"What time is it?" asked Astro.
"Sun should be dropping soon now, in another couple of hours."
They were silent again. The sun continued its journey across the sky and at last began to slip behind the horizon. When the last red rays stretched across the sandy desert, the three cadets folded back the space-cloth covering and stood up. A soft evening breeze sprang up, refreshing them a little, and though none of them was hungry, each boy ate a light meal.
Tom opened the container of water again and measured out about an ounce apiece.
"Moisten your tongue, and sip it slowly," ordered Tom.
Roger and Astro took their share of the water and dipped fingers in it, wiping their lips and eyelids. They continued to do this until finally, no longer able to resist, they took the precious water and swished it around in their mouths before swallowing it.
They folded the space cloth, shouldered their packs, and after Tom had checked the compass, started their long march toward their plotted destination.
They had survived their first twenty-four hours in the barren wastes of the New Sahara, with each boy acutely aware that there was at least a week more of the same in front of them. The sky blackened, and soon after Deimos rose and started climbing across the dark sky.