Free Writers of the Future, Volume 28 by L. Ron Hubbard

had been lucky.
    Once on the surface, with wind driven sand pelting my suit, I had a decision to make. I could wait down in the hole, safe from the ravaging storm, and probably die as my air ran out. Or I could go find Jack. The wind was steady and mild at the moment, but even tired old Mars could drive abrasive grit at 200 mph on the open plains. My suit’s tough outer skin was all one piece and could stand that abuse for a long time, but my helmet seal was at risk.
    I pulled the aluminum ladder from the hole and attached an antenna wire. Much to my surprise, I established an immediate satellite link through the static-charged dust. I called Jack and got no response. I tried to get his suit’s transponder location and failed. So I called base.
    “The trucks had to stop and wait for better visibility,” Courtney said through static. “You need to hunker down and conserve your air until they arrive.”
    My tank level read less than five hours remaining. If the trucks started moving now and had no more delays, they might make it to me in time. My decision was now easy. I had to find Nellie.
    “Can you contact Jack for me ? ”
    “He called in to give us your location about ten minutes after your first call. He wanted to make sure we could find you. But we haven’t been able to contact him since. And his transponder stopped transmitting right after that.”
    The bastard dumped me in a hole so he could run off and hide ? It made no sense. Even if I died, my suit transponder would eventually lead rescuers to me and the pillars. His secret was out. Why let me die ?
    “Can you give me a line between my position and his last call so I’ll have a direction ? ”
    “Sure,” she said. The static was worsening.
    If Jack didn’t want to be found, he would have changed course immediately after his call, but it was a starting place. If I could get close enough, maybe he would hear my call. Staying here and waiting wasn’t a real option.
    “I just sent the coordinates from Jack’s last call and his last five transponder pings. I had no idea he’d covered so much ground on his walkabouts.”
    “How do you know that ? ” I asked.
    “I’m looking at a map of his ping locations for all of his excursions. I have one for everyone who—”
    “Can you send me that map ? ” If I could see where Jack had been, I might get an idea where he could hide.
    Courtney paused. “Sure. It might take several tries with this bad connection, but it’s on the way.”
    “Thanks,” I said and started to sign off.
    “Malcolm ? Why did Jack leave you there ? ”
    “I pissed him off.”
    “He’s lost it,” she said, with obvious anger in her voice. “Well, if he wasn’t already going home, he would be now. Stay put. The ground trucks are moving again, but slowly. We’re also rigging a flier to bring you some O2 canisters.”
    The robotic fliers were more like powered gliders with long fragile wings. They wouldn’t get one even close to me in this wind.
    “Don’t waste the flier, Courtney. I’m going to try and find Jack. Malcolm out.”
    I broke the connection and pulled up the ping map on my helmet’s HUD screen. Thousands of random dots covered a topographical map with location numbers on a grid. The widely scattered dots made my eyes hurt, but I could see some patterns. Many dots were arranged in snaky lines, obviously sent while he was on the move, but there were also heavy clumps representing locations where he’d spent time.
    I zoomed the view out and as the dots converged, I saw it. Most were in clumps that formed a pattern. I added in a red dot for my location and it appeared atop one of the heavy traffic clusters.
    The wind buffeted me, some gusts threatening to knock me down, and dust had drifted around my feet, but I ignored it as my pulse raced and my heart thudded. I instructed my suit’s computer to ignore the noise data and only chart those points where twenty or more appeared in close proximity. Seventeen clumps