Down the Hatch
The Phantom X-1 tore across the barren planet, blasting a dust trail with its fiery jets. At the controls of the sleek fighter, Captain Spacejock of the Intergalactic Peace Force was studying a shadow on his display. What was that strange shape?
"Fizz! Fizz! FIZZ!"
Laser shots zinged the X-1, spitting and crackling as they bounced off the armour. Captain Spacejock twisted this way and that until he spotted the enemy: A sinister ship right on his tail! It was getting closer, moving in for the kill, and he only had one trick left.
"Whoosh! Zoom!" Hal Junior swept his arm through the air, fluttering the wings of a paper plane gripped in his hand.
The X-1 tore into the sky, turned on its tail and dived on the pursuer. Catching the ship by surprise with his patented slam-roll, Captain Spacejock fired a burst from his triple-decker space-cannon.
"Neeeeouuuuwwww! Fizz Fizz Fizz! BOOOM! Take that, evil overlord! You're no match for Captain Spacejock of the Intergalactic Peace Force!"
The X-1 did a barrel roll above the wreckage, where a lone figure was shaking his fist. Captain Spacejock saluted his fallen foe, then returned to his patrol. Seconds later, an angry voice crackled in his headphones.
"Will you hurry up! We'll be late for lessons!"
Hal lowered the paper plane. Stephen 'Stinky' Binn was a good friend, but Hal sometimes wished he was a robot so he could switch his voice off. "Stinky! I was on patrol!"
"If you don't quit dreaming you'll be on detention."
They hurried along the corridor together, with Hal still fighting imaginary space battles. "Zooom! Zzing! Ker-pow! Aaargh!"
Stinky rolled his eyes.
A lift carried them to the next level, and on the way up Hal showed off his paper plane. His dad had found the diagram in an old ebook the night before, and after demonstrating the basics he'd left Hal to it. His dad was good like that, thought Hal. He was always there to lend a hand, but he never tried to take over and do everything for you.
The plane had come out really well, but it wasn't ready until bed time and there was no room for a test flight in their cramped quarters. Now Hal was itching to fly it for real.
"Teacher won't like that," said Stinky, nodding at the plane. "You were supposed to write your answers on it, not crease it into little squares."
"Oh yeah?" Hal turned the plane over, displaying two or three lines of uneven writing. "Bet you wish you'd thought of it."
Stinky shook his head. "You're going to cop it. That stuff's really precious."
The class theme for the week was ancient technology, and Teacher had given each student a sheet of paper and a pencil stub for their homework. Paper was scarce aboard the space station, where everything had to be flown in at huge expense.
Still, Hal figured they could hardly use the sheet after he'd written all over it, so why not make a plane?
The lift doors opened on the main corridor, a broad passage which crossed the centre of the space station. Hal couldn't wait: he launched the plane with a sudden flick of the wrist, almost hitting Stinky in the back of the head. At first the plane flew beautifully, arrowing past doorways and weaving through pipes and struts as though Captain Spacejock were at the controls. Then, without warning, a recycling hatch opened with a distinctive WHOOOSH!
According to Hal's dad the rushing air was supposed to keep nasty smells in, but there were rumours of a giant space monster at the bottom of the shaft. It was supposed to live on scraps of metal and old food, and every time a hatch opened the monster took a gigantic breath, gulping down air to feed its ravenous appetite.
Unfortunately, the whooshing air sucked the plane straight into the hatch. Fortunately, when Hal stuck his head inside he found the plane stuck to the damp wall. Unfortunately it was just out of reach.
"Come on, you stubborn slice of tree pulp!" Hal's arms were at full stretch, but his grasping fingers couldn't quite reach the paper plane stuck to the grimy metal wall.
"Have you got it yet?"
"What do you think?" snapped Hal, twisting his neck to give Stinky an upside-down glare.
"I think I can't hold on much longer."
Unfortunately Stinky wasn't talking about his frequent trips to the bathroom. No, Stinky was braced against the recycling hatch, holding Hal by the ankles, and his fingers were the only thing saving his friend from a headlong plunge down Space Station Oberon's main recycling chute.
"You can do it," said Hal. "Just a bit lower."
"I can't. You'll have to leave it."
Leave it ... leave it ... leave it! echoed the chute.
Hal grabbed and missed. It was so annoying! He was so close he could read his own writing, but it could have been a light year away for all the use that was. "Scribbling on paper is a stupid idea. Why couldn't we stick to writing answers in our workbooks?"
"Instead of sticking them to the wall, you mean?" Stinky shifted his grip on Hal's ankles. "It's lucky Teacher didn't give us stone tablets to write on."
"Don't be an idiot. If he'd given us a slab of rock I'd hardly have made a paper plane, would I?"
"No, you'd have lobbed it through a window instead." Stinky thought for a moment. "Why don't we share my paper? You can write your answers on the back."
Hal snorted. He rarely did his homework the first time, and doing it twice was out of the question. Frustrated, he scowled at the paper plane. Any minute now they'd be marked absent, and by the time he finished detention a fresh load of garbage would have brushed his homework straight down the chute. No, it was now or never. "Hey, I've got a brilliant idea. Let go of my ankles."
"You call that brilliant?"
"Sure. I'll drop a bit further if you hold onto my shoes."
"You'll drop a lot further if they slip off your feet."
"They wouldn't come off if you shot them with a blast rifle. I used my patented triple knot with a twist."
Stinky knew all about Hal's patented ideas, but nonetheless he shifted his grip to Hal's shoes.
"Just a bit more!" cried Hal, as his outstretched fingers brushed the plane's wing.
"That's all, Hal. I swear."
"The laces. Hold me by the shoelaces!"
By now Stinky was beyond arguing, and he obeyed despite his misgivings.
Unfortunately, Hal's original laces had been burnt to a crisp in the great model rocket affair. Fortunately his dad had replaced them. Unfortunately he'd used elastic.
Hal went down the chute like a bungee-jumping hamster, his arms outstretched and wide-eyed shock on his face. The weight threatened to pull Stinky through the hatch, but he just managed to brace himself in time.
Boinnnnggg!
Stretched to capacity, the elastic contracted, yanking Hal backwards up the chute. For a split second he was face to face with Stinky, and he couldn't help laughing at his friend's startled upside-down expression.
Whoosh!
Gravity reasserted itself, and Hal went back down the chute. This time he stuck his hand out, and with a triumphant yell he peeled the plane from the wall. "I've got it, Stinky. I've got it!"
Boinnnnggg!
Hal didn't bounce as far this time, or the next, and after bobbing up and down a few more times he finally came to rest, turning slowly in mid-air as he dangled by his extremely long shoelaces. "I told you it would work. Now get me out of here."
Stinky pulled, but Hal didn't move.
"Go on. Put some effort into it!"
"I can't!" said Stinky in alarm. "Hal, you're too heavy. I can't pull you up!"
A Repelling Idea
Hal's blood froze when he realised the danger he was in. Stinky couldn't hold on forever, and if Hal stuck around in the chute much longer he was goin
g to fall all the way to the bottom. "Don't mess about. Pull me up!"
"I can't do it on my own. You'll have to help."
Muttering under his breath, Hal gripped the paper plane between his teeth and pressed his palms against the smooth metal walls. He tried to push himself back up the tunnel, but his hands slipped on the grimy surface. Meanwhile, Stinky was hauling on the springy shoelaces with all his might. "It's no use. It's not working. And Hal ... I've got to go."
Go ... go ... go!
Hal looked puzzled. "We've both got to go, Stinky. That's the problem ... I'm stuck."
"No, I mean go!" said Stinky, and this time he was talking about his frequent trips to the bathroom.
"Just hold it in, all right?" Hal thought furiously. If he couldn't climb up to safety, what about going down instead? He squinted into the shadowy depths and saw an access hatch one level down. If Stinky let go of his laces, could he grab the hatch as he flew past? If not that one, maybe the one after? The problem was, once he started falling he'd move faster and faster and then nothing would stop him until he went splat at the very bottom of the space station. If he didn't end up like a pancake he'd probably starve before anyone found him. Unless there really was a space monster down there, in which case it'd be one gulp and goodnight.
"I have an idea," called Stinky, his voice echoing off the slick metal walls. "If I reverse the gravity in the chute it'll push you upwards instead of trying to pull you down."
"Do you think it'll do the trick?"
"Reversing the polarity always works," said Stinky firmly.
"Cool. Give it a shot." That was the good thing about Stinky -- he wasn't much good at hauling people out of garbage hatches by their shoelaces, but he was a whizz with electronics.
"You'll have to hang on. I need both hands."
"I'm not going anywhere," said Hal, praying he was right. His shoes went slack as Stinky let go of the laces, and he braced himself against the sides of the tunnel. Before long his arms started to ache, and then he had a worrying thought. What if someone a few levels up decided to recycle a coffee pot, or a dirty nappy, or even a fridge? That would really cap his day off. "Will you hurry up?" he shouted. "I'm starting to slip!"
Slip! Slip! Slip!
There was a crackle near his feet and a cloud of blue smoke wafted by. All of a sudden Hal was weightless, and he was just flexing his sore arms when the world turned upside-down. Suddenly he was standing upright ... on thin air.
With a surprised 'whoof' Hal shot upwards like a human cannonball in the world's biggest and most dangerous circus act. Far below, there was a rumble and a clatter as all the junk in the recycling plant rose towards the roof of the station.
He grabbed the edge of the hatch as he flew past, and was still struggling to climb out when he saw the mass of twisted junk hurtling up the shaft like a runaway train. Imagine a kitchen bin firing banana skins and eggshells and yesterday's lunch all over the roof -- then imagine standing over the bin and looking into it as the contents flew out. That's what Hal was facing. But it wasn't yukky old food he was worried about, it was broken appliances, rusty metal beams and leftover building materials. The shaft was like the barrel of a gun, the fast-moving junk was the bullet and he was a bug about to get squished.
The mass was moving incredibly fast, and it pushed the air ahead of it in a howling gale. Hatches banged and clattered in the shaft, and all over the station people gasped, spluttered and fainted as a foul-smelling hurricane blew through their offices, kitchens and lounge rooms.
Hal tore his gaze from the impending doom. "Help! Stinky!"
Stinky ... stinky ... stinky!
His friend dragged him out of the hatch with seconds to spare. Hal landed in the corridor and there was a tremendous clatter as the junk flew past. By the time Hal recovered Stinky was busy at the control panel.
"What's going to happen when that lot hits the roof?" demanded Hal.
"It'll smash right through," said Stinky, who was hurriedly picking through a tangle of wires. "There's a safety seal which will keep the air in, but the damage will be insane."
"You've got to stop it. Quick!"
"What do you think I'm doing?"
There was a crackle from the control panel, a moment of total silence, and then all the junk turned round and plummeted towards the base of the station once more. The space station's inhabitants were only just recovering from the first gale, having straightened their pictures and combed the scraps of muck out of their hair. Now they got a second dose.
With hatches clattering up and down the shaft, and the mass of junk safely back in the recycling centre, Stinky finished his work and jammed the cover back on the panel. After a hurried look around to make sure they hadn't left any evidence, the two boys ran for it.
"I've got to change my jumper," said Stinky, whose sleeves were smeared with grime from the hatch. It wasn't just his sleeves - his hair looked like it had been dipped in a rubbish bin and blow-dried in a wind tunnel. Hal was even worse ... but that was normal.
"See you in class, Stinky. And thanks!"
Stinky hurried off to his family's living quarters, and a bit further along the corridor Hal slowed to a walk. In his experience, running anywhere on the station led to awkward questions like 'Where have you been?', 'Where are you going?' and worst of all, 'Did you just blow all my paintings off the wall and what's this piece of orange peel doing in my hair?'
As he walked along the corridor Hal heard the familiar rush and gurgle of liquid in the overhead pipes. His dad said the noise was the station's lifeblood pumping through its arteries and veins, but Hal suspected it was a load of sewage. He slowed as he approached a set of doors marked 'Observation Deck'. Was there time for a quick look at the stars?
Of course there was!
Off Limits
Of all the interesting places aboard Space Station Oberon, the observation deck was Hal's favourite. He loved to stand with his nose flattened against the big perspex window, his eyes drinking in the distant stars. When he cupped his hands to his face, shutting out the reflections, he could pretend he was floating in space like the repair crews with their spacesuits and jetpacks. What he wouldn't give to go flying around the Oberon in a powered suit! Imagine the races they could have! Playing awesome games of tag, ducking and weaving through the docking ports, the living quarters, the connecting tunnels ...
Hal sighed, knowing it could never happen. Adults took all the fun out of everything, and even the exciting-sounding spacesuit training was just putting on the same sweaty old overalls while someone shouted 'faster, faster!' in your ear.
In the distance, almost lost in the vast starfield, there was a yellowish patch of light. Hal's teacher had once pointed it out as a habitable system, and to Hal that meant planets and oceans and fond memories of playing outdoors. He remembered a grassy field, the warm sun beating down on him, the feel of the breeze and the chirrups and squawks of insects and birds. He'd only been three or four years old, but he still remembered the oozy squishy mud between his fingers. No mud on a space station, that was for sure. No sunlight or insects either, nor grassy fields.
Hal sighed and shifted his gaze to an area of the starfield above and to his left, seeking out an oval patch of light. Teacher had told him the name of the galaxy once, but Hal called it The Snot because it looked just like the time Stinky Binn had donned a space helmet and sneezed all over the faceplate.
"All students from D-section please report to pod three for lessons. I repeat, all students report to pod three immediately."
Hal glanced at his watch, an impressive-looking timepiece he'd found while exploring a pile of construction junk. The adult-sized watch was huge on his wrist, and the chunky chrome strap was so loose he didn't even have to undo it to take it off. The dial looked like it might once have been used in space, and the buttons had mysterious legends like and TMI, none of which Hal understood. In class he always rolled his sleeve up so everyone could marvel at his treasure. The
only problem was that he couldn't tell the time with it, because it didn't work. He'd tried levering the back off to swap the battery, but it needed a special tool and he daren't ask any adults in case they took his precious watch away.
"I repeat, ALL students please report to pod three for lessons. That includes you, Hal Junior!"
Hal smoothed the paper plane and slipped it into the tough plastic case of his workbook. He'd spent almost three minutes working on the answers the night before, and for once they'd been easy. In fact, he was looking forward to handing it in, which is why he'd gone to so much trouble saving his plane from the recycling shaft.
He was about to leave when the doors slid open, and his heart sank as he saw the portly, toad-like figure outside. It was the station's head of security, Grant Bignew, his thinning hair all messed up and his eyes bulging like a toad's. "What are you doing here, boy? Don't you know this area is off limits? Why, I could have you thrown in jail!"
Hal and Stinky called the chief 'Giant Bignose' behind his back, but this wasn't the time to bring that up. Instead, Hal put on his best manner. "Please sir, I'm very sorry. I thought I heard a noise, but when I came in to investigate there was nobody here."
"Is that so?" Bignew studied Hal intently. "I can always tell when people are lying, boy. Are you lying to me?"
"No sir, definitely not."
"Excellent. Now run along and don't let me catch you in here again!"
Hal fled, relieved he wasn't in handcuffs. A few weeks earlier Hal's dad let a maintenance worker use a terminal with a supervisor code so they could finish an urgent repair job on time, and this 'crime' had led to a very public telling-off by Bignew. After that, Hal's dad referred to the head of security as 'the officious little toad', at least until Hal's mother pointed out their apartment could be bugged.
As he hurried along the corridor Hal wondered what Bignose was doing in the observation deck. Did he use high-powered binoculars to spy on the rest of the station? Was there a secret door leading to a hidden lair? Hal snorted at the crazy idea. Bignose probably liked the stars.