The Rock Rats

WALTZING MATILDA

“I have good news,” Nodon said as George pushed through the hatch into the bridge. “While you were EVA I wired the backup laser into the comm system.”

George squeezed into the right-hand seat. “The backup laser?”

“From our supply stocks. Back in the storage section.”

“And it works?”

Nodon beamed happily. “Yes. The laser can carry our communications signals. We can call for help now.”

Breaking into a guarded smile, George asked, “We’ll hafta point it at Ceres, then.”

“The pointing is the problem,” Nodon said, his happiness diminishing. “At the distance we are from Ceres, the beam disperses only a dozen kilometers or so.”

“So we hafta point it straight onto the optical receivers, then.”

“If we can.”

“And the fookin’ ’roid rotates in about nine hours or so, right?”

“I believe so,” Nodon said. “I can look it up.”

“So that means we’d hafta hit their optical receivers bung on at just the right time when they’re pointin’ toward us.”

“Yes,” said Nodon.

“Like playin’ a fookin’ game o’ darts over a distance of thousands of kilometers.”

“Hundreds of thousands.”

“Fat chance.” Nodon bowed his head. For a moment George thought he might be praying. But then he looked up again and asked, “What of the engine? Can you repair the thruster?”

George grunted. “Oh, sure. Yeah.”

“You can?”

“If I had a repair shop available and a half-dozen welders, pipefitters and other crew.”

“Oh.”

Heaving a weary sigh, George said, “We’ll hafta depend on the laser, pal. The fookin’ engine’s a lost cause.”