QRM-InterplanetarySmith, George O. (George Oliver)
Science
QRM-Interplanetary
Smith, George O. (George Oliver)
Science fiction; Space stations -- Fiction
"Not as much as I'd like to do," said Channing. "I can't help much.
We've got most of the place stopped off with the air-tight doors. We've
been electrolyzing water, baking KClO_{3}, and everything else we can
get oxy out of. I've a crew of men trying to absorb the CO_{2}. Jimmy
Dickson is bringing me hourly reports on the CO_{2} content and we
are losing. Slowly, Arden, but we are losing. Of course, I've known
all along that we couldn't support the station on the meager supplies
we have on hand. But we'll win in the end. Our microcosmic world is
getting a shot in the arm in a few hours that will reset the balance."
"I don't see why we didn't prepare for this emergency," said Arden.
"This station is well balanced. There are enough people here and enough
space to make a little world of our own. We can establish a balance
that is pretty darned close to perfect. The imperfections are taken
care of by influxes of supplies from the system. Until Burbank upset
the balance, we could go on forever, utilizing natural purification of
air and water. We grow a few vegetables and have some meat critters
to give milk and steak. The energy to operate Venus Equilateral is
supplied with the photoelectric collectors--sun power, if you please.
Why should we burden ourselves with a lot of cubic feet of supplies
that would take up room necessary to maintain our balance? We are
not in bad shape. We'll live, though we'll all be a bunch of tired,
irritable people who yawn in one another's faces."
"And after it is over?"
"We'll establish the balance. Then we'll settle down again. We can take
up where we left off."
"Not quite. Venus Equilateral has been seared by fire. We'll be tougher
and less tolerant of outsiders. If we were a closed corporation before,
we'll be tighter than a vacuum-packed coffee can afterwards. And the
first bird that cracks us will get hissed at."
* * * * *
Three superliners hove into sight at the end of thirty-one hours. They
circled the station, signaling by helio. They approached the air lock
end of the station and made contact. Their bulk tipped the station
slightly, tipped it and rotated it by gyroscopic reaction. The air lock
was opened and space-suited figures swarmed over the mile-wide end of
the station. A stream of big oxygen tanks were brought into the air
lock, admitted, and taken to the last bulwark of huddled people on the
fourth level.
From one of the ships there came a horde of men carrying huge square
trays of dirt and green, growing sawgrass.
For six hours, Venus Equilateral was the scene of wild, furious
activity. The dead air was blown out of bad areas, and the hissing
of oxygen tanks was heard in every room. Gradually the people left
the fourth level and returned to their rightful places. The station
rang with laughter once more, and business, stopped short for want of
breath, took a deep lungful of fresh air and went back to work.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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