Asteroids -- Fiction; Mines and mineral resources -- Fiction; Science fiction; Short stories
Just one thing could save him now--momentum. Ballard glanced at his
wrist. Twenty seconds to go. Then maybe another twenty from the oxygen
in the connecting tube. Not much time--
He bounded off after the still-drifting plate, then began forcing
it around in a semi-circle back toward the ship. The recoil plate
sluggishly began to move faster as it gained momentum. It started
getting ahead of him so he gave it one last push, and it slowly crept
away heading straight for the hull. It floated edge-wise into the aft
section--and kept on going. A three foot stream of light poured out
from the side of the ship.
Ballard started crawling into the hull and the light wavered and
brightened. He couldn't understand it. Then it dimmed altogether--
_The last of his oxygen was gone._
Dizzily he tried to squeeze through the rip. He kept slipping back ...
back. There was a roaring darkness all around him, but he could still
crawl.
For ages he seemed to be crawling over polished glass--His head crashed
into something that clanged hollowly. Some fading portion of his
consciousness told him he was inside the ship--and the clang had been
the spacelocker. Automatically, as though by instinct, he reached up
and fumbled with the handle--Then he was clumsily trying to fit a new
oxygen cylinder into place....
* * * * *
Ballard awoke feeling cramped and tired, as though he'd slept all
night in a bird cage. He looked at his chronometer, then at his
suit air-gauge. No. He'd been out only a few minutes. He got up and
crawled into the sleep-tank compartment and disconnected Walton's
awakener. Then he went into the control room and looked up the nearest
space-freighter lane in the radio call book, and set up an automatic
distress signal. He felt as if he were going to pass out again--this
time from sheer fatigue. There was still one thing more he wanted to do.
Out of the nose compartment he hauled a small case containing what had
caused all the trouble--
Then he crawled back out through the torn hull skin, opened the case
and flung every single one of the rotenite nuggets far out into space.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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