“Whew! There’s not much that isn’t included!” Skip said. “Spare oxygen tanks, a bubble tent outfit, food capsules, water maker, first-aid, flares, books, electronic stove-heater.” “Let’s put up the bubble tent,” Glen said. “It’ll help save our heat.” As he had learned in cadet training, he removed a cylinder from the outfit and pulled a lever. It popped open and a plastic bubble began growing out of it. The bubble, which was slightly oblong and transparent, enlarged to about seven feet, then detached itself from the cartridge airtight. After it had hardened for several minutes, Glen took an electric saw from the kit and cut a small door in the side. They made hinges from self-sealing plastic strips. They used the foam rubber from around the case for flooring, then put the supplies inside the bubble. They turned on the heater and then turned off the heat units in their suits. “How long do you figure our supplies can last, Glen?” Skip asked. “They’re supposed to last two people ten days,” Glen replied. “Don’t you remember that question on our exam?” “Don’t remind me!” Skip said. “I’m tired of hearing about the cadet corps.” “I know,” Glen said bitterly. “How could they flunk us on one question?” Skip asked. “It wasn’t fair.” “I agree with you,” Glen answered, “but the fact remains that we’ve got to take it.” Skip chuckled grimly. “You talk as if we have a lifetime ahead of us. We don’t know whether we’ve got _tomorrow_.” “Which reminds me, we’d better send off some flares to let somebody know where we are.” Glen picked up some of the rocket flares and “drifted” out of the bubble tent. He set up a flare on its tripod legs, pointed it at Mars’ ruddy face and pulled on the release catch. But it wouldn’t move. “It’s jammed!” Glen tried another rocket and got the same result. Then another, and another. They were all useless, all the catches warped, possibly from having been kept too near a heat source in the ship. “How are we going to signal Mars now?” Skip asked. “Anything we toss out will be drawn to the planet by its gravitation,” Glen was thinking out loud. “How about throwing out some of the extra supplies we have?” Skip proposed. “We can attach a note.” “It’s a million-to-one shot they’d be found. Don’t you realize that only a fraction of Mars has colonists? No, I’m afraid we’d wait here until doomsday if we had to count on that.” “But what else is there to do?” Skip’s eyes were round with dread. Glen fought down his own sudden despair. “It looks as though we’ll have to get to Mars on our own, Skip.” “Now you’re crazy! We’d be smashed to pieces!” “Not the way I’m thinking.” A plan was forming in Glen’s mind, as he scrambled into the bubble tent and came out with one of their engineering books. Skip watched in amazement as Glen began working math problems in the dirt with a piece of stone. After a while, Glen said, “I think it’ll work, Skip. Want to take a chance?” “I’d like to know what it is first.”