The stars shone with impersonal brilliance as Jones jetted to the surface of the asteroid. This rescue mission was hopeless, as he could already see the liner cracked open like an ostrich egg eaten by snakes, debris strewn for kilometers along the furrow behind the ship.
He was a professional, and would duly carry out his assignment regardless of his own opinion.
As he approached the ship, he could see flames coming from holes in the hull. “Hm, escaping gas. Maybe I will find some survivors,” he thought, then dismissed it out of hand. His judgment was too good for that.
He circled the ship and his helmet relayed the view to his lighter. There were no other fires that he could see on IR, so he dropped inside through one of the larger cracks in the hull.
His suit light and spotlight came on and revealed a jumble of crates, luggage and their contents. Clothes, food, machine goods, jewelry, the product of a hundred star systems lay scattered like dragon treasure. “The cargo hold,” muttered Jones as he pulled up the ship’s schematic on his visor. After a moment, a blinking cursor showed his position. He instructed his computer to locate the fire and display a path there. The computer told him the odds of him losing his life if he tried to rescue someone from the fire. He chuckled and started down the path indicated by the computer. As he skirted debris, bodies and frantic cleaning robots, he noticed that he was gaining weight. He checked the G meter and told the computer to find the passage to the bridge. “I was wrong, someone just turned on G.” He tongued the transmitter and sent the message to the circling rescue ship. “Someone just turned G’s on, I’m going to the bridge.”
His boss replied, “OK, but watch the fires.”
He skirted more debris, bodies and frantic robots on his way to the bridge. As the bridge approached, his weight increased until he had to fire up his suit’s A-G. The closer he got to the bridge, the more the gees piled up. Outside the bridge door, it read 15 gees. He whistled, his radio squawked, and his boss asked what the hell was going on.
“Gees are up to 15 earth, boss.”
His boss whistled, and the radio squawked. “Damn that radio. Go slow, Jones.”
“Gotcha, boss. Over.”
Jones pressed the open button. It lit but the door didn’t open. He opened the panel, and stared at melted wires. “Gotta blast it,” he decided, and moved to the corner at the end of the corridor. He aimed the pulse laser at the bridge door and fired. Nothing happened. He fired again. Still nothing. He pressed the diagnostic button. It blinked green at him. “Oh, oh¼,” he thought. “This is not a good sign.”
Something began drawing him towards the bridge door. “Boss, something’s pulling me towards the bridge.”