Sandstorm

Sandstorm

“Lowell Dispatch, this is Excursion Three, do you read me? Over.

“Okay, I’m not getting anything back, Lowell, but maybe you can hear me. You might want to kick the weather guy in the butt for us. We’re about twenty klicks northeast of the station and the storm is really kicking up around us. So it’s not fifty klicks further north as predicted, and it’s a real bitch.

“We’ve got dust clogging our radiator and half the fuel cells are overheating, so we only have limited power – enough for life support, lights and heat. After that, we’ve got just enough juice to roll about a kilometer an hour. Not like we could see much in this mess anyway. But at least the anti-abrasive coating is holding up on the windows.

“Anyway, we should be there in about – well, twenty hours, I guess. Keep the lights on for us. Excursion Three, out.”