The Secret of Spring by Piers Anthony, Jo Anne Taeusch Page B

the time to panic," she said aloud. Inwardly, she realized there was probably not going to be a better one. All at once, she stopped her downward slide as one of the chair legs caught on something at the side. The chute. She had almost missed it in her panic.
    Crawling past the chair into the shaft, she gave it a kick and it joined the nutrition robot in an upward spiral as it succumbed to the now fierce suction. When she had a house of her own someday, she would get a chair just like that one, and damn the decorator.
    It was a relief to be in out of the trash storm, but it was time to begin the next challenge, the climb up and out of the shaft. It should not be too hard. It was at a slanting angle, and not straight up until the very end. Removing her shoes and letting them fall down through the slot, she braced her toes against the hard metal. They gave a better traction than her thick-soled slickers. Good name for them.
    Progress was slow, but with patience and proper positioning, she made a steady headway. Then there was a distant scraping sound from above. Sound? Maybe the exit was closer than she thought? Spring strained her eyes in the darkness. There was a darker shadow closing in with the noise. No. That was the source. A looming shape sliding directly for her. A huge unit of some type-a cooling unit? Some of the reflective light tubes were still working. Those things weighed a ton.
    Hardly thinking, she edged back to the wall of the shaft and turned on her side, pressing in as closely as she could. In seconds it whooshed past, missing her by centimeters. She stayed frozen for a minute. It was a miracle it had missed. It could have sent her flying back down into the junk heap, probably crushing her skull in the process. She lay trembling, realizing how close she'd come to a senseless death.
    Spring moved carefully forward, listening for sounds as if her life depended on it. Because it did. No more missiles came shooting from above, though, and with slow deliberation she at last reached the opening and pressed outward.
    It wouldn't give.
    "Idiot," she screamed. Of course it wouldn't open. It needed pressure from the outside, but was static from the back.
    She banged with frustration on the inside of the small door as hard as she could with only one hand. She needed the other one to grip the edge of the shaft, while scotching her feet against the sides. The drop was straight down from the entrance.
    She tried yelling, then screaming. Even Elton would be welcome at this point. It was soon evident no one could hear her, and she couldn't hear anything from the outside either. What if it was sound proof? To have come so close to escape and gain nothing. Tears of frustration and fear began to form, running silently down her cheeks in the darkness.
    She winced as light flashed brightly through the open door, almost releasing her tenuous grip on the edge. Luckily, she was holding with both hands, having given up on banging. Two strong male arms reached down and drew her up and out into the ship's corridor. Her redheaded friend stood looking on anxiously as the maintenance ensign helped to steady Spring on her feet.
    "How did you know?" she asked the girl, while holding tight to the ensign's sleeve and bracing against the wall. Her knees still wanted to wobble. Her bare toes cramped as they straightened.
    "When you didn't return to the compartment, I searched for you everywhere. I even knocked on the door of a mutual friend," she said, giving Spring a knowing look. "There was just no place else to try. Then, I found this gem next to the trash bin upstairs." She held out a small glistening bit of quartz in her hand.
    Spring remembered absently placing it in her pocket after finding the healing stone for her friend's headache.
    "I knew it was part of your collection," the girl continued. "Since I couldn't locate you, I asked where the chute led and learned that the disposal unit was in progress. Then I just panicked and notified