The chapter title is no joke... hold on to your haversacks and enjoy the ride!
Edited by MacBeth, with many thanks!
-LothiThe Rainmakers
Chapter 19, Breathless The air was starting to taste thin to MacGyver, and he was feeling a touch of a headache growing which had nothing to do with the bruise he had gotten from the airlock door. A flutter of claustrophobia surfed through his mind, urging the cells of his body to leap into action. He got to his feet and tried not to show the anxiety he was feeling.
Don’t panic, Mac! Something has to happen soon… Pete’s voice saved him from drowning. “Listen, we’re repairing the circuits that open the airlock doors that are behind you.”
“I hear you,” MacGyver said softly. He forced himself not to fidget, though he felt as though there was a tiger inside of him, pacing the walls of its cage.
Barbara stood up and moved to his side. Her face reflected her distress, but she felt an odd comfort just standing near MacGyver. If these were to be her last moments, she wanted to keep him close.
Together, they waited.
⌂
Pete’s Voice-Over: I felt like the guy with the whip in the middle of a three-ring circus; I had technicians and engineers and programmers jumping around like acrobats – with Gantner as the dancing bear, waltzing to stay out of the way as they scrambled over the computers and around them, fixing and programming, sweating and swearing.
I’d found and traced the circuits to the airlock doors, but it wasn’t going to be as easy as that. A lot of reprogramming had to be done, new sub-routines had to be written, and we knew the hardware was unreliable… it was a million-to-one shot that this would work.
And in the middle of it all – quite noticeable in the midst of such chaos – the Director of the KIVA was standing and staring at nothing, tapping his lower lip with a pen. Whether he was thinking hard or listening closely – or all of the above – I wasn’t sure, but watching him I suddenly became aware of a feeling that I’d been trying to ignore.
MacGyver has teased me about this – he calls it my ‘Bureaucrat Spidey-sense’, and that it starts tingling whenever I hear any B.S. At the time he said that, I laughed about it and put it down as a combination of orneriness on Mac’s part and reading too many comic books when he was a kid. I’m not so sure that this is an extra sense – but I do confess to a heightened instinct for smelling trouble coming down the chain of command.
I could smell something now… and I could see Burke’s face… and it had ‘covert operations’
written all over it.
I realized that I had made an assumption that the phone call that Burke had received from Colonel Keele was in regard to the sodium hydroxide tankers… but what if it had been about something else?
Burke must have seen me watching him; he suddenly left the room. I couldn’t possibly follow him – besides, the tech was almost finished with his work rewiring the one and only console up here that could control the airlock doors. This console had been severely damaged, and I had serious doubts about whether it could be repaired in time… or at all. The only other point of control was inside the gas lab itself, beyond anyone’s reach.
And we were almost out of time. “Any idea what kind of gas is in there?” Pete asked, touching his microphone.
From down in the Gas Chamber, MacGyver’s answer came calmly back to him, “No, I sure don’t.” He gave Barbara a tentative, questioning look and said gently, “Maybe Spencer does.”
Barbara met his eyes briefly then looked away.
Mac shook his head faintly. “Yeah – Colsen, I don’t think we can get a fix on it just yet.”
“We’re gonna try the airlock circuits now.”
“Okay.”
Holding their breath unconsciously, MacGyver and Barbara waited, but the doors did not open. Barbara pressed her hands against the glass, hoping to feel a tremor or a vibration that would mean the mechanism was just being slow at working.
Nothing happened. The seconds ticked by as hope slowly cooled. “Colsen?” MacGyver prompted, alarm leaking into his voice.
There was pause long enough to live half a life before MacGyver heard an answer, “Yeah … sorry,” Pete’s voice was flat, cold; hopeless.
MacGyver knew then what had to be done, and the slowly uncoiling springs of fear inside him suddenly tightened into a core of steel. He drew in a long clearing breath, already planning his next attack.
⌂
Burke had slipped back into the room in time to see the shower of sparks flying from the computer console when the technician tried to activate the airlock doors. The pen he’d been fiddling with bounced off the floor as he flung it away in a moment of frustration. He braced his arms against another console, hung his head and attempted to get control of his temper.
He had been
so full of hope that they could pull this off … that he could tell Keele to forget about the second half of the contingency plan. Even now the radio phone was jangling again – it sounded to Burke like the taunting, hysterical laughter of the devil himself. He squeezed his eyes shut. Then he straightened up and kicked the console hard enough to leave a dent in the metal skin.
Gantner stared at the greenish flames eating out the heart of the computer. A technician ran in with a fire extinguisher and sprayed white powder over the fire. Gantner turned away, a sick look on his face as the realization of their failure sank home. He gently set his microphone on a table and wandered out of the room. He went past Burke without a word; neither man could meet the other's eye.
Pete pinched the end of his cigarette and watched the smoke curl up to the ceiling. He had one advantage over his companions in the command center – he knew MacGyver…
really knew him – and so he knew that nothing was over yet. As long as Mac was alive – there was hope.
Pete knew… but ‘Andy Colsen’ did not … and so he breathed in cigarette smoke and frowned at the computers and kept Burke in his peripheral vision.
⌂
Barbara looked at MacGyver desperately, and she was amazed at what she saw. The man’s face was alight – he had a gleam in his eye like pure danger – and there was no trace of defeat or anxiety on his handsome features.
Barbara instantly became infected by his enthusiasm; his strength flowed into her, eye to eye, and she found herself become calm again, though something within her had softly changed. The concern she felt – for Steubens, for herself – had broadened to include MacGyver as well.
What a place, she thought with wonder,
what a place, and what a time, to feel like this! When he spoke into the microphone, his voice was confident and sure. “Colsen, this
is a gas lab, right? Shouldn’t there be some vacuum pumps to evacuate the air just in case of an emergency?”
Barbara wasn’t the only one uplifted by the strength in MacGyver’s voice. Gantner had numbly retired to the Operations room to brood. He overheard MacGyver’s words and looked down at Colsen through the glass, desperate for some straw of hope to grasp at. He turned and hurried back into the control room in time to hear Colsen’s answer:
“Yeah, that’s right, there are. But you would have to go
through the gas to get to them. And even then, there’s no guarantee that they’ll work.”
Gantner’s fleeting hope turned to horror. He snatched up a hand mike. “Mac! You can’t! Once you break the seal on that airlock, the gas’ll kill you.”
“Doesn’t matter, Gant,” MacGyver said, “we’re gonna run outta air in here pretty soon anyway.”
MacGyver was watching Barbara, watching him. She seemed ready for any challenge; she hadn’t even blinked an eye at Gantner’s dramatic words. His respect for her soared anew.
Here during what could be their last living moments, Barbara felt more alive than she’d been at any time in her life. “The switch for the pumps is on that panel. See it?” With her eyes, she indicated the place.
MacGyver nodded, having seen it earlier with the help of his monocular. “Awright.”
He lifted the strap of his game bag over his head as he said, “When we open this airlock, I want you to head straight for that passage down to the next level. Awright?” MacGyver’s accent was back. He moved the microphone to his belt and began to pull off his over-shirt. “Here.” With a smooth motion, he ripped the tough material into two pieces, handing her one of them. “I want you to put this around your mouth and nose. Won’t keep out the gas…” he shrugged slightly, “… but it might help a little.” He tore what remained of the shirt in half again.
Barbara fingered the material, working up her courage. “MacGyver. If you don’t get the pumps started – “
Mac interrupted her with a smile, before she could say anything negative that might jinx them. “
Heey! Hey – “
Barbara smiled back at him. “ – I just wanted to say…” Instead of speaking, she substituted action for words, and gently kissed him on the lips. Pulling back with a smile, she added, “Thanks.”
MacGyver glowed at her. “You bet.” He covered his grin with a piece of fabric, tying it behind his head. Barbara did the same.
“Take a few deep breaths before this goes,” he advised her. She nodded.
Mac resettled his game bag over his shoulder, and then wound the remaining scrap of his flannel shirt over the knuckles of his right hand. With no more warning than a nod to Barbara, he drew in a massive breath – and drove his fist straight through the glass!
It shattered loudly, pieces flying in every direction. A piercing alarm began shrieking in their ears. MacGyver threw more punches, knocking out the rest of the pane. He ran his wrapped hand around the edge of the window to clear the glass as quickly as possible. He leapt into the lab, conscious of the danger of jagged edges but nevertheless in too much of a hurry to be over-careful; he felt a shard bite into his unprotected left hand as he vaulted through the opening. He ignored the distraction and turned to help Barbara as she crawled over the wall.
He led the way down a short ladder and into the pool of fog. Barbara obediently hurried on toward the exit, while MacGyver moved directly toward the control panels.
Barbara’s movement cleft a wake through the thick smoke. She clutched the fabric of MacGyver’s shirt over her face as she ran, counting slowly to herself. She knew how long she could hold her breath… and she knew about how much time she had.
She picked her way quickly through a pile of boxes and bins scattered through the passage, narrowly avoiding tripping over the body of an unfortunate scientist. She nearly gasped in shock as she staggered. Clamping one hand over her mouth and nose to hold in the scream, she ran on until she reached the exit.
The airlock responded immediately when she slapped the release, and she whirled into the room as the doors closed with a sigh, biting off a tendril of the deadly fog that had followed her. She stared at it, still holding her breath, as it quickly melted out of the room through a vent.
Then she permitted herself a long, ragged breath of relief. She held it in for a few seconds, and then she hurled herself away from the wall, slamming her hand on the release button. When the door began to slide open, she didn’t wait but inserted her body as soon as it was wide enough to let her through and admit her into the twin of the lab she had just crossed.
MacGyver headed directly to the control panel and began punching the buttons for the pump controls. There was no response. He pressed the buttons again, firmly, then dug his nails behind the panel and pulled it straight out of the console. Turning it upward to expose the guts, he yanked out the wires that led to the dead controls and stripped them, crossing the naked copper.
Spark began to fly out of the panel, biting MacGyver’s hands like cruel gnats. He blinked and turned his face away, fingers still working deftly. There was a hum and a squeak overhead as the ventilation grid opened.
The fog rose slowly as if to explore the sounds. MacGyver’s lungs were screaming for air; he was going have to take a breath soon; his muscles were starting to cramp and there was darkness was gathering on the edge of his vision. He’d managed to short-circuit the controls to open the venting hatch, but he had to get the connection to the main pump motor working. The wires swam in his fingers as his eyes began to water.
Up in the control room, Pete’s forgotten cigarette burned down toward his fingers. Beside him, Burke stood, fuming silently. Gantner was standing, staring at the control dials that Colsen had instructed him to watch – even though he knew that they’d never work now.
To his amazement, the dials began to twitch. He gasped, but was too surprised to utter a word
Pete heard the catch of breath, and looked over his shoulder. Lights started flashing on the damaged panel. Burke came over to see what the others were staring at.
“The indicator lights for the pumps. They’re coming on!” Pete announced with growing excitement. “Can’t be positive that they’re working… but
they’re on!”
Everyone began to cheer. At last, something was working!
MacGyver had found the right connection and given the wires another good twist, and the ventilators rewarded him with a wholehearted roar and began to strongly vacuum the gassy fog from the room.
MacGyver turned from the control panel, half-blinded by the rising fog, and pushed himself in the direction of the exit. Instead of the stair and a doorway, however, he came up hard against a smooth wall. Muddled by lack of oxygen, he had run the wrong way.
Pressing the cloth against his mouth and nose, MacGyver surrendered to his body’s demands; he sucked air in through the cloth covering his face. His lungs rejoiced to have oxygen at last, but within a few wild beats of his laboring heart, his vision began to swim. Then he began to feel an awful sensation in his arms and legs – as if pins and needles were being pierced through his skin.
The air was no good; whatever the gas was, it was blocking his ability to absorb oxygen. He coughed out what he had breathed in, his throat closing in reflex, and began to stumble back the way he’d come.
The smoke was disappearing though the vents, but not fast enough. Numb and half-unconscious, MacGyver’s blind fingers found an oval hatch in the wall. With desperate strength he wrenched it open and slithered through, hoping to find clean air on the other side.
What he found was another room bathed in fog. He dropped to the floor, his arms and legs disobeying him at last. The white tide rose up and swallowed him as he faded from consciousness.
~~~
Link to Chapter 20
Everyone, sometimes, needs a camel.
Old troubleshooters never die...
They just wait til the last moment and then rescue themselves!
Leave it to me to think it was something else 
