Astro grinned sheepishly, and opening one of the containers of food, quickly wolfed down a breakfast of smoked Venusian fatfish.
Tom and Roger began spreading the space cloth on the sand that was already hot to the touch. Anchoring the four corners in the sand with the emergency lights and one of Tom's boots, they propped up the center with the food packs, one on top of the other. A crude tent was the result and both boys crawled in under, sprawling on the sand. Astro finished eating, lay down beside his two unit-mates, and in a moment the three cadets were sound asleep.
The sun climbed steadily over the desert while the _Polaris_ unit slept.
With each hour, the heat of the desert rose, climbing past the hundred mark, reaching one hundred and twenty, then one hundred and thirty-five degrees.
Tom woke up with a start. He felt as if he were inside a blazing furnace. He rolled over and saw Astro and Roger still asleep, sweat pouring off them in small rivulets. He started to wake them, but decided against it and just lay still under the thin sheet of space cloth that protected him from the sun. As light as the fabric square was, weighing no more than a pound, under the intense heat of the sun it felt like a woolen blanket where it touched him. Astro rolled over and opened his eyes.
"What time is it, Tom?"
"Must be about noon. How do you feel?"
"I'm not sure yet. I had a dream." The big cadet rubbed his eyes and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "I dreamed I was being shoved into an oven--like Hansel and Gretel in that old fairy tale."
"Personally," mumbled Roger, without opening his eyes, "I'll take Hansel and Gretel. They might be a little more tender."
"I could do with a drink," said Astro, looking at Tom.
Tom hesitated. He felt that as hot as it was, it would get still hotter and there had to be strict control of the remainder of the water.
"Try to hold out a little longer, Astro," said Tom. "This heat hasn't really begun yet. You could drink the whole thing and still want more."
"That's right, Astro," said Roger, sitting up. "Best thing to do is just wet your tongue and lips a little. Drinking won't do much good now."
"O.K. by me," said Astro. "Well, what do we do now?"
"We sit here and we wait," answered Tom. He sat up and held the space cloth up on his side.
"You get in the middle, Astro," suggested Roger. "Your head is up higher than mine and Tom's. You can be the tent pole under this big top."
Astro grunted and changed places with the smaller cadet.
"Think there might be a breeze if we opened up one side of this thing?"
asked Roger.
"If there was a breeze," answered Tom, "it'd be so hot, it'd be worse than what we've got inside."
"It sure is going to be a hot day," said Astro softly.
The thin fabric of the space cloth was enough to protect them from the direct rays of the sun, but offered very little protection against the heat. Soon the inside of the tent was boiling under the relentless sun.
They sat far apart, their knees pulled up, heads bowed. Once when the heat seemed unbearable, Tom opened one side of the cloth in a desperate hope that it might be a little cooler outside. A blast of hot air entered the makeshift tent and he quickly closed the opening.
About three o'clock Roger suddenly slipped backward and lay sprawled on the sand.
Tom opened one of the containers of water and dipped his shirttail into it. Astro watched him moisten Roger's lips and wipe his temples. In a few moments the cadet stirred and opened his eyes.
"I--I--don't know what happened," he said slowly. "Everything started swimming and then went black."
"You fainted," said Tom simply.
"What time is it?" asked Astro.
"Sun should be dropping soon now, in another couple of hours."
They were silent again. The sun continued its journey across the sky and at last began to slip behind the horizon. When the last red rays stretched across the sandy desert, the three cadets folded back the space-cloth covering and stood up. A soft evening breeze sprang up, refreshing them a little, and though none of them was hungry, each boy ate a light meal.
Tom opened the container of water again and measured out about an ounce apiece.
"Moisten your tongue, and sip it slowly," ordered Tom.
Roger and Astro took their share of the water and dipped fingers in it, wiping their lips and eyelids. They continued to do this until finally, no longer able to resist, they took the precious water and swished it around in their mouths before swallowing it.
They folded the space cloth, shouldered their packs, and after Tom had checked the compass, started their long march toward their plotted destination.
They had survived their first twenty-four hours in the barren wastes of the New Sahara, with each boy acutely aware that there was at least a week more of the same in front of them. The sky blackened, and soon after Deimos rose and started climbing across the dark sky.
CHAPTER 21
"How much water left?" asked Astro thickly.
"Enough for one more drink apiece," Tom replied.
"And then what happens?" mumbled Roger through his cracked lips.
"You know what will happen, Roger--you know and I know and Tom knows,"
muttered Astro grimly.
For eight days they had been struggling across the blistering shifting sands, walking by night, sweltering under the thin space cloth during the day. Their tongues were swollen. Scraggly beards covered their chins and jaws. Roger's lips were cracked. The back of Tom's neck had suffered ten minutes of direct sun and turned into a large swollen blister. Only Astro appeared to be bearing up under the ordeal. There was no sign of their being close to the canal.
"Wanta try marching during the day?" asked Astro. They had broken camp on the evening of the eighth day and were preparing to move on into the never-changing desert.
"If we don't hit the canal sometime during the night, there might be a chance it's close enough to reach in a couple of hours," replied Tom.
"Either that, or we've miscalculated altogether."
"How about you, Roger?" asked Astro.
"Whatever you guys decide, I'll be right in back of you." Roger had grown steadily weaker during the last three days and found it difficult to sleep during the hours of rest.
"Then we'll keep marching tomorrow," said Astro.
"Let's move out," said Tom. Roger and Astro shouldered the remaining slender food packs, with Tom carrying the water and space cloth, and they started out into the rapidly darkening desert.
Once again, as on the previous eight nights, the little moon, Deimos, swung across the sky, casting dim shadows ahead of the three marching boys. Tom found it necessary to look at the compass more often. He couldn't trust his sense of direction as much as he had earlier. Once, he had gone for two hours in a direction that was fifty degrees off course. The rest stops also were more frequent now, with each boy throwing his pack to the ground and lying flat on his back, to enjoy the cool breeze that never failed to soothe their scorched faces.