“Quick thinking, Tom!” Mr. Swift congratulated his son.
“B-but how do we get over to the space station?” asked Phyl nervously.
“This is where Chow does that Daring-Young-Man-on-the-Jet-Propelled-Trapeze act he was telling you about.” Bud grinned. “Into your space suits, me hearties!”
Normally the ship would have been locked to the space wheel by magnetic grapples, so that its passengers could step directly into the station’s air lock.
Now, however, the transfer would have to be made through the space void.
While rocket-propelled mooring cables were shot across to the station, everyone except Tom and Mr. Swift donned their space suits, boots, and helmets. One by one, they went out through the ship’s air lock.
72 SPACE SOLARTRON
To allay the girls’ nervousness, Bud went first to guide them across.
“Oh, boy! It’s like stepping out into nothingness!” Phyl quavered over her suit radio.
Bud said reassuringly, “Just hang onto this cable at all times, and work your way across hand over hand. If that’s too slow, you can trigger the jet pistol on your suit.”
“No thanks. We’ll do it the hard way,” Sandy joked.
Chow, who was last, suddenly found he could not budge from the ship.
“Help! I’m stuck!” he yelped. “The force ray’s got me!”
Hearing Chow’s cry over his suit radio, Bud looked back. He was aghast to see that a leg of the Texan’s pants was caught in the air lock. The copilot instantly realized that if Chow tried to wrench himself loose, the material might rip. Immediate depressurization would follow, then death!
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