Turning, Dan saw that Ross was already at the hatch to the underground shelter.
“I’m going to suit up and make a last check of the refining equipment,” Dan told him. He had to raise his voice to make himself heard over the wind, even though Ross was only a few meters away.
Ross nodded, visibly unhappy.
“Stay by the radio while I’m outside,” Dan said as he reached for one of the two remaining pressure suits hanging stiffly by the airlock.
Ross frowned, but nodded again.
He’s scared, Dan said to himself. Scared of the storm, and scared that I might get hurt and need him to come out and help me.
Neither of them had been on the ground when the first storm had struck, several weeks ago. Two people had been badly hurt when the wind toppled their communications antenna squarely onto the main tent. After that, the underground shelter was dug and the antenna was moved away from the rest of the camp. By the time Dan had his suit zipped up, the shuttle’s rocket engines had roared to life, out-howling even the mounting fury of the storm. Dan reached for his helmet and held it in both hands as he watched the shuttle trundle forward on its landing wheels, then gather speed and scream past the tent toward the beach. Its image shimmered and grew hazy in the heat from its own exhaust, but, squinting, Dan made out the delta-shaped craft as its nose lifted from the ground. It rolled along on its rear wheels for a moment longer, then it seemed to shoot almost straight upward, angling into the sky like a white arrowhead against the gathering darkness of the clouds.
In less than a minute the rolling thunder of the rocket’s takeoff had rumbled away, leaving only the keening of the wind and the flapping of the tent’s supposedly tearproof plastic.
As he put the helmet on, Dan thought, There’s a big difference between seeing storms on videotapes and really being in one.
He checked the suit radio. “I’m going out now, Ross.”
“Okay.”
Dan turned to see Ross through the helmet’s faceplate. The computerman looked scared and sullen.
“If you go down into the shelter, tell me before you leave the radio. I don’t want to be stuck alone out there.”
“I will.”
Dan nodded and opened the inner airlock hatch. While the airlock was busy sealing itself and pumping out the good breathable air, Dan was trying to calm himself.
He wasn’t frightened, he was excited; happy, really. He knew that was dangerous. If you’re scared, like Ross, you don’t take chances. But Dan was soaring high, spaced out on the excitement of being on the surface of a planet, the planet, the new world, facing its dangers unafraid. The storm, the wind, the crashing of the sea, the tossing golden trees, the dust and sand that was blowing through the air in ever-thickening clouds—it was wild and free. Not like the ship. Not like the quiet, orderly world where everything went according to schedule and there was absolutely no difference between one day and the next. This was life!
The airlock lights turned green. Dan clumped heavily to the outer hatch and turned its control wheel. It moved slowly, slowly, then the hatch popped open and a gust of grit-filled air puffed into the airlock.
Dan had to lean hard against the hatch to get it to swing open wide enough for him to go outside. Already his muscles felt strained. The high gravity made everything feel heavier than it should: the suit weighed down on him, the hatch opened grudgingly. It was an effort to lift one booted foot off the floor of the airlock and place it on the sandy soil outside.
The wind caught Dan by surprise. He had heard it long enough, but now he felt it as physical force. Even inside the suit he could feel the wind buffeting him, trying to push him down.
He grinned.
Turning his back to the wind, he began trudging along the edge of the circular tent, heading for the once-gleaming jumble of metal shapes that was the refinery.
It gleamed no longer. Many weeks of being exposed to this corrosive atmosphere had dulled its exterior finish, and the storms and rains had etched and pitted the metal. But the insides still work. Dan told himself as he looked along the length of pipes that led down to the sea. Take in sea water, extract the deuterium, then return what’s left—about 99.97 percent of it. We don’t want much from you, Dan said silently to the sea. Just three hundredths of a percent. Enough to live on.
A shriek of metal against metal made him jump in sudden fear. From inside the helmet, he couldn’t see what was happening. He had to turn around and lean his whole body backward to look up.
One of the solar battery panels—the collection of silicon-based cells that converted sunlight into electricity—had ripped loose from the roof of the refinery’s storage tower. Now it was sliding along the bulbous metal domes of the separation equipment, banging, screeching… It blew free and sailed like a jagged enormous leaf into the wind, pinwheeling as it disappeared into the dust clouds that were blowing everywhere.
“Never worked right anyway!” Dan yelled. The solar batteries had been badly eroded by the sulfur-rich air. Dan had been forced to fly a small generator down from the ship to provide electricity for the base camp.
Everything else on this side of the equipment complex looked tight and safe. Even if the other solar panels rip off, that’s no problem. Unless they tear into the tent.
Dan’s legs were starting to tremble with exertion. He forced himself to plod around the side of the big refinery. As he turned the corner, the wind caught him head-on and nearly toppled him backward. Leaning heavily into the wind, he trudged on.
It was getting very dark now. And the wind was screaming insanely. Dust clouds made it hard to see any distance at all.
Lightning flashed. Dan heard it crackle in his earphones as it flickered out over the sea, brightening the whole scene for an eyeblink’s time. It sent a jolt of irrational fear through him.
Then came the boom of the thunder, distant but menacing. Dan moved on.
He couldn’t see the radio antenna in the darkness and dust. Then another flash of lightning and there it was, swaying like a gigantic, leafless, branchless tree. But it held firm. The new anchor pins were doing their job.
A sudden gust of wind actually lifted one of Dan’s boots off the ground. He swayed for a moment, fought hard for balance, then planted the foot back on the ground.
“Ross?” he called into his helmet microphone.
No answer.
“Ross! Are you there? I’m coming in… be back in a minute.”
Silence. Only the crackling of lightning static in his earphones. He’s gone back into the shelter, Dan realized.
Bending into the wind, Dan clumped forward slowly. It was painful, each step. Another horrible tearing sound, and he saw out of the corner of his eye another of the solar panels flipping off madly, hitting the ground with one corner and bouncing along like a child’s runaway toy.
Then a more ominous sound. A groaning, gut-wrenching sound, like the earth itself being pulled apart. Dan looked up at the metal domes and towers alongside him, but couldn’t see any cause for the…
It moaned again. And fainter, the sound of—flapping. Something soft, something plastic… the tent!
Dan pushed himself madly along the side of the refinery, trying to get to the side where the tent stood. If it still stood. He stumbled and fell face forward, but hardly stopped at all. He crawled on all fours for a few paces, then painfully pushed himself to his feet again. The wind was getting intolerable.