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Two Weeks

He was sure he would make it this time. Most of his attempts at escape from the SOL so far had been kind of insane and halfcocked. This plan he had now wasn't much better, but at least it was a plan instead of a spur of the moment decision. An actual plan written on actual paper with an actual pen...

Okay, enough about the actual stuff. Mike packed his backpack with the bare necessities he would need to survive the trip back to Earth; three small canisters of emergency oxygen, a travel size pack of Oreos, and the Lord of the Rings Trilogy. Nothing could stop him ... he was armed and ready to go.

Tom watched from the door of his quarters, hovering stationary. The little red 'bot had been watching since Mike had started packing, but he hadn't said anything. Finally, just as the lone human was about to walk out of his quarters for the very last time, Servo spoke up, "You do realize, of course, that your chances of making it are nil?"

Mike gave him a mildly annoyed look. "I know I will."

"Pigs fly where you come from, don't they?" Tom asked, snickering and following Mike as he made his way down the corridor, "I'll bet elephants do too, Mike."

Mike stopped, sighing and shaking his head. "Don't you have to go clean your room or something?"

"Nope! Did it last week. Can I watch?" Tom hovered past him, stopping in front of him. "I've never seen a human implode before."

"Wha...?" Mike blinked, a bit surprised by the comment. "What do you mean?"

"You really think Dr. F would send the supply pod and leave atmosphere in the Cargo Bay?" the red 'bot laughed. "Gyps is the only one allowed down there when the pod's here, and there's no oxygen and no atmospheric pressure so you can't go."

The farmboy's shoulders slumped in a moment of defeat. "Dag nabbit!"

"Well, look at it like this! I just saved your life, so now you have to give me a life-bond, and be my slave for all eternity and..." Tom continued to prattle on his list of servitude items.

The determination came back to Mike pretty quickly as his brain devised another insane but brilliant plan. He smiled, interrupting Servo in his glorious plans, "How about a cookie, and we'll call it even?"

"I dunno... a slave for life or a cookie... hmmm." Tom hovered around Mike once, then stopped back in front of him. "Okay, but next time I save you, you're my slave for life."

Mike laughed, "Fair enough."


Three Months

Yep, it was going to work this time. No room for failure, no holes in the plan, and no giving up. Mike packed his bag again; four emergency canisters of oxygen, a full bag of Oreos, the Lord of the Rings Trilogy, and The Hobbit. He slipped it on over his shoulder, then took the make-shift helmet and put it under one arm.

It had taken some creative work with duct tape and serious scavenging, but he had most of a spacesuit. It didn't have any of the neat gizmos like the NASA people had, but it would do for a short period of time. Weeks upon weeks of searching closets, boxes, the other guy's old inventions and after massive amounts of duct tape and chewing gum, he was ready.

Tom and Crow watched from the door, betting back and forth on whether he would live through the first five minutes or die a horrible death. Servo gave him the best shot for survival... eight minutes. Well, he would show them this time.

Crow followed him as he started his walk. "So Mike... ever space-walked before?"

Mike answered in a chipper voice, "Nope!"

"Better change my bet to seven minutes," Tom whispered to Crow.

"No changing the bet, Servo," Crow replied, also in pretty good humor. "You said eight, and eight it is."

Mike grinned. "Well, I'm gonna show both of you. I'm gonna get into the pod, and I'm gonna get to Deep 13 and I'm going to punch Dr. F out... and then I'm going to bring the SOL down."

"Optimism," Tom observed. "Maybe I will keep my bet at eight."

"Just you watch." Mike smirked, taking down a vent grate and stepping on the step ladder he had put there specifically for that purpose. "And then you can both pay me whatever the pool ends up being while we're all on Earth." He put his helmet on, turned on the main oxygen, and climbed into the vent shaft.


Ten Months

Okay, so maybe the last plan didn't work. This one would, though. The first time, he had no way of knowing that there would be a maze of shafts and a few cutoff doors to aid in preventing total atmospheric loss in case of a hull-breach. But this time, he knew... he had spent 7 months crawling through the network of shafts, making removable replacement sealing doors (it wouldn't have taken him so long if he had bothered paying attention at the career center when they had the welding classes... damn George Orwell for writing good novels), and practicing the route until he could make it blind.

He crawled along on his belly like a man going behind enemy lines. He had enough oxygen, had everything he could possibly need; 5 emergency canisters of good old O2, a bag full of Double-Stuf Oreos, the Lord of the Rings Trilogy, The Hobbit, and the Iron Tower Trilogy. The pack was a little heavy, but he managed to pull it anyway without all the much effort... he had gotten enough exercise in his escape attempts to make it easy.

Finally he reached his destination and took the grate off the vent into the cargo bay. Then he backed up to where another shaft branched off and turned around, working his way to the opening backwards so he could lower himself to the pile of crates he had stacked there the day before. Inch by inch, he could hear the Superman theme playing in his head.

The crates weren't there. Mike only found this out after he was dangling over the thirty foot drop, yelling for help and then realizing that without atmosphere no one would hear him anyway. The Superman theme faded away, and was quickly replaced by a dirge. He scrambled uselessly against the smooth metal walls, fighting to get back up, but it was a hopeless battle. Nelson's last stand, perhaps.

He lost his grip, and his life flashed before his eyes.

And he landed in a crate of styrofoam peanuts. It was luck, and as he fought his way out, he noticed Tom, Crow and Gypsy all watching him. The pod wasn't there... the atmosphere was back. Taking the helmet off and having the static cling peanuts immediately attract to his face, he sneezed.

"Mike, honey... are you okay?" Tom asked, staying well back from the crate. If he had eyes, he would probably be eyeing Mike suspiciously.

"But... where's the supply pod?"

Crow giggled, and then the other two followed suit, leaving Mike somewhat confused in his box. Crow was finally able to answer, "Yesterday was the time change!" The gold 'bot broke down in laughter again.

"You missed it by an hour," Tom added, falling back into snickering as well.

Mike looked at the doors of the bay, then at the laughing 'bots, and then at himself... covered head to toe in styrofoam peanuts. And after a long moment, trying his hardest to look heartbroken, he finally gave into laughter himself.


One Year, Two Months

This time he had gone all out. There wasn't one single thing that could possibly go wrong. His suit was taped, his bag was packed, and his plan was completely full-proof. He had taken into consideration the rotation of Earth, the phases of the moon, the tides... everything. There was absolutely positively nothing to stop him in his crusade.

He crawled along, pulling the backpack along; 6 canisters of oxygen, two bags of Double-Stuf fudge dipped Oreos, the Lord of the Rings Trilogy, The Hobbit, the Neverending Story, the Iron Tower Trilogy, and a few scribbled pictures by the 'bots.

He didn't even need to think about his journey... he had made it so many times in practice. Backing out, he dropped down the crates below, no problem. And the pod was there... Gypsy had just finished unloading it and now the purple 'bot stayed well back, watching. He walked across easily, so confident in himself and his ability to get away from this place that there was no thought that anything could go wrong.

Then he glanced back. Tom and Crow were looking out from the vent shaft he had dropped from a few minutes before. They had apparently gotten good enough to follow him, and they didn't need oxygen. He thought about how he would get them down and how they would all meet up again. Mike smiled to himself, giving them a thumbs up, and turning back to his plan.

A few minutes later, the remote controlled supply pod left in a cloud of dust that was quickly sucked out of the bay into the vacuum of space.


That Night

"Why'd you stay?" Crow asked, sleepily. The three of them were sitting on Mike's bed, and Tom was already off in his sleep-mode.

Mike set The Hobbit aside, rubbing his eyes and trying his hardest to sound completely nonchalant, "I figured it'd be safer to stay. I mean, what would be waiting for me down there? Mom and Dad would probably pitch a fit because I haven't called them in forever, and I'd have to explain to the DMV why my plates weren't renewed, and the IRS would probably be angry..." he continued on his list of the thousand and one reasons that he wouldn't go back, leaving out the one real reason. Crow went offline, probably bored to sleep, and Mike stopped in the middle of his gripe about politics and red tape.

He picked them up and carried them off to their respective rooms, grumbling good-naturedly about how they should learn to clean up after themselves, and it was only after they were both tucked in and he was out in the corridor between the rooms that he smiled. Quietly and to no one awake to hear, he said, "Not to mention, I couldn't just up and leave you guys here..." he cleared his throat, putting on a deep voice, "Not that my plan would have failed or anything, but just in case something did go wrong and I wouldn't make it down to rescue you lot, I couldn't very well leave you alone when I promised not to."

Then, feeling better now that he had admitted to that, he walked down to his own room, a skip in his step and a grin plastered on his face. Time to come up with a new plan.