Moon -- Fiction; Science fiction; Short stories; Space flight -- Fiction
I manipulated the air-vent controls of my spacesuit, allowed a small
amount of the corridor's air into my helmet and inhaled cautiously.
It smelled all right. I waited and nothing happened. Gradually, I
increased the intake, turned off the oxygenating machines and removed
my helmet.
"Shut off your oxy," I suggested. "We might as well breathe the air in
this place and save our supply. We may need the oxygen in our suits
later."
They saw that I had removed my helmet and was still alive and one by
one removed their own helmets.
* * * * *
At the end of the corridor, Kane stopped before a blank wall. The sweat
on his face glistened dully; his chest rose and fell rapidly. Kane was
a pilot and one of the prerequisites for the job of guiding tons of
metal between Earth and the Moon was a good set of nerves. Kane excited
easily, his temper was fiery, but his nerves were like steel.
"The end of the line," he grunted.
As though to disprove the statement, a door on his right side opened
soundlessly.
He went through the doorway as if shoved violently by an invisible hand.
The door closed behind him.
Marie threw herself at the door and beat at the metal. "Harry!"
Verana rushed to her side. Another door on the opposite side of the
corridor opened silently. The door was behind them; they didn't notice.
Before I could warn them, Marie floated across the corridor, through
the doorway.
Verana and I stared at the darkness beyond the opening, our muscles
frozen by shock.
The door closed behind Marie's screaming, struggling form.
Verana's face was white with fear. Apprehensively, she glanced at the
other doors that lined the hall.
I put my arms around her, held her close.
"Antigravity machines, force rays," I suggested worriedly.
For several minutes, we remained motionless and silent. I recalled the
preceding events of the day, searched for a sense of normality in them.
The Kanes, Miller, Verana and I lived in Lunar City with hundreds of
other people. Mankind had inhabited the Moon for over a year. Means
of recreation were scarce. Many people explored the place to amuse
themselves. After supper, we had decided to take a walk. As simple as
that: a walk on the Moon.
We had expected only the familiar craters, chasms and weird rock
formations. A twist of fate and here we were: imprisoned in an alien
ship.
My legs quivered with fatigue, my heart throbbed heavily, Verana's
perfume dizzied me. No, it wasn't a dream. Despite our incredible
situation, there was no sensation of unreality.
* * * * *
I took Verana's hand and led her down the long corridor, retracing our
steps.
We had walked not more than two yards when the rest of the doors
opened soundlessly.
Verana's hand flew to her mouth to stifle a gasp.
Six doors were now open. The only two that remained closed were the
ones that the Kanes had unwillingly entered.
This time, no invisible hand thrust us into any of the rooms.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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