The Martians

‘Sure,’ Doran said, affronted. ‘It’ll take a while, maybe.’

‘That’s all right, take your time.’ The lack of concern in Roger’s voice was almost catching, but Eileen felt that John was in danger; the suits would keep one alive for forty-eight hours at least, but these sandstorms often lasted a week, or more.

‘Let’s keep moving up,’ Roger said on band 33. ‘I don’t think we have to worry about those two.’

They climbed up the canyon floor, which rose at an average angle of about thirty degrees. Eileen noticed all the dust sliding loosely downhill, sand grains rolling, dust wafting down; sometimes she couldn’t see her feet, or make out the ground, so that she had to step by feeling.

‘How are you doing back in camp?’ Roger asked on the common band.

‘Just fine,’ Dr Mitsumu answered. ‘It’s on too much of a tilt to stand, so we’re just sitting around and listening to the developments up there.’

‘Still in your suits?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good. One of you stay suited for sure.’

‘Whatever you say.’

Roger stopped where the main canyon was joined by two large tributary canyons, branching in each direction. ‘Watch out, I’m going to turn up the volume on the radio,’ he warned Eileen and the others. She adjusted the controls on her wrist.

‘JOHN! Hey, John! Oh, Jo-uhnnn! Come in, John! Respond on common band. Please.’

The radio’s static sounded like the hiss of flying sand grains. Nothing within it but crackling.

‘Hmm,’ Roger said in Eileen’s left ear.

‘Hey Roger!’

‘Cheryl! How are you doing?’

‘Well, we’re in what we think is the main canyon, but … ’

Doran continued, embarrassed: ‘We really can’t be sure, now. Everything looks the same.’

‘You’re telling me,’ Roger replied. Eileen watched him bend over and, apparently, inspect his feet. He moved around some in this jack-knifed position. ‘Try going to the wash at the lowest point in the canyon you’re in.’

‘We’re there.’

‘Okay, lean down and see if you find any bootprints. Make sure they aren’t yours. They’ll be faint by now, but Eileen and I just went upcanyon, so there should still be –’

‘Hey! Here’s some,’ Cheryl said.

‘Where?’ said Doran.

‘Over here, look.’

Radio hiss.

‘Yeah, Roger, we’ve found some going upcanyon and down.’

‘Good. Now start downcanyon. Dr M., are you still in your suit?’

‘Just as you said, Roger.’

‘Good. Why don’t you get out of the tent and go down to the wash. Keep your bearing, count your steps and all. Wait for Cheryl and Doran. That way they’ll be able to find the tent as they come down.’

‘Sounds good.’

After some chatter: ‘You all down there switch to band 5 to talk on, and just listen to common. We need to hear up here.’ Then on band 33: ‘Let’s go up some more. I believe I remember a gendarme on the ridge up here with a good vantage.’

‘Fine. Where do you think he could be?’

‘You got me.’

When Roger located the outcropping he had in mind, they called again, and again got no response. Eileen then installed herself on top of the rocky knob on the ridge: an eerie place with nothing to see but the fine sand whipped about her, in a ghost wind barely felt on her back, like the lightest puff of an air-conditioner, despite the visual resemblance to some awful typhoon. She called for John from time to time. Roger ranged to north and south over difficult terrain, always staying within radio distance of Eileen, although once he had a hard time relocating her.

Three hours passed this way, and Roger’s easygoing tone changed; not to worry, Eileen judged, but rather to boredom, and annoyance with John. Eileen herself was extremely concerned. If John had mistaken north for south, or fallen …

‘I suppose we should go higher,’ Roger sighed. ‘Although I thought I saw him back when we brought the waggon down here, and I doubt he’d go back up.’

Suddenly Eileen’s earphones crackled. ‘Psss ftunk bdzz,’ and it was clear again. ‘Ckk ssssger, lo! ckk.’

‘Sounds like he may have indeed gone high,’ Roger said with satisfaction, and, Eileen noticed, just a touch of relief. ‘Hey, John! Nobleton! Do you read us?’

‘Ckk ssssssss … yeah, hey … sssss kuk sssss.’

‘We read you badly, John! Keep moving, keep talking! Are you all –’

‘Roger! ckk. Hey, Roger!’

‘John! We read you, are you all right?’

‘… sssss … not exactly sure where I am.’

‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes! Just lost.’

‘Well not any more, we hope. Tell us what you see.’

‘Nothing!’

So began the long process of locating him and bringing him back. Eileen ranged left and right on her own, helping to get a fix on John, who had been instructed to stay still and keep talking.

‘You won’t believe it.’ John’s voice was entirely free of fear; in fact, he sounded elated. ‘You won’t believe it, Eileen, Roger, crk! Just before the storm hit I was way off down a tributary to the south, and I found …’

‘Found what?’