logan's voice startled him. "Can you brace yourself? I'm going
to try to match velocities with the doughnut. Won't take over one 'g' for
a few seconds."
"Wait a minute." He looked wildly about him. Valier hadn't been built
with a view toward stowaways; and every cubic inch of