Sabotage -- Fiction; Science fiction; Space stations -- Fiction
Joe and Mike did not share his talent. Joe launched himself after
Sanford, and for perhaps 20 or 30 feet the lighted aluminum sidewall of
the tube sped past him. Then his shoulder rubbed, and he found himself
skidding to an undignified stop, choking the bore. Mike thudded into
him.
"I haven't got the hang of this yet," said Joe apologetically.
He untangled himself and went on. Mike followed him, his expression that
of pure bliss. He was a tiny man, was Mike, but he had the longings and
the ambitions of half a dozen ordinary-sized men in his small body. And
he had known frustration. He could prove by mathematics that space
exploration could be carried on by midgets at a fraction of the cost and
risk of the same job done by normal-sized men. He was, of course, quite
right. The cabins and air and food supplies for a spaceship's crew of
midgets would cost and weigh a fraction of similar equipment for
six-footers. But people simply weren't interested in sending midgets
out into space.
But Mike had gotten here. He was in the Space Platform. There were
full-sized men who would joyfully have changed places with him,
forty-one inch height and all. So Mike was blissful.
The tube ended and Joe bounced off the wall that faced its end. Sanford
was waiting. He grinned with more than a hint of spite.
"Here's our communications room," he said. "Now you can talk down to
Earth. It'll be relayed, now, but in half an hour you can reach the Shed
direct."
He floated inside. Joe followed cautiously. There was another crew
member on duty there. He sat before a group of radar screens, with thigh
grips across his legs to hold him in his chair. He turned his head and
nodded cheerfully enough.
"Here!" snapped Sanford.
Joe clambered awkwardly to the seat the senior crew member pointed out.
He made his way to it by handholds on the walls. He fumbled into the
chair and threw over the curved thigh grips that would hold him in
place.
Suddenly he was oriented. He had seen this room before--before the
Platform was launched. True, the man at the radar screens was
upside-down with reference to himself, and Sanford had hooked a knee
negligently around the arm of a firmly anchored chair with his body at
right angles to Joe's own, but at least Joe knew where he was and what
he was to do.
"Go ahead and report," said Sanford sardonically. "You might tell them
that you heroically destroyed the rockets that attacked us, and that
your crew behaved splendidly, and that you have landed in the Space
Platform and the situation is well in hand. It isn't, but it will make
nice headlines."
Joe said evenly, "Our arrival's been reported?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account