"For fucks sake, why is this fucking thing not working?" John's angry outburst echoed through the station.
It wasn't going to work. This wasn't going to work.
The plan was simple really, but it all hinged on him being able to get power to the secondary control panel. Without that he could do nothing. The power wasn't going to be able to come through the main system, but if he could get that power from somewhere else – these batteries for instance, maybe he could boot it up. He didn't need the whole station for this, just the space elevator.
But the batteries weren't directly compatible, having been designed for powering the gravity ring instead. A few minutes, a pair of pliers and some foil changed that.
Now he had a problem with the voltage – he had too much. He actually needed only a small amount of power to do this, as he wasn't planning on doing anything but making these systems go.
If he ran too much power though it all he'd do is fry yet another circuit board, and he would be even greater shit. If that was possible.
The work had been slowed because he didn't have the exact tools he needed, but he made do. It had been further slowed by his shoulder. He tried not to move his arm too much which made things awkward. He was also hunched over to get access to the hardware he needed, and that was made it even more painful. He had blood on his hands from where he had touched the back of his head. Though he had managed to keep most of it off the instruments by wiping his hands on his legs, it was still a mess. Now the area around him was littered with wire and disassembled spare parts and he was no closer to safety.
Why was this all not compatible? He thought angrily. If Brains had just had a bit more forethought this would have all been completed and he would be on his way down by now. Hell with a bit more care this whole situation could have been avoided.
John immediately regretted his thoughts and was relieved that he hadn't voiced them out loud. He knew that the safety of the members of International Rescue was Brains top priority and something that he would never compromise. He recognised in himself that he was only looking for someone to blame because if someone was responsible for the problem they would also be responsible for the solution. That just wasn't how life worked unfortunately.
"Don't blame yourself, this isn't anybodies fault" he said softly. No matter how this turned out there were some people on Tracy Island who would have to come to know the truth of those words. They were all very good at easing other's burdens by taking them on themselves, to their own detriment.
John took a deep breath and sighed. His headache was coming back with a vengeance and he was starting to get double vision: he knew that was too good to last. He took another breath. No it just wasn't the blow to the head, the air had changed – it was thicker and stuffier. Time for a time check – 1 hour 10 minutes. Damn that had gone fast. He needed to get an oxygen tank while he could still think clearly.
He floated slowly to the oxygen storage, reluctant to actually start to use one. It was because it was a solid representation of his time running out, and he felt it like a noose tightening around his neck. Regardless it needed to be done, so he fixed the tank to his helmet and put it on.
"I'm now using the first oxygen tank. One hour."
He needed to think, he just couldn't think. The only thing he could now hear was the sound of his own breathing and his own heartbeat. And that was deafening.
He'd never liked working in the quiet. The others didn't really understand. They thought he needed peace to concentrate but he always worked best with some background noise. He was a product of his environment and that environment was growing up with four energetic and noisy brothers. There had barely been a silent moment in the house when they were kids due to games or arguments in equal measure. Though they each tried to keep it down when someone was doing schoolwork peace was something that none of them got used to.
The first two weeks that he had been in college were awful – everyone was so studious and everything was too quiet, he had got nothing done. Then he hit upon perfection – music. Nothing modern, all classic, sometimes even classical. There was a tune for every mood and every thought. Songs that evoked memories, that soothed broken hearts. Songs that let his mind float freely for him to be the best that he could be. Oh, his brothers had relentlessly made fun of him when they found out that he needed music, played very very loudly, to do his best work. They had messed with his playlists, changing the order of everything. Gordon even replaced his entire collection on one occasion.
But they had also added in their own choices, found things he thought he might like. And that had really touched him – that the embraced something that they didn't really understand. And they made it better, because his collection now contained songs that he felt epitomised his family and bought him comfort when they were far away or in danger.
He wished he could play some music now, but with the main data core off line there was no chance of that, so he started humming one of his favourites. It was quite fitting as it always evoked a feeling of determination: something that he could use the boost from right now. It fit the spirit of his family so was often on his playlist. He would have sung it but he couldn't spare the oxygen. Anyway, he didn't want to hear his own voice echoing around his suit. And he sure didn't want those down below subjected to his voice. He realised just how much like a stepped on frog he sounded the day that he had been travelling home from college. He'd been working on an essay on the train and the looks that some of the other passengers had given him while he was singing away while listening to….
Listening to….
Where was it? Was it here? He was sure he bought it up with him. It had been a present from his mother, so he took it with him where ever he went. Brains had upgraded it a couple of years ago. He didn't use it much any more, but it was here somewhere he knew it. He moved as quickly as possible back through the station, uncaring of the knocks he gave his shoulder. Once in his room he tore open one of the cupboards, searching desperately. Finally, finally his hand landed on what he was looking for. His portable music player.
He caught his reflection in the mirror by his bed. His suit was blood smeared and charred – he thought he would have either an impressive bruise or a mild burn in the centre of his chest where the discharge had hit - and his face was pale, sweaty and fearful.
He turned it on, could he bear to look at it? He had to, he had to see what percentage it had. 75%? Even though he hadn't charged it for months at least. That….. that might be enough. Brains, thank you for the battery upgrade.
This might work, this might actually work.
Back in the elevator capsule he got to work – swiftly uncasing his beloved music player and removing the battery. He made the needed modifications and inserted it into his makeshift circuit. His movements were swift but still careful as couldn't afford to mess this up. This battery was of a much lower voltage – it hadn't needed to be powerful after all. If he was lucky, if he was very very lucky, it would be in the right range to boot the board, but not enough to overload it.
"Moment of truth, here goes."
He finalised the connection and …. It hummed, it beeped and it lit up green.
"Yes! Arghhh! Fuck yeah" He punched the air in relief and excitement, momentarily forgetting his injury. That came back to bite him as he moved and the pain was a white hot lance across his front and back. That couldn't stop the wave of elation that he felt though.
It would work!
The board beeped again. It wasn't meant to do that. Hang on, that wasn't the board. That was the oxygen warning alarm on his tank. Time to change it which meant he had only 30 minutes left. Time sure does fly when you are not having fun. Would it be enough? It had to be, he was so close.
"I've just got change this, and then Virgil, Gordon, I need you to listen very carefuly, as I'm going to need your help."
