โRockyโs body heats up the whole room.โ
I can barely move, the force of the centrifuge is so great.
โNnnn!โย I groan, pushing myself up o๏ฌย the cracked monitor. I drag myself across the shards to the next monitor over. I try not to lift too much of my body up at a timeโI have to save my strength.
I slide myย ๏ฌnger onto the monitor from the edge and tap the screen-select buttons at the bottom. Iโve got one chance at this.
I remember the navigation controls. The manual-control section has a button to zero out all rotation. Thatโs mighty tempting right now, but I canโt risk it. The fuel bay is wide open, Iโve jettisoned a couple of pods, and I have no idea what other damage may have been done. The last thing I want to do isย ๏ฌre up any spin drivesโeven the little ones that do attitude control.
I bring up the Centrifuge screen. It blinks red and white, still angry about the excessive tumble the ship is undergoing. With e๏ฌort, I dismiss the warning, then enter into manual mode. There are a bunch ofย โhey, donโt do thisโย kind of dialogs, but I dismiss them all. Soon I have direct control over the cable spools. I set them spinning at max speed.
The room spins and tilts in weird ways. My inner ears and my eyes are not enjoying the discrepancy. I know itโs because the two halves of the ship are separating and that has nasty e๏ฌects on the forces I feel here in the control room. But logic doesnโt do any good in this situation. I turn my head and vomit on the wall.
After a few seconds, the force reduces dramatically. Much more manageable now. Less than 1 g, actually. All thanks to the magic of centrifuge math.
The force you feel in a centrifuge is inverse to the square of the radius. By spooling out the cables, I made the radius go from 20 meters (half the length of the ship) to 75 meters (distance from the control room to the center of mass with full cable extension). I donโt know how much force I was dealing with before, but now itโs one-fourteenth as much as it was.
Iโm still pinned against the monitor, though not nearly as hard. I estimate about half a g. I can breathe again.
Everything feels upside down. I used the centrifuge in manual mode, so it did exactly what I told it to do and nothing else: It extended the cables. It didย notย rotate the crew compartment to face inward. The centrifuge pushes everything toward the nose of the crew compartment. The lab isย โupโย from me now, and the dormitory is even fartherย โup.โ
I donโt even know where the manual controls for the crew-compartment rotation are and I donโt have time to look for them. For now, Iโll have to work in upside-down land.
I bound to the airlock and open it up. Everything is a shambles inside, but I donโt care. I untangle the wadded-up EVA suit and detach the gloves. I put them on.
Back in the control room, I stand on the consoles (the control panels areย โdownโย now). I hope Iโm not damaging things too much. I position myself over Rockyโs body, grab both sides of his carapace with my gloved hands, and lift.
Good. God.
I put him back down. If I try to move him like that, Iโll throw out my back. But I did lift him, however brie๏ฌy. It felt like 200 pounds. Thank god weโre in one-half gravity. Heโd weigh 400 pounds at full gravity.
Iโll need more than my hands to lift him.
I throw o๏ฌย the gloves, bounce back to the airlock, andย ๏ฌing items aside until Iย ๏ฌnd the safety tethers. I wrap two tethers under Rockyโs carapace and loop them over my shoulders. I burn my arms in several places during the process, but Iโll deal with that later.
I clip each tether to itself under my armpits. This wonโt be comfortable and it de๏ฌnitely wonโt look cool, but my hands will be free and Iโll be lifting with my legs.
I reach through the hatchway to the lab with both hands and get ahold of the closest rung of the ladder. Itโs slow going atย ๏ฌrst. Thereโs no ladder in the control room. Why would there be? No one thought it would be upside down.
My shoulders scream in pain. This is not a well-designed backpack with a properly distributed load. Itโs 200 pounds of alien held up by two thin straps digging into my collarbones. And I just have to hope the melting point of the nylon tethers is higher than Rockyโs body temperature.
I grunt and grimace, one rung at a time, until I get my feet into the lab. I use the edge of the hatchway to brace my feet and pull Rocky up with the straps.
The lab is a disaster. Everything is in piles all over the ceiling. Only the table and chairs remain on theย ๏ฌoor above meโtheyโre bolted to theย ๏ฌoor. And, thankfully, most of the more delicate equipment is bolted to them. However, that delicate o๏ฌ-the-shelf lab equipmentย wasnโtย designed to be rattled around like popcorn and subjected to 6 or 7 gโs. I wonder how many things are hopelessly broken.
The gravity is less up here. Iโm closer to the center of the centrifuge. The higher I get the easier things will be.
I kick lab supplies and equipment out of my way and drag Rocky to the dormitory hatchway. I repeat the painful process I just did a moment ago. The force is less, but it still hurts. Again, I use the hatchway as a bracing point to pull Rocky into the room.
My little section of the dormitory barelyย ๏ฌts us both. Rockyโs section is a mess, just like the lab. His workbench wasnโt bolted in place, so itโs on the ceiling now.
I drag him across the ceiling and I get up on my bunk. It has swiveled completely around, thanks to its rocking pivot mounting. Itโs a handy platform for reaching the airlock between my zone and Rockyโs.
The airlock door sits open on my side. He used it to come save me.ย โMan, why did you do that?!โย I grouse.
He could have let me die. He should have, really. He could handle the centripetal force, no problem. He could have taken his time, whipped up an invention, and used it to get back control of the ship. Yeah, I know, heโs a
good guy and he saved my life, but this isnโt about us. He has a planet to save. Why risk his life and his whole mission for me?
The airlock door doesnโt reach the ceiling, so Iโll have to playย โThe Floor Is Lavaโย to get in.
I hop into the airlock from my bunk, then use the straps to pull Rocky in with me. I start to climb back out and thatโs when I see the airlock-control panel.
Or, rather, I see the destroyed box that was once the airlock-control panel.ย โOh, comeย on!โย I yell.
Both sides of the airlock had control panels, so either Rocky or I could
operate it as needed. But now mine are ruinedโprobably smacked by some debrisย ๏ฌying around during the chaos.
I have to get him back into his environment, but how? I have an idea. Itโs not a good idea. Thereโs an emergency valve in the airlock chamber itself that can let air in from Rockyโs side.
Itโs there to cover a very speci๏ฌc edge case. Thereโs no way I can ever enter Rockyโs area of the ship. I certainly canโt handle his environment, and my EVA suit would be crushed like a grape. But Rocky can come into my area with his homemade ball-spacesuit thing. So, just to be extra safeโjust in case there was an emergency while Rocky was in his ball in the airlockโย thereโs a relief valve that will let the air from his side vent in. Itโs a large iron lever, so it can be manipulated with the magnets Rocky carries with him while in the ball.
I look at the lever in the airlock. I glance at the airlockโs door to my compartment and its spinning-wheel lock. I look back to the lever, then back to the door.
I coil my muscles and mentally count to three.
I pull the lever and leap toward my compartment.
Blazing-hot ammoniaย ๏ฌoods the airlock and dormitory. I slam the airlock door behind me and spin the wheel lock. I hear hissing on the other side but I donโt see anything. I might never see anything again.
My eyes burn like theyโre onย ๏ฌre. My lungs feel like a hundred knives are having a dance-o๏ฌ. My skin is numb all along my left side. And my noseโย forget it. The smell is so overpowering my sense of smell just gives up.
My throat completely closes o๏ฌ. My body wantsย nothingย to do with the ammonia.
โComโฆโย I wheeze.ย โComโฆpuโฆterโฆโ
I want to die. Pain is everywhere. I climb into my bunk.ย โHelp!โย I wheeze.
โMultiple injuries,โย says the computer.ย โExcessive eye mucus. Blood around the mouth, second-degree burns. Breathing distress. Triage result: intubate.โ
The mechanical arms, which thankfully donโt seem to have any problem with being upside down, grab me and something is shoved violently down my throat. I feel a poke on my good arm.
โIVย ๏ฌuids and sedation,โย the computer reports. And then Iโm out like a light.
โ
I wake up covered in medical equipment and pain.
Thereโs an oxygen mask on my face. My right arm has an IV and my left arm is bandaged from wrist to shoulder. It hurts like heck.
Everything else hurts too. Especially my eyes. But at least I can see. Thatโs good.
โComputer,โย I say with a raspy voice.ย โHow long have I been asleep?โ โUnconsciousness lasted six hours, seventeen minutes.โ
I take a deep breath. My lungs feel like theyโre coated in tar. Probably phlegm or some other gunk. I look over to Rockyโs area. Heโs right where I left him in the airlock.
How can I tell if an Eridian is dead? When Rocky sleeps all movement stops. But thatโs also presumably what happens when an Eridian dies.
I spot a pulse-ox monitor on my right indexย ๏ฌnger.
โCompuโโย I cough.ย โComputer: What is my blood oxygen content?โ โNinety-one percent.โ
โItโll have to do.โย I take the mask o๏ฌย and sit up in bed. My bandaged arm stings with every movement. I pull the various things o๏ฌย of my body.
I open and close my left hand. Itโs working. The muscles are only a little bit sore.
I got hit with a quick blast of very hot, very high-pressure ammonia. Most likely, I have chemical burns in my lungs and on my eyes. And probably a physical burn on my arm. My left side took the brunt of the blast.
Twenty-nine atmospheres of pressure at 210 degrees Celsius (over 400 degrees Fahrenheit!). That must be what a grenade feels like. Side note: With no one manning the helm, itโs pure luck we didnโt crash into the planet.
The ship is either in a stable orbit or we escaped Adrianโs gravity entirely. I shake my head. Itโs truly ridiculous how much power I have sitting in the fuel bay. To not even know if Iโm still near aย planetโฆwow.
Iโm lucky to be alive. Thereโs no other way to put it. Anything I do beyond that moment is a gift from the universe to me. I step o๏ฌย the bed and stand in front of the airlock. Gravity is still at one-half g and everything is still upside down.
What can I do for Rocky?
I sit on theย ๏ฌoor opposite his body. I put my hand on the airlock wall. That feels too melodramatic, so I pull it back. Okay, I know the very basics of Eridian biology. That doesnโt make me a doctor.
I grab a tablet and swipe through various documents Iโve made. I donโt remember everything he told me, but at least I took copious notes.
When severely wounded, an Eridian body will shut down so it can try to work on everything at once. I hope Rockyโs little cells are doing their thing in there. And I hope they know how toย ๏ฌx damage done by: (1) dropping air pressure to one twenty-ninth what he evolved to live in, (2) being suddenly exposed to a bunch of oxygen, and (3) being almost 200 degrees colder than his body expects.
I shake o๏ฌย the worry and return to my notes.ย โAh, here!โย I say.
Thereโs the information I need: Those capillaries in his carapace radiator are made of deoxidized metal alloys. The ambient circulatory system pumps his mercury-based blood through those vessels and air passes over them. In Eridโs oxygen-free atmosphere, this makes perfect sense. In ours, it makes a perfect tinderbox.
A bunch of oxygen just passed over very hot metal pipes no thicker than a human hair. They burned. Thatโs the smoke I saw coming out of Rockyโs vents. His radiator was literally onย ๏ฌre.
Jesus.
The whole organ must be completely full of soot and other combustion products. And the capillaries will be coated in oxides, which ruin heat conductivity. Heck, oxides areย insulators. The worst-possible outcome.
Okay. If heโs dead, heโs dead. I canโt do any further harm. But if heโs alive, I have to help. Thereโs no reason not to try.
But what do I do?
โ
So many pressures. So many temperatures. So many air mixtures. I have to keep track of them all. My own environment, Rockyโs environment, and now the Adrian Astrophage breeding-ground environment too.
Butย ๏ฌrst: gravity. Iโm sick of living inย The Poseidon Adventure.ย Time to right this ship.
I make my way backย โdownโย to the control room. The center panel is ruined, but the others workย ๏ฌne. And theyโre interchangeable anyway. Iโll mount a replacement in the middle when I have time.
I bring up the Centrifuge screen and poke around at the controls a bit. Iย ๏ฌnallyย ๏ฌnd the manual controls for the crew-compartment rotation. They were buried pretty deep in the options; Iโm glad I didnโt try toย ๏ฌnd them during the crisis.
I order the crew compartment to rotate. Very, very slowly. I set the rate at 1 degree per second. It takes three minutes to turn around. And I hear a lot of thunks, clunks, and crashes from the lab. I donโt care about any of that. I just want to make sure Rocky doesnโt get further injured. This slow rate should make his body slide along the airlock ceiling, then along the wall, andย ๏ฌnally to theย ๏ฌoor. Thatโs the plan, anyway.
Once the rotation is complete, things are back to feeling normal, albeit at half a g. I go back down to the dormitory to check on Rocky. Heโs now on the airlockย ๏ฌoor, and still right-side up. Good. He slid rather than tumbled.
I really want to work on Rocky, but I have to make sure the adventure that may have killed him wasnโt in vain. I grab the sample container from the shipโs airlock. Iโm kind of glad I left it there, honestly. It got cushioned from the crazy sudden accelerations by the EVA suit wadded up with it.
Rocky had the foresight to put readouts on the sampler to tell us what the temperature and pressure inside were. Theyโre analog dial indicators in Eridian base-six numerology. But Iโve seen enough of that to be able to translate. The inside of the ball is minus 51 degrees Celsius with a pressure of
0.02 atmospheres. And I know from my spectrometry earlier what the atmospheric makeup is.
Okay, thatโs the environment I have to duplicate.
I sort through whatโs left of the lab. Itโs slow going because I only have minimal use of my left arm. But I can use it to help slide things aside, at least. Just no heavy lifting for now.
Iย ๏ฌnd a vacuum container thatโs only a little broken. Itโs a drum-shaped glass cylinder about a foot in diameter. I patch up the crack with epoxy and give it a test. Itโs able to pump the air out and maintain a vacuum. If it can maintain a vacuum, it can maintain 0.02 atmospheres.
I put the sample container inside.
The chemical-storage cabinet is stillย ๏ฌrmly anchored to the wall. I open it up. Everything is jumbled around inside, of course, but most containers look intact. I grab the small vial of Earth Astrophage.
Thereโs about a gram in there, included in the supplies for testing purposes. I can always get more if I need it. All I have to do is cut any of the Astrophage-based coolant lines in the hull. But thereโs no need for that right now.
The sample is an oily sludge at the bottom of the vial. I open the vial and scoop it up with a cotton swab. (That gram of Astrophage has 100 trillion Joules of energy. Best not to think about it.)
I smear the Astrophage along the inner wall of the vacuum chamber and drop the cotton swab in next to the sample probe.
I pump all the air out of the vacuum chamber.
The chemistry supplies include several small cylinders of gases. Thankfully, steel cylinders are tough, so they survived the game of cosmic
pinball we just went through. I add gases into the vacuum chamber, one at a time, through the infeed valve. I want to replicate Adrianโs atmosphere. I pump in carbon dioxide, methane, and even argon. I donโt imagine the argon will matterโitโs a noble gas, so it shouldnโt react with stu๏ฌ. But thatโs what I used to think about xenon, and that turned out to be wrong.
I donโt have any way to chill the air in there to minus 50 degrees, so Iโll just have to hope whatever the life inside can handle Earth room temperature. I hear a click just as Iย ๏ฌnish putting the argon in. Itโs the sampler. Just as
Rocky designed them to do, the little valves opened when the outside pressure
matched the pressure at the Astrophage breeding altitude on Adrian. Good old Rocky. Best engineer Iโve ever met.
Okay. Iโve made the sample as safe as I can. The air composition and pressure is as close to its native environment as I could get it, and thereโs plenty of Astrophage to eat. If there are any microscopic predators in there, they should be in good shape.
I wipe my brow with my bandaged arm, and immediately regret it. I wince in pain.
โHow hard is it, Ryland?!โย I seethe to myself.ย โStop using your burned-up arm!โ
I climb back down the ladder to the dormitory.ย โComputer: painkillers.โ
The arms reach up and hand me a paper cup with two pills in it and a cup of water. I take the pills without even checking what they are.
I look back at my friend and try to come up with a planโฆ.
โ
Itโs been over a day since I shoved Rocky in that airlock and he still hasnโt moved. But I havenโt been wasting my time. Iโve been mad sciencing some inventions in the lab. This kind of gadget creation is really Rockyโs forte, but I give it my best.
I thought about lots of di๏ฌerent approaches. But in the end, I think I should let Rockyโs body heal itself as much as possible. I wouldnโt feel
comfortable trying to operate on a human, let alone an Eridian. His body should know what to do. I just have to let it.
That doesnโt mean Iโm going to do nothing at all, though. I have a guess as to whatโs going on. And if Iโm wrong, my idea for treatment wonโt hurt him.
Right now, thereโs a bunch of soot and other combustion by-product crap in his radiator organ. So it probably doesnโt work well. If heโs alive at all, itโll take his body a long time to clear that out. Maybe too long.
So maybe I can help?
I hold the box in my hand. Itโs enclosed onย ๏ฌve of six sides with the remaining side open. The walls are 4-inch-thick steel. It took me all day to repair the mill and get it working again, but once I did, milling up this box was a breeze.
Inside is a high-powered air pump. Simple as that. I can shoot high- pressure air really hard. I tested it out in the lab and it blew a hole in a 1- millimeter-thick sheet of aluminum from a foot away. It really works. I wish I could claim Iโm a genius who made this all from scratch, but the reality is I only made the box. The pump is repurposed from a high-pressure tank.
Also in the box is a battery, a camera, some stepper motors, and a drill. Iโll need all of these things for my plan to work.
Iโve cleaned up the lab, somewhat. Most of the equipment is ruined, but some might beย ๏ฌxable. I cross to the other side of the table, where I have another experiment.
I have a little chip of xenoniteโsome cha๏ฌย left over from when we made two hundred thousand chain links. I used a generous application of epoxy to glue it to the tip of a roughed-up drill bit. Itโs been setting for over an hour. Should be done.
I pick up the bit and the xenonite comes with it. I use all my strength to try to pull them apart. I canโt.
I nod and smile. This might work.
I do a few more tests with the box. My remote control for the motors works well enough. Itโs not true remote control. Itโs a bank of switches attached to a plastic container lid. I have wires from the switches going through a tiny hole in the steel, which is in turnย ๏ฌlled up with resin. I can turn the power on or o๏ฌย to any of the components in there. Thatโs myย โremote
control.โย I can only hope the motors donโt have a problem with high heat or ammonia.
I bring everything to the dormitory and prep the epoxy. I stir it together and apply it generously to the edges of the steel boxโs open side. I press the box to the airlock wall and hold it in place. Then I just stand there for ten minutes, holding the box in place. I could have taped it to the wall or something while the epoxy set, but I need a really good seal and I donโt want to take any chances. Human hands are better clamps than any tool I might have in the lab.
I gingerly release the box and wait for it to fall. It doesnโt. I poke it a couple of times and it seems pretty solid.
Itโsย ๏ฌve-minute epoxy, but Iโll give it an hour to fully set.
I return to the lab. I may as well, right? Letโs see what my little alien terrarium is up to.
Nothing much, as it happens. I donโt know what I expected. Littleย ๏ฌying saucers whizzing around in the chamber, maybe?
But the cylinder looks exactly like it did before. The sampler sits where I left it. The smear of Astrophage is unchanged. The cotton swab isโฆ
Heyโฆ
I hunker down and take a seat. I squint into the chamber. The cotton swab has changed. Just a little bit. Itโsโฆ๏ฌu๏ฌer.
Sweet! Maybe thereโs something on there I could get a look at. I just need to get it under a microscope toโ
Oh.
The realization dawns on me. I donโt have any way to extract samples. I just plain overlooked that part.
โDummy!โย I smack my forehead.
I rub my eyes. Between the pain from my burns and the dopiness from the painkillers, itโs hard to concentrate. And Iโm tired. One thing I learned back in my graduate school days: When youโre stupid tired, accept that youโre stupid tired. Donโt try to solve things right then. I have a sealed container that I need to get into eventually. Iโllย ๏ฌgure out how later.
I pull out my tablet and take photos of the container. Science rule number 1: If something is changing unexpectedly, document it.
Just to be more scienti๏ฌc, I point a webcam at the experiment and set up the computer to take a time-lapse at one frame per second. If anything is happening slowly, I want to know.
I head back to the control room. Where the heck are we?
Some work with the Nav console and I learn weโre still in orbit. Itโs stable- ish. This orbit will probably decay over time. No rush, though.
I check all the shipโs systems and do as many diagnostics as I can. The ship did pretty well, despite not being remotely designed to handle this situation.
The two fuel bays I jettisoned arenโt around anymore, but the other seven look to be in good shape. There are cracks in the hull here and there, according to the diagnostics test. But they all seem to be internal. Nothing facing outside, which is good. I donโt want my Astrophage to see Adrian again.
One of the micro-breaches is highlighted in red. I take a closer look. The breachโs location has the computer in a tizzy. Itโs in the bulkhead between the fuel area and the edge of the pressure vessel. I can see the concern.
The bulkhead sits between the storage bay below the dormitory and Fuel Bay 4. I go take a look.
Rocky still hasnโt moved. No surprise there. My steel box remains where I put it. I could probably use it now, but Iโm resolved to wait the full hour.
I open up the storage panels and pull a bunch of boxes out. I climb into the storage area with aย ๏ฌashlight and toolkit. Itโs crampedโbarely 3 feet tall. I have to crawl around in there for a good twenty minutes before Iย ๏ฌnallyย ๏ฌnd the breach. I only spot it because thereโs a small frosty buildup around the edges. Air escaping into a vacuum gets really cold really fast. In fact, that ice probably helped slow the leak.
Not that it mattered. The leak is so small it would take weeks to be a problem. And the ship probably has a bunch of spare air in tanks anyway. Still, thereโs no reason to just let it leak. I apply a generous helping of epoxy on a small metal patch and seal the breach. I have to hold it for considerably more thanย ๏ฌve minutes before it sets. Epoxy takes a long time to set when itโs cold, and the bulkhead is below freezing at that spot thanks to the leak. I
considered getting a heat gun from the lab butโฆthatโs a lot of work. I just hold the patch for longer. It takes aboutย ๏ฌfteen minutes.
I climb back down and wince the whole time. My arm hurts nonstop now. Itโs a constant sting. Itโs been less than an hour, but the painkillers arenโt doing the job anymore.
โComputer! Painkillers!โ
โAdditional dose available in three hours and four minutes.โย I frown.ย โComputer: What is the current time?โ
โSeven-๏ฌfteenย , Moscow Standard Time.โ
โComputer: Set time to elevenย Moscow Standard Time.โ
โClock set complete.โ โComputer: painkillers.โ
The arms hand me a package of pills and a bag of water. I gobble them down. What a stupid system. Astronauts trusted to save the world but not to monitor their painkiller doses? Stupid.
Okay. Itโs been long enough. I turn my attention back to the box.
First Iโll need to drill a hole in the xenonite. And thatโs where all hell will break loose if things go bad. The general idea here is for the drill inside the box to put a hole in the xenonite and for the box to contain the pressure that rushes in. But you never know. The box might not be held on tight enough.
I wear a medical breathing mask and eye protection. If thereโs going to be a jet of superheated, high-pressure ammonia in this room, I need to not die from it.
Earlier Iย ๏ฌled down a metal rod to be sort of a spike. The full radius is a little bigger than the drill bit I have readied in the steel box. I hold the spike and hammer at the ready. If the pressure blows the box o๏ฌ, Iโll hammer the spike into the hole and hope it plugs the gap.
Of course, the pressure might not blow the box o๏ฌย entirely. It might just spurt out around the edges of the glue joint. If that happens, Iโll have to smack the box with the hammer until it comes o๏ฌ, then drive in the spike.
Yes, itโs ridiculously dangerous. But I just donโt know if Rocky will survive without help. Maybe Iโm being emotional instead of rational. But so what?
I clench the hammer and spike. Then I activate the drill.
It takes so long for that drill to get through the xenonite, I actually calm down out of boredom. Itโs only 1 centimeter, but itโs like trying to grind down diamond. Iโm lucky the drill bit is hard enough to do anything at all. The camera feed from inside shows slow and steady progress. Instead of drilling like wood or metal, this is more like glass. It breaks o๏ฌย in chips and chunks.
Finally, the bit breaches to the other side. It is immediately launched back into the box and bent sideways by the pressure. Thereโs aย whumpย as Eridian air rushes into the little box. I squint my eyes. Then, after a few seconds, I open them again.
If the box was going to blow o๏ฌ, it would have done so right then. My seal held. For now anyway. I breathe a sigh of relief.
But I donโt take the mask or goggles o๏ฌ. You never know when the seal might give out.
I check the camera screen. This will take careful aim, so I was very clever in making sure a camera couldโ
The camera feed is dead.
A pain in my wrist takes over and I pull it away.
Ah. Yeah. Webcams arenโt designed to work at 210 degrees Celsius and 29 atmospheres. And my solid steel box, well, itโs solid steel. Steel is anย excellentย heat conductor. I canโt even touch it now itโs so hot.
Iโm still stupid. First the Adrian sample container, and now this. I want to sleep, but Rocky is more important. At least being stupid isnโt permanent. Iโll press on. I know I shouldnโt, but Iโm too stupid to take that into consideration.
Okay, the camera is dead. I canโt see into the box. But I can still see Rocky in the airlock because the xenonite is clear. Iโll have to work with what Iโve got here.
Iย ๏ฌre up the high-pressure pump. It still worksโat least, itโs making noise. It should be shooting a very high-pressure jet of air in Rockyโs direction. At 29 atmospheres, air acts almost like water. You can really knock stu๏ฌย around with it. But ammonia is clear. So I have no idea where itโs going.
I adjust the angle of the jet with the servo controls. Are they working? I have no idea. The pump is too loud for me to hear if the servos are doing anything. I sweep left and right, inching down and up in a pattern.
Finally, I spot something. One of the levers in the airlock wiggles a bit. I zero in on it. It gets pushed back several inches.
โGotcha!โย I say.
Now I know where itโs pointed. I do some guesswork and aim for Rockyโs carapace vents. Nothing happens, so I do a grid search, back and forth, up and down, until I get a result.
And oh, what a result it is!
I hit the sweet spot. All of a sudden, Rockyโs carapace vents belch out black smoke. The nasty dust and debris that built up when he was onย ๏ฌre. Itโs intensely satisfying. Like that feeling when you blast an air duster into an old computer.
I sweep back and forth, trying to hit each vent one by one. The latter vents donโt cause nearly the commotion as thatย ๏ฌrst one. I think they all lead to the same organโlike a humanโs mouth and nose do. Multiple ori๏ฌces for redundancy and safety.
After a few minutes, no more sooty dust is coming out. I shut o๏ฌย the pump.
โWell, buddy,โย I say.ย โIโve done all I can. I just hope you can do the rest.โ
I spend the rest of the day working on a secondary and tertiary containment box. I glue them in place over my device. The Eridian air will have to breach three seals to get into my compartment now. That will have to do.
I hope Rocky wakes up.
