“But how will they find us?” Victor sounded very serious. “They thought we’d gone to the furnace.”
Adrian shivered as the situation became clear to him. “Eventually they’ll go back to the drop zone and follow the roo tracks.”
“Eventually,” said Victor under his breath.
Adrian didn’t need it spelled out. What was the chance they’d be found before their oxygen ran out? He thought hard for a plan. Focus, Adrian. Focus! Then he noticed the warning light on his heads-up display. “I’m afraid we … I have another problem,” he said, forcing his voice calm.
Victor turned to him. “Tell me.”
“My refrigeration unit. It’s failed.” Adrian examined all the status lights. “Heater’s fine, though. Everything else, okay.” He knew that as long as they were in the lunar night, he’d be just fine—no need for refrigeration. Adrian asked the crucial question. “How long,” he said in a voice made calm by his NASA training, “until sunrise?”
“I don’t know,” said Victor with a heavy voice. “Not long. Half-hour, maybe. But the Sun comes up very slowly on the Moon. As long as you’re in shadow, the Sun can’t get to you.”
“Just as well,” said Adrian with forced cheerfulness. “I’m not really in the mood to work on my tan.” Victor didn’t laugh. He didn’t make any answer. “Victor,” said Adrian after a few seconds, “what’s the matter?”
“The refrigeration unit. We’ve seen them fail before. Temperature sensor failure.”
“So?”
“The problem is that the same failure locks the heater on. The suit temperature keeps going up.”
Adrian fought down a surge of panic. “Baby. Display detail on.”
“Unrecognized command,” came Baby’s voice. “Command must end with query or set.”
Damn! Adrian fought to keep his voice steady. “Baby. Display detail on. Set.”
“Set display detail on. Yes, No.”
“Yes.” Linear meters and a digital clock now joined the status lights. Adrian stared at the temperature meter. The value crept higher even as he watched. “It is getting a trifle warm, actually.”
“Try your radio,” said Victor in a voice saying it was useless. “Use high gain. I’ll try mine as well. Maybe someone is in earshot.”
“Not likely,” said Adrian.
Victor swiveled around toward the crater wall. “Let’s hide out under the telescope. Aluminized film. It’ll reflect most of the heat back into space.”
“But not the internal heat from my suit.”
“No,” said Victor in a barely audible voice. “But it’ll buy you some time.” He helped Adrian to his feet. “Think you can walk?”
“Depends on what you consider walking.” Adrian forced a laugh. “Under the telescope. Like cats under a hot tin roof.”
“Come on,” said Victor, offering his shoulder as a handhold. “It’s just a few meters to the entrance.”
“If they couldn’t hear us before,” grunted Adrian as he hobbled, “they’ll never be able to pick up radio signals from in there.”
“There’s something to be said for dying later rather than sooner,” said Victor. “Anyway, I’m sure they’ll come looking for us.”
“The Moon’s a big place. They’ll never find us in time. Our oxygen will just run out. It’s fry or asphyxiate.”
Victor turned on his helmet light as they passed through the entrance.
Inside, Adrian sat with his back against the crater wall, He could see a dim bluish patch of light on the ground stretching out from the entrance—the light from Earth. Earthlight. I can’t die here, so far from home. I need a plan. Focus, Adrian! He checked his temperature display: 38 degrees Celsius.
Victor, standing, looked out the entrance. “I think,” he said without turning around. “I think our best shot is for me to try to jog back to the outpost for help.”
“That’s twenty-five kilometers away.”
“Give or take,” said Victor, “but I should be in line-of-sight radio range in, I don’t know, around twenty.”
“Well, if you think you can make it …”
Victor stood at the entrance in silence. Then Adrian heard a sigh. “No,” said Victor, softly. “I’d never make it. No way the suit and the refrigeration module could survive a twenty-five kilometer run into the sun … not to mention me surviving it.” He turned away from the entrance and then just stood like a statue.
Idly, Adrian looked up at the underside of the huge bowl of the telescope, its bottom three meters or so above the ground. “Formidable!”
“The telescope?” Victor also looked up at SERT. “On Earth now,” he said, in a wistful voice, “thousands of people, amateur astronomers, are at their computers analyzing the multi-channel radio signals from this beast.”
“Not in real-time, of course,” said Adrian, seeking intellectual refuge from his problems.
“Yes. In real-time.” Victor spoke with the pride of one of SERT’s developers. “When the libration moves Earth above the horizon, the signals are multiplexed and modulated onto a laser beamed at Earth.”
“Interesting.” An insistent inner voice pulled Adrian back. He couldn’t waste what little time he had in idle chatter. Focus, Adrian—39 degrees!
“Wait a minute!” said Adrian, aloud. “Focus!”
“Excuse me?”
Adrian tried to jump to his feet, but couldn’t. “Victor,” he said, excitedly, “do you think Skippy could fit through the crater entrance?”
“What? Why?”
“Well, I think it will fit through.” Adrian tried to flex his knee, but it had grown stiff. “Look, I’d do it myself, but I can’t walk. Please, Victor, see if you can glide it in. And quickly, before the Sun comes up.”
“Why?” said Victor again, louder this time.
“I have an idea. We need to hurry. I’ll explain it as we prepare the roo.”
Victor stood staring at Adrian.
“Please!”
“Okay. Okay.” Victor strode though the entrance. A few seconds later, Adrian heard grunts of exertion. Soon after, he felt a vibration through his spacesuit. Skippy hitting the ground. And a minute after that, Adrian saw the head of the Lunaroo slide in through the crater entrance. Adrian crawled to the roo. Then, while Victor pushed, Adrian pulled. When the Lunaroo had cleared the entrance, Victor stepped back in through the crater opening. “Okay,” he said, “What’s this big idea of yours?” He paused. “The leading edge of the Sun is visible now,” he added, softly.
“Lift the roo upright,” said Adrian, trying to keep fear out of his voice.
“Sure. Why not?” Victor bent to the task.
“My idea,” said Adrian, “is to use Skippy to send an SOS.”
Victor stopped mid lift and, through Victor’s helmet, Adrian saw the man mouth “what?”
“The roo can still hop,” said Adrian. “So I propose moving it to right below the SERT bowl. We’ll have Skippy hop, and when it gets to the bottom of the bowl, we can grab the aluminized fabric and pull it. That will deform the mirror. As the roo goes down, we let go of the fabric and the scope will return to focus.”
Adrian could see Victor staring at him as if he were out of his mind.
“Please finish raising the roo,” said Adrian.
Without answering, Victor heaved the Lunaroo onto its feet.
“The people on Earth doing real-time observing should see a signal dropout,” Adrian went on. “If we time it right, we should be able to send an SOS in Morse code.”
“That’s your idea?”
“Yeah,” said Adrian.
“It’s crazy.”