The Secret of Spring by Piers Anthony, Jo Anne Taeusch Page A
Authors: Piers Anthony, Jo Anne Taeusch
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were drawn up first; it was probably put on a lower suction to start, and then given more power for the heavy debris like packing cases, old furniture, and stupid people.
That meant there was still a little time to try forming a plan. There might be a way to climb back up into the chute, at least until the machinery abated. It must run in cycles since it wasn't running when she first landed. If she could avoid this cycle, it might be several hours until the next began and that time would give her a fighting chance to escape.
Spring finally located the small opening she had tumbled through, but it was now far over her head. The level of the mountain was slowly diminishing while more papers flew up into the giant vacuum. How to reach it?
The suction increased again with a roar, and papers flew violently by her toward their demise. She had to bat them from her face as they swarmed around like angry bees. They stung, too. Her hands already showed tiny beads of blood from the sharp edges. It was a slow process, but given enough time, she could probably die from paper cuts.
Spring tried vainly piling up armloads of the trash to rebuild her mountain beneath the opening. It was futile, for the suction undid her work as fast as she built it up. What she needed was more heavy material, but that was buried under the lighter papers, their weight sliding them down as they lost support. There was simply no easy way of reaching the portal.
Well, maybe not that particular one, but the ship was on several levels. It should have chutes at each. There were two more levels beneath the dining area, so if she positioned herself directly beneath the present opening and rode the mountain downward, eventually she should find a second shaft to dive into.
The roar of the machinery was growing deafening as the suction increased for a third time. Some of the lower debris flew up and around the center, resembling an indoor tornado. It was all she could do to keep her position next to the rim as the papers beneath gave way.
At least the suction kept new arrivals of trash from falling on her head, as they were quickly sucked up into the swirling torrent. Fortunately it had all been lightweight trash.
Pieces of boxes and broken dishes slammed into the walls around her. She squatted as low as possible while most of the rubble was drawn above her head. She took a blow to one arm from the edge of a box, but it would leave no more than a nasty bruise. The worst part was that her support was disappearing and she was beginning to feel lighter. She needed more weight.
Squatting and digging about desperately, her hands struck something solid. It was an ugly old chair, dirty and natty, with the fibers hanging out. It was beautiful. Spring wrapped her arms around and under the sides of it and ceased her assent. It had worked.
For a while. She descended faster, but the suction grew stronger and her position more precarious with each passing moment. Suddenly, she felt herself beginning to rise. Her foot struck a hard object at the side. It was an old nutrition robot.
Holding on to the chair with her left arm, she slid her right one into the ejection slot of the robot. Ugh, she touched something fuzzy. A smouse . Spring dropped the unit as the rodent leaped out, landing near her foot and scrambling off. She shot suddenly upward.
Quickly kicking out with her foot, she jammed it into the slot before it was out of reach. Bending back down, she replaced her foot with her right arm again, and this time there were no resident rodents to chase her out. The upward thrust had ended.
Safe once again, she reoriented on the now distant hole above, making sure she was still on target. According to her calculations she should be nearing the second chute, if there was one. But what if they weren't evenly aligned? What if it was in a completely different spot? She should have been watching the other walls as well. What if she had already passed by it?
" Spring , this is not
That meant there was still a little time to try forming a plan. There might be a way to climb back up into the chute, at least until the machinery abated. It must run in cycles since it wasn't running when she first landed. If she could avoid this cycle, it might be several hours until the next began and that time would give her a fighting chance to escape.
Spring finally located the small opening she had tumbled through, but it was now far over her head. The level of the mountain was slowly diminishing while more papers flew up into the giant vacuum. How to reach it?
The suction increased again with a roar, and papers flew violently by her toward their demise. She had to bat them from her face as they swarmed around like angry bees. They stung, too. Her hands already showed tiny beads of blood from the sharp edges. It was a slow process, but given enough time, she could probably die from paper cuts.
Spring tried vainly piling up armloads of the trash to rebuild her mountain beneath the opening. It was futile, for the suction undid her work as fast as she built it up. What she needed was more heavy material, but that was buried under the lighter papers, their weight sliding them down as they lost support. There was simply no easy way of reaching the portal.
Well, maybe not that particular one, but the ship was on several levels. It should have chutes at each. There were two more levels beneath the dining area, so if she positioned herself directly beneath the present opening and rode the mountain downward, eventually she should find a second shaft to dive into.
The roar of the machinery was growing deafening as the suction increased for a third time. Some of the lower debris flew up and around the center, resembling an indoor tornado. It was all she could do to keep her position next to the rim as the papers beneath gave way.
At least the suction kept new arrivals of trash from falling on her head, as they were quickly sucked up into the swirling torrent. Fortunately it had all been lightweight trash.
Pieces of boxes and broken dishes slammed into the walls around her. She squatted as low as possible while most of the rubble was drawn above her head. She took a blow to one arm from the edge of a box, but it would leave no more than a nasty bruise. The worst part was that her support was disappearing and she was beginning to feel lighter. She needed more weight.
Squatting and digging about desperately, her hands struck something solid. It was an ugly old chair, dirty and natty, with the fibers hanging out. It was beautiful. Spring wrapped her arms around and under the sides of it and ceased her assent. It had worked.
For a while. She descended faster, but the suction grew stronger and her position more precarious with each passing moment. Suddenly, she felt herself beginning to rise. Her foot struck a hard object at the side. It was an old nutrition robot.
Holding on to the chair with her left arm, she slid her right one into the ejection slot of the robot. Ugh, she touched something fuzzy. A smouse . Spring dropped the unit as the rodent leaped out, landing near her foot and scrambling off. She shot suddenly upward.
Quickly kicking out with her foot, she jammed it into the slot before it was out of reach. Bending back down, she replaced her foot with her right arm again, and this time there were no resident rodents to chase her out. The upward thrust had ended.
Safe once again, she reoriented on the now distant hole above, making sure she was still on target. According to her calculations she should be nearing the second chute, if there was one. But what if they weren't evenly aligned? What if it was in a completely different spot? She should have been watching the other walls as well. What if she had already passed by it?
" Spring , this is not
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