The sun had just touched the jagged horizon, throwing immensely elongated shadows across the broken, rocky ground. Jamie saw his own shadow reaching out incredibly, stretching far out in front of him. But nowhere near far enough.
He had been pushing forward around the rippled sand that betrayed the dust-drowned crater. When he turned to see the tiny lifeless sun he also saw his rover, two thirds sunk in the red dust, disappointingly close. He had been trudging around the ghost crater’s perimeter for more than an hour, yet it seemed that he had hardly begun his trek to the second vehicle.
The cable stretched from the connection on his harness backward toward the partially buried rover, most of it resting on the ridged surface of the sand. The farther I go around the crater, the more cable’s going to be lying on the sand, Jamie said to himself. That shouldn’t cause any problems. I don’t think it will. Shouldn’t be any problem at all. The cable won’t sink into the damned sand. Even if it does we can winch it taut if I get to Vosnesensky’s rover. Not if. When. When.
He kept walking. Even when he turned backward he kept his legs moving toward his goal: that second rover where Vosnesensky and Reed and Ivshenko were waiting for him.
It was getting dark. And cold. Jamie’s legs felt rubbery, weak. Cold saps your strength. Got to keep going.
He walked at the slow, steady pace he had learned from his grandfather when they had hunted mule deer up in the mountains. “Just get your rhythm right,” Al would say, “and you can walk all damned day, no trouble. It’s all in the rhythm. Don’t hurry. Don’t rush. The doer won’t run very far. You can walk him until he’s exhausted and ready to drop at your feet.”
Yeah. Right, Grandfather. If you’re healthy. If you’ve been getting all your vitamins. If you’re breathing real air and it’s not forty below zero and dropping fast.
It was getting too dark to see the ground. Jamie reached up and turned on the lamp atop his helmet. Don’t want to step into the sand by mistake. Wonder how golfers would like it here on Mars? Sand traps two kilometers wide. No water hazards. Maybe we ought to bring a set of clubs here the next time. Might start a demand for tourism. Take your vacation on Mars. Climb the solar system’s tallest mountain. Drink a glass of Martian Perrier. Put your bootprints where no one has stepped before.
“Jamie! Did you hear me?”
He snapped his attention to Vosnesensky’s demanding voice. “What? What did you say?”
“I asked if you had turned on your helmet lamp. It is becoming quite dark.”
“Yes, it’s on.”
“Can you see the ground well enough to guide yourself?”
Jamie looked down. He was trudging along the hard-packed stony soil. A dozen paces to his right the rippled sand began.
“Yep. I can see okay.”
“Good. Good.”
Then Jamie realized what Vosnesensky’s call meant. The Russian could not yet see Jamie’s light. He was still too far away from the rover to be seen. He had miles to go.
They chattered back and forth, Jamie, the two cosmonauts, even Connors and the women. Jamie listened to the tension in their voices even when they tried to joke and banter. They’re scared. They’re all scared. And I am too.
It was fully night now. Jamie heard the soft breeze of Mars sighing past him. Gentle world, he told himself. If only you weren’t so damned cold. Why did you make it so cold, Man Maker? Or why did you make us so weak? Did Coyote trick you into it?
“Talk,” Vosnesensky said. “Speak, Jamie. Let us know that you are all right.”
“It’s getting… too damned cold… to talk much,” he said. He was panting now. His legs felt stiff, hurting.
“Turn up the heater in your suit to maximum.”
“Did that already.”
“Make certain.”
“Right.”
The heater dial was already turned to max, Jamie knew. He tried it again and the dial would turn no further. Too bad we don’t have a thermostat control for the planet. Stop the temperature from dropping any lower. Be a nice touch.