river_meimei | (no subject)

Entry tags:

duo,
field trips

(no subject)

Moon Base Station is, apart from certain restricted-access sectors, built for tourism. Some tourists, like Duo, are just killing time during a layover; others come here, to the cheap hotels or the expensive ones with a real-time video view of Earth, to spend their whole vacation within the base's walls.

There's a casino area somewhere not too far away, but River and Duo have opted for one of the more family-friendly bits instead. It's a shopping area, full of glittering storefronts and small food-court nooks, with an intricately tiled floor and fountains every few dozen meters. Tiny potted trees show off the station's opulence -- this is space, after all, where trees are hard to come by.

River's already found herself cotton candy somewhere.

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It's starting to get hot in here already -- which won't last long, because the engine will only cycle up for another minute or so before the air gets evacuated. After that, the hull doors will open onto vacuum.

"Gotta go," River mutters.

Louder, as she whirls towards the larger cargo airlock, "Time to go! It's a deadline to asphyxiation."

"Come on!" Duo yells to him once more, before turning and joining River in a dead sprint. The person sized airlock is well and truly broken, door still half open on one side, and jammed into the wall on the other.

The other doors are locked.

"Shit."

"I don't know the code," River says urgently.

If probably unnecessarily.

"Hey!" Duo yells to the last smuggler who has finally given up on the shuttle and is heading their way. "Do you have this code? This door is locked!" At the frantic headshake, Duo curses again and pulls out his codepicker once more.

"God damn poorly planned operations! If I was a fucking smuggler..." He trails off to concentrate, trying to ignore the hot wash from the engines whipping around them.

"Contingencies are a benefit," River agrees absently.

She's keeping an eye on the rapidly approaching smuggler.

The pick is still flickering through possible lock frequencies when the alarm starts blaring.

"UNSECURED AIRLOCKS." A robotic sounding voice blares from the speakers. "DO NOT ACTIVATE EXTERIOR HULL DOORS."

"Come on, come on," Duo says.

"It's very impolite," River informs the back of the shuttle. "Vacuum is not adequate for your host duties."

The smuggler (one Ulrich Browning, tall and skinny and limping from a bullet graze along the calf) stares at her. River levels her gun at him, without changing her mildly disdainful expression.

"No bright ideas," she says. "They aren't."

He raises his hands and looks about to protest. Except that's when a hum of machinery starts, coming from behind the vents.

"They're cycling the air out," Duo says, grim faced. "Everyone take deep breaths. Gotta oxygenate yourself as much as possible."

'Nice friends you've got,' he doesn't say.

Ulrich's clearly thinking much the same thing, given the shade of red his face is going. "Hey, man -- look, I got nothing to do with those bastards. They're hanging me out here too. I'll come quiet, okay?"

He is, at least, gulping down deep breaths in between every few words.

"Time to go," River says softly to the wall. She's obeying Duo, deep breaths to flood her system as much as possible while there's enough air to do it.

Click goes something inside the codebreaker, and with a low rumble of machinery the doors begin sliding into recesses in the floor and ceiling.

Duo doesn't breathe a sigh of relief, not yet. "If they blow the doors, whatever you do, don't hold your breath."

Ulrich stares at him. "What are you talking about, man? You gotta-"

"Fine! Do what you want, but have you had any decompression training? Just get in!" Duo clambers over the sinking door, extending a hand to River.

Duo's chivalry is unnecessary! River accepts it anyway.

"You'll burst your lungs," she says helpfully, as she slips into the airlock.

The doors are still parting, recessing gradually into the walls. The control box on the wall says DOORS OPENING: 55%.

Duo is in front of the panel immediately, trying to shut the door. Moments later, he pounds on the wall in frustration. "It's got a safety override!" he says over the rising noise of the air pump and the shuttle engine. "We can't shut the door until it's all the way open!"

There are probably EVA suits in the maintenance bay. If the lack of oxygen doesn't kill him, the irony might.

"Reciprocity. Override the help."

River's at his side, half a step back and staring intently at the controls. But this isn't her world or her technology, and this kind of machinery wouldn't be her specialty even if it were. There's not really a lot she can do.

Apparently there isn't much Duo can do either. If he pries off this panel and messes it up, the door might not shut at all.

"UNSECURED AIRLOCKS," the voice blares again. "DO NOT ACTIVATE EXTERIOR HULL DOORS."

Duo glances at the control box again. DOORS OPENING: 75%

"River, do you have any zip ties left?"

River gives him a blank look.

And, on her extended palm, offers four zip ties. (And some purple pocket lint.)

Ulrich, meanwhile, has finally clambered through the doors -- this guy is muscle because he's a good shot and/or because he hits hard, it seems, not because he's got any agility to speak of -- and is trying to look as if he's not on the verge of panic. He's failing.

"There's a grip on that wall. Tie yourself to it." Duo is already wrapping one of the plastic ties around his own wrist.

"You, c'mere if you want to stay alive."

"Hypoxia is a relevant concern," River informs Ulrich, as she starts (after a half-second delay) to follow Duo's lead.

Ulrich, frozen by the door and hanging onto another grip with white knuckles and no zip tie, does not seem exactly reassured.

The air is getting thin. Duo eyes the controls. DOORS OPENING: 90%

"UNSECURED AIRLOCKS. DO NOT-" The sound is cut off by the groan of the exterior doors opening, and the roar of shuttle engines.

"Don't hold your-"

River closes her eyes, and huffs out a hard breath into the sudden muffled wind of the last thin air rushing towards vacuum.

Ulrich, on the other hand, tries automatically to suck in a startled breath.

It doesn't really go well.

Choking on nothing, his hands slip from the grip, and he tumbles backwards through the (OPENING: 100%) door.

The vacuum hauls hard on them all, blood rising on the plastic around Duo's wrist as he reaches out toward the control box. Even trained, people don't stay conscious with direct exposure to space. They have maybe ten seconds. Duo fumbles with the button until through the sudden mist of water vapor, he can just see the panel: DOOR CLOSING.

You can't take steady breaths in a vacuum to keep your heart rate down; you can't do most of the physiological controls that slow your body's use of oxygen. (And this isn't hard vacuum, not quite yet, but it's pretty close. That air was thin to start with, and it's rushing out fast.)

DOORS CLOSING: 71%

All you can do is wait, and see who wins this race.

(River's not the best at waiting, under circumstances like these.)

Duo's eyes roll back in his head, his grip on the metal bar goes limp. It's only the zip tie on his wrist that holds him in place, now.

Good thing that isn't his arm with the bad shoulder, it might have dislocated again.

River's used to sedatives. (And, in a different way, used to a lack of sedatives; the Academy teaches you many things.)

This is different. The grey haze over your vision, the hollow pain in your lungs as you resist the urge to breath the air that's barely there, and give in and try anyway --

The feeling of slipping into unconsciousness, at least, is pretty much the same.

DOORS CLOSING: 100%

Things River and Duo do not hear: the hiss of air being pumped back into this airlock, the soft beep that signals a return to normal atmospheric pressure, and the automated announcement that the hull doors have closed.

It's not that long, though -- not that they're exactly keeping track -- before River coughs herself awake.