The Martians(17)
All Eileen could see was a patch where the sky's pink was perhaps a bit yellow, but she said, “Yes?”
“Dust storm. Coming our way too. I think I feel the wind already.” He put a hand up. Eileen thought that feeling the wind through a suit when the atmospheric pressure was thirty millibars was strictly a myth, a guide's boast, but she stuck her hand up as well, and thought that there might be a faint fluctuating pressure on it.
Ivan, Kevin, and the Mitsumus appeared far down the canyon. “Any campsites down there?” Roger asked.
“No, the canyon gets even narrower.”
Then the sandstorm was upon them, sudden as a flash flood. Eileen could see fifty meters at the most; they were in a shifting dome of flying sand, it seemed, and it was as dark as their long twilights, or darker.
Over band 33, in her left ear, Eileen heard a long sigh. Then in her right ear, over the common band, Roger's voice: “You all down the canyon there, stick together and come on up to us. Doran, Cheryl, John, let's hear from you—where are you?”
“Roger?” It was Cheryl on the common band, sounding frightened.
“Yes, Cheryl, where are you?”
A sharp thunder roll of static: “We're in a sandstorm, Roger! I can just barely hear you.”
“Are you with Doran and John?”
“I'm with Doran, and he's just over this ridge, I can hear him, but he says he can't hear you.”
“Get together with him and start back for the main canyon. What about John?”
“I don't know, I haven't seen him in over an hour.”
“All right. Stay with Doran—”
“Roger?”
“Yes?”
“Doran's here now.”
“I can hear you again,” Doran's voice said. He sounded more scared than Cheryl. “Over that ridge there was too much interference.”
“Yeah, that's what's happening with John I expect,” Roger said.
Eileen watched the dim form of their guide move up the canyon's side slope in the wavering amber dusk of the storm. The “sand” in the thin air was mostly dust, or fines even smaller than dust particles, like smoke; but occasional larger grains made a light tik tik tik against her faceplate.
“Roger, we can't seem to find the main canyon,” Doran declared, scratchy in the interference.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, we've gone up the canyon we descended, but we must have taken a different fork, because we've run into a box canyon.”
Eileen shivered in her warm suit. Each canyon system lay like a lightning bolt on the tilted land, a pattern of ever-branching forks and tributaries; in the storm's gloom it would be very easy to get lost; and they still hadn't heard from John.
“Well, drop back to the last fork and try the next one to the south. As I recall, you're over in the next canyon north of us.”
“Right,” Doran said. “We'll try that.”
The four who had been farther down the main canyon appeared like ghosts in mist. “Here we are,” Ivan said with satisfaction.
“Nobleton! John! Do you read me?”
No answer.
“He must be off a ways,” Roger said. He approached the wagon. “Help me pull this up the slope.”
“Why?” Dr. Mitsumu asked.
“We're setting the tent up there. Sleep on an angle tonight, you bet.”
“But why up there?” Dr. Mitsumu persisted. “Couldn't we set up the tent here in the wash?”
“It's the old arroyo problem,” Roger replied absently. “If the storm keeps up the canyon could start spilling sand as if it were water. We don't want to be buried.”
They pulled it up the slope with little difficulty, and secured it with chock rocks under the wheels. Roger set up the tent mostly by himself, working too quickly for the others to help.
“Okay, you four get inside and get everything going. Eileen—”
“Roger?” It was Doran.
“Yes.”
“We're still having trouble finding the main canyon.”
“We thought we were in it,” Cheryl said, “but when we descended we came to a big drop-off!”
“Okay. Hold on a minute where you are. Eileen, I want you to come up the main canyon with me and serve as a radio relay. You'll stay in the wash, so you'll be able to walk right back down to the tent if we get separated.”
“Sure,” Eileen said. The others were carefully rolling the wagon into the lock. Roger paused to oversee that operation, and then he gestured at Eileen through the tawny murk and took off upcanyon. Eileen followed.
They made rapid time. On band 33 Eileen heard the guide say, in an unworried conversational tone, “I hate it when this happens.” It was as if he were referring to a shoelace breaking.