"Nothing but a pile of junk here, Roger," said Tom. "We might find something on the radar deck."
The three members of the _Polaris_ unit climbed over the rubble and made their way to the radar deck, and started their search for an undamaged tube. After forty-five minutes of searching, Roger stood up in disgust.
"Nothing!" he said sourly.
"That kills any hope of getting a message out," said Tom.
"By the craters of Luna," said Astro, wiping his forehead. "I didn't notice it before, but it's getting hotter here than on the power deck on a trip to Mercury!"
"Do we have any flares?" asked Roger.
"Naw. Al James used them all," answered Tom.
"That does it," said Roger. "In another couple of hours, when and if anyone shows up, all they'll find is three space cadets fried on the half shell of a spaceship!"
"Listen, Roger," said Tom, "as soon as we fail to check in, the whole Mars Solar Guard fleet will be out looking for us. Our last report will show them we were heading in this direction. It won't take Captain Strong long to figure out that we might have run out of fuel, and, with that skid mark in the sand trailing back for twenty miles, all we have to do is stick with the ship and wait for them to show up!"
"What's that?" asked Astro sharply.
From a distance, the three cadets could hear a low moaning and wailing.
They rushed to the crystal port and looked out on the endless miles of brown sand, stretching as far as the horizon and meeting the cloudless blue sky. Shimmering in the heat, the New Sahara desert of Mars was just beginning to warm up for the day under the bleaching sun. The thin atmosphere offered little protection against the blazing heat rays.
"Nothing but sand," said Tom. "Maybe something is still hot on the power deck." He looked at Astro.
"I checked it before I came topside," said Astro. "I've heard that noise before. It can only mean one thing."
"What's that?" asked Roger.
Astro turned quickly and walked to the opposite side of the littered control deck. He pushed a pile of junk out of the way for a clear view of the outside.
"There's your answer," said Astro, pointing at the port.
"By the rings of Saturn, look at that!" cried Tom.
"Yeah," said Roger, "black as the fingernails of a Titan miner!"
"That's a sandstorm," Astro said finally. "It blows as long as a week and can pile up sand for two hundred feet. Sometimes the velocity reaches as much as a hundred and sixty miles an hour. Once, in the south, we got caught in one, and it was so bad we had to blast off. And it took all the power we had to do it!"
The three cadets stood transfixed as they gazed through the crystal port at the oncoming storm. The tremendous black cloud rolled toward the spaceship in huge folds that billowed upward and back in three-thousand-foot waves. The roar and wail of the wind grew louder, rising in pitch until it was a shrill scream.
"We'd better get down to the power deck," said Tom, "and take some oxygen bottles along with us, just in case. Astro, bring the rest of the Martian water and you grab several of those containers of food, Roger.
We might be holed in for a long time."
"Why go down to the power deck?" asked Roger.
"There's a huge hole in the upper part of the ship's hull. That sand will come in here by the ton and there's nothing to stop it," Tom answered Roger, but kept his eyes on the churning black cloud. Already, the first gusts of wind were lashing at the stricken _Lady Venus_.
[Illustration]
CHAPTER 18
"You think it'll last much longer?" asked Astro.
"I don't know, old fellow," replied Tom.
"You know, sometimes you can hear the wind even through the skin of the ship," commented Roger.
For two days the cadets of the _Polaris_ unit had been held prisoner in the power deck while the violence of the New Sahara sandstorm raged around them outside the ship. For a thousand square miles the desert was a black cloud of churning sand, sweeping across the surface of Mars like a giant shroud.
After many attempts to repair a small generator, Astro finally succeeded, only to discover that he had no means of running the unit.
His plan was to relieve the rapidly weakening emergency batteries with a more steady source of power.
While Astro occupied himself repairing the generator, Tom and Roger had slept, but after the first day, when sleep would no longer come, they resorted to playing checkers with washers and nuts on a board scratched on the deck.
"Think it's going to let up soon?" asked Roger.
"They've been known to last for a week or more," said Astro.
"Wonder if Strong has discovered we're missing?" mused Roger.
"Sure he has," replied Tom. "He's a real spaceman. Can smell out trouble like a telemetered alarm system."
Astro got up and stretched. "I'll bet we're out of this five hours after the sand settles down."
The big Venusian walked to the side of the power deck and pressed his ear against the hull, listening for the sound of the wind.
After a few seconds he turned back. "I can't hear a thing, fellas. I have a feeling it's about played itself out."
"Of course," reasoned Tom, "we have no real way of knowing when it's stopped and when it hasn't."
"Want to open the hatch and take a look?" asked Astro.
Tom looked questioningly at Roger, who nodded his head in agreement.
Tom walked over to the hatch and began undogging the heavy door. As the last of the heavy metal bars were raised, sand began to trickle inside around the edges. Astro bent down and sifted a handful through his fingers. "It's so fine, it's like powder," he said as it fell to the deck in a fine cloud.
"Come on," said Tom, "give me a hand with this hatch. It's probably jammed up against sand on the other side."
Tom, Roger and Astro braced their shoulders against the door, but when they tried to push, they lost their footing and slipped down. Astro dragged over a section of lead baffle, jammed it between the rocket motors and placed his feet up against it. Tom and Roger got on either side of him and pressed their shoulders against the door.
"All right," said Tom. "When I give the word, let's all push together.
Ready?"
"All set," said Astro.