Suddenly a response showed. Pirate wasn't dead, at least.
Power Generation: 54%
Sensor Systems: Panoramic Imaging Unit: Green. Infrared Imaging Unit: Green
SOKAS Detector: No Signal
Refueling procedure completed.
Crossing his fingers and giving a little prayer, Joe sent the critical query.
Fuel Remaining: 22476.3 combined total.
"I take it from your attempt to break our eardrums that this is good news?" Madeline asked.
"There's over twenty tons of fuel waiting for us. Pirate's still mostly running and ready."
"That was supposed to be an Earth Return Vehicle, Joe," Hathaway said. "Could you people possibly just take her back up here?"
"I'm afraid not. You have to remember that Pirate was unmanned. More a demo than anything else. Sure, she was meant to carry some payload back, but not with less than half her fuel remaining. And as long as she's been sitting here, I'm pretty sure she couldn't even make orbit any more. We didn't just cut corners on the fuel tanks, I'm afraid. A lot of her systems weren't designed for a long period of inactivity, especially not on a planetary surface."
He shook his head vigorously. "It doesn't matter anyway, Ken. Even if she was working perfectly, we couldn't do it. There's not enough empty space inside Pirate to fit one of us, even if we rip out nonessentials, much less all of us. And I'd hate to try riding her up perched on the outside."
Hathaway's sigh was audible. "No, that'd be insane. All right. It was just a thought. But can you survive on the surface for long enough?"
A.J. spoke up. "With that much fuel and resources? Yeah, sure. But if you guys can't figure out how to drop us food, it'll get pretty damn tight. Hopefully we can avoid 'Donner, party of five… Donner, party of four… Donner-"
"That is not funny, A.J.!" Helen snapped. Joe could tell she was genuinely pissed. Wisely, A.J. busied himself with his work, keeping his head down.
After a short, pained silence, Helen spoke again. "Ken, leaving aside the way he put it, I'm afraid A.J. does have a point. What are the chances of getting us food? That's the one thing I can think of that there's no way we could jury-rig down here."
"We'll figure out some way to drop you supplies in the next few weeks," Hathaway said. "I just checked on the schedule, and the next lander is supposed to arrive here in three months. If you can survive that long, I think you'll be okay-even if we can't get you off the surface for some time after that. Yes?"
"Well, it'll be awfully cramped. But with the rover working and everything else… Yes, we can make it."
"We might have to strangle A.J. and Joe," Madeline put in, "just so we don't die from a concentration of toxic humor. But, otherwise, we can make it. I wintered over in Antarctica, once; six months in a shelter that wasn't much bigger than the rover, and was considerably less well-equipped. It wasn't any fun, but it can be done."
"What were you doing-"
"Don't ask."
"Ah… right. Okay, then, that's the plan."
"Not all of it," Helen countered. "I hate twiddling my thumbs, Ken. As long as we're going to be down here that long, we might as well get a good look at Target 37."
Eric Flint Ryk E. Spoor
Boundary