Marooned on Giri Minor
"Captain, I have some thoughts about that," the lieutenant says as he steps forward--Markal Oviedo-Nandez is his name. "I think you're right, the best chance of finding water is in those hills. It would be great if we could get this entire show up there too, because I think it will be better than sitting here in the middle of the desert, waiting for help that may or may not come."
"Some of us are in no condition to walk," you say, pointing to Munro's improvised Med Bay. "I think just three people should go. You, me, and one of your guys?"
Lieutenant Oviedo-Nandez agrees. He turns to his two men and says, "Ibanz, you're up!"
"Let's make this a quick operation," you say when his colleague, Chief Ibanz, joins you. "We'll get to those mountains, find out if there's water, and get back with as much as we can carry before Commander Andrade returns. Then we can reassess our situation, based on whether or not we know help is coming."
"Let's do it!" the lieutenant says, and he instructs Ibanz to use one of the FabBots to produce rubber bladders to carry all the water you hope you're going to find. These are then stuffed into three empty duffel bags. He then asks his other man, Chief Gunder, to remain behind and assist the doctor.
The three of you set off that afternoon. You discuss waiting until nightfall and cooler temperatures, but the need for water is immediate, and your search will be easier in daylight. All three of you are young and hale, and the distance is not that great. You are sure that you can successfully make the journey.
But it is certainly hot. Two centuries ago, when the human colony was established, this was a lush savannah of open fields, rich soils, and clusters of wind-twisted trees. But when the moon exploded and the planet tilted, life on Giri Minor was almost completely wiped out. Some sparse vegetation is starting to reclaim the desert landscape, but the desiccated remains of weathered wood remind you of what was lost.
As the terrain starts to slope upward into the foothills, you estimate that several hours of daylight remain. Looking back you can see the wreckage of the ship in the distance, as well as the streak it made in the desert when it crashed yesterday.
You crest the first summit, getting your first close-up look at the nearest mountain. You don't see any flowing streams as you had hoped, but Oviedo-Nandez notices something else.
"See that basin coming down the slope?" he says. "The brush is thicker there than anywhere else. Maybe if we scampered all through these hills we might stumble across Shangri-La, but we don't have that kind of time. I think that's our best bet right now for finding water."
You agree, but nevertheless getting to that brushy basin will entail 2 more kilometers of hiking and quite a bit more climbing. But the effort pays off as you near the brushy basin. To your surprise a faint trail appears amidst the dry grass, leading straight into the taller brush.
"A game trail," Oviedo-Nandez says. "Something lives here and comes to this spot regularly for a drink of water, I'll bet."
The lieutenant sounds excited, but you are concerned about what you might be sharing this trail with. The rough path leads into the brush, which grows taller and taller the further you penetrate the basin. Eventually the vegetation is two meters taller than you are and forms a very shady cover.
But when you find the stream, it is just a tiny rill, with barely a trickle over the rocks. "There's got to be more than this to justify all this brush," Oviedo-Nandez says, and with his hands he starts prying rocks out of the stream bed. You and Ibanz immediately start helping.
You find that you can dig quite a hole in the stream bed, which promptly fills with water. The act of digging clouds the water with sediment, but once that settles the water is perfectly clear. The process of filling the rubber bladders is painfully slow, though, so you and Ibanz try digging another hole downstream.
What you discover, though, is that given the tools and time at your disposal, there is only so much water you will be able to tote back to the wreckage. You cannot see the sun from inside this basin, but the light on the upper slopes of the mountain is starting to turn golden, suggesting that you are nearing sunset.
"None of us have WristComps," you point out, "so if we turn back now we'll still have time to make a visual bearing before setting off across the desert in the dark."
"True," Oviedo-Nandez says, "but we'll be going back with at best six liters of water, and that's not nearly enough for everyone. We can stay the night right here, fill up every one of the bladders, and return to camp at dawn."
"Some of us are in no condition to walk," you say, pointing to Munro's improvised Med Bay. "I think just three people should go. You, me, and one of your guys?"
Lieutenant Oviedo-Nandez agrees. He turns to his two men and says, "Ibanz, you're up!"
"Let's make this a quick operation," you say when his colleague, Chief Ibanz, joins you. "We'll get to those mountains, find out if there's water, and get back with as much as we can carry before Commander Andrade returns. Then we can reassess our situation, based on whether or not we know help is coming."
"Let's do it!" the lieutenant says, and he instructs Ibanz to use one of the FabBots to produce rubber bladders to carry all the water you hope you're going to find. These are then stuffed into three empty duffel bags. He then asks his other man, Chief Gunder, to remain behind and assist the doctor.
The three of you set off that afternoon. You discuss waiting until nightfall and cooler temperatures, but the need for water is immediate, and your search will be easier in daylight. All three of you are young and hale, and the distance is not that great. You are sure that you can successfully make the journey.
But it is certainly hot. Two centuries ago, when the human colony was established, this was a lush savannah of open fields, rich soils, and clusters of wind-twisted trees. But when the moon exploded and the planet tilted, life on Giri Minor was almost completely wiped out. Some sparse vegetation is starting to reclaim the desert landscape, but the desiccated remains of weathered wood remind you of what was lost.
As the terrain starts to slope upward into the foothills, you estimate that several hours of daylight remain. Looking back you can see the wreckage of the ship in the distance, as well as the streak it made in the desert when it crashed yesterday.
You crest the first summit, getting your first close-up look at the nearest mountain. You don't see any flowing streams as you had hoped, but Oviedo-Nandez notices something else.
"See that basin coming down the slope?" he says. "The brush is thicker there than anywhere else. Maybe if we scampered all through these hills we might stumble across Shangri-La, but we don't have that kind of time. I think that's our best bet right now for finding water."
You agree, but nevertheless getting to that brushy basin will entail 2 more kilometers of hiking and quite a bit more climbing. But the effort pays off as you near the brushy basin. To your surprise a faint trail appears amidst the dry grass, leading straight into the taller brush.
"A game trail," Oviedo-Nandez says. "Something lives here and comes to this spot regularly for a drink of water, I'll bet."
The lieutenant sounds excited, but you are concerned about what you might be sharing this trail with. The rough path leads into the brush, which grows taller and taller the further you penetrate the basin. Eventually the vegetation is two meters taller than you are and forms a very shady cover.
But when you find the stream, it is just a tiny rill, with barely a trickle over the rocks. "There's got to be more than this to justify all this brush," Oviedo-Nandez says, and with his hands he starts prying rocks out of the stream bed. You and Ibanz immediately start helping.
You find that you can dig quite a hole in the stream bed, which promptly fills with water. The act of digging clouds the water with sediment, but once that settles the water is perfectly clear. The process of filling the rubber bladders is painfully slow, though, so you and Ibanz try digging another hole downstream.
What you discover, though, is that given the tools and time at your disposal, there is only so much water you will be able to tote back to the wreckage. You cannot see the sun from inside this basin, but the light on the upper slopes of the mountain is starting to turn golden, suggesting that you are nearing sunset.
"None of us have WristComps," you point out, "so if we turn back now we'll still have time to make a visual bearing before setting off across the desert in the dark."
"True," Oviedo-Nandez says, "but we'll be going back with at best six liters of water, and that's not nearly enough for everyone. We can stay the night right here, fill up every one of the bladders, and return to camp at dawn."