Read Online Marooned! by Brad Strickland, THOMAS E. FULLER - Free Book Online
Authors: Brad Strickland, THOMAS E. FULLER
Ads: Link
little joke. There would be no catching if the worst should happen.
He saw Alex cautiously unclip his safety line, climb two more rungs, and then hook on again. “Watch the end of the blade. It’s sharp enough to cut your pressure suit.”
Sean swallowed and followed Alex up. He reached the point where the blade thrust through and saw that the dust, or something, had broken the tip off and had honed the metal sharp as a knife. He felt some misgiving. What would happen when they took the blade assembly off at the top? He didn’t know if they could work the blade out from where it was lodged. Maybe they should wait—
No, this was their job. And he wanted to do it well. Sean unhooked his safety line, telling himself that he had never needed it so far. Climbing up five or six feet without it was no big deal.
Sean forced himself not to look down; he couldn’t afford to be dizzy. He edged over, avoiding the sharpend of the blade. Thinking that he was already past the blade, he stepped back over—but his boot came to rest not on the rung, but on the point of the windmill blade. He felt himself slip, and he desperately clung to the ladder, hoisting himself by his arms.
He got his foot onto the next rung and let out a deeply held breath. From above: “You okay, Sean?”
“Fine. Let’s go.”
They made the rest of the climb. Because of the bent and jammed blade, Alex had to edge around the catwalk to the right instead of the left. Sean got to the top, reached to his belt, and took out the pulley. “I don’t think we’re going to be able to lower this one,” he said.
“You may be right,” Alex replied. “The shaft looks bent too, and I think the nacelle may be damaged. This is going to be a major overhaul. We’ll let them know, but let’s see if we can get the blades down. That’ll be a start.”
The nose cone was pointing down at a fifteen-degree angle, a sure sign that the axle was bent. Alexleaned far out and tried to turn the cone. It was stuck. “A little help here, Sean.”
Sean hooked his leg around a strut and leaned out. The nose cone wouldn’t give at all. “Let me get a lever through it,” he said. He reached to his belt and pulled out a steel rod. It slipped through two holes drilled near the tip of the nose cone, ordinarily closed by two hinged plastic flaps. In an emergency, though, the rod could be pressed through, serving as a handle.
“Ready?” Sean asked. “On three. One, two, three!”
They both shoved, and finally the cap began to rotate. They got it off and let it fall, then hooked on the pulley and the line. “Brake on?” Alex asked.
“Check.”
Sean took the bolts nearest him, and Alex worked on the three on his side. They removed the last two at the same time. Sean was leaning far out, his arm hooked around the broken-off stub of the top blade.
Then it happened. The assembly swung free—anddragged Sean with it. Too late, he remembered that he had not refastened his safety line.
He desperately clutched the hub and upper blade. The pulley brake was not meant to hold his weight along with the blades. He felt it giving, the line screeching through the pulley. Now he was dangling three hundred meters above the surface, clutching the blade, feeling himself beginning to slip. His head reeled, and pure terror made him hold on with a death grip.
“Hang on!” Alex shouted. He had ducked past the nacelle and was grabbing for the line.
The blade swung to the side, threatening to dump Sean off. Below him, the lower blade, weakened where it had bent through the framework, was crumpling.
Alex was grunting, hauling on the line, dragging the blades and Sean back toward the tower. Sean realized that he was just close enough to the framework to grab it—if he could overcome his panic and force his hands to let go of the blade.
“Now!”
For a sickening second, Sean felt himself falling, but his flailing hand grabbed a cross strut. He thudded against the tower, hooked a leg
He saw Alex cautiously unclip his safety line, climb two more rungs, and then hook on again. “Watch the end of the blade. It’s sharp enough to cut your pressure suit.”
Sean swallowed and followed Alex up. He reached the point where the blade thrust through and saw that the dust, or something, had broken the tip off and had honed the metal sharp as a knife. He felt some misgiving. What would happen when they took the blade assembly off at the top? He didn’t know if they could work the blade out from where it was lodged. Maybe they should wait—
No, this was their job. And he wanted to do it well. Sean unhooked his safety line, telling himself that he had never needed it so far. Climbing up five or six feet without it was no big deal.
Sean forced himself not to look down; he couldn’t afford to be dizzy. He edged over, avoiding the sharpend of the blade. Thinking that he was already past the blade, he stepped back over—but his boot came to rest not on the rung, but on the point of the windmill blade. He felt himself slip, and he desperately clung to the ladder, hoisting himself by his arms.
He got his foot onto the next rung and let out a deeply held breath. From above: “You okay, Sean?”
“Fine. Let’s go.”
They made the rest of the climb. Because of the bent and jammed blade, Alex had to edge around the catwalk to the right instead of the left. Sean got to the top, reached to his belt, and took out the pulley. “I don’t think we’re going to be able to lower this one,” he said.
“You may be right,” Alex replied. “The shaft looks bent too, and I think the nacelle may be damaged. This is going to be a major overhaul. We’ll let them know, but let’s see if we can get the blades down. That’ll be a start.”
The nose cone was pointing down at a fifteen-degree angle, a sure sign that the axle was bent. Alexleaned far out and tried to turn the cone. It was stuck. “A little help here, Sean.”
Sean hooked his leg around a strut and leaned out. The nose cone wouldn’t give at all. “Let me get a lever through it,” he said. He reached to his belt and pulled out a steel rod. It slipped through two holes drilled near the tip of the nose cone, ordinarily closed by two hinged plastic flaps. In an emergency, though, the rod could be pressed through, serving as a handle.
“Ready?” Sean asked. “On three. One, two, three!”
They both shoved, and finally the cap began to rotate. They got it off and let it fall, then hooked on the pulley and the line. “Brake on?” Alex asked.
“Check.”
Sean took the bolts nearest him, and Alex worked on the three on his side. They removed the last two at the same time. Sean was leaning far out, his arm hooked around the broken-off stub of the top blade.
Then it happened. The assembly swung free—anddragged Sean with it. Too late, he remembered that he had not refastened his safety line.
He desperately clutched the hub and upper blade. The pulley brake was not meant to hold his weight along with the blades. He felt it giving, the line screeching through the pulley. Now he was dangling three hundred meters above the surface, clutching the blade, feeling himself beginning to slip. His head reeled, and pure terror made him hold on with a death grip.
“Hang on!” Alex shouted. He had ducked past the nacelle and was grabbing for the line.
The blade swung to the side, threatening to dump Sean off. Below him, the lower blade, weakened where it had bent through the framework, was crumpling.
Alex was grunting, hauling on the line, dragging the blades and Sean back toward the tower. Sean realized that he was just close enough to the framework to grab it—if he could overcome his panic and force his hands to let go of the blade.
“Now!”
For a sickening second, Sean felt himself falling, but his flailing hand grabbed a cross strut. He thudded against the tower, hooked a leg
Similar Books
