Hal Junior 1: The Secret Signal

by Simon Haynes

  At that moment the screen changed, and Hal discovered he could access the main menu again. "Did you do that?"

  "Yes, I've managed to restore some functions but it's only temporary. You'd better hurry!"

  Hal brought up the personnel list and found his dad. He was no longer listed as EVA, and was now 'off-duty'. That meant he was back aboard the space station! Hal checked the location: Lower levels, D-section, corridor 51. He was just about to bring up a map when the screen turned red and the terminal locked up again. "Hey, bring it back!"

  "I'm sorry, Hal. Someone noticed you were using the terminal. Quick, they're coming!"

  Hal ran for the lift, determined not to get caught. He had to find help and his dad was the only person he could trust.

  * * *

  Hal hopped from one foot to the other as the indicator showed the lift getting closer and closer. Then he stopped hopping and started thinking instead. If someone was after him, surely they'd use the lift! And here he was, standing around waiting for them, asking to get caught!

  There was a small door leading to the stairwell. They often used the stairs for Phys. Ed., and it was hard work. Hal didn't fancy the idea at all, but there was no other way down. He ran to the door, pulled it open and took the stairs two at a time.

  After a dozen levels he heard the lift go by, and he heard a rumble of voices. Had they sent an armed squad to hunt him down? Hal increased his speed, using the handrail to pull himself down the flights of stairs faster and faster.

  He arrived at the lower levels red-faced and out of breath. Cautiously, he eased the door open and peered out, but there was nobody in sight. The sign opposite indicated corridor 51, so Hal left the safety of the stairwell and hurried along the curved access tunnel. He slowed whenever he passed a door, in case someone came out to challenge him, but in between he ran as fast as possible.

  Hal hadn't gone far when he heard voices echoing along the corridor. He froze, unsure whether to look for cover or run back the way he'd come. There was a door nearby, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the 'Fire Fighting Equipment' sign. He'd barely closed the door again when a group walked past. They were talking about a bar on planet Gyris, and although they didn't sound like heavily-armed troops, Hal couldn't tell whether they were friend or foe. He opened the door a crack to watch them go, and almost knocked a big red fire axe off the wall with his elbow.

  After the voices faded Hal left the cupboard and ran in the opposite direction. Before long he heard a thudding sound, like someone kicking a door. There was shouting as well, and with a shock Hal recognised his dad's voice.

  "Let me out! Let me out this instant or --"

  Hal ran to the door. "Dad, it's me!"

  "Hal? Is this your idea of a joke?"

  "I didn't lock you in! It was the Tiger!"

  "Hal Junior, don't you dare tell me some extinct animal did this."

  Hal rolled his eyes. "Not the animal. The ship!"

  "Let me out first, explain afterwards."

  Hal examined the control panel but the indicator glowed red. Someone had sealed the door and he had no idea how to bypass it. If only Stinky were there! His friend would reverse the polarity on the hornswiggle doohicky and everything would work properly, just like it always did. "Dad, it's locked. I can't open it."

  "Can you find something to pick it with?"

  Hal thought for a moment, then remembered the equipment cupboard. "I'll be right back. Don't move!"

  "Yes, very funny."

  The fire axe was still clipped to the wall, and it only took Hal a second to grab the heavy weapon. He charged down the corridor with the axe held in both hands, then swung it at the control panel.

  Kerrrunnch!

  The blade chopped through the delicate electronics, which sparked and spluttered. Then the red indicator went out and the door slid open.

  "Nice work with the lock pick," remarked Hal's dad, as he saw the axe sticking out of the wall. "Now start explaining."

 

  "Didn't you hear the announcement? Mum's been kidnapped by the crew of the Tiger. They put Teacher out of action and kidnapped the rest of my class too."

  "I didn't hear any announcements. I was just putting my tools away when someone locked me in." His dad frowned. "Are you sure this isn't one of your games?"

  "It's true! Mum told me to warn everyone. I escaped the ship and went to the Station Commander's office with Tina, but the others locked them in."

  "How did you get away?"

  Hal decided to keep the daring recycling chute escape to himself. "I'll explain later. First we have to get mum back."

  "But why would they kidnap ..." Hal's dad clicked his fingers. "They're after the scientific research from your mother's laboratory. It's worth millions to the right buyer!"

  A Pair of Socks

  "So what's the plan?" demanded Hal.

  "We have to get your mother and the rest of your class off the Tiger. Without hostages, the kidnappers won't have anything to bargain with."

  "But they have others aboard the station working for them. If we go through Traffic Control someone will spot us!"

  "Who says we have to go near the control room? All ships have an emergency access hatch."

  Hal realised what he meant. "But that's outside. In space!"

  "You've got it." His dad grinned. "Come on, the nearest airlock's this way. We're not beaten yet."

  They hurried along the corridor to the big round door, where Hal's dad waved him into the cramped compartment. Hal was reaching for the controls when his dad stopped him. "Remember the safety rules, son."

  "Don't close the inner door until you're wearing a suit." It was rule number one, and Hal couldn't believe he'd forgotten it. Airlocks were like a tube with a door at each end: an inner door leading to the station and an outer door leading to space. You could never open them both at the same time, else all the air would flood out of the station, but once the inner door was closed there was nothing stopping the outer door. And if you weren't wearing a suit and a helmet when the outer door opened you'd have nothing to breathe.

  Hal's dad opened the suit locker, where a row of shiny spacesuits jostled for space with helmets and backpacks. He selected a suit and donned it, then lifted a heavy backpack from the locker. The large oblong pack had a pair of swiveljet nozzles at the bottom, black and sooty from frequent use. A competent operator could fly a twisty course with their eyes closed, but Hal had only mastered straight lines. Still, he knew the basics, and while his dad was putting on the bulky pack Hal reached for a smaller suit. The shiny material was cool to the touch, nothing like the crinkled overalls they used for practice.

  Hal had barely unhooked it from the rack when his dad noticed. "Where do you think you're going?"

  "I'm coming with you."

  "No chance. It's much too dangerous."

  "But dad! I've done all the drills!"

  "It's not just the space walk. There are desperate people aboard that ship. Some of them could be armed."

  "They're more likely to shoot you than me," said Hal sullenly.

  "Sorry Hal, you'll have to sit this one out." Hal's dad did up his spacesuit then turned his back so Hal could perform the safety check.

  "Seals, oxygen, cardio, kit and safety line all present and correct," said Hal, reeling off the list. It was rule number two -- don't go outside without checking your SOCKS.

 

  "Present and correct," repeated his dad. He snapped the helmet closed and ushered Hal from the airlock, then closed the suit locker and activated the inner door. Hal watched through the porthole as the outer door opened, letting the air out with a whistling rush. His dad gave him a thumbs-up and left the airlock with a quick burst from the thrusters. The outer door closed automatically, and within moments Hal was back inside getting the smaller suit from the locker. His dad might think he could rescue everyone on his own, but Hal had other ideas.

  Checking his own SOCKS was tricky, but there was a mirror on the bac
k of the locker door for that very purpose. The lights were green and Hal could see the oxygen display was all the way to the right. His vital signs lit up the cardio monitor, and the toolkit and coiled safety line were hanging from his belt. "SOCKS present and correct," he muttered under his breath.

  Even so, he hesitated before opening the outer door. From a young age his parents and Teacher had all impressed on him the dangers of space. You rarely got a second chance in such a hostile environment.

  When the outer door opened Hal forgot to brace, and the escaping air sucked him right out of the space station. He spun head over heels as he flew out the airlock, whacking his knee so hard it brought tears to his eyes. He was lucky it wasn't his helmet, because the big clear faceplate was the most fragile part of the suit.

  The space station and stars swung in his blurred vision, and it was several moments before he forgot the pain in his knee and remembered to reach for the jetpack controls. He righted himself and looked back towards the space station, which was a featureless grey slab. As he watched, the heavy airlock door closed, cutting off the comforting glow from inside.

  Hal shivered in his suit. He was alone in space.

  He'd spent hours playing tag with Stinky on the simulator, racing each other from one end of the giant space station to the other. However, the simulator couldn't mimic the lack of gravity nor the very real dangers on every side, and it certainly couldn't mimic the loneliness Hal felt. If only Stinky were here!

  There was a brief flash, and when he shielded his eyes he could just make out a tiny figure moving away from him. That way lay the supply ship, hidden by the bulk of the space station, and the tiny flash came from the twin nozzlejets on his dad's backpack. Hal set off in the same direction, using the thrusters to accelerate while giving the space station a wide berth. On the simulator they often bounced off the hull, played catch between the radar dishes and snapped off stray aerials, but in real life such antics could smash your faceplate or rip your spacesuit, letting the precious air out.

  Time passed slowly as Hal floated along the space station, and he decided to use a little more boost. The flash from his jets lit the dark grey hull, and suddenly he was travelling much faster. Ahead there was a gleaming dome sticking out of the station, and as he sped by he realised it was the observation deck. He gazed into the familiar room from a very unfamiliar vantage point, and the comfy chairs and carpeted walls looked so cosy and welcoming from the outside. Then he was past and the bright observation deck was swallowed by the darkness. He craned his neck for one last look but the side of his helmet blocked the view.

  Within moments he was at corner of D-section, and he tried to remember the instructions for stopping. First, rotate yourself 180 degrees so you were flying backwards. Then fire the jets, which should now be facing the direction you were flying in.

  That was the theory, but when Hal put it into practice things didn't quite work as expected.

  First he applied the right thruster, but instead of turning him round it pushed him towards the station. Now he was moving faster than ever, and the hull was like a giant hand coming to splat him. Then Hal remembered the rest of the instructions: Apply left and right jets at the same time, only in opposite directions. He fired the left jet first, swerving away from the station, then fired both together. He immediately went into a flat spin, and the more he spun the harder his fingers squeezed the controls. Within seconds he was spinning at top speed and he hurtled past the corner of D-section like a defective firework.

 

  His eyes darted from left to right and back again as he tried to see where he was going, and his lips went BL-BL-BL-BL-BLEARGH! as the spin threatened to twist his head off.

  Willing his fingers onto the controls, he reversed both thrusters and stopped the spin. Problem was, his senses were all topsy-turvy and his stomach felt like it was spinning inside him. Then he remembered a trick he'd learnt years ago: when you got dizzy, spin yourself the other way for a few seconds. Unfortunately his shaking fingers applied full reverse throttle, and Hal promptly went into a super-fast spin in the opposite direction.

  Bl-bl-bl-bl! he went, as the stars blurred into straight lines across his vision. He was spinning so fast he could see the flames from the nozzles curling around to meet him, and if he went any quicker he'd toast himself. Everything started to go dark, but Hal fought against the spin until he got the suit under control. He caught sight of his face, reflected in the visor, and he saw it was a shocking green colour. His stomach was churning, and he wondered how you used a sick bag inside a space suit. They hadn't covered that in the simulator! Fortunately the feeling passed, and Hal looked beyond the faceplate to take stock of his surroundings.

  All he could see ahead were stars, and when he turned one way and the other there were more stars. He looked up and down, in case the space station was hiding from him, but it was just stars, stars, stars.

  Finally he turned around, hoping with all his might to see the familiar space station, his home, right there to welcome him. Again, nothing but stars. His heart thudded in his chest and his legs felt like water. The space station was nowhere to be seen against the inky black starfield.

  He was lost!

  Missed the Station

  Hal turned this way and that as he tried to spot the station, until he couldn't remember which way was up nor which direction he'd come from. They hadn't covered this in the simulator either!

  Then he remembered the suit radio. He could call for help! It would mean surrendering to the Tiger, but that was better than spinning around in space for the rest of his life. He was just reaching for the suit controls when he felt his wrist shaking. Puzzled, he raised the sleeve to his face and opened the flap over his watch. Underneath, through the clear panel, he could see the watch face pulsing with yellow light. There was a small blob in one corner, and Hal rolled his eyes at the sight. Now it decided to work? It was probably reminding the previous owner to have a tea break or something.

  Hal was about to cover the watch up when he remembered something Tina had said. Hadn't she mentioned a homing beacon which always pointed towards the space station? He experimented by turning slowly in one direction, keeping an eye on the display. Sure enough, the blob moved in the opposite direction. He tried leaning forwards and the blob got bigger. It was showing him the way back!

  Very gently, Hal applied the jet until the blob was right in the centre of the watch. It started to flash quicker and quicker, and then he looked up and to his relief he saw a dark patch in the starfield. It was the space station! His watch had guided him home!

  * * *

  Hal fired a long burst on the jets, and his back grew uncomfortably warm despite the thick suit. He wondered how long you could run the jets before they burnt something important. Something else they hadn't covered in class.

  Eventually, after a long burn, the space station loomed out of the darkness. Hal aimed off to one side, just in case he didn't manage to stop in time. Better to sail right past than leave a Hal-shaped dent in the side of the space station.

  He could see the Tiger poking out the docking bay, the huge exhaust cones facing him like a battery of oversized cannon. As he got closer he realised he was in a dangerous position -- if the engines started he'd be roasted like a marshmallow. He changed course quickly, aiming to one side of the looming exhaust cones, and hoped it was a safe distance.

  His father had vanished, presumably aboard the Tiger, and Hal started searching for the access hatch his dad must have used. All ships had emergency hatches, but the Tiger was very big and it might take a while to find it.

  Hal slowed as he approached the curved flank of the huge ship. It looked like a whale with its snout in a feeding bowl, the nose just inside the docking bay and the bulk of the ship sticking into space. He hoped the hatch wasn't up the front, because someone would spot him if he flew past the control room windows. Or worse, if he misjudged it and flew right through them.

  Hal decided to explore the far side first
. That way the ship's hull would hide him from prying eyes. He worked his way over the top of the ship, using his thrusters sparingly as he kept his eyes peeled for the hatch. Because of the helmet he was forced to fly face-down, and every now and then he angled his neck to make sure he wasn't about to ram into a tail fin, a radar dish or some other obstacle. Unlike the hull around the airlock, which had been scoured by space dust, the rear of the ship was relatively smooth. It was also covered with sensors, fuel lines and equipment. He'd once asked why the fuel lines were on the outside, where they could be damaged in a collision, and Teacher had explained that when you cooled something down the molecules got closer together. A beaker full of cold fuel contained more molecules -- and therefore more power -- than a beaker of warm fuel. Running the ship's fuel through exterior pipes meant it was exposed to the vacuum of space, and there was nothing colder. In fact, ships had to continually pump fuel through the system in case it froze solid in the pipes!

  Hal eyed the thick pipes as he flew over them, wondering whether he could drill a hole and let all the fuel out. No, his jetpack would ignite the gas, and an explosion this close to the space station would be madness.

  Then he spotted it: a circular hatch with a red and yellow striped border. The words 'Emergency Access' were written across the door in large white letters, and Hal watched them slide past as he turned for the braking manoeuvre. Then he was stationary, hanging in space within arms' reach of the big yellow lever. He gripped it with both hands, put his feet on the hull and pulled with all his might.

  It didn't budge.

  Hal tugged again, but the handle was stuck fast. He tried again and again, bracing his feet against the hull and throwing himself backwards in his efforts to dislodge the stubborn lever. It didn't budge a millimetre.

  Hal was panting now, and the air in the helmet wasn't as fresh as it had been. He was just wondering whether to give up and return to the space station when his watch buzzed, shaking his wrist. He examined the display through his misty faceplate, and saw a line of flashing red symbols: