Tachyon Web by Christopher Pike Read Free Book Online Page A

pad and a stinging solution, crying quietly.
    Eric felt a stab of guilt. He’d always thought of himself as the cool one under pressure. Perhaps there were options. He caught Jeanie’s wrist, squeezed it gently, and said, “It’s all right.” Jeanie held his eyes for a second, then nodded and tried to smile. Eric patted her on the side and, taking a deep breath of the still warm air, stood up.
    “The vents sucked up the ethylene glycol,” he said. “Where did they put it?”
    “The coolant would have been trapped by the atmosphere filtration system,” Sammy replied.
    Strem showed signs of life. “I’ll take you to it. Do you think we can reclaim some of the fluid?”
    “Let’s see,” Eric said.
    Strem led him into the cargo bay. Eric was surprised with its size, even with the crowding cartons of opants. The air was cooler here, of both tension and temperature. Soft yellow light spilled from the ceiling. Eric’s head began to clear. As Strem led him along a narrow corridor made up of stacked boxes, Eric stopped him.
    “You should have told us,” he said.
    Strem nodded, properly chastised, “I know.”
    “Our chances are lousy.”
    “I wouldn’t want to bet on them,” Strem agreed.
    “But it was a daring idea. It took a lot of imagination.”
    Strem’s face brightened. “It was my idea. I thought to myself, how many times do we have a nova go off next to the web? It was a chance I couldn’t pass up. I just wanted my friends with me to enjoy the excitement. Neither Sammy nor I thought we’d come out so close to the blasted star.”
    “I understand.”
    “You don’t hate me?”
    “Not intensely.”
    The twin man-height filtration barrels attached to the corner of the bay opened easily, and they found the coolant, all forty gallons of it, impregnated in two of the filthiest filters either of them had ever had the displeasure to smell. Apparently, over the last twenty years, Uncle Dan had transported tons of toxic solutions in less than perfectly sealed containers. Plus, Strem added, while traveling, his uncle smoked the nastiest cigars. Whatever had been in Excalibur ’s air during all those trips was now mixed in with the ethylene glycol.
    “Isn’t there some regulation about changing these filters annually?” Eric asked. They were standing on a crate of opants, holding their noses.
    “Yes, but I guess it’s not strictly enforced.” Strem replaced the lids. “So what do you think?”
    “We have no idea what could be in these barrels that could have dissolved in the coolant. But it doesn’t really matter, in a way. We’re still going to have to try to purify the stuff.”
    “What are we going to use to filter it?”
    “We’ll find something.”
     
    The girls joined in the search for a suitable material to rid the coolant of the gook. The work provided a positive distraction. Jeanie and Cleo even got the impression, thanks to Strem’s optimistic explanation, that they were practically half way home. They went through everything: bed sheets, carpets, pillows.
    Several hours later, the girls finally discovered the key ingredient to their envisioned chemical factory: the inner lining of the opant jackets was made of a silk-like material. When they poured a cup of the polluted coolant through it, the coolant came out the other side a shade less foul. But there were two difficulties. One, the ethylene glycol penetrated the material slowly. A glass of the liquid poured atop the inside of one jacket seeped through at only a couple of drops a minute. Also, when Sammy took a look at the end product, he said there was no way he was putting it near the Preeze Cap. The coolant was going to have to pass through many layers of the material if it was to stand a chance of performing.
    Eric decided to go back to the bridge. He left Strem working to siphon the contaminated fluid into pails while the girls hacked dozens of opant jackets to pieces. When he arrived, Eric found Sammy glued to his