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Survival Spheres

Copyright © 2014 by Timberwoof Lupindo

Not for redistribution.

The cadets sat attentively in the auditorium on the first day of classes. On the table at the front was a heap of thick cloth an hardware that looked like a deflated beach ball with a window.

"Cadets, this may be the single most important lesson in survival in space: What to do if there's a blowout in your section of a space ship or a space station like this one. What you should try to avoid doing is getting blown out into space without some kind of protection from the vacuum. We can't possibly afford full space suits for everybody, but we can afford these."

The instructor picked up the beach ball: a deflated sphere somewhat bigger than a tail in length. It looked pathetic in its deflated state.

"This may be the difference between living and dying in vacuum, and today we're all going to learn how to get in one and seal it up. This may not look like much, but it's fairly sophisticated and can sustain you for about a day, maybe longer. It's made of durable airtight materials; it contains a life-support unit that will keep you at the right temperature and pressure and oxygen balance. But the most important thing is how to get in. I need a volunteer from the audience."

He looked directly at the cadet seated in the center of the front row. The look on his face suggested he didn't want to waste time finding one, so she stood up and said, "I'll do it, Chief."

"Ah, good. Climb up on this table so everyone can see you."

"Yes, Chief."

He unzipped the zipper along the main seam and pulled the sides open.

"Sit on that and pull the sides out from under your butt. Good. Pull your feet up so your chin is on your knees. Good. Now pull the edges of the seam around you, like that, and join them up. See that ring at the bottom? Pull that up..."

The cadet did as she was instructed and the blob of cloth became more clearly a sphere.

"Hold on a moment now, and let me give you the last instructions before you close it up; it will be a little harder for you to hear. Pull that zipper as far as it will go, then latch it in place. That will activate the life-support system. This one is fully charged and ready to go. Now do it."

She pulled the zipper the rest of the way, and after a moment of fumbling, the cadets could see her pushing the ring onto the latch. Something went click and the sphere started to whirr and inflate.

"The spheres are of alien manufacture and calibrated for us woofs. This tag here..." He pointed to an icon on the side of the sphere, showing the profile of a woof with distinctive snout and ears. "...shows what some alien graphic designer thinks we look like. If you have a choice, grab one of these."

"What if we don't have that choice?"

"Grab anything you find and get in it. You're as dead if you make the wrong choice, but you might live. Now these suits have readouts that indicate the state of health of the woof inside. Ah. I see she's resting in there, heading toward sleep."

"Penalty for falling asleep in lecture!" suggested one of the cadets.

"No, actually, that's probably the best thing she can do in there. Both for your sanity and to conserve oxygen, you should relax and try to take a nap. I'm having this lecture recorded. She's got a datapad in there; I'll beam it to her. She can watch it and the Q&A at the end, and fill out the test. And she's already got a head-start on the endurance test that's coming up. Yes, Cadet?"

"Can any of us join her?"

"I helped her with his suit and checked it out. She's good to go. If you're willing to bet your survival on your ability to get it right with only your classmates' supervision, sure. Seal yourself in in any time during the lesson. You might only miss something important I have to say."

No one accepted his challenge.

"I need four of you to help me move her into the airlock."

Four cadets picked up the beach ball--it had conveniently located handles designed for the purpose, capable of withstanding several Gs of load--and set their fellow cadet gently on the floor. They picked it up again and carried her in it to the airlock.

"Let's talk about airlocks for a moment. I'm sure you've noticed they always come in pairs. And I'm sure you've been taught something about them in ground school. So. Why the pairs?"

One of the cadets raised a paw.

"One of the doors is always closed so there's no accidental loss of air. You can't open one door if the other one is open."

"That's basically correct. There's usually no good reason to have both doors open, and lots of air on the inside acting as a reason not to. The doors are typically hinged so any air flow will naturally slam them shut. There are mechanical interlocks that will prevent either door opening when the other one is open. There are ways to defeat the interlocks ... but I'm not going to teach you those. If you have to do it, you'll figure it out. I just hope you never have to.

"There's an indicator telling you whether the inside is pressurized. This one says it is. I'll open this door of the airlock ... and get in. You four, grab her and come in with me. The rest of you wait outside. I'll repeat this lecture several more times. ... Good. You, close the inner door. ... Now this indicator tells us that the hangar out there is closed to space and pressurized. I'm going to set the safety here so that it cannot be opened to space. Now, let's open this outer door. ... And you four carry her to the hangar and wait for me. Don't fuck with the outer door. If you try, the four airmen out there already will beat the crap out of you."

He cycled back through the airlock and brought more cadets through, five at a time until the whole class was in the hangar. They stood attentive ... and cast glances at the woofs in full space suits in the corners.

"Cadets, at your feet you will find more emergency survival balls. I want you to know this procedure well enough so you can do it in the dark, with shifting gravity, and some master chief yelling at you. Yes, I know what you're thinking, and yes, you can start getting in them. Now!"

He waved to the woofs in the suits; the five of them mingled among the cadets and helped them with the finer points. But every cadet they helped, they completely unzipped and made him do it again.

Soon he and the woofs in space suits were standing in a surreal field of beach balls, each containing a woof cadet. They pressure-tested each beach ball twice and checked the tethers to floor anchors.

The chief spoke into his intercom. "All set?"

"Yes, chief," came the reply.

"I'll cycle the airlock and take off the safety. I'll see you in a few hours. Take care of my cadets."

"Yes, Chief. As if they were our own."

He cycled the airlock once more. Once he was through both doors, the lights in the hangar turned red and a siren emitted the imminent-vacuum warning. A loud whirring could be heard as a pump removed air from the hangar. Some of the cadets in the beach balls felt a moment of panic.

"Relax, cadets," said one of the airmen through the intercom. "Breathe deeply and regularly and slowly. Try to take a nap. Your survival balls will inflate; that's what they're supposed to do. If you feel you're about to panic, I want you to notice and say so. One of us will come and talk you down. We're going to open the outer door now. Look out your windows at space."

They could feel a rumbling in the floor beneath them as the big door opposite the airlock opened. The space-suited woofs moved from one beach ball to the next and looked into the windows to check on their occupants.

Timby's was facing the wrong way; all he could see was the small airlock at the back. When the woof checked on him, he gave a thumbs-up and then twirled his finger in a circle.

"Are you all right, Cadet?"

"Yes, Sir. I just can't see the stars!"

"Hey, Arfarel, gimmie a paw with this one. He wants to see out."

"Right."

Another suited woof came over and the two of them spun Timby around so his window faced the big airlock.

"Wooooooaaaaaahhhh. Thank you, Sirs!"

"Hey, let's turn 'em all so they can see."

"Roger that. They've got little else to do ... except study their lesson and take their quizzes."

The four suited woofs checked the remaining cadets and turned their survival balls so they'd face the big door.

The cadets could hear someone hyperventilating.

"Who's that breathing so fast?" asked Timber.

"Clear the channel, Cadet. We'll find him," said one of the airmen.

"I found him. Hey, you, look at me."

"Y-yes, Sir?"

"Pay attention. You're breathing too fast. That will use up your oxygen, fuck up your blood chemistry, and make you even more uncomfortable. So take a deep breath and hold it in, that's good. On five, let it out slooowly. Two. Three. Four. Five."

They could hear the cadet exhaling--and then suck in another breath.

"Slowly, cadet, or I'll carry you out the airlock and send you to sickbay for a week in the hyperbaric chamber. Hold your air, now let it out sloooowly, two, three, four, five. Good. Now a good lazy sunday afternoon breath in, and hold that at the top of your lungs. Good. Now how are you feeling?"

"Better."

"Good, your Highness. Now your job is to regulate your breathing. I've got work to do."

"Okay, cadets, take a chill pill," said the chef. "Relax, breathe easy, nap if you can. Call us if you need us."

They walked to the back of the hangar and one of them opened, then closed the airlock with a bang. The chief gave a thumbs-up through the windows, waited for it to cycle, and opened and slammed the inner door.

"I think they've left us here," said a vaguely frightened voice.

"Shush, cadet," said Garruf. "You heard what he said. Sleep or work your lesson."

"I felt the airlock cycling. What if they left us here?"

"What if they did?" asked Timby. "There's nothing you can do about it. You're safe. Now everybody shut up and let me watch Woofheim rise in peace."

"Watch Wha--"

The rest was silence as the limb of Woofheim appeared to rise off the floor of the hangar door opening. White clouds, blue ocean and sky, a delicate blue jewel, their fragile, beautiful world soon filled the view.

"That just makes me want to ... ArooooooOOOOOooooo!"

A chorus of wolfy howls filled the intercom chatter.

The four suited woofs just smiled and nodded ... and joined in with howls of their own. They watched as their home planet filled their view.

"I think I can see Tarkel from here, in that big bay."

"And there, to the north ... see the river and the forests and the mountains?"

"Yeah."

"That's the Wester wood."

"Beautiful."

"Cadets, that is why you are here. Never forget this moment."

They sat and watched in silence, each cocooned in his own little egg with only their datapads and radios for company.

"Sir. What if someone has to ... ah ..."

"Take a dump?"

"Yeah."

"Well, let me know. It's about time to let you out. I can either let you out first, or you can pull your pants off, pull a diaper out of the pocket, and poop in that."

There were giggles over the intercom.

"Well, that's one of the realities of life in space. So what will it be, cadet?"

"I'll try to hold it."

Woofheim was leaving the view from the small-ship airlock. It was time to go home.

"Okay, kids, the show's over. Stay put until we close the door and repressurize the hangar."

The big door slowly closed over the most beautiful scene they could remember seeing. Slowly the cadets became aware of a humming thumping that was the air pumps pressurizing the airlock. Their rescue balls deflated a bit under the increasing external pressure. Soon the red light was replaced with white; it was safe to open.

"Hey, I can't open my ball!"

"Sit tight; they're designed that way. We'll get to each of you in turn."

Timby waited patiently along with the rest of the cadets. As there was nothing to see, he closed his eyes and dozed. After several minutes he felt someone bump into his ball.

"This one's sleeping. Should we let him nap?"

"No, it's chow time ..."

"Oh, I'm awake! Chief."

"Sit tight, woof, we'll get you out."

Timby heard the click as someone undid the latch. Once it was free, he pulled the zipper down, the carefully spread the sides apart.

"Welcome back," said the space-suited woof.

Timby looked up at him and smiled a knowing smile. The woof placed his hand on Timby's shoulder and said, "Nice job, Spacer."

He nodded and said, "Thank you, Sir. Thank you."