This is the final part of the Anton deGama story, Black Ice. If you haven't read the preceding parts, this probably won't make a lot of sense (but the rest of the story is still on the blog, so you could always start at the beginning!). Anton has, against all the odds, driven the crawler over the trench, escaping the sliding ammonia ice.
Anton
slowed the engine, letting the tracks get a grip on the mercifully
solid ground beyond the trench. He looked back as the ammonia
frostslide continued to tumble into the depths, and briefly thanked
his lucky stars.
He sealed his suit and picked up a
can of screen gel, before coating the stars in the crawler's canopy.
He could not replace the harpoon until he got back to Groundstation.
He glanced at the chart. The trench bisected the range of hills
neatly, and he was on the wrong side from the weather station.
He
sighed, and started the engine. He had a long way to go. After all,
he needed the money. And he doubted Groundstation would accept that
a minor problem en route justified abandoning the trip.
As always, comments appreciated!
I would hardly call sliding to my frozen ammonia death a minor problem, but as usual Anton's with-it-ness is awe-inspiring & just a joy to read. Your use of details makes the picture so crystal clear & we get such a great sense of his tenacity & resolve.
ReplyDeleteWhen I finished reading this I thought: & miles to go before I sleep. Truly a tiring journey & it's only begun, it seems. Great work.
Love the fatalism of the grunt. Nicely captured.
ReplyDeleteI need a primer on the properties of water ice, ammonia and methane at the temperatures involved!
ReplyDeleteI'm glad he survived, but I do not envy his situation. I can usually handle long drives, but not when a cloud of stress hangs over my head.
ReplyDeleteNice snippet! There's a certain kind of heaviness here, both at the fall and at the predicament he now finds himself in.
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