It was then that Mark saw something or thought he did, far away, shimmering through the dancing heat. He wiped the sparkling dust from his visiplate and strained his eyes desperately, praying that it was not a mirage. He clutched at Carston and pointed.
"The hills ... are those the hills? Our hills?"
Carston nodded dumbly. At last he managed to croak, "Yes, but the entrance is miles away ... at the other end."
"But there may be a chance! Remember Aladdian, the corridors—a honeycomb of caverns? Commander!" Mark turned up his radio-phone, his voice drowning out the babble of the men. "How far is that range of hills, Commander?"
She followed his pointing arm. "A little less than an hour, at its closest point."
"And the system of caverns—how far does it extend? Aren't those hills practically honeycombed their entire length? We might find—"
"Wait!" The word came explosively, as her mind darted into the past, down the corridor of years. "Yes, I remember ... some of the caverns did lead out to this side, and father sealed them to make the Base airtight...." She gazed at the distant hills as if trying to recapture a forgotten scene. And a bulky shape hurtled forward, clawing for the weapons at her waist.
But Carston had been watching. He thrust out a metal-shod foot and the convict went sprawling ludicrously into the swirling white dust.
"Thank you, again!" the Commander said in a whisper. "This trip has been a revelation—in so many ways." Her face was as white as the powdery soil underfoot, and she was near collapse; but from some unknown source she still drew from enough strength reserve to maintain her authority. Hands on her atom-blast guns, she faced the men.
"Into line as before. We've got to make the hills in less than one hour. Leave the sleds. It's the hills or your lives!"