Stand by for Mars! by Carey Rockwell (desktop ebook reader TXT) 📕

Tom looked up at the big Venusian. Their eyes locked for a moment and then he nodded his head and turned away. He pulled out the pocket compass and through blurred vision read the course beneath its wavering needle. He waved an arm in a direction to the right of them and staggered off.

Astro stooped down, picked Roger up in his arms and slowly got him across his shoulders. Then steadying himself, he walked after Tom.

Suddenly a blast of wind, hot as fire, swept across the sandy plains, whipping the sand up and around the two walking figures, biting into exposed hands and faces. Tom tried to adjust his goggles when the sand began to penetrate around the edges but his fingers shook and he dropped them. In a flash, the sand drove into his eyes, blinding him.

"I can't see, Astro," said Tom in a hoarse whisper when Astro staggered up. "You'll have to guide."

Astro took the compass out of Tom's hand and then placed his unit-mate's hand on his back. Tom gripped the loose folds of the space cloth and uniform beneath and struggled blindly after the big cadet.

The hot sun bore down. The wind kept blowing and Astro, with Roger slung across his back like a sack of potatoes and Tom clinging blindly to his uniform, walked steadily on.

He felt each step would be his last, but with each step he told himself through gritted teeth that he could do ten more—and then ten more—ten more.

He walked, he staggered, and once he fell to the ground, Tom slumping behind him and Roger being tossed limply to the scorching sand. Slowly Astro recovered, helped Tom to his feet, then with the last of his great strength, picked up Roger again. This time, he was unable to get him to his shoulder so he carried him like a baby in his arms.

At last the sun began to drop in the red sky. Astro felt Roger's limp body slipping from his grip. By now, Tom had lost all but the very last ounce of his strength and was simply being pulled along.

"Tom—" gasped Astro with great effort, "I'm going to count to a thousand and then—I'm going to stop."

Tom didn't answer.

Astro began to count. "One—two—three—four—five—six—" He tried to make each number become a step forward. He closed his eyes. It wasn't important which way he went. It was only important that he walk those thousand steps, "five hundred eleven—five hundred twelve—five hundred thirteen—"

Involuntarily he opened his eyes when he felt himself climbing up a small rise in the sand. He opened his eyes and ten feet away was the flat blue surface of the canal they had been searching for.

"You can let go now, Tom," said Astro in a voice hardly above a whisper. "We made it. We're on the bank of the canal."

"Hey, Roger," yelled Astro from the middle of the canal, "ever see a guy make like a submarine?"

Tom and Roger sat on the top of the low bank of the canal drying off from a swim, while Astro still splashed around luxuriating in the cool water.

"Go on," yelled Roger, "let's see you drown yourself!"

"Not me, hot-shot," yelled Astro. "After that walk, all I'd have to do is open my mouth and start drinking."

Finally tiring of his sport, the big Venusian pulled himself up onto the bank of the canal and quickly dressed. Pulling on his space boots, he turned to Tom and Roger, who were breaking out the last two containers of food.

"You know, Astro," said Roger quietly, "I'll never be able to repay you for carrying me."

Tom was quiet for a moment, and then added, "Same here, Astro."

Astro grinned from ear to ear. "Answer me this one question, both of you. Would you have done it for me?"

The two boys nodded.

"Then you paid me. As long as I know I'm backed up by two guys like you, then I'm paid. Carrying you, Roger, was just something I could do for you at that particular time. One of these days, when we get out of this oven, there'll come a time when you or Tom will do something for me—and that's the way it should be."

"Thanks, Astro," said Roger. He reached over and put his hand on top of Astro's, and then Tom placed his hand on top of theirs. The three boys were quiet for a moment. There was an understanding in each of them that they had accomplished more than just survival in a desert. They had learned to respect each other. They were a unit at last.

"What do we do next?" asked Roger.

"Start walking that way," said Tom, pointing to his left along the bank of the canal that stretched off in a straight line to the very horizon. "If we're lucky, we might be able to find something to use as a raft and then we can ride."

"Think there are any fish in this canal?" asked Astro, gazing out over the cool blue water.

"Doubt it. At least I've never heard of there being any," replied Tom.

"Well," said Roger, standing up, "you can go a lot farther without food than you can without water. And we still have that big container of ham left."

"Yeah, as soon as it gets hot, we just swim instead of walk," said Astro. "And, believe me, there's going to be a lot of swimming done!"

"Think we might strike anything down that way," asked Roger. He looked down the canal in the direction Tom had indicated.

"That's the direction of the nearest atmosphere booster station. At least that was the way it looked on the chart. All of them were built near the canals."

"How far away do you think it is?" asked Astro.

"Must be at least three hundred miles."

"Let's start moving," said Roger, "and hope we can find something that'll float us on the canal."

Single file, wearing the space cloths once more as protection against the sun, they walked along the bank of the canal. When the heat became unbearable, they dipped the squares of space cloths into the water and wrapped themselves in them. When they began to dry out, they would repeat the process. At noon, when the sun dried the fabric nearly as fast as they could wet it, they stopped and slipped over the edge of the bank into the cool water. Covering their heads with the cloths they remained partly submerged until the late afternoon. When the sun had lost some of its power, again they climbed