Tight Squeeze | Page 8

The few remaining feet seemed to lengthen into a sewerlike
passageway, then vanished as did all else as his perceptions died.
* * * * *

MacNamara was not the sort to wonder about heaven or hell when he
first awoke. He saw a faintly rounded ceiling, a soft yellow tint
accentuating its featurelessness. "How the devil--", he began. His voice
failed him.
"Hi, Mac." Logan's beaming face loomed over him. "You rugged
character, you. Cold as a pickle an hour ago, and already you're askin'
silly questions." He held up his hand as Mac started to speak. "I hear
you thinkin'. 'How the devil did I get here, and where is here?' In
reverse order, this is the most comfortable berth in the doughnut's
facilities, and you got here courtesy of one Johnny Ruiz. Myself, I
wouldn't have taken the trouble."
Mac grinned back at his pilot and cleared his throat. "Well, where is he?
I wanta shake his hand, or give him half my kingdom, or something."
"You know Johnny; the shy type. He'll be along after a while. You
know, I think he kinda likes you; when you quit transmitting out there,
Johnny was like a cat on a hot skillet. Finally decided to go back and
have a look for himself, but I told him you probably had a hot game of
solitaire going. Anyway, he went back and found you asleep on the job,
and lost a good ten pounds getting your fat carcass through the air
lock." That was a job that must have taxed both Ruiz and Logan, but
Mac held his silence. "And that was about the size of it. Valier's parked
outside with some of the boys, good as ever. Come on, we'll sop up
some coffee."
Mac swung himself up to a sitting position and realized dizzily that he
was mother-naked. His ribs felt pulverized. "You guys sure mauled me
up," he said accusingly.
"Unavoidable, my dear grease-monkey. You needed a little artificial
respiration; I never was too good at that."
"Well, whoever did the job rates a prize of some sort," Mac answered,
"but my ribs tell me he had more enthusiasm than practice."
Logan smiled his old familiar smile, relieved to find his engineer in

joking spirits. "The credit again goes to Johnny. But," he added, "try
not to be too hard on him. Try giving artificial respiration to a big lump
like yourself sometime, without any gravity."
Mac digested this tidbit as he pulled on a fresh pair of coveralls.
"O.K.," he said, standing on the foamex "floor." "How did he do it?"
"Strapped you into your couch face down and locked his legs around it.
I didn't dare apply any g's. Come on," he finished, "you've managed to
upset every timetable in the project. Johnny's shaking like a leaf, or was
when I left him. A bulb of coffee will do us both a world of good."
"I'm sold," Mac grunted, zipping up a flight boot. "But there's
something I'd like to do, first chance I get."
"Which is?"
"Which is jettison every last strip of tape I have in Valier. I tell you,
Logan," he went on as they entered the recreation bar, "you'll never
know how degrading it is to hear useless, insipid information offered to
you when you're in a tight spot, knowing full well the voice is your
own!"
THE END

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