Descending Road - POD SAYS by Dana W. Paxson

POD SAYS

0 NC, Day 1, Hour 15

Hau Ren had opted for the simplest choice for lander fuel: cells of pure hydrogen and oxygen, stored in spongelike molecular retention matrices. Each cell weighed several tons; the trick was wrestling them up out of Tompuso‘s core without damaging them structurally. The maneuvering space for the pods in this task was almost nil; Doug found that out as he applied the grippers to his first cell, nestled in an array of hundreds racked in a layered warehouse bay. He knew that Nye had loaded these, because Nye had told him, told him… nothing. Another gap in his mind.

“No! Stop! Okay, now turn it counterclockwise so the fuel coupler will miss those latch fittings. That’s it. No, look, hold the cell’s near end farther from your pod, or you could dent the pod‘s seal. Dent the seal, and the damn thing will leak. We lost a few people that way.”

Doug sweated, glanced down at the pod‘s indicator panel. His power reservoir already looked close to empty. “How long have I got? Pod says power is low.”

“They all say that, right from the start. You got Bondarev‘s pod, and he only used it for two trips. Should be full up.”

Doug didn’t ask about Bondarev. Gingerly he wheeled with the cell in the pod‘s grippers, and started the trip to the thrust section, its framework flashing silver in the blinding solar glare.

Story List	SURPRISE ME	Author Page
USER SURVEY	PUZZLE ME	MAKE ELM MARK

HOVER Lucida Bright BARE	HOVER Lucida Bright FULL	HOVER Palatino Linotype BARE
HOVER Palatino Linotype FULL	HOVER Times New Roman BARE	HOVER Times New Roman FULL
PAD Arial BARE	PAD Arial FULL	PAD Lucida Bright BARE
PAD Lucida Bright FULL	PAD Times New Roman BARE	PAD Times New Roman FULL


	POD SAYS 0 NC, Day 1, Hour 15 Hau Ren had opted for the simplest choice for lander fuel: cells of pure hydrogen and oxygen, stored in spongelike molecular retention matrices. Each cell weighed several tons; the trick was wrestling them up out of Tompuso‘s core without damaging them structurally. The maneuvering space for the pods in this task was almost nil; Doug found that out as he applied the grippers to his first cell, nestled in an array of hundreds racked in a layered warehouse bay. He knew that Nye had loaded these, because Nye had told him, told him… nothing. Another gap in his mind. “No! Stop! Okay, now turn it counterclockwise so the fuel coupler will miss those latch fittings. That’s it. No, look, hold the cell’s near end farther from your pod, or you could dent the pod‘s seal. Dent the seal, and the damn thing will leak. We lost a few people that way.” Doug sweated, glanced down at the pod‘s indicator panel. His power reservoir already looked close to empty. “How long have I got? Pod says power is low.” “They all say that, right from the start. You got Bondarev‘s pod, and he only used it for two trips. Should be full up.” Doug didn’t ask about Bondarev. Gingerly he wheeled with the cell in the pod‘s grippers, and started the trip to the thrust section, its framework flashing silver in the blinding solar glare.