As we sped through the void, the Moon loomed ever larger in
the window. The stark desolation was overwhelming. In addition to the numerous
impact craters, mountains and smooth plains suggest an active geologic past.
Like myself, the men were entranced by the close up view of what we’ve only
seen as a marble size object in the sky. However, it was not long before the Moon was
retreating in the rear window and it was time to settle in to the monotony of
the trip.
We settled into the routine of rotating through our
stations. I varied the routine with tactical problems that I devised. When we
were not performing our exercises, we would occupy the time with “campfire
stories”. Because the platoon was made up of a diverse group of men from all
walks of life, the stories were both entertaining and educational. Men like
Private Slim Whitman, who came from Wyoming, regaled us with stories of cattle
drives and buffalo hunts. Then there was Private Barney Schwartz, a Bronx
native. He had stories of the Martian invasion and the attempts the common folk
made to defeat them. He also held a bitter resentment against the Martians and
was heading to the red planet with a big chip on his shoulder. He is a good
soldier though and could be counted on when things get tough.
This is how things went on for five weeks. The routine
helped us to gel into a cohesive unit, though by this time the sameness of
space travel began to wear on us. Then a most singular event occurred. We had
laid down for the sleeping period and all of the windows were closed. About two
hours into the period, a loud bang reverberated through the ship. Startled men
flew up from their beds looking for who knows what and rushing about in all
directions. I called the men to attention in order to still the clamor so that
I could get some answers from the ship’s crew. Presently the Captain came out
to talk to us. Firstly, He said if there was any immediate danger, we would
have already been dead. He went on to
explain that we must have been hit a glancing by a small asteroid. He also stated that, because we were still
alive, it did not puncture both layers of the ship’s double hull. This last
part calmed the men to a degree.
Captain Thorpe said that they would need to inspect the
exterior of the ship to ensure that there was no hidden damage that could cause
us problems during the rest of the voyage. I asked how this could occur in the
vacuum of space, knowing that entering that hostile environment would mean
instant death. He then explained that special pressurized suits are worn to
allow one to exit the craft in perfect safety. I immediately volunteered to don
a suit and help with the inspection. The Captain assented and the crew helped
me into the pressure suit. Seaman Quist was to join me on the inspection.
I donned a pressurized suit and was led into one of the
small rooms near the bridge. Two of the crewmen hooked hoses into my suit and
locked a helmet to the suit. The suit inflated with breathable air. The men
made sure everything was functioning properly then left the room. The cabin
door close and I heard a hissing sound. This was the air being pumped out of
the room. When the hissing stopped, the exterior door opened. I clumsily moved
out the door, the suit being inflated made normal movement difficult.
Once I was outside the ship, I was released from the
gravitational effects of the actuators and was totally weightless. Fortunately,
the designers of the suit placed magnets in the soles of the shoes. These
magnets kept me in contact with the ship. Quist called to me via telephone
lines run along with the air hoses. He asked if I were ready to begin the
inspection to which I responded in the affirmative. Each of us began traversing
the ship, from bow to stern and back again. As I neared the top of the ship, I
discovered a crease in the skin of the ship. It started about two thirds of the
way to the back of the ship and extended another ten feet. I signaled to Quist
that I had found something to which he joined me at my location.
We examined the
indentation closely and could see no holes in the skin of our craft. Quist
produced a can of fine powder. This we rubbed into the crease, looking for it
to puff out, indicating a small leak in the hull. We carefully worked the
entire crease but found no holes, thankfully. Quist handed me a paint brush and
had me sweep the dust out of the crease. Quist followed me, packing the crease
with some kind of putty. Once the job was completed, we made our way back into
the ship.
When I got back to the landing, I could not help myself. I
took hold of the handrail and detached my feet from the deck. I released the
handrail and floated freely in space, aside from the air hose. While I could
spin my body around by flexing, I could not change my relative position to the
ship. The void of space offered not tangible material to push against so I
could generate no thrust to propel myself. I grabbed the rail and pulled myself
back to the deck. It was mind boggling to think I was moving thousands of mile
per hour and would continue to do so as a solitary body in space.
I re-entered the ship and was immediately accosted by my men
wishing me to describe the experience of my adventure. So, while I regaled the
men with my tale, Seaman Quist reported our work to the captain. With all the
excitement of the meteor strike, our regular routine was totally disrupted for
the period. I decided that we’d start our routine again during the next period.