Read Online Missing! by Brad Strickland, THOMAS E. FULLER - Free Book Online Page B

heating unit, so they had hastily set up the tents and had just called it a day instead.
    Just as well,
Jenny thought as she and Salma Sauvo wrestled with the fabric-and-metal radiation shielding. The kit was supposed to snap right into shape as a tent. It did, finally, and they set about anchoring it with a hand drill and some rocks. Survival tents had just about enough space to let two people sleep in one, and just about enough heat and oxygen to keep them alive. They weren’t much to look at—low, pointed silvery domes, with three tiny round portholes near the top and a bulging flap that was a primitive airlock.
    â€œThat’s got it,” Salma, a dark-haired, dark-eyed Indian woman said, tugging at the last anchor to make sure it was firmly set. “Let’s get inside and inflate this thing.”
    They crawled through the flap, Salma letting Jenny go first. Jenny got inside and said, “Check the outer seal.”
    â€œDoing it now. Okay, seal’s shut, let me double-check. Right, it’s good.” Salma wormed her way into the interior of the tent and sealed the inner flap, doing it slowly and taking time to test it. Salma did things by the book, which, she had told Jenny, was the reason she was alive after nearly six years on Mars.
    Salma turned to Jenny. Both of them were kneeling because the tent didn’t offer much head space for a standing person. “Okay, let’s have some light and heat. And a little air would be nice too.”
    A compact external oxygen generator was already at work, producing a steady, low hiss of incoming air, but the initial tent pressurization came from a small tank of compressed oxygen. Jenny opened it, watched the digital readout on its valve, and when it showed full inflation, she said, “Oxygen’s normal.” They both removed their helmets.
    Jenny had to gasp for air. Normal for a survival tent meant oxygen at a lower partial pressure than in the suits. It was always a bit of an adjustment. Her nose tingled from the cold, and Salma got the small heater going right away. It doubled as a CO2 scrubber,removing carbon dioxide from the air inside the tent. Without it, the carbon dioxide both of them produced while breathing would build up to dangerous levels. They switched on the tent lantern and unpacked their sleeping bags. “Home sweet home,” Salma said with a grunt. “I hope it warms up soon! Check with the others, will you?”
    Jenny took the helmet transponder from her own pressure suit. It doubled as a short-range radio. “Tent Three reporting in,” she said. “We’re set up.”
    For a few seconds the radio crackled with static, and then Alex Benford’s cheerful voice came through the small speaker: “Tent One here. Dr. Henried and I are set up and starting to warm up. Haven’t heard from Tent Two yet—but Dales is always slow.”
    â€œI heard that!” It was Frank Dales, the electronics expert. “For your information, Joe and I have been comfortably set up for some time. We’re just trying to decide what to have for dinner—roast turkey with all the trimmings, or maybe some compressed rations.”
    â€œGood idea,” Salma said, opening the leg pouch on her pressure suit. “Let’s see … we have protein barsand carb bars. I’d suggest one of each. Got the water?”
    â€œRight here,” said Jenny, hitching the backpack from her suit.
    No one could have called it a great meal, or even an adequate one, but the ration bars were packed with enough calories to keep them going and enough vitamins and minerals to keep them healthy. They had just finished when Karl Henried, the team leader, came on the radio to set up the sleep rotation. “Someone needs to be awake at all times to monitor the radio for emergencies,” he said. “There are six of us, so ninety-minute shifts will be more than adequate. I suggest that Alex and I take