The Red Planet by Charles Chilton

Author:Charles Chilton [Chilton, Charles]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Science Fiction
Published: 2011-06-11T06:53:11+00:00

Chapter Twelve

The ground over which we travelled was a sea of purple mud. Portions of it clung to our tractor treads in thick clods but it must have been fairly hard underneath for we didn’t sink very far into it. There was not a hill or mound of any kind in sight now, and the purple soil stretched clear to the horizon, uninterrupted and undisturbed.

Towards the middle of the afternoon, I noticed that the land to the north-west had a pink tinge about it and Jet suggested it must be the south-eastern tip of the great Argyre Desert.

During our long trip since dawn neither Jet nor I had mentioned the flying machine which we were pursuing. We both realised that the chances of our overtaking it were so remote as to be virtually non-existent. We were like a car-- a very slow one at that--trying to overtake a fast aeroplane.

The silence was broken by the voice of Frank coming over the radio. “Hullo, Land Fleet,” it said, “Rogers calling.”

“Hullo, Frank,” replied Jet. “We can hear you.”

“This is to report that we have now topped the hill and are about to descend down the other side. We can see Number Two from up here--through the glasses at any rate.”

“When you get to her,” said Jet, “look her over straight away. Give me a report on the chances of salvaging her cargo and getting it back to Polar Base.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You can enter her by the cargo hatch. We left the ladder extended so you wouldn’t have any trouble getting up. We also left the air supply to build up so that you can spend the night inside if you wish.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Keep in regular contact, Frank, and be sure to be under cover with all hatches tightly closed at least an hour before sunset. And make no attempt to leave the ship or your trucks between then and sunrise, no matter what happens.”

“You’re darned right I won’t, skipper.”

“Now our position at the moment is approximately, longitude eleven degrees thirty-four minutes, latitude minus fifty-three degrees twenty-two minutes. We are heading directly westwards along the latitudinal line. Call again as soon as you reach the ship, Frank. And good luck.”

The afternoon wore on as we sped on our way through the purple mud. At last the sun sank below the horizon. Twilight descended and rapidly turned to a glorious, star-studded night. When it was completely dark, we made camp, but before going back into the living quarters, Jet called up the other truck.

“Now listen, Lemmy,” he said, “I want you to keep watch while we get something to eat. If you see any sign of that light, call us up immediately. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Jet.”

“As soon as Mitch has finished his meal he will relieve you, and then Doc and I will take over in this truck.”

My turn for watch came four hours later. Jet was asleep on his bunk as I made my way through the connecting airlock between the two trucks and into the driving cabin of the tractor.

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