USFR Alpha
N 9°49'24.40" W42°22'27.77" Altitude 820km
2300 UTC
Feb 24, 2141 (+176 days)
Lieutenant-Colonel Marco Lidmann floated in the center of white foam streams of spent shaving cream as the unintended, yet not surprising, results of his elementary school experiment began to coat everything within his quarters. No, spraying a can of shaving cream will not propel a person across the room in zero gravity. It will, however, cling to every surface that is nearly impossible to clean. It will also escape any attempts of capture and containment. The designers of the Alpha 1 living quarters did not take into account a bored man with the curiosity of a 3 year old. They used every square inch of wall space for something useful. Though he shared bunks with 2 other Marines, both were currently on duty and scheduling made for comfortable living arraignments. This new development, however, was not good.
He tried to gather the remaining airborne cream, grabbing at it with his hands and scraping it into a plastic bag. What did not squeeze through his fingers, though, was divided a hundred fold and while some was drawn to the walls of the living space the remaining foam continued the slow motion circuit of the pod. This feeble attempt lead to idea number two, where he set to work getting all the froth onto the walls. The idea was to squeegee the cream toward and into the vacuum assisted trash chute. Simple enough except that shaving cream does not take orders from anyone less than a full bird colonel. More than half of the cream still floated, as if tired from a slow game of tag.
Following numerous failed attempts to wrangle the unruly suds using his hands, gloves, shoes, a couple different hats and a helmet he was at his wits end when he realized he needed a larger surface area. Retrieving a sheet and four Velcro ties from one of the numerous lathered storage compartments he tied each of the four corners to his hands and feet. Starting at one end of the capsule he propelled himself toward the other end. Spreading his arms and legs like a giant flying squirrel he caught the shaving cream in the large sail and pressed it against the far wall. He removed the sheet, gathered it into a small bunch and shoved it down the laundry chute. He turned to look at how well it worked and startled. His reaction, in a gravitational world, would have been a jump. In this weightless environment, though, it could only be categorized as a involuntary spasm. Not unlike a baby lying on a bed and kicking his feet out.
Two people floated upside down in the hatchway at the far end of his living quarters. Their eyebrows were raised and their mouths twitched with contained laughter. Marco's room mates, 1st lieutenant Michael S. O'Loughin USMC and Captain Carlos M. Rodriguez USMC, were temporarily struck mute at the sight of a man, a sheet, and shaving cream.
“You, uh, OK there colonel?” Michael asked with more humor than concern.
“I had a bit of a problem with the shaving cream.” Marco answered, his face turning red.
“Can we offer some assistance?” Carlos choked over the laughter.
“No, no, I can take care of it. Thanks.”
“By your leave then, sir”
“Certainly.” Marco said and turned to grab another sheet hoping the audience would leave.
“You know,” came Michael's voice, “if we were to set up in an echelon, we could probably get it all in one sweep.”
Marco turned and, with a chuckle, threw each man a sheet.
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