by Hal Clement
"What happens to our weight then?"
"That—that's a trifle hard to say." The brothers listened closely; they had never heard their uncle use quite that tone before. "Exactly what maneuvers this ship will have to take can't be told now; but "
"But we can't possibly stop exactly where we want," finished Peter, "and that means we'll not only be weightless some of the time, but will have our weight changing both in amount and direction while the ship is worked into contact. Isn't that right?"
"It is." Bowen's voice was hardly louder than a whisper.
"And half a minute without weight just now almost ruined you, and didn't do anyone else much good. How are you going to stand it?"
There was a pause of several seconds, and the answer was the last that the boys expected to hear. I m not.
"But.... " Bart and Dart started to cry out with the same voice.
"I'm not going to be able to stand it, and I was pretty sure I couldn't when we took off. The pilot is the same; he was on the earlier trip, and suffered as much as I did. Robbins and Derlen, here, may be able to, but it's not certain. Therefore each of us has, clipped to the mouthpiece of the drinking tube inside his helmet, a pill that will put him to sleep for an hour. The pilot and I will take ours just before the power goes off next time; Robbins and Derlen will take theirs whenever they feel that things are getting too much for them."
"But we don't have any pills!" It was Dart who made this protest.
"I know. Someone has to stay awake; it may have been selfish of us, but we decided that you young people were the most likely to be able to take it—as Pete has been hoping all along.
"It will be your job, boys, to see that we get into the station. The ship will be brought into its berth, which is at the center of the station where there is no weight; therefore none of the crew there can come to help us out. You will have to bring us out through our air lock, into the one at the berth, and carry us down to where there is enough weight for the others to meet you. I'm sorry to spring it on you like this, but I didn't want to tell you before. Until a few minutes ago, I was hoping that I wouldn't have to take my pill."
"I see." Bart spoke these words almost absently, as though he were thinking of something else; the other boys were silent. Bowen tried to smile, though his face could hardly be seen inside the helmet, as he added one more remark.
"At least, this will be the first and maybe the best test of the whole plan, eh, Peter?"
This remark caught Tumble's attention; and without thinking how such a question might be taken he blurted out, "What do you mean? You really did have an idea all the time, even if you were asking for more in the papers?"
"We did. Peter, it was yours; give him the whole story. He can hardly tell his friend now," and he certainly has a right to know anyway. It will kill the time until Pill-minute, anyway."
Peter obeyed, and the redhead listened without a single interruption. When Peter stopped talking, Tumble walked over to the nearest port and stood still, looking silently out into the star-speckled blackness; he remained that way for several minutes.
"All right," he spoke at last. "You make it sound pretty straight. I still don't know what to think, though. My friend has been pretty decent to me for a long time, and I can't seem to believe that he'd lie to me the way he must have if you're right. Let me think a while longer. After we get to the satellite, I'll decide one way or the other."
"That's fine, except for one thing," replied Bowen.
"What's that?"
"Don't feel you're being hurried. I don't care if you wait until we're back on Earth, or even later, to decide. I like you, and hope you come to see the truth; but I don't want you to take sides until you're really sure of the facts." Tumble made no comment to this, and no more was said for the few minutes that remained before the pilot called down.
"Two minutes left on the tape. All taking pills, strap in!
The boys responded to this by rushing to the ports in the hope of getting a glimpse of the satellite station, but it was still so nearly straight ahead—according to the way they were traveling; actually the stern of the ship was pointing at it—that it could not be seen. The men had known this, and had not even tried to look—or perhaps they were too concerned with what was about to happen.
Bowen was resuming his harness, and the boys remembered that he had said the pilot was also going to go to sleep. The other two men were strapping in, but at the questioning looks of the boys Robbins said that they hoped to stay awake.
"It wasn't fun, but Dr. Derlen and I will make one more try. We're fastening down so that if we do lose control and have to swallow the pills, you fellows won't have to chase us all over the room in order to tow us to the station. We'll let you know, or at least try to, if we can't make it by ourselves."
The seconds passed, and the tension grew. Twice more the pilot spoke.
"We're on their radar." Another pause; then, "Thirty seconds to the end of the tape!"
Bowen calmly swallowed his pill, and collapsed in his harness without a sound. Above, the pilot must have done the same; and the tension began to mount swiftly in the compartment. The boys stayed by the windows, looking for the first sign of the satellite. Robbins and Derlen watched them, their fists tightening uncontrollably as the final seconds of powered flight ticked by.
Peter saw the station at almost the same instant the power was cut, and to his own great surprise found him-self able to examine it in spite of the endless-fall feeling that immediately swept over him. It looked like a great, thin drum, spinning about three times a minute. At the center of the circular face which was turned toward the Polaris was something that looked like a huge gun; Peter knew that it was a telescope, placed where the spinning of the station would not put a load on its mounting. The whole structure was five hundred feet in diameter, and almost a hundred and fifty thick.
"That's what was in the papers, all right!" He heard Tumble's voice over the radio, and discovered the redhead beside him. He must have crossed from his own port since the weight went off—a 'feat which Peter suddenly realized he would not like to attempt himself. The very thought of letting go of the strap beside the port was unpleasant. Before he could consider this any farther, however, Tumble went on, "Why is it turning like that?"
"To give a feeling of weight to the men inside," replied Peter. "Did you ever swing a bucket of water around your head, without having it spill? It's the same idea there. 'Up' to the folks in the station is toward the center, and their weight is less the closer to the center they get. That's why Uncle Jim said we'd have to bring him and the pilot down quite a way before we could get any help."
"I don't see that."
"Well, I suppose they'll dock the Polaris at the center, rather than try to have it catch up with the rim. That would be pretty hard, and I suppose it would throw the station off balance, besides."
"Do they pull that gun out of the way for us, or fasten us on beside it, or what? And where do we get inside?"
"I don't know; I haven't been here either, remember."
Tumble's question was quickly answered, however. Some of the motors of the Polaris began to function again, but this time not steadily. "Down" changed with startling speed; at the first jolt of power, Tumble snatched frantically at the strap to which Peter was holding, for the two suddenly found that they were at the top of the compartment. There was no trouble holding on, however; they developed only a few pounds of weight, and that vanished again in a few seconds. Now, however, the station appeared to be moving; and very gradually it seemed to turn until from a full view of its circular face it was quarter-on. Another brief jolt of power followed, and changed their course—even Tumble realized that it was the Polaris which was actually doing the moving—and carried them past the edge of the great drum until they could see the other face. It was the weightlessness after this shove which proved too much for Robbins; he gasped, "Sorry, boys," and became silent, his limp form drifting freely in the straps while coasting and sagging
in whatever direction happened to be "down" when power was applied.
Two more changes of course set the rocket drifting straight toward the center of the drum. On this side there was no telescope, but a framework quite obviously meant to receive the rocket; under the guidance of the unseen operator in the station, the Polaris drifted neatly into this scaffolding and stopped with a solid thud which told of either magnets or mechanical clamps securing a grip on her skin. At the same instant a twenty-foot circle of metal swung outward from the hull of the station, showing where entry could be made. It was only a problem of getting there.
Peter found himself still reluctant to let go of the strap, though his mind told him that he couldn't possibly fall. Bart and Dart were in the same situation, not quite afraid in their minds but with their bodies very unhappy about their sensations. Dr. Derlen was still conscious, but that was about all. Tumble was the only one who seemed both happy and in fairly good control of himself. Without saying anything, he suddenly let go of the strap he had been sharing with Peter, braced his feet against the wall, and pushed.
His space-suited form sailed across the compartment and struck the opposite wall just where it met the bulkhead separating the chamber from the control room.
"Darn! It's hard to aim!" he exclaimed. "I was trying to hit the port. Come on, Dart; let's see you do better."
With an effort, Dart let go of his strap. Before he could bring himself to push off toward a port, however, he had drifted out of contact with what had been the floor; a wild kick at it, when he realized what was happening, served only to send him against the same bulkhead as Tumble, though nowhere near the redhead.
"I win," the latter practically crowed. "Here, watch this. Right beside you, Pete!" He shoved off again as he spoke, and this time brought up just where he intended, clutching the strap he had released a few moments before.
"Come on; there's nothing to it. It's just like you said a while back, Pete; forget what you feel like, and don't believe anything but your eyes. It's like a good high bounce on a trampoline—though I've never stayed up this long yet. Push off; I'll pull you down if you start to float away!"
This remark stung the pride of the Ranger brothers, and they both began to try leaping, ignoring the chance to ask Tumble what he meant by "down." Neither one was able to control his aim for some time, but gradually they caught on, and after a while were able to reach any point in the compartment with a single dive. Peter, however, remained at his window.
"What's the matter, Pete?" asked Bart, half mockingly. "Glued to the port? No one will be coming out to meet us, you know."
"I know. They'll probably be wondering why we haven't come in, too."
"Well, then, let's get going. We can handle ourselves without weight well enough to get the others in okay. Come on."
Peter knew Bart was right, but still found it hard to let go of the strap. He managed it, however, and doing his best to judge his line of flight, pushed off toward the spot where Bowen was floating. He didn't expect to enjoy it, but neither did he foresee what actually happened.
He didn't travel straight, which was to be expected, but what was much worse, he whirled. For three agelong seconds he was spinning in the emptiness of the room, with space suits, ports, walls, and the door into the control room all circling about him. Then he struck the far wall, clutched frantically at a nearby strap, and managed to stop himself, but it was several minutes before he could control his breathing again.
The brothers were laughing, but Tumble was not. When Peter could see straight again, he found the redhead beside him, speaking slowly and carefully.
"Hold it, Pete. None of us has tried to cartwheel yet; you were a little hasty with that. Now, fix your eyes on the place you want to go—say that port beside Dr. Bowen. Now, keeping hold of the strap, pull your feet up so that they're between you and the wall, and your head is between them and the port—that's it—now let go and push off!"
Almost without realizing it Peter did as he was told. This time he did not spin, though he did not hit very close to the port at which he was aiming. The main thing was that this time the sickening fear which had swept over him during the first dive did not recur. Later he realized how big a favor Tumble had done him in making him dive again right after his first failure.
Twice more he tried, each time improving, and finally the redhead breathed a sigh of relief.
"You're all right now. Let's see if Dr. Derlen can make it."
Tumble may have been feeling that he was a superior teacher; if so, the idea was quickly driven from his mind. Derlen did make an honest attempt, it is true; he released his harness, hoping that his space suit would hide his trembling from the boys. However, the instant he pushed off his self-control went. He gave a single shriek as the lack of support added itself to the endless fall sensation, and swallowed his pill before reaching the other wall. He had just time to admit it before he lost consciousness.
Tumble whistled gently.
"That gives us one man apiece to tow," he said thoughtfully. "Who knows how to open the air locks? We'd better get these men into the station."
The sudden knowledge of their responsibility sobered all the boys, and with no more joking at Peter they each took hold of one of the drifting figures—Dart bringing the pilot from the control room—and towed them toward the nearest air lock. This was not the one by which they had entered, but was located much closer to the nose of the Polaris; two minutes later they had drifted easily through the still open door of the space station. Someone must have been watching, for as the last space suit floated through, the door closed silently behind them.
13
TUMBLE LEARNS
PETER was still not sure how he had made the jump to the station, with the helpless figure of Derlen in tow. Weightlessness was bad enough inside the walls of the Polaris; outside them it was far, far worse. Inside, one could tell himself that he might indeed be falling but there were only a few yards to fall; outside, that comforting fiction was impossible. A cave man might have been able to convince himself that the sparkling blackness around him was only just out of reach and that a fall to it would be harmless, but not Peter, who had known the distance between Earth and its moon since he was eight years old.
He had almost given up when he first emerged from the rocket's air lock; he had had to back inside once more, fix his eyes on the entrance to the station, and start his dive from a point where he could not see the emptiness all around him. Keeping his gaze fixed on his target, he had made the crossing without actually crying out, but he was not looking forward to the next time.
Safely inside the great air lock of the station, with the outer door closed and air hissing softly into the chamber, he was able to forget that trouble for the moment. He was still weightless, falling with the station along its endless path around the earth, but he was actually getting used to that. He had stopped worrying about whether his idea would work; he knew already that it would. At least, he would have said so to anyone who asked.
The boys had no way to measure the pressure of the air in the lock, but they knew that it must have reached station normal when another door opened before them. It led into a room almost as large as the lock itself, and equally empty. Like the lock, its wall was studded with metal grips, and without waiting to discuss the matter the boys each dived through the door, carrying the helpless men with them. There were no signs to point the way, but all directions led down; so they simply continued the way they had started, through rooms and corridors all without furniture or equipment. Even dust was lacking here.
Soon they were no longer able to dive straight for a target; they were missing it, or sometimes reaching it too soon. They could not yet feel any weight to speak of in their own bodies, but the ones they were towing became harder and harder to hold back. Then Bart discovered he could stand—that he had weight enough to keep his feet pressed against one wall, which they henceforth thought of as the floor. From then on they were more careful about diving, and
at last they had to climb, using the wall grips as rungs on a long ladder. Then the space-suited men became too heavy for one of them to carry. Still they had met no one, and heard nothing in their suit radios except each other's voices.
"You'd think they'd have started to put in stairs by this level," remarked Bart at last, as he eased his uncle to the floor and settled down to rest briefly himself. "They certainly knew what weight would be at the different parts of this place."
"We must have nearly a third of our regular weight right now," agreed Peter.
"Why doesn't one of us stay with the men, and the others scatter out to look either for a better way down or for the people who are here?" asked Tumble sensibly. No one could find any objection to this, and Dart was selected to remain. Bart went on down, while Peter and Tumble hunted for an elevator or stairway on the same level. To the embarrassment of the whole group, it turned out that there were several elevators so close that they should have found them long before if one of them had thought to look; they located two so quickly that Bart was still near enough to be called back. The helpless men were bundled into one of them, and Bart pressed the lowest button in the row on one wall. The door slid shut, and the cage started downward.
The start of a descending elevator is the closest approach to weightlessness the average person ever experiences. The boys knew that, and they expected that they would scarcely notice it after their recent experiences. However, they were wrong. It was a slow elevator, but as it started to leave their feet behind, all four of the boys suddenly felt as though their stomachs were trying to get back to the Polaris. Peter clutched at a rail on the wall, apparently meant for a hand-hold; the brothers seized each other; and even Tumble only partly stopped his impulse to find support. The sensation was over as quickly as it had come, but it sobered the boys. Apparently they had not completely solved the problems of space sickness yet.
