deck. Every compartment was empty. When he tried the computer room, its door was tightly latched and refused to budge.
“Hey, Tom! Are you in there?”
Again there was no answer. Bud hammered on the door and tried desperately to free the latch. A pang of fear shot through him.
Was Tom a prisoner inside? And if so, was he still alive in the airtight compartment?
CHAPTER XII
A STARTLING MESSAGE
BUD tried to think coolly, as his mind raced over the situation. Tom must be a prisoner in his own spaceship!
The air-conditioning system in each compartment was triggered by the opening of the door latch, Bud knew. When the room was closed again, the blower was automatically turned off, unless an occupant remaining inside pressed a manual switch. This arrangement was designed to conserve the ship’s oxygen supply.
Bud held his ear to the door. He could hear no whir of the blower inside.
“There’s bound to be a master switch somewhere for operating all the blowers on the ship,” he reasoned, “but where is it?”
There was no time to search. Bud struggled frantically with the hydraulic door-latch control. Il seemed to be hopelessly jammed. In desperation, he grabbed a heavy wrench from the tool locker and pounded the latch handle. It loosened and finally came free!
106
A STARTLING MESSAGE 107
Bud ripped the door open and plunged inside, gasping. The air in the compartment was heavy and stale. Tom lay sprawled on the deck!
“Tom!” Bud cried in panic. “Tom, are you all right?”
He raised the young inventor’s head. Tom’s face was pale and glistened with perspiration. As Bud slapped his cheeks and chafed his wrists, Tom’s eyes finally blinked open.