Tight Squeeze Read online

maintenance work,compact and complete with extension handles for the cutters andwrenches. Everything was there, but practically impossible to use. Hisfingers finally closed over the wire; he jerked it out and with it thesplice tool. The little pliers caromed from the brace above him andsailed out toward the motor, beyond the ship. He watched, horrified, asthe tool slowly cartwheeled away into space.

  "All right," he muttered, "scratch one splice tool. It was also my onlypair of pliers, but I'll manage." He knew he could use the wire cuttersin a pinch. "In a pinch," he repeated. "Oh, that's a hot one. That'sabout all that's happened this trip, so far. Pinch me, pinch thewiring--What a pinch!"

  * * * * *

  Holding the roll of wire tightly in one hand, he grasped the cutters andpulled them from the kit with utmost care. He unrolled a foot-longsection of wire and clipped it off, laying his flashlight in the toolkit so that it would shine out in front of him. He managed to attach thetiny splice lugs by pinching them with the cutters, then movedcautiously to the wire which still drooped from the jumble of machinery."Drooped" wasn't precisely the word; actually the wire had been bentinto its position and stayed that way.

  As the harried major reached for the brace on which the wire had beenbracketed, his tool kit vomited flashlight, wrenches and screwdrivers,leaving him in total darkness. His cursing was regular, now, monotonousand uninspired. There was another pencil light in the kit, snappedtightly to the case, and Mac reached for the whole business. The sparelight was a maintenance problem in itself. Question: How to retrieve afountain pen sized object, when it's held by a small snap and theretriever is encumbered by three pairs of arctic mittens?

  Mac saw his errant flashlight out of the corner of his eye, its beamfastened on a collapsed screw driver while both swam sluggishly towardthe inspection ladder. He located the pencil light and jerked it loose,holding the short wire and cutters in his other hand.

  This, Mac knew, was the crucial point. If he could splice the wirehanging in front of him, _Valier_ would once more be in perfect shape.He would have welcomed an extra hand or two, as he straddled a brace andshoved the tiny flash between his headpiece and shoulder fabric. Thewire should be stripped, he knew, but he hadn't the tools. They werescarcely ten feet from him, but could have rested atop the Kremlin forall the good they did him. He got most of the strands of one end of wireshoved into a splice lug, and called it good enough. It was like tryingto thread a needle whose eye was deeper than it was wide, while in adiving suit, using the business end of a paintbrush to start the thread.

  He withdrew one hand and searched the kit for friction tape. It might bementioned that an insulating tape which would be adhesive at minus twohundred degrees centigrade yet keep its properties at plus one thousand,was the near culmination of chemical science. Silicon plastic researchprovided the adhesive, an inert gum which changed almost none through afantastic range of temperatures and pressures. The tape Mac used toinsure his connection had an asbestos base, with adhesive gum insinuatedinto the tape. He wrapped the wire tightly, then bound it to the brace.He noticed his visor fogging up and felt a faint, giddy sensation.Anoxemia! He let the tape drift as he reached for his regulator dial._What a fool he was_, he thought, _to starve his lungs_. He turned thedial to emergency maximum and gulped precious liters of oxygen-heliummixture. The gauge showed a store of the gas which might possibly beenough to last him, if nothing else went wrong; perhaps ten minutes.

  The pencil flash, mercifully, still rested in a fold of his shoulderjoint fabric. The insulation tape floated near his waist; he grabbed itand stowed it between his knee and the brace, then reached once againfor the wiring.

  This time the splice went on without a hitch. He pinched the splice lugand taped the whole works feverishly. It was done; he had won. The tripback should take only a couple of minutes. Replacing the wire cutters inhis kit, he held the pencil flash before him and started retracing hisroute.

  He passed the twelve o'clock brace, pinned it in place again and saw oneof his tools floating to the right of his head. He gathered it in andswept his tiny flash around in search of other jetsam from his tool kit.He collected a wrench and the skittish flashlight, started toward thelast brace between him and the ladder, and felt his legs go limp. Hewasn't particularly alarmed about it; his arms and vision failed himtoo, but his brain hadn't enough incoming oxygen to care much, one wayor the other. The few remaining feet seemed to lengthen into a sewerlikepassageway, then vanished as did all else as his perceptions died.

  * * * * *

  MacNamara was not the sort to wonder about heaven or hell when he firstawoke. He saw a faintly rounded ceiling, a soft yellow tint accentuatingits featurelessness. "How the devil--", he began. His voice failed him.

  "Hi, Mac." Logan's beaming face loomed over him. "You rugged character,you. Cold as a pickle an hour ago, and already you're askin' sillyquestions." He held up his hand as Mac started to speak. "I hear youthinkin'. 'How the devil did I get here, and where is here?' In reverseorder, this is the most comfortable berth in the doughnut's facilities,and you got here courtesy of one Johnny Ruiz. Myself, I wouldn't havetaken the trouble."

  Mac grinned back at his pilot and cleared his throat. "Well, where ishe? I wanta shake his hand, or give him half my kingdom, or something."

  "You know Johnny; the shy type. He'll be along after a while. You know,I think he kinda likes you; when you quit transmitting out there, Johnnywas like a cat on a hot skillet. Finally decided to go back and have alook for himself, but I told him you probably had a hot game ofsolitaire going. Anyway, he went back and found you asleep on the job,and lost a good ten pounds getting your fat carcass through the airlock." That was a job that must have taxed both Ruiz and Logan, but Macheld his silence. "And that was about the size of it. _Valier's_ parkedoutside with some of the boys, good as ever. Come on, we'll sop up somecoffee."

  Mac swung himself up to a sitting position and realized dizzily that hewas mother-naked. His ribs felt pulverized. "You guys sure mauled meup," he said accusingly.

  "Unavoidable, my dear grease-monkey. You needed a little artificialrespiration; I never was too good at that."

  "Well, whoever did the job rates a prize of some sort," Mac answered,"but my ribs tell me he had more enthusiasm than practice."

  Logan smiled his old familiar smile, relieved to find his engineer injoking spirits. "The credit again goes to Johnny. But," he added, "trynot to be too hard on him. Try giving artificial respiration to a biglump like yourself sometime, without any gravity."

  Mac digested this tidbit as he pulled on a fresh pair of coveralls."O.K.," he said, standing on the foamex "floor." "How did he do it?"

  "Strapped you into your couch face down and locked his legs around it. Ididn't dare apply any g's. Come on," he finished, "you've managed toupset every timetable in the project. Johnny's shaking like a leaf, orwas when I left him. A bulb of coffee will do us both a world of good."

  "I'm sold," Mac grunted, zipping up a flight boot. "But there'ssomething I'd like to do, first chance I get."

  "Which is?"

  "Which is jettison every last strip of tape I have in _Valier_. I tellyou, Logan," he went on as they entered the recreation bar, "you'llnever know how degrading it is to hear useless, insipid informationoffered to you when you're in a tight spot, knowing full well the voiceis your own!"

  THE END