Love stories; Mutiny -- Fiction; Revolutions -- Fiction; Science fiction; Space ships -- Fiction
It was like a diver taking a step under water. I did not fall. I had
let myself off the brink gingerly; and I felt my body sluggishly moving
out a foot or two, with all the universe slowly, dizzily turning over.
I am no skilled mathematician. Given the gross tonnage of the little
_X-87_, doubtless astronomers could figure the relation of its gravity
pull upon me, so close, compared to the giant bulk of the Earth, so far
away. Perhaps even at forty thousand miles, and against the pull of the
Moon, some two hundred thousand miles above me, and the _X-87_ only a
foot or two--the Earth would slowly have drawn me down. But I knew that
there was an aura of the vessel's artificial interior gravity out here.
Len Smith had told me of many tests which had been made between the
Earth and the Moon.
At all events, I drifted downward a few feet, like a waterlogged chunk
of wood slowly turning over. Then slowly I came back; landed in a
clumsy, struggling heap against the ship's glistening alumite side. To
each of us, himself is the center of the Universe. Cautiously I stood
up. At once the vessel seemed my little world, lying flat on its side
under me, with the reddish giant Earth to my right, the round white
Moon to the left; and over my head, the great glittering vault of the
Heavens, star-strewn upon a background of black velvet.
I seemed to weigh perhaps a pound or two. Like a fly, gingerly I
crawled along the vessel's bulging side. Then I came to the dome. The
roof deck within was grotesquely tilted on end. The vision of it was
blurred by the glassite pressure plates, but it seemed unoccupied,
slowly righting itself as I crawled up the bulge, cautiously clinging
to avoid having my own efforts cast me off.
Then at last I came to the top, with the little _X-87_ right side
up under my feet and the Moon above me. I knew that from the roof
deck I could be seen up here as a distorted, shadowy blob. My heart
was pounding with the fear that an alarm would come, but none did.
I reached, at last, the little pressure porte in the dome over the
control turret and chart room. I had two deflated Erentz suits and
helmets lashed to me. The emergency panel was here, like a trap door
under me. Through its transparent bull's-eye I could see into the
small, dim compartment under me. The lower panel was open, but there
was a lever out here by which I could slide it closed. Would it make
any sound and alarm Torio in the chart room under it? I held my breath
as it slid. There was no commotion.
* * * * *
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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