Marooned on Giri Minor
"I've got a good feeling about this spot," Oviedo-Nandez says. "This is a natural campsite. Let's assume, worst-case scenario, we return to the ship in the morning and learn, for whatever reason, help isn't coming right away. We now know we have a place we can retreat to. Maybe I wouldn't want to live the rest of my life here, but it's easy enough to find, and we should be able to get everyone here by modifying the grav plates from the ship. We can fab some shovels, dig out this water hole a little better, and rig ourselves some decent shelter."
You appreciate the way his mind works, always looking ahead to the next step, and the next. "Well in the meantime," you say, "if we're going to spend the night here I don't want to sit in the dark. Can I borrow your plasgun?"
He watches with interest as you start gathering dry wood and tinder. When he and Ibanz see where you're going with this, Ibanz steps up to help, and the lieutenant builds a primitive fireplace out of rock. Then you set the plasgun to its lowest possible setting and focus a beam of concentrated plasma energy onto the dried vegetation you collected as tinder. A flame leaps to life with no coaxing at all.
All you have to eat are the NutriRations you scarfed out of someone's duffel before leaving. Since you had not expected to be gone long, there is only one package for each of you. But the rations were designed to be filling despite the small portions, and as you sit beside the campfire up here on the mountainside you feel surprisingly satisfied, in a way that you haven't in a very long time.
A day ago you were hardly certain you'd survive the crash, and you know that in the long term your situation remains dire. None of this mountain climbing has done your cracked rib any favors. But for this moment you feel well, and you hope that Commander Andrade and Dr. Munro are meeting with just as much success at their tasks.
Otherwise, besides the crackling fire and the sound of your three voices, the mountain is silent. Whatever creatures use this trail you found, your presence must be scaring them off tonight. You take turns sleeping through the night, with one person taking a shift to tend the fire and to continue filling the water bladders, two at a time.
You take the last of those three shifts, and so you are awake when the sky first starts to grow light. The sun will rise on the opposite side of the mountain, but the dawn colors in the dust-filled sky above you are no less pretty.
In the end you've managed to collect 36 liters of water, using all eighteen of the 2-liter bladders you fabbed at the ship. You each fill your duffels with six bladders and sling them onto your backs.
With the fire smothered with wet gravel, you set off back to the wreckage. Even going down the mountain, the twelve liters of water on your back is a heavy burden to carry. You feel it mostly climbing back up the foothill. From the top you have a clear view back across the desert plain, with the wreckage of the ship 4 kilometers out--and another ship parked beside it!
"Is that one of ours?" Ibanz asks.
"I don't think so," you say. "An Astral Navy ship wouldn't be black like that."
Oviedo-Nandez studies the distant scene for a minute and concludes, "That's a Katanyan ship. I'll bet some trader detected the crash and hoped he'd be able to claim the salvage rights."
"I think you're right," you say.
"Then that begs the question," Ibanz says, "is he here to help, or is he here to plunder? It's hard to figure the way a Katanyan thinks sometimes."
The lieutenant agrees. "All the people we left behind yesterday could be in danger."
You appreciate the way his mind works, always looking ahead to the next step, and the next. "Well in the meantime," you say, "if we're going to spend the night here I don't want to sit in the dark. Can I borrow your plasgun?"
He watches with interest as you start gathering dry wood and tinder. When he and Ibanz see where you're going with this, Ibanz steps up to help, and the lieutenant builds a primitive fireplace out of rock. Then you set the plasgun to its lowest possible setting and focus a beam of concentrated plasma energy onto the dried vegetation you collected as tinder. A flame leaps to life with no coaxing at all.
All you have to eat are the NutriRations you scarfed out of someone's duffel before leaving. Since you had not expected to be gone long, there is only one package for each of you. But the rations were designed to be filling despite the small portions, and as you sit beside the campfire up here on the mountainside you feel surprisingly satisfied, in a way that you haven't in a very long time.
A day ago you were hardly certain you'd survive the crash, and you know that in the long term your situation remains dire. None of this mountain climbing has done your cracked rib any favors. But for this moment you feel well, and you hope that Commander Andrade and Dr. Munro are meeting with just as much success at their tasks.
Otherwise, besides the crackling fire and the sound of your three voices, the mountain is silent. Whatever creatures use this trail you found, your presence must be scaring them off tonight. You take turns sleeping through the night, with one person taking a shift to tend the fire and to continue filling the water bladders, two at a time.
You take the last of those three shifts, and so you are awake when the sky first starts to grow light. The sun will rise on the opposite side of the mountain, but the dawn colors in the dust-filled sky above you are no less pretty.
In the end you've managed to collect 36 liters of water, using all eighteen of the 2-liter bladders you fabbed at the ship. You each fill your duffels with six bladders and sling them onto your backs.
With the fire smothered with wet gravel, you set off back to the wreckage. Even going down the mountain, the twelve liters of water on your back is a heavy burden to carry. You feel it mostly climbing back up the foothill. From the top you have a clear view back across the desert plain, with the wreckage of the ship 4 kilometers out--and another ship parked beside it!
"Is that one of ours?" Ibanz asks.
"I don't think so," you say. "An Astral Navy ship wouldn't be black like that."
Oviedo-Nandez studies the distant scene for a minute and concludes, "That's a Katanyan ship. I'll bet some trader detected the crash and hoped he'd be able to claim the salvage rights."
"I think you're right," you say.
"Then that begs the question," Ibanz says, "is he here to help, or is he here to plunder? It's hard to figure the way a Katanyan thinks sometimes."
The lieutenant agrees. "All the people we left behind yesterday could be in danger."