This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, fictitiously...
Transcript of This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, fictitiously...
Thisisaworkoffiction.Names,characters,places,andincidentseitheraretheproductoftheauthor’simaginationorareusedfictitiously.Anyresemblancetoactualpersons,livingordead,events,orlocalesisentirelycoincidental.
Copyright©2011,2014byAndyWeir
Allrightsreserved.PublishedintheUnitedStatesbyCrownPublishers,animprintoftheCrownPublishingGroup,adivisionofRandomHouseLLC,aPenguinRandomHouseCompany,NewYork.www.crownpublishing.com
CROWNandtheCrowncolophonare
registeredtrademarksofRandomHouseLLC.
Originallyself-published,indifferentform,asanebookin2011.
LibraryofCongressCataloging-in-Publicationdataisavailableuponrequest.
ISBN9780804139021eBookISBN:9780804139038
PrintedintheUnitedStatesofAmerica
BookdesignbyElizabethRendfleischMapbyFredHaynesPhotographbyAntonioM.Rosario/Stockbyte/GettyImagesJacketdesignbyEricWhiteJacketphotograph(astronaut):NASA
ep_v4.0
ForMom,whocallsme“Pickle,”
andDad,whocallsme“Dude.”
Contents
CoverTitlePageCopyrightDedicationMap
Chapter1Chapter2Chapter3Chapter4
Chapter5Chapter6Chapter7Chapter8Chapter9Chapter10Chapter11Chapter12Chapter13Chapter14Chapter15
Chapter16Chapter17Chapter18Chapter19Chapter20Chapter21Chapter22Chapter23Chapter24Chapter25Chapter26
CHAPTER1
LOGENTRY:SOL6
I’mprettymuchfucked.That’s my considered
opinion.Fucked.Six days into what should
bethegreatesttwomonthsofmylife,andit’sturnedintoanightmare.I don’t even know who’ll
read this. I guess someonewillfinditeventually.Maybeahundredyearsfromnow.
For the record…I didn’tdie on Sol 6. Certainly therestofthecrewthoughtIdid,and I can’t blame them.Maybe there’ll be a day ofnational mourning for me,and myWikipedia page willsay, “Mark Watney is theonly human being to havediedonMars.”Andit’llberight,probably.
’Cause I’ll surely die here.Just not on Sol 6 when
everyonethinksIdid.Let’s see…where do I
begin?The Ares Program.
Mankind reaching out toMars to send people toanother planet for the veryfirst time and expand thehorizons of humanity blah,blah, blah. The Ares 1 crewdidtheirthingandcamebackheroes. They got the paradesand fame and love of the
world.Ares2did the same thing,
in a different location onMars. They got a firmhandshake and a hot cup ofcoffeewhentheygothome.Ares 3.Well, thatwasmy
mission. Okay, notmine perse.CommanderLewiswasincharge. Iwas just one of hercrew.Actually,Iwastheverylowest rankedmemberof thecrew. I would only be “in
command”ofthemissionifIwere the only remainingperson.Whatdoyouknow?I’min
command.Iwonderifthislogwillbe
recovered before the rest ofthe crew die of old age. Ipresume they got back toEarth all right. Guys, ifyou’re reading this: Itwasn’tyourfault.Youdidwhatyouhad to do. In your position I
would have done the samething.Idon’tblameyou,andI’mgladyousurvived.
Iguess I should explainhowMarsmissionswork, for anylayman who may be readingthis.WegottoEarthorbitthenormal way, through anordinary ship toHermes. AlltheAresmissionsuseHermesto get to and fromMars. It’sreally big and cost a lot soNASAbuiltonlyone.
Once we got to Hermes,four additional unmannedmissions brought us fuel andsupplies while we preparedfor our trip.Once everythingwasago,wesetoutforMars.But not very fast. Gone arethe days of heavy chemicalfuel burns and trans-Marsinjectionorbits.Hermes is powered by ion
engines. They throw argonoutthebackoftheshipreally
fast to get a tiny amount ofacceleration. The thing is, itdoesn’t take much reactantmass, soa littleargon (andanuclear reactor to powerthings) let us accelerateconstantly the whole waythere. You’d be amazed athow fast you can get goingwithatinyaccelerationoveralongtime.I could regale you with
talesofhowwehadgreatfun
on the trip, but I won’t. Idon’tfeellikerelivingitrightnow.Suffice it tosaywegotto Mars 124 days laterwithoutstranglingeachother.From there, we took the
MDV (Mars descent vehicle)to the surface. The MDV isbasicallyabigcanwithsomelight thrusters andparachutesattached.Itssolepurposeistoget six humans from Marsorbit to the surface without
killinganyofthem.And now we come to the
realtrickofMarsexploration:havingallofourshitthereinadvance.A total of fourteen
unmannedmissionsdepositedeverythingwewouldneedforsurfaceoperations.Theytriedtheir best to land all thesupply vessels in the samegeneral area, and did areasonablygoodjob.Supplies
aren’t nearly so fragile ashumans and can hit theground really hard. But theytendtobouncearoundalot.Naturally, theydidn’t send
us to Mars until they’dconfirmed that all thesupplies had made it to thesurface and their containersweren’t breached. Start tofinish, including supplymissions, a Mars missiontakes about three years. In
fact, there were Ares 3supplies en route to Marswhile the Ares 2 crew wereontheirwayhome.The most important piece
of the advance supplies, ofcourse, was the MAV. TheMarsascentvehicle.Thatwashow we would get back toHermes after surfaceoperations were complete.The MAV was soft-landed(as opposed to the balloon
bounce-festtheothersupplieshad). Of course, it was inconstant communicationwithHouston, and if there hadbeenanyproblemswithit,wewould have passed by Marsand gone home without everlanding.The MAV is pretty cool.
Turns out, through a neat setofchemicalreactionswiththeMartian atmosphere, forevery kilogram of hydrogen
you bring to Mars, you canmake thirteen kilograms offuel. It’s a slow process,though. It takes twenty-fourmonthstofillthetank.That’swhy they sent it long beforewegothere.You can imagine how
disappointed I was when Idiscovered the MAV wasgone.
It was a ridiculous sequenceof events that led to me
almost dying, and an evenmoreridiculoussequencethatledtomesurviving.Themission isdesigned to
handle sandstormgustsup to150 kph. So Houston gotunderstandablynervouswhenwegotwhackedwith175kphwinds.Weallgotinourflightspacesuitsandhuddledinthemiddle of the Hab, just incase it lost pressure. But theHabwasn’ttheproblem.
TheMAVisaspaceship.Ithas a lot of delicate parts. Itcan put up with storms to acertainextent,butitcan’tjustgetsandblastedforever.Afteran hour and a half ofsustained wind, NASA gavethe order to abort. Nobodywanted to stop a monthlongmission after only six days,but if the MAV took anymore punishment, we’d allhave gotten stranded downthere.
We had to go out in thestorm toget from theHab totheMAV.Thatwasgoing tobe risky,butwhatchoicedidwehave?Everyonemadeitbutme.Our main communications
dish, which relayed signalsfrom the Hab to Hermes,actedlikeaparachute,gettingtorn from its foundation andcarried with the torrent.Along the way, it crashed
throughthereceptionantennaarray.Thenoneofthoselongthin antennae slammed intome end-first. It tore throughmy suit like a bullet throughbutter, and I felt the worstpain of my life as it rippedopen my side. I vaguelyremember having the windknockedoutofme(pulledoutof me, really) and my earspopping painfully as thepressureofmysuitescaped.
The last thing I rememberwas seeing Johanssenhopelessly reaching outtowardme.
I awoke to the oxygen alarmin my suit. A steady,obnoxious beeping thateventually rousedme from adeep and profound desire tojustfuckingdie.The storm had abated; I
was facedown, almost totallyburied in sand.As I groggily
came to, I wondered why Iwasn’tmoredead.The antenna had enough
force to punch through thesuit and my side, but it hadbeen stopped by my pelvis.Sotherewasonlyoneholeinthesuit (andahole inme,ofcourse).I had been knocked back
quiteawaysandrolleddowna steep hill. Somehow Ilanded facedown, which
forced the antenna to astrongly oblique angle thatputalotoftorqueontheholein the suit. It made a weakseal.Then, the copious blood
from my wound trickleddowntowardthehole.Astheblood reached the site of thebreach,thewaterinitquicklyevaporated from the airflowand low pressure, leaving agunky residue behind. More
blood came in behind it andwas also reduced to gunk.Eventually, it sealed thegapsaround the hole and reducedtheleaktosomethingthesuitcouldcounteract.The suit did its job
admirably. Sensing the dropin pressure, it constantlyflooded itself with air frommynitrogen tank toequalize.Once the leak becamemanageable, it only had to
trickle new air in slowly torelievetheairlost.After a while, the CO2
(carbondioxide) absorbers inthe suit were expended.That’s really the limitingfactortolifesupport.Nottheamount of oxygen you bringwith you, but the amount ofCO2 you can remove. In theHab,Ihavetheoxygenator,alargepieceofequipment thatbreaks apart CO2 to give the
oxygen back. But the spacesuits have to be portable, sothey use a simple chemicalabsorption process withexpendable filters. I’d beenasleep long enough that myfilterswereuseless.The suit saw this problem
andmovedintoanemergencymode the engineers call“bloodletting.” Having noway to separate out theCO2,the suit deliberately vented
airtotheMartianatmosphere,thenbackfilledwithnitrogen.Between the breach and thebloodletting, it quickly ranoutofnitrogen.Allithadleftwasmyoxygentank.So it did the only thing it
could to keep me alive. Itstarted backfilling with pureoxygen. I now risked dyingfrom oxygen toxicity, as theexcessively high amount ofoxygenthreatenedtoburnup
my nervous system, lungs,andeyes.Anironicdeathforsomeone with a leaky spacesuit:toomuchoxygen.Every step of the way
would have had beepingalarms, alerts, and warnings.But it was the high-oxygenwarningthatwokeme.The sheer volume of
trainingforaspacemissionisastounding. I’d spent aweekback on Earth practicing
emergencyspacesuitdrills. Iknewwhattodo.Carefully reaching to the
side of my helmet, I got thebreach kit. It’s nothingmorethan a funnelwith a valve atthe small end and anunbelievably sticky resin onthewideend.Theideaisyouhavethevalveopenandstickthewideendoverahole.Theair can escape through thevalve, so it doesn’t interfere
withtheresinmakingagoodseal. Then you close thevalve, and you’ve sealed thebreach.Thetrickypartwasgetting
theantennaoutof theway. IpulleditoutasfastasIcould,wincing as the suddenpressuredropdizziedmeandmade the wound in my sidescreaminagony.Igotthebreachkitoverthe
hole and sealed it. It held.
The suit backfilled themissing air with yet moreoxygen. Checking my armreadouts, I saw the suit wasnow at 85 percent oxygen.For reference, Earth’satmosphere is about 21percent. I’d be okay, so longas I didn’t spend too muchtimelikethat.Istumbledupthehillback
toward theHab.As I crestedtherise,Isawsomethingthat
made me very happy andsomethingthatmademeverysad: The Hab was intact(yay!) and the MAV wasgone(boo!).RightthatmomentIknewI
was screwed. But I didn’twant to just die out on thesurface. I limped back to theHab and fumbled my wayintoanairlock.Assoonas itequalized, I threw off myhelmet.
Once inside the Hab, Idoffed the suit and got myfirstgoodlookattheinjury.Itwould need stitches.Fortunately, all of us hadbeen trained inbasicmedicalprocedures, and the Hab hadexcellentmedicalsupplies.Aquickshotoflocalanesthetic,irrigate the wound, ninestitches, and I was done. I’dbe taking antibiotics for acouple of weeks, but otherthanthatI’dbefine.
Iknewitwashopeless,butI tried firing up thecommunications array. Nosignal,ofcourse.Theprimarysatellite dish had broken off,remember? And it took thereception antennae with it.The Hab had secondary andtertiary communicationssystems, but they were bothjust for talking to theMAV,which would use its muchmore powerful systems torelay to Hermes. Thing is,
thatonlyworksiftheMAVisstillaround.I had no way to talk to
Hermes. In time, I couldlocate the dish out on thesurface, but it would takeweeks for me to rig up anyrepairs,andthatwouldbetoolate. In an abort, Hermeswould leave orbit withintwenty-four hours. Theorbital dynamics made thetrip safer and shorter the
earlieryouleft,sowhywait?Checking out my suit, I
saw the antenna had plowedthrough my bio-monitorcomputer.WhenonanEVA,all the crew’s suits arenetworkedsowecanseeeachother’sstatus.Therestof thecrew would have seen thepressure in my suit drop tonearly zero, followedimmediately bymybio-signsgoing flat. Add to that
watching me tumble down ahill with a spear throughmein the middle of asandstorm…yeah. Theythought I was dead. Howcouldtheynot?Theymayhaveevenhada
brief discussion aboutrecovering my body, butregulations are clear. In theevent a crewman dies onMars, he stays on Mars.Leaving his body behind
reducesweight for theMAVon the trip back. Thatmeansmore disposable fuel and alargermarginoferror for thereturn thrust. No point ingiving that up forsentimentality.
So that’s the situation. I’mstranded onMars. I have noway to communicate withHermes or Earth. EveryonethinksI’mdead.I’minaHabdesigned to last thirty-one
days.If the oxygenator breaks
down, I’ll suffocate. If thewaterreclaimerbreaksdown,I’ll die of thirst. If the Habbreaches, I’ll just kind ofexplode. If none of thosethingshappen, I’ll eventuallyrunoutof foodand starve todeath.Soyeah.I’mfucked.
CHAPTER2
LOGENTRY:SOL7
Okay,I’vehadagoodnight’ssleep, and things don’t seemas hopeless as they didyesterday.Today I took stock of
suppliesanddidaquickEVAto check up on the externalequipment. Here’s mysituation:The surface mission was
supposed to be thirty-onedays. For redundancy, the
supply probes had enoughfood to last the whole crewfifty-six days. That way ifone or two probes hadproblems, we’d still haveenough food to complete themission.Wewere sixdays inwhen
all hell broke loose, so thatleaves enough food to feedsixpeople for fiftydays. I’mjust one guy, so it’ll last methree hundred days. And
that’s if I don’t ration it. SoI’vegotafairbitoftime.I’m pretty flush on EVA
suits,too.Eachcrewmemberhad two space suits: a flightspacesuit to wear duringdescent and ascent, and themuchbulkierandmorerobustEVAsuittowearwhendoingsurface operations.My flightspacesuithasaholeinit,andof course the crew waswearing the other five when
they returned toHermes.ButallsixEVAsuitsarestillhereandinperfectcondition.The Hab stood up to the
storm without any problems.Outside,thingsaren’tsorosy.I can’t find the satellite dish.It probably got blownkilometersaway.The MAV is gone, of
course.Mycrewmatestookitup to Hermes. Though thebottom half (the landing
stage) isstillhere.Noreasonto take that back up whenweight is the enemy. Itincludesthelandinggear, thefuel plant, and anything elseNASA figured it wouldn’tneed for the trip back up toorbit.TheMDVisonitssideand
there’s a breach in the hull.Looks like the storm rippedthe cowling off the reservechute (which we didn’t have
to use on landing). Once thechutewasexposed,itdraggedtheMDV all over the place,smashing it against everyrock in thearea.Not that theMDVwould bemuch use tome. Its thrusters can’t evenlift its own weight. But itmighthavebeenvaluable forparts.Mightstillbe.Bothroversarehalf-buried
in sand, but they’re in goodshape otherwise. Their
pressure seals are intact.Makes sense. Operatingprocedure when a storm hitsistostopmotionandwaitforthe storm to pass. They’remade to stand up topunishment.I’llbeabletodigthemoutwith adayor soofwork.I’ve lost communication
with the weather stations,placedakilometerawayfromthe Hab in four directions.
They might be in perfectworkingorderforallIknow.The Hab’s communicationsare so weak right now itprobably can’t even reach akilometer.The solar cell array was
covered in sand, rendering ituseless (hint:solarcellsneedsunlight to make electricity).ButonceIsweptthecellsoff,they returned to fullefficiency.WhateverIendup
doing, I’ll have plenty ofpower for it. Two hundredsquare meters of solar cells,with hydrogen fuel cells tostore plenty of reserve. All Ineed todo issweep themoffeveryfewdays.Things indoors are great,
thanks to the Hab’s sturdydesign.I ran a full diagnostic on
the oxygenator. Twice. It’sperfect. If anything goes
wrongwithit,there’sashort-termspare Icanuse.But it’ssolely for emergency usewhilerepairingthemainone.The spare doesn’t actuallypull CO2 apart and recapturetheoxygen.ItjustabsorbstheCO2 the sameway the spacesuits do. It’s intended to lastfive days before it saturatesthefilters,whichmeansthirtydays forme (just one personbreathing, instead of six). So
there’ssomeinsurancethere.The water reclaimer is
working fine, too. The badnews is there’snobackup. Ifit stops working, I’ll bedrinkingreservewaterwhileIrigupaprimitivedistillerytoboilpiss.Also,I’lllosehalfaliter of water per day tobreathing until the humidityin the Hab reaches itsmaximum and water startscondensing on every surface.
ThenI’llbelickingthewalls.Yay. Anyway, for now, noproblems with the waterreclaimer.So yeah. Food, water,
shelter all taken care of. I’mgoing to start rationing foodright now. Meals are prettyminimalalready,butIthinkIcaneatathree-fourthsportionpermealandstillbeallright.That should turn my threehundred days of food into
four hundred. Foragingaround the medical area, Ifound the main bottle ofvitamins. There’s enoughmultivitamins there to lastyears. So I won’t have anynutritional problems (thoughI’ll still starve todeathwhenI’m out of food, no matterhowmanyvitaminsItake).The medical area has
morphine for emergencies.And there’s enough there for
alethaldose.I’mnotgoingtoslowlystarvetodeath,I’lltellyouthat.IfIgettothatpoint,I’lltakeaneasierwayout.Everyone on the mission
had two specialties. I’m abotanist and mechanicalengineer; basically, themission’s fix-it man whoplayed with plants. Themechanical engineeringmight save my life ifsomethingbreaks.
I’ve been thinking abouthow to survive this. It’s notcompletelyhopeless.There’llbe humans back on Mars inaboutfouryearswhenAres4arrives (assuming they didn’tcancel the program in thewakeofmy“death”).Ares 4 will be landing at
theSchiaparelli crater,whichis about 3200 kilometersaway from my location herein Acidalia Planitia. No way
for me to get there on myown. But if I couldcommunicate,Imightbeabletogetarescue.Notsurehowthey’d manage that with theresourcesonhand,butNASAhasalotofsmartpeople.So that’smymissionnow.
Find a way to communicatewithEarth. If I can’tmanagethat, find a way tocommunicate with Hermeswhen it returns in four years
withtheAres4crew.Ofcourse,Idon’thaveany
plan for surviving four yearsononeyearof food.Butonethingatatimehere.Fornow,I’m well fed and have apurpose:Fixthedamnradio.
LOGENTRY:SOL10
Well, I’ve done three EVAsandhaven’tfoundanyhintofthecommunicationsdish.Idugoutoneoftherovers
andhadagooddrivearound,butafterdaysofwandering,Ithinkit’stimetogiveup.Thestormprobablyblewthedishfarawayandthenerasedanydrag-marks or scuffs thatmight have led to a trail.Probablyburiedit,too.
Ispentmostoftodayoutatwhat’s left of thecommunications array. It’sreally a sorry sight. Imayaswellyell towardEarthforallthe good that damned thingwilldome.I could throw together a
rudimentarydishoutofmetalI find around the base, butthis isn’t some walkie-talkieI’m working with here.CommunicatingfromMarsto
Earthisaprettybigdeal,andrequires extremelyspecialized equipment. Iwon’t be able to whipsomethingupwithtinfoilandgum.I need to rationmy EVAs
as well as food. The CO2
filtersarenotcleanable.Oncethey’re saturated, they’redone.Themission accountedforafour-hourEVApercrewmemberperday.Fortunately,
CO2 filters are light andsmall, so NASA had theluxury of sending more thanwe needed. All told, I haveabout 1500 hours’ worth ofCO2 filters. After that, anyEVAs I do will have to bemanaged with bloodlettingtheair.Fifteenhundredhoursmay
soundlikealot,butI’mfacedwith spending at least fouryears here if I’m going to
haveanyhopeofrescue,witha minimum of several hoursper week dedicated tosweeping off the solar array.Anyway.NoneedlessEVAs.
Inothernews,I’mstartingtocome up with an idea forfood.Mybotany backgroundmaycomeinusefulafterall.Why bring a botanist to
Mars? After all, it’s famousfor not having anythinggrowing there.Well, the idea
was to figure out how wellthings grow in Martiangravity, and see what, ifanything, we can do withMartian soil. The shortanswer is: quite a lot…almost. Martian soil has thebasic building blocks neededforplantgrowth,butthere’salotof stuffgoingon inEarthsoil that Mars soil doesn’thave, even when it’s placedin an Earth atmosphere andgiven plenty of water.
Bacterial activity, certainnutrients provided by animallife, etc. None of that ishappening on Mars. One ofmytasks for themissionwasto see howplants growhere,in various combinations ofEarth and Mars soil andatmosphere.That’swhy I have a small
amount of Earth soil and abunchofplantseedswithme.I can’t get too excited,
however. It’s about theamountofsoilyou’dputinawindow box, and the onlyseedsIhaveareafewspeciesof grass and ferns. They’rethe most rugged and easilygrown plants on Earth, soNASApickedthemasthetestsubjects.So I have two problems:
not enough dirt, and nothingedibletoplantinit.ButI’mabotanist,damnit.
Ishouldbeabletofindawayto make this happen. If Idon’t, I’ll be a really hungrybotanistinaboutayear.
LOGENTRY:SOL11
I wonder how the Cubs aredoing.
LOGENTRY:SOL14
Igotmyundergraddegreeatthe University of Chicago.Half the people who studiedbotany were hippies whothought they could return tosome natural world system.Somehow feeding sevenbillion people through puregathering.Theyspentmostoftheir timeworking out betterways to grow pot. I didn’tlikethem.I’vealwaysbeenin
it for thescience,notforanyNewWorldOrderbullshit.When they made compost
heaps and tried to conserveevery little ounce of livingmatter, I laughed at them.“Look at the silly hippies!Look at their patheticattempts to simulate acomplex global ecosystem intheirbackyard.”Of course, now I’m doing
exactlythat.I’msavingevery
scrapofbiomatterIcanfind.Every time I finish a meal,the leftovers go to thecompostbucket.As forotherbiologicalmaterial…The Hab has sophisticated
toilets. Shit is usuallyvaccum-dried, thenaccumulatedinsealedbagstobediscardedonthesurface.Notanymore!Infact,IevendidanEVA
to recover the previous bags
of shit from before the crewleft. Being completelydesiccated,thisparticularshitdidn’t have bacteria in itanymore, but it still hadcomplex proteins and wouldserve as useful manure.Addingit towaterandactivebacteria would quickly get itinundated, replacing anypopulation killed by theToiletofDoom.Ifoundabigcontainerand
put a bit of water in it, thenadded the dried shit. Sincethen,I’veaddedmyownshitto it as well. The worse itsmells, the better things aregoing. That’s the bacteriaatwork!Once I get some Martian
soil inhere, I canmix in theshitandspread itout.ThenIcansprinkletheEarthsoilontop.Youmightnotthinkthatwould be an important step,
but it is.Therearedozensofspecies of bacteria living inEarthsoil,andthey’recriticalto plant growth. They’llspread out and breed like…well, like a bacterialinfection.People have been using
humanwaste as fertilizer forcenturies. It’s even got apleasant name: “night soil.”Normally, it’s not an idealwaytogrowcrops,becauseit
spreads disease: Humanwastehaspathogensinitthat,you guessed it, infecthumans. But it’s not aproblem for me. The onlypathogens in this waste aretheonesIalreadyhave.Withinaweek,theMartian
soilwillbereadyforplantstogerminate in. But I won’tplant yet. I’ll bring in morelifeless soil fromoutside andspread some of the live soil
over it. It’ll “infect” the newsoilandI’llhavedoublewhatI started with. After anotherweek, I’ll double it again.Andsoon.Ofcourse,all thewhile, I’ll be adding all newmanuretotheeffort.My asshole is doing as
muchtokeepmealiveasmybrain.This isn’t a new concept I
just came up with. Peoplehave speculated on how to
makecropsoiloutofMartiandirt for decades. I’ll just beputting it to the test for thefirsttime.Isearchedthroughthefood
suppliesandfoundallsortsofthings that I can plant. Peas,for instance.Plentyofbeans,too. I also found severalpotatoes. If any of them canstill germinate after theirordeal,that’llbegreat.Withanearly infinite supply of
vitamins, all I need arecalories of any kind tosurvive.Thetotalfloorspaceofthe
Hab is about 92 squaremeters. I plan to dedicate allof it to thisendeavor. Idon’tmindwalkingondirt. It’llbea lot of work, but I’m goingto need to cover the entirefloor to a depth of 10centimeters. That means I’llhave to transport 9.2 cubic
meters of Martian soil intotheHab.Icangetmaybeone-tenth of a cubic meter inthrough theairlockata time,and it’ll be backbreakingwork to collect it. But in theend, if everything goes toplan, I’ll have 92 squaremetersofcrop-ablesoil.Hell yeah I’m a botanist!
Fearmybotanypowers!
LOGENTRY:SOL15
Ugh! This is backbreakingwork!I spent twelve hours today
onEVAstobringdirtintotheHab.Ionlymanagedtocovera small corner of the base,maybefivesquaremeters.Atthisrateit’lltakemeweekstoget all the soil in. But hey,timeisonethingI’vegot.The first few EVAs were
pretty inefficient; me filling
smallcontainersandbringingthem in through the airlock.Then I gotwise and just putone big container in theairlock itself and filled thatwith small containers till itwas full.That sped thingsupalotbecausetheairlocktakesabout ten minutes to getthrough.I ache all over. And the
shovels I have are made fortaking samples, not heavy
digging. My back is killingme. I foraged in themedicalsupplies and found someVicodin. I took it about tenminutes ago. Should bekickinginsoon.Anyway, it’s nice to see
progress.Timetostartgettingthebacteria toworkon theseminerals. After lunch. Nothree-fourths ration today.I’veearnedafullmeal.
LOGENTRY:SOL16
One complication I hadn’tthoughtof:water.Turns out being on the
surface of Mars for a fewmillion years eliminates allthe water in the soil. Mymaster’s degree in botanymakes me pretty sure plantsneedwetdirt togrowin.Notto mention the bacteria thathastoliveinthedirtfirst.Fortunately, I have water.
ButnotasmuchasIwant.Tobeviable,soilneeds40litersofwaterpercubicmeter.Myoverall plan calls for 9.2cubic meters of soil. So I’lleventually need 368 liters ofwatertofeedit.The Hab has an excellent
water reclaimer. Besttechnology available onEarth. So NASA figured,“Why send a lot ofwater upthere? Just send enough for
anemergency.”Humansneedthreelitersofwaterperdaytobecomfortable.Theygaveus50 liters each, making 300literstotalintheHab.I’m willing to dedicate all
butanemergency50liters tothe cause. That means I canfeed 62.5 square meters at adepth of 10 centimeters.Abouttwo-thirdsoftheHab’sfloor. It’ll have to do.That’sthelong-termplan.Fortoday,
my goal was five squaremeters.I wadded up blankets and
uniforms from my departedcrewmates to serve as oneedgeofaplanterboxwiththecurvedwallsoftheHabbeingthe rest of the perimeter. Itwas as close to five squaremeters as I could manage. Ifilled itwith sand to a depthof 10 centimeters. Then Isacrificed 20 liters of
precious water to the dirtgods.Thenthingsgotdisgusting.
Idumpedmybigcontainero’shit onto the soil and nearlypuked from the smell. Imixed this soil and shittogether with a shovel, andspread it out evenly again.Then I sprinkled the Earthsoil on top. Get to work,bacteria. I’m counting onyou. That smell’s going to
stickaround forawhile, too.It’s not like I can open awindow.Still,yougetusedtoit.In other news, today is
Thanksgiving.Myfamilywillbe gathering in Chicago fortheusualfeastatmyparents’house. My guess is it won’tbe much fun, what with mehaving died ten days ago.Hell, they probably just gotdonewithmyfuneral.
I wonder if they’ll everfind out what reallyhappened. I’ve been so busystaying alive I never thoughtofwhat thismust be like formy parents. Right now,they’re suffering the worstpain anyone can endure. I’dgiveanythingjusttoletthemknowI’mstillalive.I’ll just have to survive to
makeupforit.
LOGENTRY:SOL22
Wow. Things really camealong.I got all the sand in and
readytogo.Two-thirdsofthebaseisnowdirt.AndtodayIexecuted my first dirt-doubling. It’s been a week,andtheformerMartiansoilisrich and lovely. Two moredoublings and I’ll havecoveredthewholefield.Allthatworkwasgreatfor
my morale. It gave mesomething to do. But afterthingssettleddownabit,andIhaddinnerwhilelisteningtoJohanssen’s Beatles musiccollection, I got depressedagain.Doingthemath, thiswon’t
keepmefromstarving.My best bet for making
calories is potatoes. Theygrow prolifically and have areasonable caloric content
(770 calories per kilogram).I’m pretty sure the ones Ihavewillgerminate.Problemis I can’t grow enough ofthem. In 62 square meters, Icould grow maybe 150kilograms of potatoes in 400days (the time I have beforerunningoutoffood).That’sagrand total of 115,500calories, a sustainableaverage of 288 calories perday. With my height andweight, if I’m willing to
starve a little, I need 1500caloriesperday.Notevenclose.So I can’t just live off the
landforever.ButIcanextendmylife.Thepotatoeswilllastme76days.Potatoes grow continually,
so in those 76 days, I cangrow another 22,000 caloriesof potatoes, which will tidemeover for another15days.After that, it’s kind of
pointless to continue thetrend. All told it buys meabout90days.SonowI’llstartstarvingto
death on Sol 490 instead ofSol400.It’sprogress,butanyhope of survival rests onmesurviving until Sol 1412,whenAres4willland.There’s about a thousand
days of food I don’t have.And I don’t have a plan forhowtogetit.
Shit.
CHAPTER3
LOGENTRY:SOL25
Remember those old mathquestions you had in algebraclass? Where water isentering a container at acertain rate and leaving at adifferentrateandyouneedtofigure out when it’ll beempty?Well, that concept iscritical to the “MarkWatneydoesn’t die” project I’mworkingon.I need to create calories.
AndIneedenoughtolastthe1387solsuntilAres4arrives.IfIdon’tgetrescuedbyAres4, I’mdeadanyway.Asol is39minuteslongerthanaday,so it works out to be 1425days. That’smy target: 1425daysoffood.I have plenty of
multivitamins; over doublewhatIneed.Andthere’sfivetimestheminimumproteinineach food pack, so careful
rationing of portions takescare ofmy protein needs forat least four years. Mygeneralnutritionistakencareof.Ijustneedcalories.I need 1500 calories every
day. Ihave400daysof foodto start off with. So howmany calories do I need togenerate per day along theentire time period to stayaliveforaround1425days?I’ll spare you the math.
The answer is about 1100. Ineed to create 1100 caloriesper day with my farmingeffortstosurviveuntilAres4gets here. Actually, a littlemore than that, because it’sSol 25 right now and Ihaven’t actually plantedanythingyet.Withmy 62 squaremeters
of farmland, I’ll be able tocreate about 288 calories perday. So I need almost four
times my current plan’sproductiontosurvive.That means I need more
surface area for farming, andmore water to hydrate thesoil. So let’s take theproblemsoneatatime.Howmuch farmland can I
reallymake?Thereare92squaremeters
in theHab.Let’s say I couldmakeuseofallofit.Also, therearefiveunused
bunks.Let’s say Iput soil inon them, too. They’re 2square meters each, givingme 10 more square meters.Sowe’reupto102.The Hab has three lab
tables, each about 2 squaremeters.Iwanttokeeponeformyownuse, leaving two forthe cause. That’s another 4square meters, bringing thetotalto106.Ihave twoMartian rovers.
They have pressure seals,allowing the occupants todrive without space suitsduringlongperiodstraversingthe surface. They’re toocramped to plant crops in,andIwanttobeabletodrivethem around anyway. Butboth rovers have anemergencypop-tent.Therearealotofproblems
with using pop-tents asfarmland, but they have 10
square meters of floor spaceeach. Presuming I canovercome the problems, theynet me another 20 squaremeters,bringingmyfarmlandupto126.One hundred and twenty-
sixsquaremetersoffarmableland. That’s something towork with. I still don’t havethe water to moisten all thatsoil,butlikeIsaid,onethingatatime.
The next thing to consideris how efficient I can be ingrowingpotatoes.Ibasedmycrop yield estimates on thepotatoindustrybackonEarth.Butpotatofarmersaren’tinadesperate race for survivallike I am. Can I get a betteryield?For starters, I can give
attention to each individualplant. I can trim them andkeep them healthy and not
interfering with each other.Also, as their floweringbodies breach the surface, Icanreplantthemdeeper,thenplant younger plants abovethem. For normal potatofarmers, it’s notworth doingbecausethey’reworkingwithliterally millions of potatoplants.Also, this sort of farming
annihilates the soil. Anyfarmer doing it would turn
their land into a dust bowlwithin twelve years. It’s notsustainable.Butwhocares?Ijust need to survive for fouryears.I estimate I can get 50
percenthigheryieldbyusingthese tactics. And with the126 square meters offarmland (just over doublethe 62 square meters I nowhave) itworksout tobeover850caloriesperday.
That’s real progress. I’dstill be in danger ofstarvation, but it gets me intherangeofsurvival.Imightbe able tomake it by nearlystarvingbutnotquitedying.Icould reduce my caloric usebyminimizingmanual labor.Icouldsetthetemperatureofthe Hab higher than normal,meaning my body wouldexpend less energy keepingits temperature. I could cutoffanarmandeatit,gaining
me valuable calories andreducing my overall caloricneed.No,notreally.So let’s say I could clear
up that much farmland.Seems reasonable.Where doI get the water? To go from62 to 126 square meters offarmland at 10 centimetersdeep,I’llneed6.4morecubicmeters of soil (moreshoveling, whee!) and that’ll
needover250litersofwater.The 50 liters I have is for
me to drink if the waterreclaimerbreaks.So I’m250liters short of my 250-litergoal.Bleh.I’mgoingtobed.
LOGENTRY:SOL26
It was a backbreaking yetproductiveday.I was sick of thinking, so
insteadoftryingtofigureoutwhere I’ll get 250 liters ofwater, I did some manuallabor. I need to get a wholeassload more soil into theHab, even if it is dry anduselessrightnow.I got a cubic meter in
beforegettingexhausted.
Then, a minor dust stormdropped by for an hour andcovered the solar collectorswithcrap.SoIhadtosuitupagainanddoanotherEVA.Iwas in a pissy mood thewhole time. Sweeping off ahuge field of solar cells isboring and physicallydemanding.But once the jobwasdone,IcamebacktomyLittleHabonthePrairie.It was about time for
another dirt-doubling, so Ifigured Imight aswellget itover with. It took an hour.One more doubling and theusablesoilwillallbegoodtogo.Also, I figured itwas time
to start up a seed crop. I’ddoubledthesoilenoughthatIcould afford to leave a littlecorner of it alone. I hadtwelvepotatoestoworkwith.I am one lucky son of a
bitch they aren’t freeze-driedormulched.Why didNASAsend twelve whole potatoes,refrigerated but not frozen?And why send them alongwith us as in-pressure cargoratherthaninacratewiththerest of the Hab supplies?Because Thanksgiving wasgoing to happen while wewere doing surfaceoperations, and NASA’sshrinks thought it would begood for us to make a meal
together.Notjusttoeatit,buttoactuallyprepareit.There’sprobably some logic to that,butwhocares?I cut each potato into four
pieces, making sure eachpiece had at least two eyes.The eyes are where theysproutfrom.Iletthemsitfora few hours to harden a bit,then planted them, wellspaced apart, in the corner.Godspeed, little taters. My
lifedependsonyou.Normally, it takes at least
90 days to yield full-sizedpotatoes.ButIcan’twaitthatlong. I’ll need to cut up allthepotatoesfromthiscroptoseedtherestofthefield.By setting the Hab
temperature to a balmy25.5°C,Icanmaketheplantsgrowfaster.Also,theinternallights will provide plenty of“sunlight,”andI’llmakesure
theyget lotsofwater (onceIfigure out where to getwater).Therewill beno foulweather, or any parasites tohassle them,or anyweeds tocompete with for soil ornutrients.With all this goingfor them, they should yieldhealthy, sproutable tuberswithinfortydays.I figured that was enough
being Farmer Mark for oneday.
A fullmeal for dinner. I’dearned it. Plus, I’d burned aton of calories, and Iwantedthemback.
I rifled through CommanderLewis’sstuffuntilIfoundherpersonaldata-stick.Everyonegot to bring whatever digitalentertainment they wanted,andIwastiredoflisteningtoJohanssen’s Beatles albumsfor now. Time to see whatLewishad.
Crappy TV shows. That’swhat she had. CountlessentirerunsofTVshowsfromforeverago.Well. Beggars can’t be
choosers.Three’sCompanyitis.
LOGENTRY:SOL29
Over the last fewdays, I gotinall thedirt that I’llneed. Iprepped the tablesandbunksforholdingtheweightofsoil,andevenputthedirtinplace.There’sstillnowatertomakeit viable, but I have someideas. Really bad ideas, butthey’reideas.Today’s big
accomplishment was settingupthepop-tents.
The problem with therovers’ pop-tents is theyweren’tdesignedforfrequentuse.The idea was you’d throw
out a pop-tent, get in, andwaitforrescue.Theairlockisnothingmorethanvalvesandtwo doors. Equalize theairlock with your side of it,getin,equalizewiththeotherside,getout.Thismeansyoulosealotofairwitheachuse.
AndI’llneedtogetinthereatleast once a day. The totalvolume of each pop-tent isprettylow,soIcan’taffordtoloseairfromit.I spent hours trying to
figure out how to attach apop-tent airlock to a Habairlock. I have three airlocksin theHab. I’d bewilling todedicate two to pop-tents.That would have beenawesome.
Thefrustratingpartispop-tent airlocks can attach toother airlocks! You mighthave injured people in there,or not enough space suits.You need to be able to getpeople out without exposingthem to the Martianatmosphere.But the pop-tents were
designed for your crewmatestocomerescueyouinarover.The airlocks on the Hab are
much larger and completelydifferentfromtheairlocksonthe rovers. When you thinkabout it, there’s really noreason toattachapop-tent totheHab.Unless you’re stranded on
Mars,everyone thinksyou’redead, and you’re in adesperate fight against timeandtheelementstostayalive.But, you know, other thanthat edge case, there’s no
reason.SoIfinallydecidedI’djust
take the hit. I’ll be losingsomeaireverytimeIenterorexit a pop-tent. The goodnews is each pop-tent has anair feedvalveon theoutside.Remember, these areemergency shelters. Theoccupantsmightneedair,andyou can provide it from arover by hooking up an airline.It’snothingmorethana
tubethatequalizestherover’sairwiththepop-tent’s.TheHabandtheroversuse
the same valve and tubingstandards, so I was able toattach the pop-tents directlyto the Hab. That’llautomatically replenish theairIlosewithmyentriesandexits (what we NASA folkcallingressandegress).NASA was not screwing
aroundwith theseemergency
tents. The moment I pushedthepanicbutton in the rover,there was an ear-poppingwhoosh as the pop-tent firedout, attached to the roverairlock. It took about twoseconds.I closed the airlock from
the rover side and ended upwithanice,isolatedpop-tent.Setting up the equalizer hosewas trivial (for once I’musing equipment the way it
was designed to be used).Then, after a few tripsthrough the airlock (with theair-loss automaticallyequalized by the Hab) I gotthedirtin.I repeated the process for
the other tent. Everythingwentreallyeasily.Sigh…water.In high school, I played a
lotofDungeonsandDragons.(You may not have guessed
this botanist/mechanicalengineerwasabitofanerdinhigh school, but indeed Iwas.) In the game I played acleric. One of the magicspells I could cast was“Create Water.” I alwaysthought itwasa reallystupidspell, and I never used it.Boy,what Iwouldn’tgive tobe able todo that in real liferightnow.Anyway.That’s aproblem
fortomorrow.For tonight, I have to get
back to Three’s Company. Istopped last night in themiddle of the episode whereMr.Ropersawsomethingandtookitoutofcontext.
LOGENTRY:SOL30
I have an idioticallydangerousplanforgettingthewater I need. And boy, do Imeandangerous. But I don’thavemuchchoice.I’moutofideasandI’mdueforanotherdirt-doubling in a few days.WhenIdothefinaldoubling,I’llbedoublingon toall thatnewsoil I’vebrought in. If Idon’twetitfirst,it’lljustdie.There isn’t a lot of water
here onMars. There’s ice atthe poles, but they’re too faraway. If I want water, I’llhavetomakeitfromscratch.Fortunately, I know therecipe: Take hydrogen. Addoxygen.Burn.Let’s take them one at a
time.I’llstartwithoxygen.I have a fair bit of O2
reserves, but not enough tomake250litersofwater.Twohigh-pressure tanks at one
endof theHabaremyentiresupply (plus the air in theHab of course). They eachcontain25litersof liquidO2.TheHabwouldusethemonlyin an emergency; it has theoxygenator to balance theatmosphere. The reason theO2 tanks are here is to feedthespacesuitsandrovers.Anyway, the reserve
oxygen would only beenough tomake100 litersof
water (50 liters of O2makes100 liters of molecules thatonly have oneO each). ThatwouldmeannoEVAsforme,and no emergency reserves.And itwouldmake less thanhalf thewater I need.Out ofthequestion.Butoxygen’seasiertofind
on Mars than you mightthink. The atmosphere is 95percentCO2.AndIhappentohave a machine whose sole
purpose is liberating oxygenfromCO2.Yay,oxygenator!One problem: The
atmosphereisverythin—lessthan1percentofthepressureon Earth. So it’s hard tocollect. Getting air fromoutside to inside is nearlyimpossible. The wholepurposeoftheHabistokeepthat sort of thing fromhappening. The tiny amountof Martian atmosphere that
enters when I use an airlockislaughable.That’s where the MAV
fuelplantcomesin.My crewmates took away
theMAVweeksago.Butthebottom half of it stayedbehind. NASA isn’t in thehabit of putting unnecessarymass into orbit. The landinggear, ingress ramp, and fuelplantarestillhere.Rememberhow theMAVmade its own
fuel with help from theMartian atmosphere? Stepone of that is to collect CO2
andstoreitinahigh-pressurevessel. Once I get the fuelplanthookedup to theHab’spower, it’ll give me half aliter of liquid CO2 per hour,indefinitely. After ten solsit’ll have made 125 liters ofCO2, which will make 125liters of O2 after I feed itthroughtheoxygenator.
That’senoughtomake250liters of water. So I have aplanforoxygen.The hydrogen will be a
littletrickier.I considered raiding the
hydrogen fuel cells, but Ineed those batteries tomaintain power at night. If Idon’t have that, it’ll get toocold. I could bundle up, butthecoldwouldkillmycrops.Andeachfuelcellhasonlya
small amount of H2 anyway.It’s justnotworth sacrificingso much usefulness for solittle gain. The one thing Ihave going for me is thatenergy is not a problem. Idon’twanttogivethatup.So I’ll have to go a
differentroute.I often talk about the
MAV.ButnowIwanttotalkabouttheMDV.During the most terrifying
twenty-three minutes of mylife, four of my crewmatesand I tried not to shitourselves while MartinezpilotedtheMDVdowntothesurface. It was kind of likebeinginatumble-dryer.First, we descended from
Hermes, and decelerated ourorbital velocity so we couldstart falling properly.Everything was smooth untilwehittheatmosphere.Ifyou
thinkturbulenceisroughinajetliner going 720 kph, justimagine what it’s like at28,000kph.Several staged sets of
chutes deployedautomatically to slow ourdescent, then Martinezmanually piloted us to theground,using the thrusters toslow descent and control ourlateral motion. He’d trainedfor this for years, and he did
his job extraordinarily well.He exceeded all plausibleexpectations of landings,putting us just nine metersfrom the target.The guy justplainownedthatlanding.Thanks, Martinez! You
mayhavesavedmylife!Not because of the perfect
landing, but because he leftso much fuel behind.Hundreds of liters of unusedhydrazine. Each molecule of
hydrazine has four hydrogenatoms in it. So each liter ofhydrazine has enoughhydrogen for two liters ofwater.Idida littleEVAtoday to
check. The MDV has 292litersofjuiceleftinthetanks.Enough to make almost 600liters of water! Way morethanIneed!There’s just one catch:
Liberating hydrogen from
hydrazine is…well…it’s howrockets work. It’s really,really hot.And dangerous. IfI do it in an oxygenatmosphere, the hot andnewlyliberatedhydrogenwillexplode. There’ll be a lot ofH2Oattheend,butI’llbetoodeadtoappreciateit.At its root, hydrazine is
pretty simple. The Germansused it as far back asWorldWar II for rocket-assisted
fighter fuel (andoccasionallyblewthemselvesupwithit).Allyouhavetodoisrunit
over a catalyst (which I canextract from the MDVengine) and it will turn intonitrogen and hydrogen. I’llspare you the chemistry, butthe end result is that fivemolecules of hydrazinebecomes five molecules ofharmless N2 and tenmolecules of lovely H2.
During this process, it goesthrough an intermediate stepof being ammonia.Chemistry, being the sloppybitch it is, ensures there’llbesome ammonia that doesn’treact with the hydrazine, soit’ll just stay ammonia. Youlike the smell of ammonia?Well, it’llbeprevalent inmyincreasinglyhellishexistence.The chemistry is on my
side. The question now is
how do I actually make thisreaction happen slowly, andhow do I collect thehydrogen? The answer is: Idon’tknow.I suppose I’ll think of
something.Ordie.Anyway, much more
important: I simply can’tabide the replacement ofChrissy with Cindy. Three’sCompany may never be thesame after this fiasco. Time
willtell.
CHAPTER4
LOGENTRY:SOL32
So I ran into a bunch ofproblemswithmywaterplan.My idea is to make 600
litersofwater(limitedbythehydrogen I can get from thehydrazine). That means I’llneed300litersofliquidO2.I can create the O2 easily
enough.IttakestwentyhoursfortheMAVfuelplanttofillits 10-liter tank with CO2.The oxygenator can turn it
intoO2, then theatmosphericregulator will see the O2
content in the Hab is high,and pull it out of the air,storing it in the main O2
tanks. They’ll fill up, so I’llhavetotransferO2overtotherovers’ tanks and even thespacesuittanksasnecessary.But I can’t create it very
quickly.AthalfaliterofCO2
per hour, itwill take twenty-fivedaystomaketheoxygen
Ineed.That’slongerthanI’dlike.Also, there’s the problem
of storing the hydrogen. Theair tanks of the Hab, therovers,andallthespacesuitsadduptoexactly374litersofstorage. To hold all thematerials for water, I wouldneedawhopping900litersofstorage.I considered using one of
the rovers as a “tank.” It
would certainly be bigenough, but it just isn’tdesignedtoholdinthatmuchpressure. It’s made to hold(you guessed it) oneatmosphere. I need vesselsthat can hold fifty times thatmuch.I’msurearoverwouldburst.The best way to store the
ingredients of water is tomake them be water. Sowhat’swhatI’llhavetodo.
Theconceptissimple,buttheexecution will be incrediblydangerous.Every twenty hours, I’ll
have 10 liters of CO2 thanksto the MAV fuel plant. I’llvent it into the Hab via thehighly scientific method ofdetaching the tank from theMAVlandingstruts,bringingit into theHab, then openingthevalveuntilit’sempty.Theoxygenatorwillturnit
intooxygeninitsowntime.Then, I’ll release
hydrazine, very slowly, overtheiridiumcatalyst,toturnitintoN2andH2. I’lldirect thehydrogen toa smallareaandburnit.As you can see, this plan
provides many opportunitiesfor me to die in a fieryexplosion.Firstly, hydrazine is some
serious death. If I make any
mistakes, there’ll be nothingleft but the “Mark WatneyMemorial Crater” where theHaboncestood.Presuming I don’t fuck up
with the hydrazine, there’sstill the matter of burninghydrogen. I’m going to besettinga fire. In theHab.Onpurpose.If you asked every
engineer at NASA what theworst scenario for the Hab
was,they’dallanswer“fire.”If you asked them what theresult would be, they’danswer“deathbyfire.”But if I canpull itoff, I’ll
be making watercontinuously,withnoneedtostore hydrogen or oxygen.It’ll be mixed into theatmosphere as humidity, butthe water reclaimer will pullitout.I don’t even have to
perfectlymatchthehydrazineend of it with the fuel plantCO2 part. There’s plenty ofoxygenintheHab,andplentymoreinreserve.Ijustneedtomake sure not to make somuchwater I runmyself outofO2.IhookeduptheMAVfuel
plant to the Hab’s powersupply.Fortunately theybothuse the same voltage. It’schugging away, collecting
CO2forme.Half-rationfordinner.AllI
accomplished today wasthinkingup aplan that’ll killme, and that doesn’t takemuchenergy.I’mgoing to finish off the
last of Three’s Companytonight. Frankly, I like Mr.FurleymorethantheRopers.
LOGENTRY:SOL33
Thismaybemylastentry.I’ve known since Sol 6
there was a good chance I’ddie here. But I figured itwould be when I ran out offood. I didn’t think it wouldbethisearly.I’m about to fire up the
hydrazine.Our mission was designed
knowing that anythingmightneed maintenance, so I have
plenty of tools. Even in aspace suit, I was able to prythe access panels off theMDV and get at the sixhydrazinetanks.Isetthemintheshadowofarovertokeepthem from heating up toomuch. There’s more shadeandacoolertemperaturenearthe Hab, but fuck that. Ifthey’re going to blow up,theycanblowuparover,notmyhouse.
Then I pried out thereaction chamber. It tooksomeworkand Icracked thedamnthinginhalf,butIgotitout. Lucky for me I don’tneedaproperfuelreaction.Infact, I really, super-duperdon’t want a proper fuelreaction.I brought the reaction
chamber in. I brieflyconsidered only bringing onetankofhydrazineinatatime
to reduce risk. But someback-of-the-napkin math toldmeevenonetankwasenoughtoblowthewholeHabup.SoI brought them all in. Whynot?The tanks have manual
vent valves. I’m not 100percentsurewhatthey’refor.Certainly we were neverexpected touse them. I thinkthey’re there to releasepressure during the many
quality checks done duringconstruction and beforefueling.Whatever thereason,I have valves to work with.Allittakesisawrench.I liberated a spare water
hose from the waterreclaimer. With some threadtorn out of a uniform (sorry,Johanssen), I attached it tothevalveoutput.Hydrazineisaliquid,soallIhavetodoislead it to the reaction
chamber(moreofa“reactionbowl”now).Meanwhile, theMAV fuel
plant is still working. I’vealreadybroughtinonetankofCO2,ventedit,andreturneditforrefilling.So there are no more
excuses. It’s time to startmakingwater.If you find the charred
remainsoftheHab,itmeansIdid something wrong. I’m
copying this logover tobothrovers,soit’smorelikelyit’llsurvive.Heregoesnothin’.
LOGENTRY:SOL33(2)
Well,Ididn’tdie.FirstthingIdidwasputon
the inner lining of my EVAsuit.Not thebulkysuit itself,just the innerclothing Iwearunder it, including theglovesand booties. Then I got anoxygen mask from themedical supplies and somelab goggles from Vogel’schem kit. Almost all of mybodywasprotectedandIwas
breathingcannedair.Why?Becausehydrazineis
very toxic. If I breathe toomuchofit,I’llgetmajorlungproblems. If I get it on myskin,I’llhavechemicalburnsfor the rest of my life. Iwasn’ttakinganychances.I turned the valve until a
trickleofhydrazinecameout.I let one drop fall into theiridiumbowl.It undramatically sizzled
anddisappeared.But hey, that’s what I
wanted. I just freed uphydrogenandnitrogen.Yay!One thing I have in
abundance here are bags.They’re not much differentfrom kitchen trash bags,though I’m sure they cost$50,000becauseofNASA.In addition to being our
commander, Lewis was alsothe geologist. Shewas going
to collect rock and soilsamples from all over theoperational area (10-kilometer radius). Weightlimits restricted how muchshecouldactuallybringbacktoEarth,soshewasgoingtocollect first, then sort out themostinteresting50kilogramsto takehome.Thebagswereto store and tag the samples.Some are smaller than aZiploc, while others are asbig as aHefty lawn and leaf
bag.Also, I have duct tape.
Ordinary duct tape, like youbuy at a hardware store.Turns out even NASA can’timproveonducttape.I cut up a fewHefty-sized
bagsandtapedthemtogethertomakeasortoftent.Reallyit was more of a supersizedbag. I was able to cover thewhole table where myhydrazinemadscientistsetup
was.Iputafewknickknackson the table to keep theplastic out of the iridiumbowl. Thankfully, the bagsare clear, so I can still seewhat’sgoingon.Next, I sacrificed a space
suit to thecause.Ineededanair hose. I have a surplus ofspace suits, after all. A totalof six; one for each crewmember. So I don’t mindmurderingoneofthem.
Icutaholeinthetopoftheplastic and duct-taped thehose in place. Nice seal, Ithink.With some more string
from Johannsen’s clothing, Ihung the other end of thehose from the top of theHab’s dome by two angledthreads (to keep them wellclear of the hose opening).Now I had a little chimney.The hose was about one
centimeterwide.Hopefully agoodaperture.The hydrogen will be hot
after the reaction, and it’llwanttogoup.SoI’llletitgoup the chimney, then burn itasitcomesout.ThenIhadtoinventfire.NASA put a lot of effort
intomakingsurenothingherecanburn.Everythingismadeof metal or flame-retardantplastic and the uniforms are
synthetic.Ineededsomethingthatcouldholdaflame,somekind of pilot light. I don’thavetheskillstokeepenoughH2 flowing to feed a flamewithout killing myself. Toonarrowamarginthere.After a search of
everyone’s personal items(hey, if theywanted privacy,they shouldn’t haveabandoned me onMars withtheir stuff) I found my
answer.Martinez is a devout
Catholic.Iknewthat.WhatIdidn’t know was he broughtalong a small wooden cross.I’msureNASAgavehimshitabout it, but I also knowMartinez isone stubborn sonofabitch.I chipped his sacred
religious item into longsplintersusingapairofpliersand a screwdriver. I figure if
there’s a God, He won’tmind, considering thesituationI’min.Ifruiningtheonlyreligious
icon I have leaves mevulnerable to Martianvampires,I’llhavetoriskit.Therewereplentyofwires
and batteries around tomakea spark. But you can’t justignite wood with a smallelectric spark. So I collectedribbons of bark from local
palm trees, thengot a coupleof sticks and rubbed themtogether to create enoughfrictionto…Nonotreally.Iventedpure
oxygen at the stick and gaveit a spark. It lit up like amatch.With my mini-torch in
hand, I started a slowhydrazine flow. It sizzled onthe iridium and disappeared.Soon I had short bursts of
flame sputtering from thechimney.The main thing I had to
watch was the temperature.Hydrazine breaking down isextremely exothermic. So Idid it a bit at a time,constantly watching thereadoutofathermocoupleI’dattached to the iridiumchamber.Point is, the process
worked!
Each hydrazine tank holdsa little over 50 liters, whichwouldbeenoughtomake100litersofwater.I’mlimitedbymy oxygen production, butI’m all excited now, so I’mwilling to use half myreserves. Long story short,I’llstopwhenthetankishalf-empty,and I’llhave50 litersofwaterattheend!
LOGENTRY:SOL34
Well, that took a really longtime. I’vebeenat it all nightwith thehydrazine.But I gotthejobdone.I could have finished
faster,but I figuredcaution’sbest when setting fire torocket fuel in an enclosedspace.Boyis thisplacea tropical
junglenow,I’lltellya.It’s almost 30°C in here,
and humid as all hell. I justdumpeda tonofheat and50litersofwaterintotheair.During this process, the
poor Hab had to be themother of a messy toddler.It’s been replacing theoxygen I’ve used, and thewater reclaimer is trying togetthehumiditydowntosanelevels. Nothing to be doneabout the heat. There’sactually no air-conditioning
in the Hab. Mars is cold.Getting rid of excess heatisn’t something we expectedtodealwith.I’ve now grown
accustomed to hearing thealarmsblareatall times.Thefirealarmhasfinallystopped,nowthatthere’snomorefire.Thelowoxygenalarmshouldstopsoon.Thehighhumidityalarmwilltakealittlelonger.The water reclaimer has its
workcutoutforittoday.For a moment, there was
yet another alarm.Thewaterreclaimer’s main tank wasfull.Booyah!That’s thekindofproblemIwanttohave!Remember the space suit I
vandalized yesterday? I hungit on its rack and carriedbuckets of water to it fromthe reclaimer. It can hold anatmosphereofairin.Itshouldbe able to handle a few
bucketsofwater.ManI’mtired.Beenupall
night, and it’s time to sleep.ButI’lldriftofftodreamlandinthebestmoodI’vebeeninsinceSol6.Things are finally going
my way. In fact, they’regoing great! I have a chancetoliveafterall!
LOGENTRY:SOL37
I am fucked, and I’m gonnadie!Okay,calmdown.I’msure
Icangetaroundthis.I’mwritingthislogtoyou,
dear future Marsarchaeologist, from Rover 2.You may wonder why I’mnot in the Hab right now.BecauseIfledinterror,that’swhy!And I’m not surewhatthehelltodonext.
I guess I should explainwhat happened. If this ismylast entry, you’ll at leastknowwhy.Over the past few days,
I’ve been happily makingwater. It’s been goingswimmingly. (Seewhat I didthere?“Swimmingly”?)IevenbeefeduptheMAV
fuel plant compressor. Itwasverytechnical(Iincreasedthevoltage to thepump).So I’m
making water even fasternow.Aftermyinitialburstof50
liters,Idecidedtosettledownand justmake it at the rate IgetO2. I’mnotwilling to gobelow a 25-liter reserve. Sowhen I dip too low, I stopdickingwithhydrazineuntilIget the O2 back up to wellabove25liters.Importantnote:WhenIsay
I made 50 liters of water,
that’sanassumption. Ididn’treclaim 50 liters of water.The additional soil I’d filledthe Hab with was extremelydryandgreedily suckedupalot of the humidity. That’swhere Iwant thewater togoanyway, so I’m not worried,and I wasn’t surprised whenthe reclaimer didn’t getanywherenear50liters.Iget10litersofCO2every
fifteen hours now that I
souped up the pump. I’vedone this process four times.My math tells me that,including my initial 50-literburst, I should have added130 liters of water to thesystem.Wellmymathwasadamn
liar!I’d gained 70 liters in the
water reclaimer and thespace-suit-turned-water-tank.There’s plenty of
condensationonthewallsanddomed roof, and the soil iscertainly absorbing its fairshare. But that doesn’taccount for 60 liters ofmissing water. Somethingwaswrong.That’s when I noticed the
otherO2tank.The Hab has two reserve
O2tanks.Oneoneachsideofthe structure, for safetyreasons. TheHab can decide
whichonetousewheneveritwants. Turns out it’s beentopping off the atmospherefromTank1.ButwhenIaddO2 to the system (via theoxygenator), the Hab evenlydistributes the gain betweenthe two tanks. Tank 2 hasbeenslowlygainingoxygen.That’s not a problem. The
Hab is justdoing its job.Butit does mean I’ve beengainingO2 over time.Which
means I’m not consuming itasfastasIthought.At first, I thought “Yay!
More oxygen! Now I canmakewater faster!”But thena more disturbing thoughtoccurredtome.Follow my logic: I’m
gaining O2. But the amountI’m bringing in from outsideis constant. So the only wayto“gain”itistobeusinglessthan I thought.But I’vebeen
doing the hydrazine reactionwith the assumption that Iwasusingallofit.The only possible
explanation is that I haven’tbeen burning all the releasedhydrogen.It’s obvious now, in
retrospect. But it neveroccurred to me that some ofthe hydrogen just wouldn’tburn. It got past the flame,and went on its merry way.
Damn it, Jim, I’mabotanist,notachemist!Chemistry is messy, so
there’sunburnedhydrogen intheair.Allaroundme.Mixedin with the oxygen. Just…hanging out. Waiting for aspark so it canblow theHabup!OnceIfiguredthisoutand
composed myself, I got aZiploc-sized sample bag andwaved it around a bit, then
sealedit.Then, a quick EVA to a
rover, where we keep theatmospheric analyzers.Nitrogen: 22 percent.Oxygen: 9 percent.Hydrogen:64percent.I’vebeenhidinghereinthe
rovereversince.It’s Hydrogenville in the
Hab.I’m very lucky it hasn’t
blown. Even a small static
discharge would have led tomyownprivateHindenburg.So, I’mhere inRover 2. I
can stay for a day or two,tops, before the CO2 filtersfrom the rover andmy spacesuitfillup.Ihavethatlongtofigure out how to deal withthis.TheHabisnowabomb.
CHAPTER5
LOGENTRY:SOL38
I’m still cowering in therover, but I’ve had time tothink. And I know how todealwiththehydrogen.I thought about the
atmosphericregulator.Itpaysattention to what’s in the airand balances it. That’s howthe excess O2 I’ve beenimporting ends up in thetanks.Problemis,it’sjustnotbuilt to pull hydrogen out of
theair.The regulator uses freeze-
separation to sort out thegasses. When it decidesthere’s too much oxygen, itstarts collecting air in a tankand cooling it to 90 kelvin.That makes the oxygen turnto liquid, but leaves thenitrogen (condensation point:77K) still gaseous. Then itstorestheO2.ButIcan’tgetittodothat
for hydrogen, becausehydrogen needs to be below21K to turn liquid. And theregulator just can’t gettemperatures that low. Deadend.Here’sthesolution:Hydrogen is dangerous
becauseitcanblowup.Butitcan only blow up if there’soxygen around. Hydrogenwithout oxygen is harmless.Andtheregulatorisallabout
pullingoxygenoutoftheair.There are four different
safety interlocks that preventthe regulator from letting theHab’soxygencontentgettoolow. But they’re designed toworkagainst technical faults,not deliberate sabotage (bwahaha!).Long story short, I can
tricktheregulatorintopullingalltheoxygenoutoftheHab.Then I canwear a space suit
(so I can breathe) and dowhatever Iwantwithout fearofblowingup.I’lluseanO2tanktospray
short bursts of oxygen at thehydrogen, and make a sparkwith a couple ofwires and abattery. It’ll set thehydrogenon fire, but only until thesmall bit of oxygen isusedup.I’ll just do that over and
over, in controlled bursts,
until I’ve burned off all thehydrogen.One tiny flaw with that
plan:It’llkillmydirt.Thedirt isonlyviable soil
because of the bacteriagrowinginit.IfIgetridofallthe oxygen, the bacteria willdie. I don’t have 100 billionlittlespacesuitshandy.It’shalfasolutionanyway.Time to take a break from
thinking.
CommanderLewiswasthelastonetousethisrover.ShewasscheduledtouseitagainonSol7,but shewenthomeinstead. Her personal travelkit’s still in theback.Riflingthrough it, I found a proteinbar and a personal USB,probably full of music tolistentoonthedrive.Time to chow down and
see what the goodcommanderbroughtalongfor
music.
LOGENTRYSOL38(2)
Disco.Goddamnit,Lewis.
LOGENTRY:SOL39
IthinkI’vegotit.Soil bacteria are used to
winters.Theyget lessactive,and require less oxygen tosurvive. I can lower theHabtemperature to 1°C, andthey’ll nearly hibernate. ThissortofthinghappensonEarthallthetime.Theycansurvivea couple of days thisway. Ifyou’re wondering howbacteria on Earth survive
longer periods of cold, theansweristheydon’t.Bacteriafrom further undergroundwhere it is warmer breedupward to replace the deadones.They’ll still need some
oxygen,butnotmuch.Ithinka 1 percent content will dothe trick. That leaves a littlein the air for the bacteria tobreathe, but not enough tomaintain a fire. So the
hydrogenwon’tblowup.But that leads to yet
another problem. The potatoplantswon’tliketheplan.They don’t mind the lack
of oxygen, but the cold willkill them.So I’ll have to potthem(bagthem,actually)andmove them to a rover. Theyhaven’tevensproutedyet, soit’snotliketheyneedlight.It was surprisingly
annoying to find a way to
make the heat stay on whentherover’sunoccupied.But Ifigured it out. After all, I’vegotnothingbuttimeinhere.
So that’s the plan. First, bagthe potato plants and bringthem to the rover (makesureitkeeps thedamnheateron).Then drop the Habtemperature to 1°C. Thenreduce the O2 content to 1percent. Then burn off thehydrogen with a battery,
somewires,andatankofO2.Yeah. This all sounds like
agreatideawithnochanceofcatastrophicfailure.That was sarcasm, by the
way.Well,offIgo.
LOGENTRY:SOL40
Things weren’t 100 percentsuccessful.They say no plan survives
first contact withimplementation. I’d have toagree.Here’swhathappened:I summoned up the
courage to return to theHab.OnceIgotthere,Ifeltalittlemore confident. EverythingwashowI’dleftit.(WhatdidIexpect?Martianslootingmy
stuff?)Itwouldtakeawhiletolet
theHabcool,soIstartedthatright away by turning thetemperaturedownto1°C.I bagged thepotatoplants,
andgotachancetocheckupon them while I was at it.They’re rooting nicely andabout to sprout. One thing Ihadn’taccountedforwashowtobringthemfromtheHabtotherovers.
The answer was prettyeasy. I put all of them inMartinez’s space suit.Then Idraggeditoutwithmetotherover I’d set up as atemporarynursery.Making sure to jimmy the
heater to stay on, I headedbacktotheHab.By the time I got back, it
was already chilly. Down to5°C already. Shivering andwatchingmybreathcondense
in front of me, I threw onextra layers of clothes.FortunatelyI’mnotaverybigman. Martinez’s clothes fitover mine, and Vogel’s fitoverMartinez’s.These shittyclothes were designed to beworn in a temperature-controlledenvironment.Evenwith three layers, I was stillcold.Iclimbedintomybunkandunderthecoversformorewarmth.
Once the temperature gotto1°C,Iwaitedanotherhour,justtomakesurethebacteriain thedirt got thememo thatitwastimetotakeitslow.ThenextproblemIraninto
wastheregulator.Despitemyswaggering confidence, Iwasn’t able to outwit it. Itreally does not want to pulltoo much O2 out of the air.The lowest I could get it towas 15 percent.After that, it
flatlyrefusedtogolower,andnothing I didmattered. I hadall these plans about gettinginandreprogramming it.Butthe safety protocols turnedouttobeinROMs.I can’t blame it. Its whole
purpose is to prevent theatmosphere from becominglethal. Nobody at NASAthought, “Hey, let’s allow afatal lackofoxygen thatwillmakeeveryonedropdead!”
So I had to use a moreprimitiveplan.The regulator uses a
different set of vents for airsampling than it does formain air separation. The airthat gets freeze-separatedcomes in through a singlelarge vent on the main unit.But it samples the air fromnine small vents that pipeback to the main unit. Thatwayitgetsagoodaverageof
the Hab, and one localizedimbalancewon’tthrowitoff.I taped up eight of the
intakes, leaving only one ofthemactive.ThenItapedthemouth of a Hefty-sized bagover the neck-hole of aspacesuit (Johanssen’s thistime).In thebackof thebag,I poked a small hole andtaped it over the remainingintake.Then I inflated the bag
with pure O2 from the suit’stanks. “Holy shit!” theregulator thought, “I betterpullO2outrightaway!”Workedgreat!I decided not to wear a
space suit after all. Theatmospheric pressure wasgoingtobefine.AllIneededwasoxygen.SoIgrabbedanO2canisterandbreathermaskfrom the medical bay. Thatway,Ihadahellofalotmore
freedom of motion. It evenhad a rubber band to keep itonmyface!Though Ididneeda space
suittomonitortheactualHaboxygen level, now that theHab’s main computer wasconvinced itwas100percentO2. Let’s see…Martinez’sspace suit was in the rover.Johanssen’s was outwittingthe regulator. Lewis’s wasserving as a water tank. I
didn’t want to mess withmine (hey, it’s custom-fitted!). That left me twospacesuitstoworkwith.IgrabbedVogel’s suit and
activated the internal airsensors while leaving thehelmet off. Once the oxygendropped to 12 percent, I putthe breather mask on. Iwatched it fall further andfurther. When it reached 1percent, I cut power to the
regulator.I may not be able to
reprogramtheregulator,butIcan turn the bastard offcompletely.The Hab has emergency
flashlights in many locationsin case of critical powerfailure. I tore the LED bulbsout of one and left the twofrayedpowerwiresveryclosetogether.Now,whenIturnediton,Igotasmallspark.
Taking a canister of O2
fromVogel’s suit, I attachedastraptobothendsandslungit over my shoulder. Then Iattachedanairlinetothetankand crimped it with mythumb. I turned on a veryslow trickle of O2; smallenough that it couldn’toverpowerthecrimp.Standing on the tablewith
asparkerinonehandandmyoxygen line in the other, I
reachedupandgaveitatry.And holy hell, it worked!
Blowing the O2 over thesparker, I flicked the switchon the flashlight and awonderful jet of flame firedoutofthetube.Thefirealarmwent off, of course. But I’dheard it so much lately, Ibarelynoticeditanymore.Then I did it again. And
again. Short bursts. Nothingflashy. I was happy to take
mytime.Iwas elated!Thiswas the
bestplanever!NotonlywasIclearing out the hydrogen, Iwasmakingmorewater!Everythingwentgreatright
uptotheexplosion.
One minute I was happilyburning hydrogen; the next Iwas on the other side of theHab, and a lot of stuff wasknocked over. I stumbled to
my feet and saw the Hab indisarray.Myfirst thoughtwas:“My
earshurtlikehell!”Then I thought, “I’m
dizzy,” and fell tomyknees.Then I fell prone. Iwas thatdizzy.Igropedmyheadwithboth hands, looking for ahead wound I desperatelyhoped would not be there.Nothingseemedtobeamiss.But feeling all over my
head and face revealed thetrue problem. My oxygenmask had been ripped off inthe blast. I was breathingnearlypurenitrogen.The floor was covered in
junk from all over the Hab.No hope of finding themedicalO2 tank.No hope offindinganything in thismessbeforeIpassedout.Then I saw Lewis’s suit
hanging right where it
belonged. It hadn’tmoved intheblast.Itwasheavytostartwith and had 70 liters ofwaterinit.I rushed over, quickly
crankedon theO2, and stuckmy head into the neck hole(I’dremovedthehelmetlongago, for easy access to thewater). I breathed a bit untilthedizzinessfaded,thentookadeepbreathandheldit.Still holding my breath, I
glancedovertothespacesuitand Hefty bag I’d used tooutsmart the regulator. Thebad news is I’d neverremoved them. The goodnews is the explosionremoved them. Eight of thenine intakes for the regulatorwerestillbagged,butthisonewouldatleasttellthetruth.Stumbling over to the
regulator,Iturneditbackon.After a two-second boot
process (itwasmade to startup fast for obvious reasons),it immediately identified theproblem.The shrill low-oxygen
alarm blared throughout theHab as the regulator dumpedpure oxygen into theatmosphereasfastasitsafelycould. Separating oxygenfrom the atmosphere isdifficultandtime-consuming,but adding it is as simple as
openingavalve.I clambered over debris
back to Lewis’s space suitand putmy head back in formore good air. Within threeminutes, the regulator hadbroughttheHaboxygenbackuptopar.I noticed for the first time
howburnedmyclothingwas.It was a good time to bewearing three layers ofclothes. Mostly the damage
wasonmysleeves.Theouterlayer was gone. The middlelayer was singed and burnedclean through in places. Theinnerlayer,myownuniform,was in reasonably goodshape.LookslikeIluckedoutagain.Also,glancingattheHab’s
main computer, I saw thetemperature had gone up to15°C. Something very hotand very explodey had
happened, and I wasn’t surewhat.Orhow.And that’s where I am
now. Wondering what thehellhappened.After all that work and
getting blown up, I’mexhausted. Tomorrow I’llhave to do a millionequipment checks and try tofigureoutwhatexploded,butfornowIjustwanttosleep.I’m in the rover again
tonight. Even with thehydrogen gone, I’m reluctanttohangoutinaHabthathasahistoryof exploding fornoreason. Plus, I can’t be surethereisn’taleak.This time, I brought a
proper meal, and somethingtolistentothatisn’tdisco.
LOGENTRY:SOL41
I spent the day running fulldiagnostics on every systemin theHab. Itwas incrediblyboring, but my survivaldepends on these machines,so it had to be done. I can’tjust assume an explosion didnolong-termdamage.Idid themostcritical tests
first. Number one was theintegrityoftheHabcanvas.Ifeltprettyconfident itwas in
goodshape,becauseI’dspenta few hours asleep in therover before returning to theHab, and the pressure wasstill good. The computerreported no change inpressureover that time,otherthan a minor fluctuationbasedontemperature.Then I checked the
oxygenator. If that stopsworkingandIcan’tfixit,I’madeadman.Noproblems.
Then the atmosphericregulator.Again,noproblem.Heating unit, primary
battery array, O2 and N2
storage tanks, waterreclaimer, all three airlocks,lighting systems, maincomputer…onandonIwent,feeling better and better aseach system proved to be inperfectworkingorder.Got to hand it to NASA.
They don’t screw around
whenmakingthisstuff.Then came the critical
part…checking the dirt. Itook a few samples from allover theHab (remember, it’sall dirt flooring now) andmadeslides.Withshakinghands,Iputa
slideintothemicroscopeandbrought the image up on-screen. There they were!Healthy,activebacteriadoingtheir thing! Looks like I
won’tbestarvingtodeathonSol 400 after all. I ploppeddown in a chair and let mybreathingreturntonormal.Then I set about cleaning
up themess.And I had a lotof time to think about whathadhappened.Sowhathappened?Well,I
haveatheory.According to the main
computer, during the blast,theinternalpressurespikedto
1.4 atmospheres, and thetemperature rose to 15°C inunder a second. But thepressure quickly subsidedback to 1 atm. This wouldmakesenseiftheatmosphericregulatorwereon,butI’dcutpowertoit.The temperature remained
at 15°C for some timeafterward, so any heatexpansion should still havebeenpresent.Butthepressure
dropped down again, sowhere did that extra pressurego? Raising the temperatureandkeepingthesamenumberof atoms inside shouldpermanently raise thepressure.Butitdidn’t.I quickly realized the
answer. The hydrogen (theonly available thing to burn)combinedwithoxygen(hencecombustion) and becamewater. Water is a thousand
times as dense as a gas. Sothe heat added to thepressure, and thetransformation of hydrogenand oxygen into waterbroughtitbackdownagain.Themilliondollarquestion
is, where the hell did theoxygen come from? Thewhole plan was to limitoxygen and keep anexplosion from happening.And itwasworkingforquite
awhilebeforeblowingup.I think I have my answer.
And it comes down to mebrain-farting. RememberwhenIdecidednot towearaspace suit? That decisionalmostkilledme.ThemedicalO2tankmixes
pureoxygenwithsurroundingair, then feeds it to youthrough a mask. The maskstaysonyourfacewithalittlerubberband thatgoesaround
thebackofyourneck.Notanairtightseal.I know what you’re
thinking. The mask leakedoxygen. But no. I wasbreathingtheoxygen.WhenIwasinhaling,Imadeanearlyairtightsealwiththemaskbysuckingittomyface.Theproblemwasexhaling.
Do you know how muchoxygenyouabsorboutoftheair when you take a normal
breath? I don’t know either,but it’s not 100 percent.EverytimeIexhaled,Iaddedmoreoxygentothesystem.It just didn’t occur to me.
But it should have. If yourlungs grabbed up all theoxygen, mouth-to-mouthresuscitation wouldn’t work.I’m such a dumb-ass for notthinkingofit!Andmydumb-asseryalmostgotmekilled!I’mreallygoingtohaveto
bemorecareful.It’s a good thing I burned
off most of the hydrogenbefore the explosion.Otherwise that would havebeen the end. As it is, theexplosion wasn’t strongenough to pop the Hab.Though itwasstrongenoughto almost blast my eardrumsin.This all started with me
noticinga60-litershortfallin
water production. Betweendeliberate burn-off and a bitofunexpectedexplosion, I’mback on track. The waterreclaimerdiditsjoblastnightand pulled 50 liters of thenewly created water out ofthe air. It’s storing it inLewis’s spacesuit, which I’llcall “The Cistern” from nowon, because it sounds cooler.The other 10 liters of waterwas directly absorbed by thedrysoil.
Lots of physical labortoday.I’veearnedafullmeal.And to celebrate my firstnight back in the Hab, I’llkick back and watch someshitty twentieth-century TVcourtesy of CommanderLewis.TheDukesofHazzard,eh?
Let’sgiveitawhirl.
LOGENTRY:SOL42
I slept in late today. Ideserved it.After four nightsof awful sleep in the rover,mybunk felt like the softest,most profoundly beautifulfeatherbedevermade.Eventually, I dragged my
ass out of bed and finishedsomepost-explosioncleanup.I moved the potato plants
back in today. And just intime, too. They’re sprouting.
Theylookhealthyandhappy.This isn’t chemistry,medicine, bacteriology,nutrition analysis, explosiondynamics, or any other shitI’vebeendoinglately.Thisisbotany.I’msureIcanatleastgrow some plants withoutscrewingup.Right?You know what really
sucks? I’ve only made 130litersofwater.Ihaveanother
470 liters to go.You’d thinkafter almost killing myselftwice, I’d be able to stopscrewing around withhydrazine. But nope. I’ll bereducing hydrazine andburninghydrogenintheHab,every ten hours, for anotherten days. I’ll do a better jobof it fromnowon.Insteadofcounting on a clean reaction,I’ll do frequent “hydrogencleanings” with a smallflame.It’llburnoffgradually
insteadofbuildinguptokill-Marklevels.I’llhavealotofdeadtime.
Ten hours for each tank ofCO2 to finish filling. It onlytakes twenty minutes toreduce the hydrazine andburn thehydrogen. I’ll spendthe rest of the timewatchingTV.And seriously…It’s clear
thatGeneralLeecanoutrunapolice cruiser. Why doesn’t
Rosco just go to the Dukefarm and arrest them whenthey’renotinthecar?
CHAPTER6
VENKAT KAPOOR returned to hisoffice, dropped his briefcaseon the floor, and collapsedintohisleatherchair.Hetooka moment to look out thewindows. His office inBuilding 1 afforded him acommanding view of thelargeparkinthecenteroftheJohnson Space Centercomplex.Beyondthat,dozens
of scattered buildingsdominated the view all theway to Mud Lake in thedistance.Glancing at his computer
screen, he noted forty-sevenunread e-mails urgentlydemanding his attention.They could wait. Today hadbeen a sad day. Today wasthe memorial service forMarkWatney.The President had given a
speech, praising Watney’sbraveryandsacrifice,andthequick actions of CommanderLewis in getting everyoneelse to safety. CommanderLewisandthesurvivingcrew,via long-rangecommunicationfromHermes,gave eulogies for theirdeparted comrade from deepspace. They had another tenmonths of travel yet toendure.
The administrator hadgiven a speech as well,reminding everyone thatspace flight is incrediblydangerous, and that we willnotbackdown in the faceofadversity.They’daskedVenkat ifhe
waswillingtomakeaspeech.He’ddeclined.Whatwas thepoint? Watney was dead.Nicewords from thedirectorof Mars operations wouldn’t
bringhimback.“Youokay,Venk?”camea
familiar voice from thedoorway.Venkat swiveled around.
“Guessso,”hesaid.Teddy Sanders swept a
roguethreadoffhisotherwiseimmaculate blazer. “Youcouldhavegivenaspeech.”“I didn’t want to. You
knowthat.”“Yeah, I know. I didn’t
want to, either. But I’m theadministrator of NASA. It’skind of expected. You sureyou’reokay?”“Yeah,I’llbefine.”“Good,” Teddy said,
adjusting his cuff links.“Let’s get back to work,then.”“Sure.” Venkat shrugged.
“Let’s start with youauthorizing my satellitetime.”
Teddy leaned against thewall with a sigh. “Thisagain.”“Yes,” Venkat said. “This
again.Whatistheproblem?”“Okay, run me through it.
What,exactly,areyouafter?”Venkat leaned forward.
“Ares3wasafailure,butwecan salvage something fromit.We’refundedforfiveAresmissions. I think we can getCongresstofundasixth.”
“Idon’tknow,Venk…”“It’s simple, Teddy.”
Venkat pressed on. “Theyevac’d after six sols. There’salmost an entire mission’sworthof suppliesup there. Itwouldonlycosta fractionofanormalmission.Itnormallytakes fourteen presupplyprobes to prep a site. Wemightbe able to sendwhat’smissing in three. Maybetwo.”
“Venk,thesitegothitbya175kphsandstorm.It’llbeinreallybadshape.”“That’s why I want
imagery,”Venkatsaid.“Ijustneedacoupleof shotsof thesite.Wecouldlearnalot.”“Like what? You think
we’d send people to Marswithoutbeingsureeverythingwas in perfect workingorder?”“Everything doesn’t have
to be perfect,” Venkat saidquickly. “Whatever’s broken,we’dsendreplacementsfor.”“How will we know from
imagerywhat’sbroken?”“It’s just a first step.They
evac’dbecause thewindwasa threat to theMAV, but theHabcanwithstandalotmorepunishment. It might still beinonepiece.“And it’ll be really
obvious. If it popped, it’d
completely blow out andcollapse. If it’s still standing,theneverythinginsidewillbefine.Andtheroversaresolid.Theycan takeanysandstormMarshastooffer.Justletmetakealook,Teddy,that’sallIwant.”Teddy paced to the
windowsandstaredoutatthevast expanse of buildings.“You’renottheonlyguywhowants satellite time, you
know.WehaveAres4supplymissionscomingup.WeneedtoconcentrateonSchiaparellicrater.”“I don’t get it, Teddy.
What’s the problem here?”Venkat asked. “I’m talkingabout securing us anothermission. We have twelvesatellites in orbit aroundMars;I’msureyoucanspareone or two for a couple ofhours. I can give you the
windows for each one whenthey’ll be at the right angleforAres3shots—”“It’s not about satellite
time, Venk,” Teddyinterrupted.Venkat froze. “Then…
but…what…”Teddy turned to face him.
“We’re a public domainorganization.There’snosuchthing as secret or secureinformationhere.”
“So?”“Any imagery we take
goesdirectlytothepublic.”“Again,so?”“MarkWatney’sbodywill
be within twenty meters ofthe Hab. Maybe partiallyburied in sand, but still veryvisible, and with a commantenna sticking out of hischest. Any images we takewillshowthat.”Venkatstared.Thenglared.
“This is why you denied myimagery requests for twomonths?”“Venk,comeon—”“Really, Teddy?” he said.
“You’re afraid of a PRproblem?”“The media’s obsession
withWatney’sdeathisfinallystarting to taper off,” Teddysaid evenly. “It’s been badpress after bad press for twomonths. Today’s memorial
givespeople closure, and themedia can move on to someotherstory.Thelastthingwewant is to dredge everythingbackup.”“Sowhat dowe do, then?
He’snotgoingtodecompose.He’llbethereforever.”“Not forever,”Teddy said.
“Within a year, he’ll becovered in sand fromnormalweatheractivity.”“A year?” Venkat said,
rising to his feet. “That’sludicrous. We can’t wait ayearforthis.”“Why not? Ares 4 won’t
even launch for another fiveyears.Plentyoftime.”Venkat took a deep breath
andthoughtforamoment.“Okay, consider this:
Sympathy for Watney’sfamily is really high. Ares 6could bring the body back.We don’t say that’s the
purpose of the mission, butwe make it clear that wouldbe part of it. Ifwe framed itthat way, we’d get moresupport in Congress. But notif we wait a year. In a year,peoplewon’tcareanymore.”Teddy rubbed his chin.
“Hmm…”
•••
MINDY PARK stared at theceiling. She had little else todo. The three a.m. shift waspretty dull. Only a constantstream of coffee kept herawake.Monitoring the status of
satellites around Mars hadsounded like an excitingpropositionwhenshetookthetransfer. But the satellitestended to take care ofthemselves. Her job turnedout to be sending e-mails as
imagerybecameavailable.“Master’s degree in
mechanical engineering,” shemuttered. “And I’m workinginanall-nightphotobooth.”Shesippedhercoffee.A flicker on her screen
announcedthatanothersetofimages was ready fordispatch. She checked thename on the work order.VenkatKapoor.Shepostedthedatadirectly
to internal servers andcomposed an e-mail to Dr.Kapoor. As she entered thelatitude and longitude of theimage, she recognized thenumbers.“31.2°N,28.5°W…Acidalia
Planitia…Ares3?”Out of curiosity, she
brought up the first of theseventeenimages.As she’d suspected, itwas
the Ares 3 site. She’d heard
they were going to image it.Slightly ashamed of herself,shescouredtheimageforanysign ofMarkWatney’s deadbody. After a minute offruitless searching, she wassimultaneously relieved anddisappointed.Shemoved on to perusing
the rest of the image. TheHab was intact; Dr. Kapoorwouldbehappytoseethat.She brought the coffee
mugtoherlips,thenfroze.“Um…,” she mumbled to
herself.“Uhhh…”Shebrought up theNASA
intranet and navigatedthrough the site to thespecifics of the Aresmissions. After some quickresearch, she picked up herphone.“Hey,thisisMindyParkat
SatCon. I need the missionlogs for Ares 3, where can I
get ’em?…Uh huh…uh-huh…Okay…Thanks.”After some more time on
the intranet, she leaned backin her seat. She no longerneeded the coffee to keepawake.Picking up the phone
again, she said, “Hello,Security?ThisisMindyParkin SatCon. I need theemergency contact numberfor Dr. Venkat Kapoor.…
Yesit’sanemergency.”
•••
MINDY FIDGETED in her seat asVenkat trudged in. To havethe director of Marsoperations visiting SatConwas unusual. Seeing him injeans and aT-shirtwas evenmoreunusual.“You Mindy Park?” he
asked with the scowl of aman operating on two hoursofsleep.“Yes,” she quavered.
“Sorrytodragyouin.”“I’m assuming you had a
goodreason.So?”“Um,” she said, looking
down. “Um, it’s. Well. Theimagery you ordered. Um.Comehereandlook.”He pulled another chair to
her station and seated
himself. “Is this aboutWatney’s body? Is that whyyou’reshookup?”“Um, no,” she said. “Um.
Well…uh.”Shewincedatherown awkwardness andpointedtothescreen.Venkat inspected the
image.“LooksliketheHab’sin one piece. That’s goodnews.Solararraylooksgood.The rovers are okay, too.Main dish isn’t around. No
surprisethere.What’sthebigemergency?”“Um,” she said, touching
her finger to the screen.“That.”Venkat leaned in and
looked closer. Just below theHab, beside the rovers, twowhite circles sat in the sand.“Hmm. Looks like Habcanvas.MaybetheHabdidn’tdo well after all? I guesspiecesgottornoffand—”
“Um,” she interrupted.“They look like rover pop-tents.”Venkat looked again.
“Hmm.Probablyright.”“How’d they get set up?”
Mindyasked.Venkat shrugged.
“CommanderLewisprobablyorderedthemdeployedduringthe evac. Not a bad idea.Have the emergency sheltersreadyincasetheMAVdidn’t
workandtheHabbreached.”“Yeah, um,” Mindy said,
opening a document on hercomputer, “this is the entiremission log for Sols 1through 6. From MDVtouchdown to MAVemergencyliftoff.”“Okay,and?”“I read through it. Several
times. They never threw outthe pop-tents.” Her voicecrackedatthelastword.
“Well,uh…,”Venkatsaid,furrowing his brow. “Theyobviously did, but it didn’tmakeitintothelog.”“They activated two
emergency pop-tents andnevertoldanyone?”“Hmm.That doesn’tmake
a lotofsense,no.Maybe thestormmessedwiththeroversandthetentsautodeployed.”“So after autodeploying,
they detached themselves
from the rovers and lined upnext to each other twentymetersaway?”Venkat looked back to the
image. “Well obviously theyactivatedsomehow.”“Why are the solar cells
clean?” Mindy said, fightingbacktears.“Therewasahugesandstorm. Why isn’t theresandalloverthem?”“A good wind could have
doneit?”Venkatsaid,unsure.
“Did I mention I neverfound Watney’s body?” shesaid,sniffling.Venkat’s eyes widened as
he stared at the picture.“Oh…,”he saidquietly. “OhGod…”Mindy put her hands over
herfaceandsobbedquietly.
•••
“FUCK!” Annie Montrose said.“You have got to be fuckingkiddingme!”Teddy glared across his
immaculate mahogany deskat his director of mediarelations. “Not helping,Annie.”Heturnedtohisdirectorof
Mars operations. “How sureareweofthis?”“Nearly a hundred
percent,”Venkatsaid.
“Fuck!”Anniesaid.Teddy moved a folder on
his desk slightly to the rightso it would line up with hismouse pad. “It is what it is.Wehavetodealwithit.”“Doyouhaveanyideathe
magnitude of shit storm thisis gonna be?” she retorted.“Youdon’thavetofacethosedamn reporters every day. Ido!”“One thing at a time,”
Teddy said. “Venk, whatmakesyousurehe’salive?”“For starters, no body,”
Venkat explained. “Also, thepop-tents are set up.And thesolarcellsareclean.YoucanthankMindy Park in SatConfor noticing all that, by theway.“But,” Venkat continued,
“his body could have beenburiedintheSol6storm.Thepop-tents might have
autodeployedandwindcouldhave blown them around. A30kphwindstormsometimelaterwould have been strongenoughtocleanthesolarcellsbutnotstrongenoughtocarrysand. It’s not likely, but it’spossible.“So I spent the last few
hours checking everything Icould.CommanderLewishadtwo outings in Rover 2. Thesecond was on Sol 5.
According to the logs, afterreturning, sheplugged it intothe Hab for recharging. Itwasn’t used again, andthirteen hours later theyevac’d.”Heslidapictureacrossthe
desktoTeddy.“That’s one of the images
from last night. As you cansee, Rover 2 is facing awayfrom the Hab. The chargingport is in the nose, and the
cable isn’t long enough toreach.”Teddy absently rotated the
picturetobeparallelwiththeedgesofhisdesk. “ShemusthaveparkeditfacingtheHabor she wouldn’t have beenable to plug it in,” he said.“It’s been moved since Sol5.”“Yeah,” Venkat said,
sliding another picture toTeddy. “But here’s the real
evidence. In the lower rightof the imageyoucan see theMDV. It’s been taken apart.I’mprettysuretheywouldn’thavedonethatwithouttellingus.“Andtheclincherisonthe
right of the image,” Venkatpointed. “The landing strutsof the MAV. Looks like thefuel plant has beencompletely removed, withconsiderable damage to the
struts in the process. There’sjust no way that could havehappened before liftoff. Itwould have endangered theMAV way too much forLewistoallowit.”“Hey,” Annie said. “Why
nottalktoLewis?Let’sgotoCAPCOM and ask herdirectly.”Rather than answer,
Venkat looked to Teddyknowingly.
“Because,”Teddy said, “ifWatney really is alive, wedon’twanttheAres3crewtoknow.”“What!?” Annie said.
“Howcanyounottellthem?”“They have another ten
months on their trip home,”Teddy explained. “Spacetravel is dangerous. Theyneed to be alert andundistracted.They’resadthatthey lost a crewmate, but
they’d be devastated if theyfound out they’d abandonedhimalive.”Annie looked to Venkat.
“You’reonboardwiththis?”“It’s ano-brainer,”Venkat
said. “Let ’em dealwith thatemotional trauma whenthey’renotflyingaspaceshiparound.”“This’llbethemosttalked-
abouteventsinceApollo11,”Annie said. “How will you
keepitfromthem?”Teddy shrugged. “Easy.
We control allcommunicationwiththem.”“Fuck,” Annie said,
openingherlaptop.“Whendoyouwanttogopublic?”“What’s your take?” he
asked.“Mmm,” Annie said. “We
canhold thepics for twenty-four hours before we’rerequired to release them.
We’ll need to send out astatement along with them.We don’t want peopleworking it out on their own.We’dlooklikeassholes.”“Okay,” Teddy agreed,
“puttogetherastatement.”“That’ll be fun,” she
grumbled.“Where do we go from
here?”TeddyaskedVenkat.“Step one is
communication,” Venkat
said.“Fromthepics,it’sclearthecommarrayisruined.Weneed another way to talk.Once we can talk, we canassessandmakeplans.”“All right,” Teddy said.
“Get on it. Take anyone youwant from any department.Useasmuchovertimeasyouwant. Find a way to talk tohim. That’s your only jobrightnow.”“Gotit.”
“Annie,make surenobodygets wind of this till weannounce.”“Right,”Anniesaid.“Who
elseknows?”“Just the three of us and
Mindy Park in SatCon,”Venkatsaid.“I’llhaveawordwithher,”
Anniesaid.Teddy stood and opened
his cell phone. “I’mgoing toChicago. I’ll be back
tomorrow.”“Why?”Annieasked.“That’s where Watney’s
parents live,” Teddy said. “Iowe them a personalexplanation before it breaksonthenews.”“They’ll be happy to hear
theirson’salive,”Anniesaid.“Yes, he’s alive,” Teddy
said.“Butifmymathisright,he’s doomed to starve todeathbeforewecanpossibly
help him. I’m not lookingforwardtotheconversation.”“Fuck,” Annie said,
thoughtfully.
•••
“NOTHING? Nothing at all?”Venkat groaned. “Are youkiddingme?Youhad twentyexperts working for twelvehours on this. We have a
multibillion-dollarcommunications network.Youcan’tfigureoutanywaytotalktohim?”The two men in Venkat’s
officefidgetedintheirchairs.“He’s got no radio,” said
Chuck.“Actually,” said Morris,
“he’s got a radio, but hedoesn’thaveadish.”“Thing is,” Chuck
continued, “without the dish,
a signal would have to bereallystrong—”“Like, melting-the-pigeons
strong,”Morrissupplied.“—for him to get it,”
Chuckfinished.“We considered Martian
satellites,” Morris said.“They’reway closer.But themathdoesn’tworkout.EvenSuperSurveyor 3, which hasthe strongest transmitter,would need to be fourteen
timesmorepowerful—”“Seventeen times,” Chuck
said.“Fourteen times,” Morris
asserted.“No, it’s seventeen. You
forgot the amperageminimum for the heaters tokeepthe—”“Guys,” Venkat
interrupted,“Igettheidea.”“Sorry.”“Sorry.”
“Sorry if I’m grumpy,”Venkat said. “I got like twohourssleeplastnight.”“Noproblem,”Morrissaid.“Totally understandable,”
Chucksaid.“Okay,” Venkat said.
“Explain tome how a singlewindstorm removed ourabilitytotalktoAres3.”“Failure of imagination,”
Chucksaid.“Totally didn’t see it
coming,”Morrisagreed.“How many backup
communications systemsdoes anAresmission have?”Venkatasked.“Four,”Chucksaid.“Three,”Morrissaid.“No, it’s four,” Chuck
corrected.“He saidbackup systems,”
Morris insisted. “Thatmeansnot including the primarysystem.”
“Ohright.Three.”“So four systems total,
then,” Venkat said. “Explainhowwelostallfour.”“Well,” Chuck said, “The
primary ran through the bigsatellitedish.Itblewawayinthe storm. The rest of thebackupswereintheMAV.”“Yup,” Morris agreed.
“The MAV is, like, acommunicating machine. Itcan talk to Earth, Hermes,
evensatellitesaroundMarsifit has to. And it has threeindependent systems tomakesurenothingshortofameteorstrike can stopcommunication.”“Problem is,” Chuck said,
“Commander Lewis and therest of them took the MAVwhentheyleft.”“So four independent
communications systemsbecame one. And that one
broke,”Morrisfinished.Venkat pinched the bridge
of his nose. “How could weoverlookthis?”Chuck shrugged. “Never
occurred to us. We neverthoughtsomeonewouldbeonMarswithoutanMAV.”“Imean,comeon!”Morris
said.“Whataretheodds?”Chuckturnedtohim.“One
in three, based on empiricaldata.That’sprettybadifyou
thinkaboutit.”
•••
THISWASgoingtoberoughandAnnie knew it. Not only didshe have to deliver thebiggestmeaculpainNASA’shistory, every second of itwould be rememberedforever. Every movement ofher arms, intonation of her
voice, and expression on herface would be seen bymillions of people over andover again. Not just in theimmediatepresscycle,butfordecades to come. Everydocumentary made aboutWatney’s situation wouldhavethisclip.She was confident that
none of that concern showedonherfaceasshetooktothepodium.
“Thankyouall forcomingon such short notice,” shesaid to the assembledreporters. “We have animportant announcement tomake. If you could all takeyourseats.”“What this about,Annie?”
BryanHessfromNBCasked.“Something happen withHermes?”“Please take your seats,”
Annierepeated.
The reportersmilled aboutand argued over seats for abrieftime,thenfinallysettleddown.“This is a short but very
important announcement,”Annie said. “I won’t betaking any questions at thistime, butwewill have a fullpress conference with Q&Ain about an hour. We haverecently reviewed satelliteimagery fromMarsandhave
confirmed that astronautMark Watney is, currently,stillalive.”After one full second of
utter silence, the roomexplodedwithnoise.
•••
A WEEK after the stunningannouncement,itwasstillthetop story on every news
networkintheworld.“I’m getting sick of daily
press conferences,” VenkatwhisperedtoAnnie.“I’mgettingsickofhourly
press conferences,” Anniewhisperedback.The two stood with
countless other NASAmanagers and executivesbuncheduponthesmallstageinthepressroom.Theyfaceda pit of hungry reporters, all
desperate for any scrap ofnewinformation.“Sorry I’m late,” Teddy
said, entering from the sidedoor. He pulled some flashcards from his pocket,squared them in his hands,thenclearedhisthroat.“In the nine days since
announcing Mark Watney’ssurvival, we’ve received amassive show of supportfromall sectors.We’reusing
this shamelessly every waywecan.”A small chuckle cascaded
throughtheroom.“Yesterday, at our request,
the entire SETI networkfocusedonMars.JustincaseWatney was sending a weakradio signal. Turns out hewasn’t,butitshowsthelevelof commitment everyone hastowardhelpingus.“The public is engaged,
and we will do our best tokeepeveryoneinformed.I’verecentlylearnedCNNwillbededicating a half-hoursegment every weekday toreporting on just this issue.We will assign severalmembers of our mediarelations team to thatprogram, so the public canget the latest information asfastaspossible.“We have adjusted the
orbitsofthreesatellitestogetmoreviewtimeontheAres3site and hope to catch animage ofMark outside soon.Ifwecanseehimoutside,wewill be able to drawconclusions on his physicalhealth based on stance andactivities.“The questions are many:
How long can he last? Howmuchfooddoeshehave?CanAres4rescuehim?Howwill
we talk tohim?Theanswersto these questions are notwhatwewanttohear.“I can’t promise we’ll
succeedinrescuinghim,butIcan promise this: The entirefocus of NASA will be tobring Mark Watney home.This will be our overridingand singular obsession untilhe is either back onEarth orconfirmeddeadonMars.”
•••
“NICESPEECH,”VenkatsaidasheenteredTeddy’soffice.“Meant every word of it,”
Teddysaid.“Oh,Iknow.”“What can I do for you,
Venk?”“I’ve got an idea. Well,
JPL has an idea. I’m themessenger.”
“I like ideas,” Teddy said,gesturingtoaseat.Venkatsatdown.“We can rescue him with
Ares 4. It’s very risky. Weran the idea by the Ares 4crew. Not only are theywilling to do it, but nowthey’re really pushing hardforit.”“Naturally,” Teddy said.
“Astronauts are inherentlyinsane. And really noble.
What’stheidea?”“Well,”Venkatbegan,“it’s
in the rough stages, but JPLthinks the MDV can bemisusedtosavehim.”“Ares 4 hasn’t even
launchedyet.WhymisuseanMDV? Why not makesomethingbetter?”“We don’t have time to
make a custom craft.Actually, he can’t evensurvive tillAres4gets there,
but that’s a differentproblem.”“So tell me about the
MDV.”“JPL strips it down, loses
someweight, and adds somefuel tanks. Ares 4’s crewlandsat theAres3 site,veryefficiently. Then, with a fullburn,and Imeana full burn,theycanliftoffagain.Itcan’tgetbacktoorbit,butitcangototheAres4siteonalateral
trajectory that’s, well, reallyscary. Then they have anMAV.”“How are they losing
weight?” Teddy asked.“Don’ttheyalreadyhaveitaslightasitcanbe?”“By removing safety and
emergencyequipment.”“Wonderful,” Teddy said.
“Sowe’dberisking the livesofsixmorepeople.”“Yup,” Venkat said. “It
would be safer to leave theAres 4 crew in Hermes andonlysendthepilotdownwiththe MDV. But that wouldmean giving up the mission,andthey’dratherriskdeath.”“They’re astronauts,”
Teddysaid.“They’re astronauts,”
Venkatconfirmed.“Well. That’s a ludicrous
ideaandI’llneverokayit.”“We’ll work on it some
more,” Venkat said. “Try tomakeitsafer.”“Do that.Any ideahow to
keep him alive for fouryears?”“Nope.”“Workonthat,too.”“Willdo,”Venkatsaid.Teddy swiveled his chair
andlookedoutthewindowtothe sky beyond. Night wasedging in. “What must it belike?” he pondered. “He’s
stuck out there. He thinkshe’stotallyaloneandthatweall gave up on him. Whatkind of effect does that haveonaman’spsychology?”He turned back toVenkat.
“Iwonderwhathe’sthinkingrightnow.”
LOGENTRY:SOL61
How come Aquaman cancontrol whales? They’remammals!Makesnosense.
CHAPTER7
LOGENTRY:SOL63
Ifinishedmakingwatersometime ago. I’m no longer indangerofblowingmyselfup.The potatoes are growingnicely.Nothinghasconspiredto kill me in weeks. Andseventies TV keeps medisturbinglymore entertainedthan it should. Things arestablehereonMars.It’s time to start thinking
long-term.
EvenifIfindawaytotellNASA I’m alive, there’s noguarantee they’ll be able tosave me. I need to beproactive.IneedtofigureouthowtogettoAres4.Won’tbeeasy.Ares 4 will be landing at
the Schiaparelli crater, 3200kilometersaway.Infact,theirMAVisalreadythere.Iknowbecause I watched Martinezlandit.
It takes eighteen monthsfortheMAVtomakeitsfuel,so it’s the first thing NASAsendsalong.Sendingitforty-eight months early gives itplenty of extra time in casefuel reactions go slower thanexpected. But much moreimportantly, it means aprecision soft landing can bedone remotely by a pilot inorbit.DirectremoteoperationfromHoustonisn’tanoption;they’re anywhere from four
totwentylight-minutesaway.Ares 4’s MAV spent
eleven months getting toMars.Itleftbeforeusandgotherearoundthesametimewedid. As expected, Martinezlanded it beautifully. It wasone of the last thingswe didbefore piling into our MDVand heading to the surface.Ahh,thegoodolddays,whenIhadacrewwithme.I’m lucky. Thirty-two
hundred km isn’t that bad. Itcouldhavebeenupto10,000km away. And because I’mon the flattest part of Mars,the first 650 kilometers isnice, smooth terrain (YayAcidaliaPlanitia!)buttherestof it is nasty, rugged, crater-pockedhell.Obviously, I’llhave touse
a rover. And guess what?They weren’t designed formassiveoverlandjourneys.
This is going to be aresearch effort, with a bunchof experimentation. I’ll haveto become my own littleNASA, figuring out how toexplorefarfromtheHab.Thegood news is I have lots oftime to figure it out. Almostfouryears.Some stuff is obvious. I’ll
need tousea rover. It’ll takea long time, so I’ll need tobring supplies. I’ll need to
rechargeen route, and roversdon’t have solar cells, so I’llneed to steal some from theHab’s solar farm.During thetrip I’ll need to breathe, eat,anddrink.Lucky for me, the tech
specsforeverythingarerighthereinthecomputer.I’ll need to trick out a
rover. Basically it’ll have tobe a mobile Hab. I’ll pickRover 2 as my target. We
have a certain bond, after Ispent two days in it duringtheGreatHydrogen Scare ofSol37.There’s too much shit to
thinkaboutallatonce.Sofornow, I’ll just think aboutpower.Our mission had a 10-
kilometer operational radius.Knowing we wouldn’t takestraight-line paths, NASAdesigned the rovers to go 35
kilometers on a full charge.That presumes flat,reasonableterrain.Eachroverhasa9000-watt-hourbattery.Step one is to loot Rover
1’s battery and install it inRover 2. Ta-daa! I justdoubled my full-chargerange.There’s just one
complication.Heating.Part of the battery power
goes to heating the rover.
Marsisreallycold.Normally,we were expected to do allEVAs in under five hours.ButI’llbelivinginittwenty-four and a half hours a day.According to the specs, theheating equipment soaks up400 watts. Keeping it onwouldeatup9800watthoursperday.Overhalfmypowersupply,everyday!ButIdohaveafreesource
ofheat:me.Acouplemillion
years of evolution gave me“warm-blooded” technology.I can just turn off the heaterand wear layers. The roverhas good insulation, too. It’llhave to be enough; I needeverybitofpower.According to my boring
math, moving the rover eats200watthoursof juice togo1kilometer, sousing the full18,000watthours formotion(minus a negligible amount
for computer, life support,etc.)getsme90kilometersoftravel.Nowwe’retalkin’.I’ll never actually get 90
kilometersonasinglecharge.I’ll have hills to deal with,and rough terrain, sand, etc.But it’s a good ballpark. Ittellsme that itwould takeatleast 35daysof travel to getto Ares 4. It’ll probably bemore like 50. But that’splausible,atleast.
At the rover’s blazing 25kph top speed, it’ll take methreeandahalfhoursbeforeIrun the battery down. I candriveintwilight,andsavethesunny part of the day forcharging.This time of year Iget about thirteen hours oflight. How many solar cellswill Ihave topilfer from theHab’sfarm?Thanks to the fine
taxpayers ofAmerica, I have
over100squaremetersofthemostexpensivesolarpanelingever made. It has anastounding 10.2 percentefficiency, which is goodbecause Mars doesn’t get asmuchsunlightasEarth.Only500 to 700 watts per squaremeter (compared to the 1400Earthgets).Longstoryshort:Ineedto
bring twenty-eight squaremeters of solar cell. That’s
fourteenpanels.I can put two stacks of
seven on the roof. They’llstick out over the edges, butaslongasthey’resecure,I’mhappy. Every day, afterdriving, I’ll spread them outthen…wait all day.Man it’llbedull.Well it’s a start.
Tomorrow’smission:transferRover1’sbatterytoRover2.
LOGENTRY:SOL64
Sometimes things are easy,and sometimes they’re not.Getting the battery out ofRover1waseasy.Iremovedtwo clamps on theundercarriage and it droppedright out. The cabling waseasy to detach, too, just acoupleofcomplicatedplugs.Attaching it to Rover 2,
however, is another story.There’snowheretoputit!
The thing is huge. I wasbarely able to drag it. Andthat’sinMarsgravity.It’sjusttoobig.There’sno
roomintheundercarriagefora second one. There’s noroom on the roof, either.That’s where the solar cellswill go. There’s no roominside the cabin, and itwouldn’t fit through theairlockanyway.But fear not, I found a
solution.For emergencies
completely unrelated to thisone, NASA provided sixsquare meters of extra Habcanvas and some reallyimpressive resin. The samekind of resin, in fact, thatsaved my life on Sol 6 (thepatchkitIusedontheholeinmysuit).In the event of a Hab
breach, everyone would run
totheairlocks.ProcedurewastolettheHabpopratherthandietryingtopreventit.Then,we’d suit up and assess thedamage. Once we found thebreach, we’d seal it with thespare canvas and resin. Thenreinflate and we’re good asnew.The six square meters of
spare canvas was aconvenientonebysixmeters.I cut 10-centimeter-wide
strips, then used them tomakeasortofharness.I used the resin and straps
to make two 10-metercircumference loops. Then Iput a big patch of canvas oneach end. I now had poorman’s saddlebags for myrover.This is getting more and
moreWagonTraineveryday.The resin sets almost
instantly.But it gets stronger
ifyouwaitanhour.SoIdid.Then I suited up and headedouttotherover.Idraggedthebatterytothe
side of the rover and loopedoneendoftheharnessaroundit.ThenIthrewtheotherendover the roof. On the otherside, I filled it with rocks.When the two weights wereroughly equal, I was able topulltherocksdownandbringthebatteryup.
Yay!I unplugged Rover 2’s
batteryandplugged inRover1’s. Then Iwent through theairlock to the rover andchecked all systems.Everythingwasa-okay.I drove the rover around a
bit to make sure the harnesswas secure. I found a fewlargish rocks to drive over,just to shake things up. Theharnessheld.Hellyeah.
For a short time, Iwondered how to splice thesecond battery’s leads intothe main power supply. Myconclusionwas“Fuckit.”There’s no need to have a
continuous power supply.When Battery 1 runs out, Icangetout,unplugBattery1,and plug in Battery 2. Whynot? It’s a ten-minute EVA,once per day. I’d have toswap batteries again when
I’m recharging them, butagain,sowhat?I spent the rest of the day
sweeping off the solar cellfarm.Soon,Ishallbelootingit.
LOGENTRY:SOL65
The solar cells were a loteasier to manage than thebattery.They’rethin,light,andjust
lying around on the ground.And I had one additionalbonus:Iwastheonewhosetthemupinthefirstplace.Well, okay. It wasn’t just
me. Vogel and I workedtogether on it. And boy didwe drill on it. We spent
almostanentireweekdrillingonthesolararrayalone.Thenwe drilled more wheneverthey figured we had sparetime.Thearraywasmission-critical. Ifwe broke the cellsor rendered themuseless, theHabwouldn’tbeabletomakepower,andthemissionwouldend.You might wonder what
therestofthecrewwasdoingwhileweassembledthearray.
TheyweresettinguptheHab.Remember, everything inmyglorious kingdom came hereinboxes.Wehad toset ituponSols1and2.Each solar cell is on a
lightweight lattice that holdsit at a 14-degree angle. I’lladmitIdon’tknowwhyit’sa14-degree angle. Somethingabout maximizing solarenergy. Anyway, removingthe cellswas simple, and the
Habcansparethem.Withthereduced load of onlysupportingonehumaninsteadof six, a 14 percent energyproductionlossisirrelevant.Then it was time to stack
themontherover.I considered removing the
rock sample container. It’snothing more than a largecanvas bag attached to theroof. Way too small to holdthesolarcells.Butaftersome
thoughtIleftitthere,figuringit would provide a goodcushion.The cells stacked well
(they were made to, fortransport to Mars), and thetwo stacks sat nicely on theroof.Theyhungover the leftand right edges, but I won’tbegoingthroughanytunnels,soIdon’tcare.With some more abuse of
the emergency Hab material,
I made straps and tied thecells down. The rover hasexternal handles near thefrontandback.They’re thereto help us load rocks on theroof. They made perfectanchorpointsforthestraps.I stood back and admired
mywork.Hey, Iearned it. Itwasn’t even noon and I wasdone.I came back to the Hab,
had some lunch, andworked
onmycropsfortherestofthesol. It’s been thirty-nine solssince I planted the potatoes(which is about forty Earthdays),anditwastimetoreapandresow.Theygrewevenbetterthan
I had expected.Mars has noinsects,parasites,orblightstodeal with, and the Habmaintains perfect growingtemperature and moisture atalltimes.
Theyweresmallcomparedtothetatersyou’dusuallyeat,but that’s fine. All I wantedwas enough to supportgrowingnewplants.I dug them up, being
careful to leave their plantsalive.ThenIcutthemupintosmall pieces with one eyeeach and reseeded them intonew dirt. If they keepgrowingthiswell,I’llbeabletolastagoodlongtimehere.
After all that physicallabor, I deserved a break. Irifled through Johanssen’scomputertodayandfoundanendless supply of digitalbooks.Lookslikeshe’sabigfan of Agatha Christie. TheBeatles, Christie…I guessshe’s an Anglophile orsomething.I remember likingHercule
PoirotTVspecialsbackwhenIwasakid.I’llstartwithThe
Mysterious Affair at Styles.Lookslikethat’sthefirstone.
LOGENTRY:SOL66
The timehascome (ominousmusical crescendo) for somemissions!NASA gets to name their
missionsaftergodsandstuff,so why can’t I? Henceforth,rover experimental missionswillbe“Sirius”missions.Getit? Dogs?Well if you don’t,fuckyou.Sirius1willbetomorrow.The mission: Start with
fully charged batteries andsolar cells on the roof, driveuntil I run out of power, andseehowfarIget.Iwon’tbeanidiot.I’mnot
driving directly away fromthe Hab. I’ll drive a half-kilometer stretch, back andforth. I’ll be within a shortwalkofhomeatalltimes.Tonight,I’llchargeupboth
batteriessoIcanbereadyfora little test drive tomorrow. I
estimate three and a halfhours of driving, so I’ll needto bring fresh CO2 filters.And, with the heater off, I’llwearthreelayersofclothes.
LOGENTRY:SOL67
Sirius1iscomplete!More accurately, Sirius 1
was aborted afteronehour. Iguess you could call it a“failure,”butIprefertheterm“learningexperience.”Things started out fine. I
drove to a nice flat spot akilometer from theHab, thenstarted going back and forthovera500-meterstretch.I quickly realized this
wouldbeacrappytest.Aftera few laps, Ihadcompressedthe soil enough to have asolidpath.Nice,hardground,which makes for abnormallyhigh energy efficiency.Nothinglikeitwouldbeonalongtrip.So I shook it up a bit. I
drove around randomly,making sure to stay within akilometeroftheHab.Amuchmorerealistictest.
After an hour, thingsstarted to get cold. And Imeanreallycold.The rover’s always cold
whenyoufirstgetinit.Whenyou haven’t disabled theheater, it warms up rightaway.Iexpectedittobecold,butJesusChrist!Iwas fine forawhile.My
own body heat plus threelayers of clothing kept mewarm, and the rover’s
insulation is top-notch. Theheat that escaped my bodyjust warmed up the interior.But there’s no such thing asperfect insulation, andeventuallytheheat left to thegreat outdoors, while I gotcolderandcolder.Within an hour, I was
chatteringandnumb.Enoughwasenough.There’snowayIcoulddoalongtriplikethis.Turning the heater on, I
drove straight back to theHab.Once I got home, I sulked
for a while. All my brilliantplans foiled bythermodynamics. Damn you,Entropy!I’m in a bind. The damn
heaterwilleathalfmybatterypowereveryday.Icouldturnit down, I guess. Be a littlecoldbutnotfreezingtodeath.Even then I’d still lose at
leastaquarter.This will require some
thought. I have to askmyself…WhatwouldHerculePoirotdo?I’llhavetoputmy“little gray cells” towork ontheproblem.
LOGENTRY:SOL68
Well,shit.I came upwith a solution,
but…remember when Iburned rocket fuel in theHab? This’ll be moredangerous.I’mgoingtousetheRTG.The RTG (radioisotope
thermoelectricgenerator) is abigboxofplutonium.Butnotthe kind used in nuclearbombs. No, no. This
plutonium is way moredangerous!Plutonium-238 is an
incredibly unstable isotope.It’s so radioactive that itwillget red hot all by itself. Asyou can imagine, a materialthat can literally fry an eggwith radiation is kind ofdangerous.The RTG houses the
plutonium, catches theradiation in the formofheat,
and turns it into electricity.It’s not a reactor. Theradiation can’t be increasedor decreased. It’s a purelynatural process happening attheatomiclevel.As long ago as the 1960s,
NASA began using RTGs topower unmanned probes.Theyhave lotsofadvantagesoversolarpower.They’renotaffectedbystorms;theyworkday or night; they’re entirely
internal, so you don’t needdelicate solar cells all overyourprobe.But they never used large
RTGs on manned missionsuntiltheAresProgram.Why not? It should be
pretty damned obvious whynot! They didn’t want to putastronauts next to a glowinghotballofradioactivedeath!I’m exaggerating a little.
The plutonium is inside a
bunch of pellets, each onesealed and insulated toprevent radiation leakage,even if the outer container isbreached. So for the AresProgram,theytooktherisk.An Ares mission is all
about the MAV. It’s thesingle most importantcomponent. It’s one of thefew systems that can’t bereplaced or worked around.It’s the only component that
causes a complete missionscrubifit’snotworking.Solar cells are great in the
short term, and they’re goodfor the long termifyouhavehumansaroundtocleanthem.But the MAV sits alone foryears quietly making fuel,then just kind of hangs outuntil its crew arrives. Evendoing nothing, it needspower,soNASAcanmonitorit remotely and run self-
checks.The prospect of scrubbing
amissionbecauseasolarcellgot dirty was unacceptable.They needed a more reliablesourceofpower.SotheMAVcomes equipped with anRTG. Ithas2.6kilogramsofplutonium-238, which makesalmost 1500watts of heat. Itcanturnthatinto100wattsofelectricity.TheMAVrunsonthatuntilthecrewarrive.
One hundred watts isn’tenough to keep the heatergoing, but I don’t care aboutthe electrical output. I wantthe heat. A 1500-watt heateris so warm I’ll have to tearinsulation out of the rover tokeepitfromgettingtoohot.Assoonastheroverswere
unstowed and activated,Commander Lewis had thejoyofdisposingof theRTG.She detached it from the
MAV, drove four kilometersaway,andburiedit.Howeversafe it may be, it’s still aradioactive core and NASAdidn’t want it too close totheirastronauts.The mission parameters
don’tgivea specific locationto dump the RTG. Just “atleast four kilometers away.”SoI’llhavetofindit.I have two thingsworking
for me. First, I was
assembling solar panels withVogel when CommanderLewis drove off, and I sawshe headed due south. Also,sheplantedathree-meterpolewith a bright green flag overwhere she buried it. Greenshows up extremely wellagainst the Martian terrain.It’s made to ward us off, incase we get lost on a roverEVAlateron.Somyplan is:Headsouth
four kilometers, then searcharound till I see the greenflag.Having rendered Rover 1
unusable, I’llhave tousemymutant rover for the trip. Ican make a useful testmission of it. I’ll see howwellthebatteryharnessholdsuptoarealjourney,andhowwell the solar cells dostrappedtotheroof.I’llcallitSirius2.
LOGENTRY:SOL69
I’mnostrangertoMars.I’vebeen here a long time. ButI’ve never been out of sightoftheHabbeforetoday.Youwouldn’t think that wouldmakeadifference,butitdoes.AsImademyway toward
the RTG’s burial site, it hitme: Mars is a barrenwasteland and I amcompletely alone here. Ialready knew that, of course.
But there’s a differencebetween knowing it andreally experiencing it. Allaroundme therewasnothingbut dust, rocks, and endlessemptydesertinalldirections.Theplanet’sfamousredcoloris from iron oxide coatingeverything. So it’s not just adesert.It’sadesertsooldit’sliterallyrusting.TheHabismyonlyhintof
civilization, and seeing it
disappearmademewaymoreuncomfortable than I like toadmit.Iputthosethoughtsbehind
mebyconcentratingonwhatwas in front of me. I foundthe RTG right where it wassupposed to be, fourkilometers due south of theHab.It wasn’t hard to find.
Commander Lewis hadburieditatopasmallhill.She
probablywantedtomakesureeveryone could see the flag,and it worked great! Exceptinstead of avoiding it, Ibeelined to it and dug it up.Not exactly what she wasgoingfor.Itwasalargecylinderwith
heat-sinks all around it. Icouldfeelthewarmthitgaveoff even through my suit’sgloves. That’s reallydisconcerting. Especially
when you know the rootcauseoftheheatisradiation.No point in putting it on
theroof;myplanwastohaveit in the cabin anyway. So Ibrought it inwithme, turnedoff the heater, then drovebacktotheHab.Inthetenminutesittookto
get home, even with theheater off, the interior of therover became anuncomfortablyhot37°C.The
RTGwoulddefinitelybeabletokeepmewarm.The trip also proved that
myriggingworked.Thesolarcells andextrabattery stayedbeautifully in place whiletraversingeightkilometersofrandomterrain.I declare Sirius 2 to be a
successfulmission!I spent the rest of the day
vandalizingtheinterioroftherover. The pressure
compartment is made ofcarboncomposite.Just insidethat is insulation, which iscovered by hard plastic. Iused a sophisticated methodto remove sections of plastic(hammer), then carefullyremoved the solid foaminsulation(hammeragain).After tearing out some
insulation, I suited up andtook the RTG outside. Soon,the rovercooleddownagain,
and I brought it back in. Iwatched as the temperatureroseslowly.Nowherenearasfastasithadonmytripbackfromtheburialsite.I cautiously removedmore
insulation (hammer) andchecked again. After a fewmore cycles of this, I hadenough insulation torn outthat the RTG could barelykeepupwithit.Infact,itwasa losing battle. Over time,
heat will slowly leach out.That’s fine. Ican turnon theheater for short bursts whennecessary.I brought the insulation
pieceswithmeback into theHab. Using advancedconstruction techniques (ducttape), I reassembled some ofthemintoasquare.Ifigureifthings ever get really cold, Ican tape that to a bare patchintherover,andtheRTGwill
bewinningthe“heatfight.”Tomorrow,Sirius3(which
is just Sirius 1 again, butwithoutfreezing).
LOGENTRY:SOL70
Today, I write to you fromthe rover. I’m halfwaythrough Sirius 3 and thingsaregoingwell.I set out at first light and
drove laps around the Hab,trying to stay on untouchedground. The first batterylasted just under two hours.After aquickEVA to switchthe cables, I got back todriving. When all was said
and done, I had driven 81kilometers in 3 hours and 27minutes.That’s very good! Mind
you, thelandaroundtheHabis really flat, as is all ofAcidalia Planitia. I have noidea what my efficiencywould be on the nastier landenroutetoAres4.Thesecondbatterystillhad
a little juice left, but I can’tjust run it down all the way
before I stop; remember, Ineed life support whilerecharging. The CO2 getsabsorbed through a chemicalprocess, but if the fan thatpushes it isn’t working, I’llchoke. The oxygen pump isalsokindofimportant.Aftermydrive,Isetupthe
solarcells. Itwashardwork;last time I hadVogel’s help.They aren’t heavy, butthey’re awkward. After
setting up half of them, IfiguredoutIcoulddragthemrather than carry them, andthatspedthingsup.Now I’m just waiting for
the batteries to recharge. I’mbored, so I’m updating thelog. I have all the Poirotbooks in my computer.That’llhelp.It’sgoingtotaketwelve hours to recharge,afterall.What’s that, you say?
Twelvehoursiswrong?Isaidthirteen hours earlier? Well,my friend, let me set youstraight.The RTG is a generator.
It’sapaltryamountofpower,compared to what the roverconsumes, but it’s notnothing. It’s one hundredwatts.It’llcutanhouroffmytotal recharge time.Why notuseit?I wonder what NASA
wouldthinkaboutmefuckingwith the RTG like this.They’d probably hide undertheir desks and cuddle withtheirsliderulesforcomfort.
LOGENTRY:SOL71
As predicted, it took twelvehours to charge the batteriesto full. I came straight homeassoonastheyweredone.Time to make plans for
Sirius4.AndIthinkit’llbeamultidayfieldtrip.Looks like power and
batteryrechargingaresolved.Food’snotaproblem;there’splenty of space to storethings. Water’s even easier
than food. I need two litersperdaytobecomfortable.WhenIdomytrip toAres
4 for real, I’ll need to bringthe oxygenator. But it’s bigand I don’t want to screwwithit rightnow.SoI’ll relyon O2 and CO2 filters forSirius4.CO2 isn’t a problem. I
started this grand adventurewith 1500 hours of CO2
filters, plus another 720 for
emergency use. All systemsuse standard filters (Apollo13 taught us importantlessons). Since then, I’veused 131 hours of filter onvarious EVAs. I have 2089left. Eighty-seven days’worth.Plenty.Oxygen’s a little trickier.
The rover was designed tosupport three people for twodays, plus some reserve forsafety. So its O2 tanks can
holdenoughtolastmesevendays.Notenough.Mars has almost no
atmospheric pressure. Theinside of the rover has oneatmosphere. So the oxygentanks are on the inside (lesspressure differential to dealwith).Whydoes thatmatter?It means I can bring alongother oxygen tanks, andequalize them with therover’s tanks without having
todoanEVA.Sotoday,Idetachedoneof
the Hab’s two 25-liter liquidoxygen tanks and brought itinto the rover. According toNASA, a human needs 588liters of oxygen per day tolive.Compressed liquidO2 isabout1000 timesasdenseasgaseous O2 in a comfortableatmosphere.Longstoryshort:With the Hab tank, I haveenough O2 to last 49 days.
That’llbeplenty.Sirius 4 will be a twenty-
daytrip.Thatmay seem a bit long,
but I have a specific goal inmind. Besides, my trip toAres 4 will be at least fortydays. This is a good scalemodel.While I’m away, the Hab
cantakecareofitself,butthepotatoes are an issue. I’llsaturatethegroundwithmost
ofthewaterIhave.Then,I’lldeactivate the atmosphericregulator, so it doesn’t pullwater out of the air. It’ll behumidashell,andwaterwillcondense on every surface.That’llkeepthepotatoeswellwateredwhileI’maway.A bigger problem is CO2.
Thepotatoesneedtobreathe.Iknowwhatyou’re thinking.“Mark, old chap! Youproduce carbon dioxide! It’s
all part of themajestic circleofnature!”Theproblemis:Wherewill
I put it? Sure, I exhale CO2
witheverybreath,butIdon’thave any way to store it. Icouldturnoff theoxygenatorand atmospheric regulatorand just fill theHabwithmybreath over time. But CO2 isdeadly to me. I need torelease a bunch at once andrunaway.
Remember the MAV fuelplant? It collects CO2 fromthe Martian atmosphere. A10-liter tank of compressedliquid CO2, vented into theHab, will be enough CO2 todo the trick.That’ll take lessthanadaytocreate.So that’s everything.Once
I vent theCO2 into theHab,I’ll turn off the atmosphericregulator and oxygenator,dump a ton of water on the
crops,andheadout.Sirius 4. A huge step
forwardinmyroverresearch.AndIcanstarttomorrow.
CHAPTER8
“HELLO, AND thank you forjoining us,” Cathy Warnersaidtothecamera.“TodayonCNN’sMarkWatneyReport:Several EVAs over the pastfew days…what do theymean? What progress hasNASA made on a rescueoption? And how will thisaffect the Ares 4preparations?
“Joining us today is Dr.Venkat Kapoor, director ofMars operations for NASA.Dr. Kapoor, thank you forcoming.”“A pleasure to be here,
Cathy,”Venkatsaid.“Dr. Kapoor,” Cathy said,
“Mark Watney is the most-watched man in the solarsystem,wouldn’tyousay?”Venkat nodded. “Certainly
themostwatched byNASA.
We have all twelve of ourMartian satellites takingpictures whenever his site’sinview.TheEuropeanSpaceAgency has both of theirsdoingthesame.”“Alltold,howoftendoyou
gettheseimages?”“Every few minutes.
Sometimes there’s a gap,based on the satellite orbits.But it’s enough that we cantrackallhisEVAactivities.”
“Tell us about these latestEVAs.”“Well,” Venkat said, “it
looks like he’s preparingRover 2 for a long trip. OnSol 64, he took the batteryfrom the other rover andattached it with a homemadesling. The next day, hedetached fourteen solar cellsand stacked them on therover’sroof.”“And then he took a little
drive, didn’t he?” Cathyprompted.“Yes he did. Sort of
aimlessly for an hour, thenback to the Hab. He wasprobablytestingit.Nexttimewe saw him was two dayslater, when he drove fourkilometers away, then back.Another incremental test, wethink. Then, over the pastcouple of days, he’s beenstockingitupwithsupplies.”
“Hmm,”Cathysaid,“mostanalysts think Mark’s onlyhopeofrescueistogettotheAres4site.Doyouthinkhe’scome to the sameconclusion?”“Probably,” Venkat said.
“He doesn’t know we’rewatching. From his point ofview, Ares 4 is his onlyhope.”“Do you think he’s
planning to go soon? He
seems tobegettingreadyforatrip.”“I hope not,” Venkat said.
“There’s nothing at the siteotherthantheMAV.Noneofthe other presupplies. Itwould be a very long, verydangerous trip, and he’d beleaving the safetyof theHabbehind.”“Whywouldheriskit?”“Communication,” Venkat
said. “Once he reaches the
MAV,hecouldcontactus.”“So that would be a good
thing,wouldn’tit?”“Communicationwouldbe
a great thing. But traversingthirty-twohundredkilometersto Ares 4 is incrediblydangerous. We’d rather hestayedput.Ifwecouldtalktohim, we’d certainly tell himthat.”“Hecan’t stayput forever,
right? Eventually he’ll need
togettotheMAV.”“Not necessarily,” Venkat
said. “JPL is experimentingwith modifications to theMDV so it canmake a briefoverlandflightafterlanding.”“I’d heard that idea was
rejected as being toodangerous,”Cathysaid.“Their first proposal was,
yes.Since then, they’vebeenworking on saferways to doit.”
“Withonlythreeandahalfyears before Ares 4’sscheduled launch, is thereenoughtimetomakeandtestmodificationstotheMDV?”“I can’t answer that for
sure.Butremember,wemadealunarlanderfromscratchinsevenyears.”“Excellent point.” Cathy
smiled.“Sowhatarehisoddsrightnow?”“No idea,” Venkat said.
“But we’re going to doeverything we can to bringhimhomealive.”
•••
MINDY GLANCED nervouslyaround the conference room.She’d never felt sothoroughly outranked in herlife.Dr.VenkatKapoor,whowas four levels of
managementaboveher,sattoherleft.NexttohimwasBruceNg,
the director of JPL. He’dflownall thewaytoHoustonfrom Pasadena just for thismeeting. Never one to letprecioustimegotowaste,hetypedfuriouslyonhislaptop.ThedarkbagsunderhiseyesmadeMindywonderjusthowoverworkedhetrulywas.Mitch Henderson, the
flight director for Ares 3,swiveledbackandforthinhischair, a wireless earpiece inhisear.Itfedhimareal-timestream of all the commchatterfromMissionControl.He wasn’t on shift, but hewaskeptapprisedatalltimes.Annie Montrose entered
the conference room, textingas she walked. Never takingher eyes off her phone, shedeftly navigated around the
edge of the room, avoidingpeople and chairs, and sat inher usual spot. Mindy felt apangof envyas shewatchedthe director of mediarelations.ShewaseverythingMindy wanted to be.Confident, high-ranking,beautiful, and universallyrespectedwithinNASA.“How’d I do today?”
Venkatasked.“Eeeh,”Anniesaid,putting
her phone away. “Youshouldn’t say things like‘bring him home alive.’ Itremindspeoplehemightdie.”“Think they’re going to
forgetthat?”“You asked my opinion.
Don’t like it? Go fuckyourself.”“You’re such a delicate
flower, Annie. How’d youend up NASA’s director ofmediarelations?”
“Beatsthefuckoutofme,”Anniesaid.“Guys,” Bruce said, “I
needtocatchaflightbacktoLA in three hours. Is Teddycomingorwhat?”“Quit bitching, Bruce,”
Anniesaid.“Noneofuswanttobehere.”Mitch turned the volume
down on his earpiece andfacedMindy. “Who are you,again?”
“Um,” Mindy said, “I’mMindy Park. I work inSatCon.”“You a director or
something?”“No,IjustworkinSatCon.
I’manobody.”VenkatlookedtoMitch.“I
put her in charge of trackingWatney. She gets us theimagery.”“Huh,” said Mitch. “Not
thedirectorofSatCon?”
“Bob’s got more to dealwith than justMars.Mindy’shandling all the Martiansatellites, and keeps thempointedatMark.”“Why Mindy?” Mitch
asked.“She noticed he was alive
inthefirstplace.”“She gets a promotion
’causeshewasinthehotseatwhen the imagery camethrough?”
“No,” Venkat frowned,“she gets a promotion ’causeshe figured out hewas alive.Stop being a jerk, Mitch.You’remakingherfeelbad.”Mitchraisedhiseyebrows.
“Didn’t think of that. Sorry,Mindy.”Mindy looked at the table
andmanagedtosay,“’kay.”Teddy entered the room.
“SorryI’mlate.”Hetookhisseat and pulled several
folders from his briefcase.Stacking them neatly, heopened the top one andsquared the pages within.“Let’s get started. Venkat,what’sWatney’sstatus?”“Alive and well,” Venkat
said.“Nochangefrommye-mailearliertoday.”“What about the RTG?
Does the public know aboutthatyet?”Teddyasked.Annie leaned forward. “So
far, so good,” she said. “Theimages are public, but wehave no obligation to tellthem our analysis. Nobodyhasfigureditoutyet.”“Whydidhedigitup?”“Heat, I think,” Venkat
said. “He wants to make therover do long trips. It uses alot of energy keeping warm.The RTG can heat up theinterior without soakingbattery power. It’s a good
idea,really.”“How dangerous is it?”
Teddyasked.“Aslongasthecontainer’s
intact, nodanger at all.Evenif it cracks open, he’ll beokay if the pellets insidedon’tbreak.Butifthepelletsbreak,too,he’sadeadman.”“Let’s hope that doesn’t
happen,” Teddy said. “JPL,how are the MDV planscomingalong?”
“Wecameupwithaplanalong time ago,” Bruce said.“Yourejectedit.”“Bruce,”Teddycautioned.Bruce sighed. “The MDV
wasn’t made for liftoff andlateral flight. Packing morefuel in doesn’t help. We’dneed a bigger engine anddon’thavetimetoinventone.So we need to lighten theMDV. We have an idea forthat.
“The MDV can be itsnormal weight on primarydescent. Ifwemade the heatshield and outer hulldetachable,theycouldditchalot ofweight after landing atAres 3, and have a lightership for the traverse to Ares4.We’rerunningthenumbersnow.”“Keep me posted,” Teddy
said. He turned to Mindy.“Miss Park, welcome to the
bigleagues.”“Sir,” Mindy said. She
triedtoignorethelumpinherthroat.“What’s thebiggestgap in
coveragewehaveonWatneyrightnow?”“Um,” Mindy said. “Once
every forty-one hours, we’llhaveaseventeen-minutegap.The orbits work out thatway.”“You had an immediate
answer,” Teddy said. “Good.I like it when people areorganized.”“Thankyou,sir.”“I want that gap down to
four minutes,” Teddy said.“I’m giving you totalauthority over satellitetrajectories and orbitaladjustments. Make ithappen.”“Yes, sir,” Mindy said,
withnoideahowtodoit.
Teddy looked to Mitch.“Mitch, your e-mail saidyouhadsomethingurgent?”“Yeah,”Mitch said. “How
long are we gonna keep thisfrom the Ares 3 crew? TheyallthinkWatney’sdead.It’sahugedrainonmorale.”TeddylookedtoVenkat.“Mitch,”Venkatsaid.“We
discussedthis—”“No, you discussed it,”
Mitch interrupted. “They
think they lost a crewmate.They’redevastated.”“And when they find out
they abandoned acrewmate?” Venkat asked.“Willtheyfeelbetterthen?”Mitchpokedthetablewith
his finger. “They deserve toknow.YouthinkCommanderLewis can’t handle thetruth?”“It’s a matter of morale,”
Venkat said. “They can
concentrate on getting home—”“I make that call,” Mitch
said. “I’m the one whodecides what’s best for thecrew. And I say we bringthemuptospeed.”After a few moments of
silence, all eyes turned toTeddy.He thought for a moment.
“Sorry, Mitch, I’m withVenkaton thisone,”he said.
“But as soon aswe come upwithaplanforrescue,wecantell Hermes. There needs tobe some hope, or there’s nopointintellingthem.”“Bullshit,” Mitch
grumbled, crossing his arms.“Totalbullshit.”“I know you’re upset,”
Teddy said calmly, “We’llmake it right.Justassoonaswe have some idea how tosaveWatney.”
Teddyletafewsecondsofquietpassbeforemovingon.“Okay,JPL’sontherescue
option,” he said with a nodtoward Bruce. “But it wouldbe part ofAres 4.How doeshe stay alive till then?Venkat?”Venkatopenedafolderand
glanced at the paperworkinside. “I had every teamcheck and double-check thelongevity of their systems.
We’reprettysuretheHabcankeepworking for four years.Especially with a humanoccupant fixing problems astheyarise.Butthere’snowayaround the food issue. He’llstart starving in a year. Wehave to send him supplies.Simpleasthat.”“What about an Ares 4
presupply?” said Teddy.“LanditatAres3instead.”“That’s what we’re
thinking, yeah,” Venkatconfirmed. “Problem is, theoriginal plan was to launchpresuppliesayear fromnow.They’renotreadyyet.“It takes eight months to
get a probe to Mars in thebest of times. The positionsof Earth and Mars rightnow…it’s not the best oftimes.We figure we can getthere in nine months.Presuming he’s rationing his
food, he’s got enough to lastthree hundred and fiftymoredays.Thatmeansweneed tobuild a presupply in threemonths. JPL hasn’t evenstartedyet.”“That’ll be tight,” Bruce
said. “Making a presupply isa six-month process. We’reset up to pipeline a bunchofthematonce,nottomakeoneinahurry.”“Sorry, Bruce,” Teddy
said. “I knowwe’re asking alot, but you have to find away.”“We’ll find away,”Bruce
said. “But the OT alonewillbeanightmare.”“Get started. I’ll find you
themoney.”“There’s also thebooster,”
Venkat said. “The only wayto get a probe to Mars withthe planets in their currentpositions is to spend a butt-
load of fuel. We only haveone booster capable of doingthat. The Delta IX that’s onthe pad right now for theEagleEye 3 Saturn probe.We’ll have to steal that. Italked toULA, and they justcan’tmakeanotherboosterintime.”“TheEagleEye3teamwill
be pissed, but okay,” saidTeddy. “We can delay theirmission if JPL gets the
payloaddoneintime.”Bruce rubbed his eyes.
“We’lldoourbest.”“He’ll starve to death if
youdon’t,”Teddysaid.
•••
VENKAT SIPPED his coffee andfrowned at his computer. Amonthagoitwouldhavebeenunthinkabletodrinkcoffeeat
nine p.m. Now it wasnecessary fuel. Shiftschedules, fund allocations,project juggling, out-and-outlooting of other projects…he’d never pulled so manystuntsinhislife.“NASA’s a large
organization,” he typed. “Itdoesn’t deal with suddenchangewell.Theonlyreasonwe’re getting awaywith it isthe desperate circumstances.Everyone’s pulling together
tosaveMarkWatney,withnointerdepartmentalsquabbling. I can’t tell youhow rare that is. Even then,this is going to cost tens ofmillions, maybe hundreds ofmillionsofdollars.TheMDVmodifications alone are anentire project that’s beingstaffed up. Hopefully, thepublicinterestwillmakeyourjob easier. We appreciateyour continued support,Congressman, and hope you
can sway the committeetoward granting us theemergencyfundingweneed.”He was interrupted by a
knock at his door. Lookingup, he sawMindy.SheworesweatsandaT-shirt,herhairin a sloppyponytail. Fashiontended to suffer when workhoursranlong.“Sorry to bother you,”
Mindysaid.“No bother,” Venkat said.
“I could use a break.What’sup?”“He’s on the move,” she
said.Venkat slouched in his
chair. “Anychance it’sa testdrive?”She shook her head. “He
drove straightaway from theHabforalmosttwohours,dida short EVA, then drove foranother two. We think theEVA was to change
batteries.”Venkat sighed heavily.
“Maybeit’sjustalongertest?An overnight trip kind ofthing?”“He’s seventy-six
kilometers from the Hab,”Mindy said. “For anovernight test, wouldn’t hestay within walkingdistance?”“Yes, he would,” Venkat
said. “Damn it. We’ve had
teams run every conceivablescenario.There’sjustnowayhecanmakeittoAres4withthatsetup.Weneversawhimload up the oxygenator orwater reclaimer. He can’tpossibly have enough basicstolivelongenough.”“Idon’tthinkhe’sgoingto
Ares4,”Mindysaid.“Ifheis,he’stakingaweirdpath.”“Oh?”saidVenkat.“Hewent south-southwest.
Schiaparelli crater issoutheast.”“Okay, maybe there’s
hope,” Venkat said. “What’shedoingrightnow?”“Recharging. He’s got all
thesolarcellssetup,”Mindysaid.“Lasttimehedidthat,ittook twelve hours. I wasgoingtosneakhomeforsomesleepifthat’sokay.”“Sure, sounds good.We’ll
see what he does tomorrow.
Maybe he’ll go back to theHab.”“Maybe,” Mindy said,
unconvinced.
•••
“WELCOME BACK,”Cathy said tothe camera. “We’re chattingwith Marcus Washington,from the US Postal Service.So, Mr. Washington, I
understand the Ares 3mission caused a postalservicefirst.Canyouexplainthattoourviewers?”“Uh yeah,” said Marcus.
“Everyone thought MarkWatney was dead for overtwomonths. In that time, thepostalservice issueda runofcommemorative stampshonoring his memory.Twenty thousand wereprinted and sent to postofficesaroundthecountry.”
“And then it turnedouthewasalive,”Cathysaid.“Yeah,” saidMarcus. “We
don’t print stamps of livingpeople.Sowestoppedtherunimmediately and recalled thestamps, but thousands werealreadysold.”“Has this ever happened
before?”Cathyasked.“No. Not once in the
historyofthepostalservice.”“I bet they’re worth a
prettypennynow.”Marcus chuckled. “Maybe.
But like I said, thousandsweresold.They’llberare,butnotsuper-rare.”Cathy chuckled then
addressed the camera.“We’ve been speaking withMarcus Washington of theUnited States Postal Service.Ifyou’vegotaMarkWatneycommemorative stamp, youmight want to hold on to it.
Thanks for dropping by,Mr.Washington.”“Thanks for having me,”
Marcussaid.“Our next guest is Dr.
Irene Shields, flightpsychologist for the Aresmissions. Dr. Shields,welcometotheprogram.”“Thank you,” Irene said,
adjusting her microphoneclip.“Do you know Mark
Watneypersonally?”“Of course,” Irene said. “I
did monthly psychevaluations on each memberofthecrew.”“What can you tell us
about him? His personality,hismind-set?”“Well,” Irene said, “he’s
very intelligent. All of themare, of course. But he’sparticularly resourceful andagoodproblem-solver.”
“That may save his life,”Cathyinterjected.“It may indeed,” Irene
agreed. “Also, he’s a good-natured man. Usuallycheerful,withagreatsenseofhumor. He’s quick with ajoke. In the months leadingup to launch, the crew wasput through a gruelingtraining schedule. They allshowed signs of stress andmoodiness. Mark was no
exception, but the way heshowed itwas to crackmorejokes and get everyonelaughing.”“He sounds like a great
guy,”Cathysaid.“He really is,” Irene said.
“He was chosen for themissioninpartbecauseofhispersonality.AnArescrewhasto spend thirteen monthstogether.Socialcompatibilityiskey.Marknotonlyfitswell
in any social group, he’s acatalyst to make the groupwork better. Itwas a terribleblow to the crew when he‘died.’”“And they still think he’s
dead, right? The Ares 3crew?”“Yes, they do,
unfortunately,” Ireneconfirmed. “The higher-upsdecidedtokeepitfromthem,at least for now. I’m sure it
wasn’taneasydecision.”Cathy paused for a
moment,thensaid,“Allright.You know I have to ask:What’s going through hishead right now?Howdoes aman like Mark Watneyrespond to a situation likethis?Stranded,alone,noideawe’retryingtohelp?”“There’s no way to be
sure,” Irene said. “Thebiggest threat is giving up
hope.Ifhedecidesthere’snochance to survive, he’ll stoptrying.”“Thenwe’reokayfornow,
right?”Cathysaid.“Heseemsto be working hard. He’sprepping the rover fora longtripandtestingit.HeplanstobetherewhenAres4lands.”“That’s one interpretation,
yes,”Irenesaid.“Isthereanother?”Irene carefully formed her
answer before speaking.“When facing death, peoplewant tobeheard.Theydon’twant to die alone. He mightjust want the MAV radio sohe can talk to another soulbeforehedies.“Ifhe’slosthope,hewon’t
care about survival.His onlyconcern will be making it tothe radio. After that, he’llprobably take an easier wayout than starvation. The
medical supplies of an Aresmission have enoughmorphinetobelethal.”After several seconds of
complete silence in thestudio, Cathy turned to thecamera. “We’ll be rightback.”
•••
“HEYA, VENK.” Bruce’s voice
came from the speakerphoneonVenkat’sdesk.“Bruce, hi,” said Venkat,
typing on his computer.“Thanksforclearingupsometime. I wanted to talk aboutthepresupply.”“Sure thing. What’s on
yourmind?”“Let’s say we soft-land it
perfectly. How will Markknow it happened?And howwillheknowwheretolook?”
“We’ve been thinkingabout that,” said Bruce.“We’vegotsomeideas.”“I’mallears,”Venkatsaid,
saving his document andclosinghislaptop.“We’ll be sending him a
commsystemanyway, right?Wecouldhaveitturnonafterlanding.It’llbroadcastontherover and EVA suitfrequencies.It’llhavetobeastrongsignal,too.
“The rovers were onlydesigned to communicatewith theHabandeachother;the signal origin waspresumedtobewithintwentykilometers.Thereceiversjustaren’t very sensitive. TheEVA suits are even worse.But as long as we have astrong signal we should begood. Once we land thepresupply,we’ll get its exactlocation from satellites, thenbroadcast that toMark so he
cangogetit.”“But he’s probably not
listening,”saidVenkat.“Whywouldhebe?”“We have a plan for that.
We’regoingtomakeabunchofbrightgreenribbons.Lightenough to flutter aroundwhen dropped, even inMars’s atmosphere. Eachribbon will have ‘MARK:TURN ON YOUR COMM’printed on it.We’reworking
onareleasemechanismnow.During the landing sequence,of course. Ideally, about athousand meters above thesurface.”“I like it,” Venkat said.
“All heneeds to do is noticeone. And he’s sure to checkoutabrightgreenribbonifheseesoneoutside.”“Venk,” saidBruce. “Ifhe
takes the ‘Watneymobile’ toAres 4, this’ll all be for
nothing. Imean,wecan landit at Ares 4 if that happens,but…”“But he’ll be without a
Hab. Yeah,” Venkat said.“One thingata time.Letmeknowwhenyoucomeupwithareleasemechanismforthoseribbons.”“Willdo.”After terminating the call,
Venkat opened his laptop toget back towork. Therewas
an e-mail from Mindy Parkwaiting for him. “Watney’sonthemoveagain.”
•••
“STILLGOINGinastraight line,”Mindy said, pointing to hermonitor.“Isee,”Venkatsaid.“He’s
sureashellnotgoingtoAres4. Unless he’s going around
somenaturalobstacle.”“There’snothingforhimto
goaround,”Mindysaid.“It’sAcidaliaPlanitia.”“Arethosethesolarcells?”
Venkatasked,pointingtothescreen.“Yeah,” Mindy said. “He
did theusual two-hour drive,EVA, two-hour drive. He’sone hundred and fifty-sixkilometers from the Habnow.”
They both peered at thescreen.“Wait…,” Venkat said.
“Wait,noway…”“What?”Mindyasked.Venkat grabbed a pad of
Post-its and a pen. “Givemehis location, and the locationoftheHab.”Mindycheckedherscreen.
“He’s currently at…28.9degrees north, 29.6 degreeswest.”Withafewkeystrokes,
she brought up another file.“The Hab’s at 31.2 degreesnorth, 28.5 degrees west.Whatdoyousee?”Venkat finished taking
down the numbers. “Comewith me,” he said, quicklywalkingout.“Um,” Mindy stammered,
following after. “Where arewegoing?”“SatCon break room,”
Venkat said. “You guys still
havethatmapofMarsonthewall?”“Sure,” Mindy said. “But
it’sjustaposterfromthegiftshop. I’ve got high-qualitydigitalmapsonmycomputer—”“Nope. I can’t draw on
those,” he said. Then,rounding the corner to thebreakroom,hepointedtotheMarsmaponthewall.“Icandrawonthat.”
Thebreakroomwasemptysave for a computertechnician sipping a cup ofcoffee.HelookedupinalarmasVenkatandMindystormedin.“Good, it has latitude and
longitudelines,”Venkatsaid.Looking at his Post-it, thensliding his finger along themap, he drew an X. “That’stheHab,”hesaid.“Hey,” the technician said.
“Are you drawing on ourposter?”“I’ll buy you a new one,”
Venkat said without lookingback. Then, he drew anotherX. “That’s his currentlocation.Getmearuler.”Mindy looked left and
right. Seeing no ruler, shegrabbed the technician’snotebook.“Hey!” the technician
protested.
Using the notebook as astraight-edge, Venkat drew aline from the Hab toMark’slocation and beyond. Thentookastepback.“Yup! That’s where he’s
going!” Venkat saidexcitedly.“Oh!”Mindysaid.Thelinepassedthroughthe
exact center of a brightyellow dot printed on themap.
“Pathfinder!” Mindy said.“He’sgoingtoPathfinder!”“Yup!”Venkatsaid.“Now
we’regettingsomewhere.It’slikeeighthundredkilometersfrom him. He can get thereand back with supplies onhand.”“AndbringPathfinder and
Sojourner rover back withhim,”Mindyadded.Venkat pulled out his cell
phone. “We lost contactwith
Pathfinder in1997. Ifhecanget it online again, we cancommunicate. It might justneed the solar cells cleaned.Even if it’s got a biggerproblem, he’s an engineer!”Dialing, he added, “Fixingthingsishisjob!”Smiling for what felt like
the first time in weeks, heheld thephone tohisearandawaited a response. “Bruce?It’s Venkat. Everything just
changed. Watney’s headedforPathfinder.Yeah!Iknow,right!?Dig up everyonewhowas on that project and getthem to JPL now. I’ll catchthenextflight.”Hanging up, he grinned at
themap. “Mark, you sneaky,clever,sonofabitch!”
CHAPTER9
LOGENTRY:SOL79
It’s theeveningofmyeighthdayon the road.Sirius4hasbeenasuccesssofar.I’ve fallen into a routine.
Every morning I wake up atdawn. First thing I do ischeckoxygenandCO2levels.Then I eat a breakfast packand drink a cup of water.After that, I brush my teeth,using as little water aspossible, and shave with an
electricrazor.Theroverhasnotoilet.We
were expected to use oursuits’reclamationsystemsforthat.Buttheyaren’tdesignedtoholdtwentydays’worthofoutput.Mymorningpissgoesina
resealableplasticbox.WhenIopenit,theroverreekslikeatruck-stop men’s room. Icouldtakeitoutsideandletitboiloff.ButIworkedhardto
make thatwater, and the lastthingI’mgoingtodoiswasteit. I’ll feed it to the waterreclaimerwhenIgetback.Evenmore precious is my
manure. It’s critical to thepotatofarm,andI’mtheonlysource onMars. Fortunately,whenyouspendalotoftimein space, you learn how toshitinabag.Andifyouthinkthings are bad after openingthe piss box, imagine the
smellafterIdropanchor.After I’m done with that
lovely routine, I go outsideand collect the solar cells.Why didn’t I do it theprevious night? Becausetrying to dismantle and stacksolar cells in total darknessisn’t fun. I learned that thehardway.After securing the cells, I
come back in, turn on someshitty seventies music, and
startdriving.Iputteralongat25kph,therover’stopspeed.It’scomfortableinside.Iwearhastily made cutoffs and athin shirt while the RTGbakes the interior. When itgets too hot I detach theinsulation duct-taped to thehull.When itgets toocold, Itapeitbackup.I can go almost two hours
before the first battery runsout. I do a quick EVA to
swapcables,thenI’mbackatthewheel for thesecondhalfoftheday’sdrive.Theterrainisveryflat.The
undercarriage of the rover istaller than any of the rocksaroundhere,andthehillsaregently sloping affairs,smoothed by eons ofsandstorms.When the other battery
runsout,it’stimeforanotherEVA.Ipullthesolarcellsoff
the roof and lay themon theground.Forthefirstfewsols,Ilinedthemupinarow.NowI plop themwherever, tryingto keep them close to theroveroutofsheerlaziness.Then comes the incredibly
dull part of my day. I sitaround for twelvehourswithnothing to do. And I’mgettingsickofthisrover.Theinside’s the size of a van.Thatmayseemlikeplentyof
room,buttrybeingtrappedina van for eight days. I lookforwardtotendingmypotatofarm in the wide open spaceoftheHab.I’m nostalgic for the Hab.
Howfuckedupisthat?I have shitty seventies TV
to watch, and a bunch ofPoirot novels to read. Butmostly I spend my timethinking about getting toAres 4. I’ll have to do it
someday. How the hell am Igoing to survive a 3200-kilometer trip in this thing?It’ll probably take fifty days.I’ll need the water reclaimerand the oxygenator, maybesome of the Hab’s mainbatteries, then a bunch moresolar cells to chargeeverything.… Where will Iput it all? These thoughtspester me throughout thelong,boringdays.
Eventually,itgetsdarkandI get tired. I lie among thefoodpacks,watertanks,extraO2 tank, piles of CO2 filters,box of pee, bags of shit, andpersonal items. I have abunch of crew jumpsuits toserve as bedding, alongwithmy blanket and pillow.Basically, I sleep inapileofjunkeverynight.Speaking of sleep…
G’night.
LOGENTRY:SOL80
Bymy reckoning, I’m about100 kilometers fromPathfinder. Technically it’s“Carl Sagan MemorialStation.” But with all duerespect to Carl, I can call itwhatever thehellIwant.I’mtheKingofMars.AsImentioned,it’sbeena
long, boring drive. And I’mstill on the outward leg. Buthey, I’m an astronaut. Long-
asstripsaremybusiness.Navigationistricky.TheHab’snavbeacononly
reaches40kilometers, so it’suselesstomeouthere.Iknewthat’dbeanissuewhenIwasplanning this little road trip,so I came upwith a brilliantplanthatdidn’twork.The computer has detailed
maps, so I figured I couldnavigateby landmarks. Iwaswrong. Turns out you can’t
navigateby landmarks ifyoucan’t find any god damnedlandmarks.Our landing site is at the
delta of a long-gone river.NASA chose it because ifthere are any microscopicfossils to be had, it’s a goodplacetolook.Also,thewaterwouldhavedraggedrockandsoil samples from thousandsof kilometers away. Withsomedigging,wecouldgeta
broadgeologicalhistory.That’s great for science,
but it means the Hab’s in afeaturelesswasteland.I considered making a
compass. The rover hasplenty of electricity, and themed kit has a needle. Onlyone problem: Mars doesn’thaveamagneticfield.SoInavigatebyPhobos.It
whips aroundMars so fast itactuallyrisesandsetstwicea
day, running west to east. Itisn’t the most accuratesystem,butitworks.Things got easier on Sol
75. I reached a valleywith arise to the west. It had flatgroundforeasydriving,andIjustneededtofollowtheedgeofthehills.Inamedit“LewisValley” after our fearlessleader. She’d love it there,geologynerdthatsheis.Three sols later, Lewis
Valley opened into a wideplain. So, again, I was leftwithout references and reliedon Phobos to guide me.There’s probably symbolismthere. Phobos is the god offear,andI’mlettingitbemyguide.Notagoodsign.But today,my luck finally
changed. After two solswanderingthedesert,Ifoundsomething to navigate by. Itwas a five-kilometer crater,
sosmallitdidn’tevenhavealistedname.Butitwasonthemaps, so to me it was theLighthouse of Alexandria.OnceIhaditinsight,IknewexactlywhereIwas.I’mcampednearitnow,as
amatteroffact.I’m finally through the
blank areas of the map.Tomorrow, I’ll have theLighthouse to navigate by,and Hamelin crater later on.
I’mingoodshape.Now on to my next task:
sittingaroundwithnothingtodofortwelvehours.Ibettergetstarted!
LOGENTRY:SOL81
Almostmadeit toPathfindertoday, but I ran out of juice.Just another 22 kilometers togo!An unremarkable drive.
Navigationwasn’taproblem.As Lighthouse receded intothe distance, the rim ofHamelin crater came intoview.I left Acidalia Planitia
behind a long time ago. I’m
well into Ares Vallis now.The desert plains are givingway to bumpier terrain,strewnwith ejecta that nevergot buried by sand. Itmakesdrivingachore;Ihavetopaymoreattention.Up till now, I’ve been
driving right over the rock-strewn landscape. But as Itravelfarthersouth, therocksare getting bigger and moreplentiful.Ihavetogoaround
someof themorriskdamageto my suspension. The goodnews is I don’t have to do itfor long. Once I get toPathfinder, I can turnaroundandgotheotherway.The weather’s been very
good. No discernible wind,nostorms.IthinkIgotluckythere. There’s a good chancemyrovertracksfromthepastfew sols are intact. I shouldbe able to get back to Lewis
Valley just by followingthem.After setting up the solar
panels today, I went for alittle walk. I never left sightof the rover; the last thing Iwanttodoisgetlostonfoot.But I couldn’t stomachcrawling back into thatcramped, smelly rat’s nest.Notrightaway.It’s a strange feeling.
Everywhere I go, I’m the
first. Step outside the rover?First guy ever to be there!Climb a hill? First guy toclimb that hill! Kick a rock?That rock hadn’tmoved in amillionyears!I’m the first guy to drive
long-distance on Mars. Thefirst guy to spendmore thanthirty-one sols onMars. Thefirst guy to grow crops onMars.First,first,first!I wasn’t expecting to be
first at anything. I was thefifth crewman out of theMDV when we landed,making me the seventeenthperson to set foot on Mars.The egress order had beendetermined years earlier. Amonth before launch, we allgot tattoos of our “Marsnumbers.” Johanssen almostrefused to get her “15”because she was afraid itwould hurt. Here’s a womanwho had survived the
centrifuge, the vomit comet,hard-landing drills and 10kruns. A woman who fixed asimulated MDV computerfailure while being spunaroundupside-down.But shewasafraidofatattooneedle.Man,Imissthoseguys.Jesus Christ, I’d give
anything for a five-minuteconversation with anyone.Anyone, anywhere. Aboutanything.
I’m the first person to bealoneonanentireplanet.Okay, enough moping. I
am having a conversationwithsomeone:whoeverreadsthis log. It’s a bit one-sidedbut it’ll have to do. I mightdie, but damn it, someonewillknowwhatIhadtosay.Andthewholepointofthis
trip is to get a radio. I couldbereconnectedwithmankindbeforeIevendie.
So here’s another first:Tomorrow I’ll be the firstperson to recover a Marsprobe.
LOGENTRY:SOL82
Victory!Ifoundit!I knew I was in the right
area when I spotted TwinPeaks in the distance. Thetwo small hills are under akilometer from the landingsite. Even better, they wereonthefarsideofthesite.AllIhadtodowasaimforthemuntilIfoundthelander.And there it was! Right
where itwassupposed tobe!
I excitedly stumbled out andrushedtothesite.Pathfinder’s final stage of
descent was a balloon-covered tetrahedron. Theballoons absorbed the impactof landing. Once it came torest, they deflated, and thetetrahedronunfoldedtorevealtheprobe.It’s actually two separate
components. The landeritself, and the Sojourner
rover. The lander wasimmobile, while Sojournerwandered around and got agood look at the local rocks.I’m taking both back withme, but the important part isthelander.That’sthepartthatcancommunicatewithEarth.Ican’texplainhowhappyI
was to find it. Itwasa lot ofwork to get here, and I’dsucceeded.Thelanderwashalf-buried.
With some quick and carefuldigging,Iexposedthebulkofit, though the largetetrahedron and the deflatedballoons still lurked belowthesurface.After a quick search, I
found Sojourner. The littlefella was only two metersfrom the lander. I vaguelyrememberitwasfartherawaywhen they last saw it. Itprobably entered a
contingencymodeandstartedcircling the lander, trying tocommunicate.I quickly deposited
Sojourner in my rover. It’ssmall, light, and easily fit intheairlock.The landerwasadifferentstory.Ihadnohopeofgettingthe
whole thingback to theHab.Itwasjusttoobig,butIonlyneededtheprobeitself.Itwastime for me to put on my
mechanicalengineerhat.The probe was on the
central panel of the unfoldedtetrahedron. The other threesides were each attached tothecentralpanelwithametalhinge.Asanyoneat JPLwilltell you, probes are delicatethings. Weight is a seriousconcern, so they’re notmadeto stand up to muchpunishment.When I took a crowbar to
thehinges, theypopped rightoff!Then things got difficult.
WhenItriedtoliftthecentralpanel assembly, it didn’tbudge.Just like the other three
panels, the central panel haddeflated balloons underneathit.Over the decades, the
balloonshadrippedandfilledwithsand.
Icouldcutofftheballoons,but I’d have to dig to get tothem.Itwouldn’tbehard,it’sjust sand.But theother threepanelswereinthedamnway.I quickly realized I didn’t
give a crap about theconditionof theotherpanels.Iwent back tomy rover, cutsome strips of Hab material,then braided them into aprimitive but strong rope. Ican’t take credit for it being
strong.ThankNASAforthat.Ijustmadeitrope-shaped.I tied one end to a panel
and the other to the rover.The rover was made fortraversing extremely ruggedterrain, often at steep angles.Itmaynot be fast, but it hasgreat torque. I towed thepanel away like a redneckremovingatreestump.Now I had a place to dig.
As I exposed each balloon, I
cutitoff.Thewholetasktookanhour.Then I hoisted the central
panel assembly up andcarried it confidently to therover!At least, that’s what I
wantedtodo.Thedamnthingis still heavy as hell. I’mguessing it’s 200 kilograms.Even inMars’sgravity that’sa bit much. I could carry itaround the Hab easily
enough, but lifting it whilewearing an awkward EVAsuit?Outofthequestion.SoIdraggedittotherover.Now for my next feat:
gettingitontheroof.The roofwas empty at the
moment. Even with mostlyfullbatteries,Ihadsetupthesolar cells when I stopped.Whynot?Freeenergy.I’d worked it out in
advance. On the way here,
two stacks of solar panelsoccupied the whole roof. Onthewayback,I’lluseasinglestack to make room for theprobe. It’s a little moredangerous; the stack mightfall over.Also, the cellswillbe a pain in the ass to stackthathigh.ButI’llgetitdone.I can’t just throw a rope
over the rover and hoistPathfinderuptheside.Idon’twant to break it. Imean, it’s
already broken; they lostcontact in 1997. But I don’twanttobreakitmore.I came upwith a solution,
but I’ddoneenoughphysicallabor for one day, and Iwasalmostoutofdaylight.Now I’m in the rover,
lookingatSojourner.Itseemsallright.Nophysicaldamageon the outside. Doesn’t looklike anything got too bakedby the sunlight. The dense
layerofMarscrapallover itprotected it from long-termsolardamage.You may think Sojourner
isn’tmuchusetome.Itcan’tcommunicate with Earth.WhydoIcareaboutit?Because it has a lot of
movingparts.If I establish a link with
NASA,Ican talk to thembyholding a page of text up tothelander’scamera.Buthow
would they talk to me? Theonly moving parts on thelander are the high-gainantenna(whichwouldhavetostaypointedatEarth)andthecamera boom. We’d have tocomeupwithasystemwhereNASA could talk by rotatingthecamerahead. Itwouldbepainfullyslow.But Sojourner has six
independent wheels thatrotatereasonablyfast.It’llbe
much easier to communicatewith those. I could drawletters on the wheels. NASAcould rotate them to spellthingsatme.That all assumes I can get
the lander’s radioworking atall.Time to turn in. I’vegot a
lot of backbreaking physicallabor to do tomorrow. I’llneedmyrest.
LOGENTRY:SOL83
OhGod,I’msore.But it’s the only way I
could think of to get thelandersafelyontotheroof.Ibuilt a rampoutof rocks
andsand.JustliketheancientEgyptiansdid.And if there’s one thing
AresVallishas,it’srocks!First, I experimented to
find out how steep the gradecould be. I piled some rocks
nearthelanderanddraggeditup the pile and back downagain. Then I made the pilesteeperandmadesureIcoulddragthelanderupanddown.I repeated this over and overuntil I found the best gradefor my ramp: 30 degrees.Anythingmorewastoorisky.Imightlosemygripandsendthelandertumblingdowntheramp.The roof of the rover is
over two meters from theground. So I’d need a rampalmostfourmeterslong.Igottowork.The first few rocks were
easy. Then they startedfeeling heavier and heavier.Hardphysicallaborinaspacesuit is murder. Everything’smore effort because you’relugging 20 kilograms of suitaround with you, and yourmovement is limited. I was
panting within twentyminutes.So I cheated. I upped my
O2mixture.Itreallyhelpedalot. Probably shouldn’tmakethatahabit.Also,Ididn’tgethot.Thesuitleaksheatfasterthan my body could evergenerate it. The heatingsystem is what keeps thetemperature bearable. Myphysical labor justmeant thesuit didn’t have to heat itself
asmuch.After hours of grueling
labor, I finally got the rampmade. Nothing more than apile of rocks against therover,butitreachedtheroof.Istompedupanddownthe
ramp first, to make sure itwasstable,thenIdraggedthelander up. It worked like acharm!IwasallsmilesasIlashed
the lander in place. I made
sure it was firmly secured,and even stacked the solarcells in a big single stack(whywastetheramp?).But then it hit me. The
ramp would collapse as Idrove away, and the rocksmight damage the wheels orundercarriage. I’d have totake the ramp apart to keepthatfromhappening.Ugh.Tearing the ramp down
waseasierthanputtingitup.Ididn’t need to carefully puteach rock in a stableplace. Ijust dropped them wherever.Itonlytookmeanhour.AndnowI’mdone!I’ll start heading home
tomorrow,withmynew200-kilogrambrokenradio.
CHAPTER10
LOGENTRY:SOL90
Seven days sincePathfinder,and seven days closer tohome.As I’d hoped,my inbound
tracksgavemeapathbacktoLewis Valley. Then it wasfoursolsofeasydriving.Thehills to my left made itimpossibletogetlost,andtheterrainwassmooth.Butallgoodthingscometo
an end. I’m back inAcidalia
Planitia now. My outgoingtracksarelonggone.It’sbeensixteen days since I was lasthere. Even timid weatherwould clear them out in thattime.On my way out, I should
have made a pile of rocksevery time I camped. Theland is so flat they’d bevisibleforkilometers.On second thought,
thinking back tomaking that
damnramp…ugh.So once again I am the
desert wanderer, usingPhobos to navigate andhoping I don’t stray too far.AllIneedtodoisgetwithin40kilometersof theHabandI’llpickupthebeacon.I’m feeling optimistic. For
the first time, I think Imightgetoffthisplanetalive.Withthat in mind, I’m taking soilandrocksampleseverytimeI
doanEVA.Atfirst,Ifigureditwasmy
duty. If I survive, geologistswilllovemeforit.Butthenitstarted to get fun. Now, as Idrive, I look forward to thatsimpleactofbaggingrocks.It just feels nice to be an
astronaut again. That’s all itis.Notareluctantfarmer,notan electrical engineer, not along-haul trucker. Anastronaut. I’m doing what
astronautsdo.Imissedit.
LOGENTRY:SOL92
I got two seconds of signalfrom the Hab beacon today,then lost it. But it’s a goodsign. I’ve been travelingvaguely north-northwest fortwo days. I must be a goodhundred kilometers from theHab; it’s amiracle I got anysignal at all.Must have beenamoment of perfectweatherconditions.Duringtheboring-assdays,
I’mworkingmywaythroughThe Six Million Dollar Manfrom Commander Lewis’sinexhaustible collection ofseventiestripe.I just watched an episode
where Steve Austin fights aRussian Venus probe thatlanded on Earth by mistake.Asanexpertininterplanetarytravel,Icantellyouthereareno scientific inaccuracies inthe story. It’s quite common
for probes to land on thewrong planet. Also, theprobe’s large, flat-panel hullis ideal for the high-pressureVenusian atmosphere. And,aswe all know, probes oftenrefuse to obey directives,choosing instead to attackhumansonsight.So far, Pathfinder hasn’t
tried to kill me. But I’mkeepinganeyeonit.
LOGENTRY:SOL93
IfoundtheHabsignaltoday.No more chance to get lost.According to the computer,I’m24,718metersaway.I’ll be home tomorrow.
Even if the rover has acatastrophic failure, I’ll befine. I can walk to the Habfromhere.I don’t know if I’ve
mentioned this before, but Iam really fucking sick of
beinginthisrover.I’vespentsomuch timeseatedor lyingdown,mybackisallscrewedup.Ofallmycrewmates, theone Imissmost right now isBeck. He’d fix my achingback.Thoughhe’dprobablygive
me a bunch of shit about it.“Why didn’t you dostretching exercises? Yourbody is important! Eat morefiber,”orwhatever.
At this point, I’dwelcomeahealthlecture.During training,wehad to
practice the dreaded “MissedOrbit” scenario. In the eventof a second-stage failureduringMAVascent,we’dbeinorbit,but too low to reachHermes. We’d be skimmingtheupper atmosphere, soourorbit would rapidly decay.NASA would remotelyoperateHermes and bring it
in to pick us up. Then we’dget the hell out of therebefore Hermes caught toomuchdrag.Todrill this, theymadeus
stay in the MAV simulatorfor threemiserable days. Sixpeople in an ascent vehicleoriginally designed for atwenty-three-minute flight. Itgot a little cramped. And by“alittlecramped”Imean“wewantedtokilleachother.”
I’d give anything to be inthat cramped capsule withthoseguysagain.Man, I hope I get
Pathfinderworkingagain.
LOGENTRY:SOL94
Homesweethome!Today I write from my
gigantic,cavernousHab!ThefirstthingIdidwhenI
got in was wave my armswildly while running incircles. Felt great! I was inthat damn rover for twenty-two sols and couldn’t evenwalkwithoutsuitingup.I’ll need to endure twice
that to get to Ares 4, but
that’saproblemforlater.After a few celebratory
laps around the Hab, it wastimetogettowork.First, I fired up the
oxygenator and atmosphericregulator. Checking the airlevels, everything lookedgood.TherewasstillCO2,sothe plants hadn’t suffocatedwithout me exhaling forthem.Naturally I did an
exhaustive check on mycrops,andthey’reallhealthy.I addedmybagsof shit to
the manure pile. Lovelysmell,Icantellyou.ButonceImixed some soil in, it dieddown to tolerable levels. Idumped my box o’ pee intothewaterreclaimer.I’d been gone over three
weeks and had left the Habveryhumidforthesakeofthecrops.Thatmuchwaterinthe
air can cause any amount ofelectricalproblems,soIspentthenext fewhoursdoingfullsystems checks oneverything.Then I kind of lounged
around for awhile. Iwantedto spend the rest of the dayrelaxing, but I had more todo.Aftersuitingup,Iwentout
to the rover and dragged thesolar cells off the roof.Over
thenextfewhours,Iputthemback where they belonged,wiring them into the Hab’spowergrid.Getting the lander off the
roofwasahellofaloteasierthan getting it up there. Idetached a strut from theMAVplatformanddraggeditover to the rover.By leaningitagainstthehullanddiggingtheotherend into thegroundforstability,Ihadaramp.
I should have brought thatstrut with me to thePathfinder site. Live andlearn.There’s no way to get the
lander in theairlock. It’s justtoo big. I could probablydismantle it and bring it in apiece at a time, but there’s apretty compelling reason notto.With no magnetic field,
Mars has no defense against
harsh solar radiation. If Iwereexposedtoit,I’dgetsomuch cancer, the cancerwould have cancer. So theHab canvas shields fromelectromagnetic waves. Thismeans the Hab itself wouldblockanytransmissionsifthelanderwereinside.Speaking of cancer, itwas
timetogetridoftheRTG.Itpainedmetoclimbback
intotherover,butithadtobe
done. If theRTG ever brokeopen, it would kill me todeath.NASA decided four
kilometers was the safedistance, and I wasn’t abouttosecond-guessthem.Idroveback to where CommanderLewishadoriginallydumpedit,ditcheditinthesamehole,anddrovebacktotheHab.I’llstartworkonthelander
tomorrow.
Nowtoenjoyagood,longsleep in an actual cot. Withthe comforting knowledgethat when I wake, mymorning piss will go into atoilet.
LOGENTRY:SOL95
Todaywasallaboutrepairs!The Pathfinder mission
endedbecausethelanderhadan unknown critical failure.Once JPL lost contact withthe lander, they had no ideawhatbecameofSojourner. Itmight be in better shape.Maybe it just needs power.Poweritcouldn’tgetwithitssolarpanelshopelesslycakedwithdust.
I set the little roveronmyworkbench and pried open apanel to peek inside. Thebatterywas a lithium thionylchloride nonrechargeable. Ifigured that out from somesubtleclues: the shapeof theconnection points, thethickness of the insulation,and the fact that it had“LiSOCl2 NON-RCHRG”writtenonit.I cleaned the solar panels
thoroughly, then aimed asmall, flexible lamp directlyat them. The battery’s longdead.Butthepanelsmightbeokay, and Sojourner canoperate directly off them.We’ll see if anythinghappens.Then itwas time to take a
look at Sojourner’s daddy. Isuitedupandheadedout.Onmost landers, theweak
point is the battery. It’s the
mostdelicatecomponent,andwhen it dies, there’s no waytorecover.Landers can’t just shut
down and wait when theyhave low batteries. Theirelectronicswon’tworkunlessthey’re at a minimumtemperature. So they haveheaterstokeeptheelectronicswarm. It’s a problem thatrarelycomesuponEarth,buthey.Mars.
Overtime,thesolarpanelsget covered with dust. Thenwinter brings coldertemperatures and lessdaylight. This all combinesinto a big “fuck you” fromMars to your lander.Eventually it’s using morepowertokeepwarmthanit’sgetting from the meagerdaylightthatmakesitthroughthedust.Once the battery runs
down, the electronics get toocoldtooperate,andthewholesystemdies.Thesolarpanelswill recharge the batterysomewhat, but there’snothing to tell the system toreboot. Anything that couldmake that decision would beelectronics, which would notbe working. Eventually, thenow-unused battery will loseitsabilitytoretaincharge.That’s the usual cause of
death. And I sure hope it’swhatkilledPathfinder.I piled some leftover parts
of theMDVintoamakeshifttable and ramp. Then Idragged the lander up to mynew outdoor workbench.Working in an EVA suit isannoying enough. Bendingover the whole time wouldhavebeentorture.I got my tool kit and
started poking around.
Opening the outer panelwasn’t too hard and Iidentified the battery easilyenough. JPL labelseverything. It’s a 40 amp-hour Ag-Zn battery with anoptimalvoltageof1.5.Wow.Theyreallymadethosethingsrunonnothin’backthen.I detached the battery and
headedbackinside.Icheckeditwithmyelectronicskit,andsure enough it’s dead, dead,
dead.Icouldshuffleacrossacarpetandholdmorecharge.ButIknewwhatthelander
needed:1.5volts.Comparedtothemakeshift
crapI’vebeengluingtogethersinceSol6,thiswasabreeze.I have voltage controllers inmy kit! It only took mefifteen minutes to put acontrolleronareservepowerline, then another hour to gooutside and run the line to
wherethebatteryusedtobe.Then there’s the issue of
heat.It’sagoodideatokeepelectronicsabove−40°C.Thetemperature today is a brisk−63°C.The battery was big and
easy to identify,but Ihadnoclue where the heaters were.Even if I knew, it’d be tooriskytohookthemdirectlytopower. I could easily fry thewholesystem.
So instead, Iwent to goodold“SpareParts”Rover1andstole its environment heater.I’veguttedthatpoorroversomuch,itlookslikeIparkeditinabadpartoftown.I lugged the heater to my
outdoor “workbench,” andhookedittoHabpower.ThenIresteditinthelanderwherethebatteryusedtobe.NowIwait.Andhope.
LOGENTRY:SOL96
Iwas reallyhoping I’dwakeup toa functional lander,butno such luck. Its high-gainantenna is right where I lastsawit.Whydoesthatmatter?Well,I’lltellya…Ifthelandercomesbackto
life (and that’s a big if), it’lltry to establish contact withEarth. Problem is nobody’slistening. It’s not like thePathfinder team is hanging
around JPL just in case theirlong-dead probe is repairedbyawaywardastronaut.The Deep Space Network
andSETIaremybestbetsforpickingupthesignal.Ifeitherof them caught a blip fromPathfinder,they’dtellJPL.JPL would quickly figure
out what was going on,especially when theytriangulated the signal tomylandingsite.
They’d tell the landerwhere Earth is, and it wouldangle the high-gain antennaappropriately. That there, theanglingoftheantenna,ishowI’llknowifitlinkedup.Sofar,noaction.There’s still hope. Any
number of reasons could bedelaying things. The roverheater is designed to heat airat one atmosphere, and thethin Martian air severely
hampers its ability to work.Sotheelectronicsmightneedmoretimetowarmup.Also, Earth is only visible
during the day. I (hopefully)fixed the lander yesterdayevening.It’smorningnow,somost of the intervening timehasbeennight.NoEarth.Sojourner’s showing no
signsof life, either. It’s beenin the nice, warmenvironment of the Hab all
night,withplentyof lightonitssparklingcleansolarcells.Maybe it’s running anextended self-check, orstayingstilluntilithearsfromthelanderorsomething.I’lljusthavetoputitoutof
mymindfornow.
PathfinderLOG:SOL0BOOTSEQUENCEINITIATEDTIME00:00:00LOSS OF POWER DETECTED,TIME/DATEUNRELIABLELOADINGOS…
VXWARE OPERATING SYSTEM(C) WIND RIVER SYSTEMSPERFORMING HARDWARECHECK:INT.TEMPERATURE:−34°CEXT. TEMPERATURE:NONFUNCTIONALBATTERY:FULLHIGAIN:OKLOGAIN:OKWIND SENSOR:NONFUNCTIONALMETEOROLOGY:NONFUNCTIONALASI:NONFUNCTIONALIMAGER:OKROVERRAMP:NONFUNCTIONALSOLARA:NONFUNCTIONALSOLARB:NONFUNCTIONALSOLARC:NONFUNCTIONALHARDWARECHECKCOMPLETE
BROADCASTINGSTATUSLISTENING FOR TELEMETRYSIGNAL…LISTENING FOR TELEMETRYSIGNAL…LISTENING FOR TELEMETRYSIGNALSIGNALACQUIRED…
CHAPTER11
“SOMETHING’S COMING IN…yes…yes!It’sPathfinder!”The crowded room burst
into applause and cheers.Venkat slapped an unknowntechnician on the back whileBruce pumped his fist in theair.The ad-hoc Pathfinder
control center was anaccomplishment in itself.
Over the last twenty days, ateam of JPL engineers hadworked around the clock topiece together antiquatedcomputers, repair brokencomponents, networkeverything,andinstallhastilymade software that allowedthe old systems to interactwith themodernDeepSpaceNetwork.The room itself was
formerly a conference room;
JPL had no space ready forthe sudden need. Alreadyjam-packed with computersand equipment, the crampedspace had turned positivelyclaustrophobicwiththemanyspectatorsnowsqueezingintoit.One Associated Press
camera team pressed againstthe back wall, trying—andfailing—to stay out ofeveryone’s way while
recording the auspiciousmoment. The rest of themedia would have to satisfythemselves with the live APfeed, and await a pressconference.Venkat turned to Bruce.
“God damn, Bruce. Youreally pulled a rabbit out ofyour hat this time! Goodwork!”“I’m just the director,”
Bruce saidmodestly. “Thank
theguyswhogotallthisstuffworking.”“Oh I will!” Venkat
beamed. “But first I have totalktomynewbestfriend!”Turning to the headsetted
man at the communicationsconsole, Venkat asked,“What’syourname,newbestfriend?”“Tim,” he said, not taking
hiseyesoffthescreen.“What now?” Venkat
asked.“We sent the return
telemetry automatically. It’llget there in just over elevenminutes. Once it does,Pathfinder will start high-gaintransmissions.Soit’llbetwenty-two minutes till wehearfromitagain.”“Venkat’s got a doctorate
inphysics,Tim,”Bruce said.“You don’t need to explaintransmissiontimetohim.”
Tim shrugged. “You cannevertellwithmanagers.”“What was in the
transmissionwegot?”Venkatasked.“Just the bare bones. A
hardware self-check. It’s gota lot of ‘nonfunctional’systems, ’cause theywereonthepanelsWatneyremoved.”“Whataboutthecamera?”“It says the imager’s
working.We’llhaveittakea
panoramaassoonaswecan.”
LOGENTRY:SOL97
Itworked!Holyshit,itworked!I just suited up and
checkedthelander.Thehigh-gain antenna is angleddirectly at Earth! Pathfinderhasnowayofknowingwhereit is, so it has no way ofknowingwhereEarth is.Theonlyway for it to find out isgettingasignal.TheyknowI’malive!
Idon’tevenknowwhat tosay. Thiswas an insane planandsomehow itworked! I’mgoing to be talking tosomeone again. I spent threemonths as the loneliest manin history and it’s finallyover.Sure, I might not get
rescued.ButIwon’tbealone.The whole time I was
recovering Pathfinder, Iimagined what this moment
would be like. I figured I’djump up and down a bit,cheer, maybe flip off theground (because this wholedamn planet is my enemy),butthat’snotwhathappened.When I got back to the Haband took off the EVA suit, Isatdowninthedirtandcried.Bawled like a little kid forseveral minutes. I finallysettleddowntomildsnifflingandthenfeltadeepcalm.
Itwasagoodcalm.Itoccurstome:NowthatI
mightlive,Ihavetobemorecareful about loggingembarrassing moments. Howdo I delete log entries?There’s no obvious way.…I’ll get to it later. I’ve gotmoreimportantthingstodo.I’vegotpeopletotalkto!
•••
VENKAT GRINNEDas he took thepodium in the JPL pressroom.“Wereceivedthehigh-gain
response just over half anhour ago,” he said to theassembled press. “Weimmediately directedPathfinder to take apanoramic image. Hopefully,Watney has some kind ofmessageforus.Questions?”Theseaof reporters raised
theirhands.“Cathy, let’s start with
you,”Venkatsaid,pointingtotheCNNreporter.“Thanks,” she said. “Have
youhadanycontactwith theSojournerrover?”“Unfortunately, no,” he
replied. “The lander hasn’tbeen able to connect toSojourner, and we have nowaytocontactitdirectly.”“What might be wrong
withSojourner?”“I can’t even speculate,”
Venkat said. “After spendingthat long on Mars, anythingcouldbewrongwithit.”“Bestguess?”“Ourbest guess is he took
it into the Hab. The lander’ssignal wouldn’t be able toreach Sojourner throughHabcanvas.” Pointing to anotherreporter, he said, “You,there.”
“MartyWest,NBCNews,”Marty said. “How will youcommunicate with Watneyonce everything’s up andrunning?”“That’llbeup toWatney,”
saidVenkat. “Allwehave toworkwith is the camera. Hecanwritenotesandholdthemup. But howwe talk back istrickier.”“Howso?”Martyasked.“Becauseallwehaveisthe
camera platform. That’s theonly moving part. There areplenty of ways to getinformation across with justtheplatform’srotation,butnoway to tell Watney aboutthem.He’ll have to come upwith something and tell us.We’llfollowhislead.”Pointing to the next
reporter,hesaid,“Goahead.”“JillHolbrook,BBC.With
a thirty-two-minute round-
trip and nothing but a singlerotatingplatformtotalkwith,it’ll be a dreadfully slowconversation,won’tit?”“Yes it will,” Venkat
confirmed. “It’s earlymorning in Acidalia Planitiarightnow,andjustpast threea.m. here in Pasadena.We’llbe here all night, and that’sjust for a start. No morequestions for now. Thepanorama is due back in a
fewminutes.We’ll keepyouposted.”Beforeanyonecouldaska
follow-up, Venkat strode outthe side door and hurrieddown the hall to themakeshift Pathfinder controlcenter. He pressed throughthe throng to thecommunicationsconsole.“Anything,Tim?”“Totally,” he replied. “But
we’re staring at this black
screenbecauseit’swaymoreinteresting thanpictures fromMars.”“You’reasmart-ass,Tim,”
Venkatsaid.“Noted.”Bruce pushed his way
forward. “Still another fewseconds on the clock,” hesaid.Thetimepassedinsilence.“Getting something,” Tim
said. “Yup. It’s the
panoramic.”Sighs of relief and muted
conversation replaced tensesilence as the image begancoming through. It filled outfrom left to right at a snail’space due to the bandwidthlimitations of the antiqueprobesendingit.“Martian surface…,”
Venkat said as the linesslowly filled in. “Moresurface…”
“Edge of the Hab!” Brucesaid,pointingtothescreen.“Hab,” Venkat smiled.
“More Hab now…moreHab…Is that a message?That’samessage!”As the image grew, it
revealed a handwritten note,suspended at the camera’sheightbyathinmetalrod.“We got a note from
Mark!”Venkat announced totheroom.
Applause filled the room,then quickly died down.“What’s it say?” someoneasked.Venkatleanedclosertothe
screen. “It says…‘I’ll writequestions here—Are youreceiving?’”“Okay…?”saidBruce.“That’s what it says,”
Venkatshrugged.“Another note,” said Tim,
pointingtothescreenasmore
oftheimagecamethrough.Venkat leaned in again.
“Thisonesays‘Pointhereforyes.’”He folded his arms. “All
right. We havecommunication with Mark.Tim, point the camera at‘Yes.’ Then, start takingpictures at ten-minuteintervalsuntilheputsanotherquestionup.”
LOGENTRY:SOL97(2)
“Yes!”Theysaid,“Yes!”I haven’t been this excited
about a “yes” since promnight!Okay,calmdown.I have limited paper to
workwith. These cardswereintended to label batches ofsamples. I have about fiftycards. I can use both sides,and if it comes down to it, Icanre-usethembyscratching
outtheoldquestion.TheSharpieI’musingwill
last much longer than thecards,so ink isn’taproblem.But I have to do all mywriting in the Hab. I don’tknow what kind ofhallucinogeniccrapthatinkismadeof,butI’mprettysureitwould boil off in Mars’satmosphere.I’m using old parts of the
antenna array to hold the
cards up. There’s a certainironyinthat.We’ll need to talk faster
than yes/no questions everyhalf hour. The camera canrotate360degrees,andIhaveplentyofantennaparts.Timeto make an alphabet. But Ican’t just use the letters AthroughZ.Twenty-six lettersplusmyquestion cardwouldbetwenty-sevencardsaroundthe lander. Each one would
only get 13 degrees of arc.EvenifJPLpointsthecameraperfectly, there’s a goodchance I won’t know whichlettertheymeant.So I’ll have to useASCII.
That’s how computersmanage characters. Eachcharacter has a numericalcode between 0 and 255.Values between 0 and 255can be expressed as 2hexadecimaldigits.Bygiving
me pairs of hex digits, theycan send any character theylike, including numbers,punctuation,etc.How do I know which
values go with whichcharacters? BecauseJohanssen’slaptopisawealthof information. I knew she’dhave anASCII table in theresomewhere. All computergeeksdo.So I’ll make cards for 0
through 9, and A through F.Thatmakes16cardstoplacearound the camera, plus thequestion card. Seventeencardsmeans over 21 degreeseach. Much easier to dealwith.Timetogettowork!Spell with ASCII. 0–F at
21-degree increments. Willwatch camera starting 11:00mytime.Whenmessagedone,return to this position. Wait
20 minutes after completiontotakepicture(soIcanwriteand post reply). Repeatprocessattopofeveryhour.S…T…A…T…U…SNo physical problems. All
Hab components functional.Eating 3/4 rations.SuccessfullygrowingcropsinHab with cultivated soil.Note: Situation not Ares 3crew’sfault.Badluck.H…O…W…A…L…I…
V…EImpaled by antenna
fragment. Knocked out bydecompression. Landedfacedown, blood sealed hole.Wokeupaftercrew left.Bio-monitor computer destroyedby puncture. Crew hadreason to thinkmedead.Nottheirfault.C…R…O…P…S…?Long story. Extreme
botany. Have 126 m2
farmland growing potatoes.Will extend food supply, butnot enough to last until Ares4landing.Modifiedroverforlong-distance travel, plan todrivetoAres4.W…E…S…A…W…—…
S…A…T…L…I…T…EGovernment watching me
with satellites? Need tinfoilhat! Also need faster way tocommunicate. Speak&Spelltaking all damn day. Any
ideas?B…R…I…N…G…S…J…
R…N…R…O…U…TSojourner rover brought
out,placed1meterduenorthof lander. If you can contactit,Icandrawhexnumbersonthewheels and you can sendmesixbytesatatime.S…J…R…N…R…N…
O…T…R…S…P…N…DDamn. Any other ideas?
Needfastercommunication.
W…O…R…K…I…N…G…O…N…I…TEarth is about to set.
Resume 08:00 my timetomorrow morning. TellfamilyI’mfine.Givecrewmybest. Tell Commander Lewisdiscosucks.
•••
VENKATBLINKEDhisblearyeyes
several times as he tried toorganize the papers on hisdesk. His temporary desk atJPLwasnothingmorethanafolding table set up in thebackofabreakroom.Peoplewere in and out picking upsnacksallday,butontheplusside the coffeepot wasnearby.“Excuse me,” said a man
approachingthetable.“Yes, they’re out of Diet
Coke,” Venkat said withoutlooking up. “I don’t knowwhenSiteServices refills thefridge.”“I’mactuallyheretotalkto
you,Dr.Kapoor.”“Huh?” said Venkat,
looking up. He shook hishead. “Sorry, I was up allnight.”He gulped his coffee.“Whoareyouagain?”“Jack Trevor,” said the
thin,palemanbeforeVenkat.
“I work in softwareengineering.”“WhatcanIdoforyou?”“We have an idea for
communication.”“I’mallears.”“We’ve been looking
through the old Pathfindersoftware. We got duplicatecomputersupandrunningfortesting.Samecomputers theyused to find a problem thatalmost killed the original
mission. Real interestingstory,actually;turnsouttherewas a priority inversion inSojourner’s threadmanagementand—”“Focus, Jack,” interrupted
Venkat.“Right. Well, the thing is,
Pathfinder has anOS updateprocess. So we can changethe software to anything wewant.”“Howdoesthishelpus?”
“Pathfinder has twocommunications systems.Onetotalktous,theothertotalk to Sojourner. We canchange the second system tobroadcastontheAres3roverfrequency. Andwe can haveit pretend to be the beaconsignalfromtheHab.”“You can get Pathfinder
talkingtoMark’srover?”“It’s the only option. The
Hab’s radio is dead, but the
rover has communicationsequipment made for talkingto the Hab and the otherrover. Problem is, toimplement a new commsystem, both ends of it needto have the right softwarerunning. We can remotelyupdatePathfinder,butnottherover.”“So,” Venkat said, “you
can getPathfinder to talk tothe rover, but you can’t get
the rover to listen or talkback.”“Right. Ideally, we want
our text to show up on therover screen, and whateverWatneytypestobesentbacktous.That requires a changetotherover’ssoftware.”Venkatsighed.“What’sthe
pointof thisdiscussion ifwecan’t update the rover’ssoftware?”Jack grinned as he
continued. “We can’t do thepatch, but Watney can! Wecan just send the data, andhave him enter the updateintotheroverhimself.”“How much data are we
talkingabout?”“I have guys working on
the rover software rightnow.Thepatch filewillbe twentymeg,minimum.Wecansendone byte to Watney everyfour seconds or so with the
‘Speak&Spell.’It’dtakethreeyears of constantbroadcastingtogetthatpatchacross. Obviously, that’s nogood.”“But you’re talking tome,
so you have a solution,right?” Venkat probed,resistingtheurgetoscream.“Ofcourse!”Jackbeamed.
“Software engineers aresneaky bastards when itcomestodatamanagement.”
“Enlighten me,” saidVenkat.“Here’s the clever part,”
Jack said, conspiratorially.“The rover currently parsesthe signal into bytes, thenidentifies the specificsequencetheHabsends.Thatway, natural radio waveswon’t throw off the homing.If the bytes aren’t right, theroverignoresthem.”“Okay,sowhat?”
“Itmeans there’s a spot inthe code base where it’s gotthe parsed bytes. We caninsert a tiny bit of code, justtwenty instructions, to writethe parsed bytes to a log filebefore checking theirvalidity.”“This sounds
promising…,”Venkatsaid.“Itis!”Jacksaidexcitedly.
“First, we update Pathfindersoitknowshowtotalktothe
rover. Then, we tell Watneyexactlyhowtohacktheroversoftware to add those twentyinstructions. Then we havePathfinder broadcast newsoftware to the rover. Therover logs thebytes toa file.Finally,Watney launches thefile as an executable and theroverpatchesitself!”Venkat furrowedhisbrow,
taking in far moreinformation than his sleep-
deprived mind wanted toaccept.“Um,” Jack said. “You’re
notcheeringordancing.”“So we just need to send
Watney those twentyinstructions?”Venkatasked.“That, and how to edit the
files.Andwheretoinsert theinstructionsinthefiles.”“Justlikethat?”“Justlikethat!”Venkat was silent for a
moment. “Jack, I’m going tobuy your whole teamautographed Star Trekmemorabilia.”“I prefer Star Wars,” he
said, turning to leave. “Theoriginal trilogy only, ofcourse.”“Ofcourse,”Venkatsaid.As Jack walked away, a
woman approached Venkat’stable.“Yes?”Venkatsaid.
“I can’t find any DietCoke,areweout?”“Yes,” Venkat said. “I
don’t know when SiteServicesrefillsthefridge.”“Thanks,”shesaid.Justashewasabouttoget
back to work, his mobilerang. He groaned loudly attheceilingashesnatchedthephonefromhisdesk.“Hello?” he said as
cheerfullyashecould.
“I need a picture ofWatney.”“Hi, Annie. Nice to hear
fromyou,too.HowarethingsbackinHouston?”“Cut the shit, Venkat. I
needapicture.”“It’s not that simple,”
Venkatexplained.“You’re talking to him
with a fucking camera. Howhardcanitbe?”“Wespelloutourmessage,
waittwentyminutes,andthentakeapicture.Watney’sbackintheHabbythen.”“So tell him to be around
when you take the nextpicture,”Anniedemanded.“We can only send one
message per hour, and onlywhen Acidalia Planitia isfacing Earth,” Venkat said.“We’re not going to waste amessage just to tell him topose for a photo. Besides,
he’llbeinhisEVAsuit.Youwon’tevenbeable toseehisface.”“I need something,
Venkat,”Anniesaid.“You’vebeen in contact for twenty-four hours and the media isgoingapeshit.Theywantanimageforthestory.It’llbeoneverynewssiteintheworld.”“You have the pictures of
hisnotes.Makedowiththat.”“Not enough,”Annie said.
“The press is crawling downmythroatforthis.Andupmyass. Both directions, Venkat!They’re gonna meet in themiddle!”“It’ll have to wait a few
days.We’re going to try andlink Pathfinder to the rovercomputer—”“A few days!?” Annie
gasped. “This is all anyonecares about right now. In theworld. This is the biggest
story since Apollo 13. Givemeafuckingpicture!”Venkat sighed. “I’ll try to
getittomorrow.”“Great!” she said.
“Lookingforwardtoit.”
LOGENTRY:SOL98
I have to be watching thecamera when it spells thingsout.It’shalfabyteatatime.SoIwatchapairofnumbers,then look them up on anASCII cheat sheet I made.That’soneletter.I don’t want to forget any
letters, so I scrape them intothe dirt with a rod. Theprocessof lookingupa letterand scraping it in the dirt
takes a couple of seconds.Sometimeswhen I lookbackat the camera, I’ve missed anumber.Icanusuallyguessitfromcontext,butother timesIjustmissout.Today, I got up hours
earlier than I needed to. Itwas like Christmasmorning!Icouldhardlywait for08:00to roll around. I hadbreakfast, did someunnecessary checks on Hab
equipment, and read somePoirot.Finallythetimecame!CNHAKRVR2TLK2PTHFDRPRP4LONGMSGYeah. Took me a minute.
“Can hack rover to talk toPathfinder. Prepare for longmessage.”That took some mental
gymnastics to work out. Butitwasgreatnews!Ifwecouldget that set up,we’d only belimitedby transmission time!I set up a note that said,
Roger.Not sure what they meant
by “long message,” but Ifigured I better be ready. Iwent out fifteen minutesbeforethetopofthehourandsmoothed out a big area ofdirt. I found the longestantenna rod Ihad, so Icouldreach into the smooth areawithouthavingtosteponit.ThenIstoodby.Waiting.At exactly the top of the
hour,themessagecame.LNCHhexiditONRVRCMP,OPENFILE-
/usr/lib/habcomm.so-SCROLLTILIDXONLFTIS:2AAE5,OVRWRT141BYTSWTHDATAWE’LLSNDNXTMSG,STANDINVIEW4NXTPIC20MINFTERTHSDONEJesus.Okay…They want me to launch
“hexedit” on the rover’scomputer, then open the file/usr/lib/habcomm.so, scrolluntiltheindexreadingontheleft of the screen is 2AAE5,then replace the bytes therewith a 141-byte sequence
NASA will send in the nextmessage.Fairenough.Also,forsomereason,they
want me to hang around forthe next pic. Not sure why.Youcan’tseeanypartofmewhenI’minthesuit.Eventhefaceplate would reflect toomuch light. Still, it’s whattheywant.I went back in and copied
down the message for futurereference. Then I wrote a
shortnoteandcamebackout.Usually I’d pin up the noteandgobackin.But this timeI had to hang around for aphotoop.I gave the camera a
thumbs-up to go along withmy note, which said,Ayyyyyy!BlametheseventiesTV.
•••
“I ASK for a picture, and I getthe Fonz?” Annie asked,admonishingVenkat.“Yougotyourpicture,quit
bitching,” he said, cradlingthephoneonhisshoulder.Hepaid more attention to theschematics in front of himthantheconversation.“Ayyyyyy!” Annie
mocked. “Why would he dothat?”“Have you met Mark
Watney?”“Fine, fine,” Annie said.
“But Iwant apicofhis faceASAP.”“Can’tdothat.”“Whynot?”“Becauseifhetakesoffhis
helmet, he’ll die. Annie, Ihave to go, one of the JPLprogrammers is here and it’surgent.Bye!”“But—” Annie said as he
hungup.
Jack, in thedoorway, said,“It’snoturgent.”“Yeah, I know,” Venkat
said. “What can I do foryou?”“We were thinking,” Jack
began. “This rover hackmight get kind of detailed.Wemay have to do a bunchof back-and-forthcommunication withWatney.”“That’s fine,”Venkat said.
“Takeyourtime,doitright.”“Wecouldget thingsdone
faster with a shortertransmissiontime,”Jacksaid.Venkatgavehimapuzzled
look.“Doyouhaveaplanformoving Earth and Marsclosertogether?”“Earth doesn’t have to be
involved,” Jack said.“Hermes is seventy-threemillionkilometersfromMarsright now. Only four light-
minutes away. BethJohanssen is a greatprogrammer. She could talkMarkthroughit.”“Out of the question,”
Venkatsaid.“She’s themission sysop.”
Jack pressed on. “This is herexactareaofexpertise.”“Can’t do it, Jack. The
crewstilldoesn’tknow.”“What is with you? Why
won’tyoujusttellthem?”
“Watney’s not my onlyresponsibility,” Venkat said.“I’vegotfiveotherastronautsin deep space who have toconcentrate on their returntrip. Nobody thinks about it,but statistically they’re inmore danger than Watneyright now. He’s on a planet.They’reinspace.”Jackshrugged.“Fine,we’ll
doittheslowway.”
LOGENTRY:SOL98(2)
Ever transcribed 141 randombytes,one-halfof abyte at atime?It’s boring.And it’s tricky
whenyoudon’thaveapen.Earlier, I had just written
letters in the sand. But thistime, I needed a way to getthe numbers onto somethingportable. My first plan was:Usealaptop!Each crewman had their
own laptop. So I have six atmy disposal. Rather, I hadsix.Inowhavefive.Ithoughta laptop would be fineoutside. It’s just electronics,right?It’llkeepwarmenoughto operate in the short term,and it doesn’t need air foranything.It died instantly. The
screen went black before Iwasoutof the airlock.Turnsout the “L” in “LCD” stands
for“Liquid.”Iguessiteitherfrozeorboiledoff.MaybeI’llpost a consumer review.“Brought product to surfaceofMars. It stoppedworking.0/10.”So I used a camera. I’ve
got lots of them, speciallymade forworkingonMars. Iwrotethebytesinthesandasthey came in, took a picture,then transcribed them in theHab.
It’snightnow,sonomoremessages. Tomorrow, I’llenter this into the rover andthe geeks at JPL can take itfromthere.
•••
ANOTABLEsmellhungintheairof the makeshift Pathfindercontrol room.Theventilationsystem was not designed for
so many people, andeveryone had been workingevery waking momentwithout much time forpersonalhygiene.“Come on up here, Jack,”
said Venkat. “You get to bethemostTimwardtoday.”“Thanks,”saidJack,taking
Venkat’s place next to Tim.“Heya,Tim!”“Jack,”saidTim.“How long will the patch
take?”Venkatasked.“Should be pretty much
instant,” Jack answered.“Watney entered the hackearlier today, and weconfirmed it worked. Weupdated Pathfinder’s OSwithout any problems. Wesent the rover patch, whichPathfinder rebroadcast. OnceWatney executes the patchand reboots the rover, weshouldgetaconnection.”
“Jesus,whatacomplicatedprocess,”Venkatsaid.“Try updating a Linux
serversometime,”Jacksaid.Afteramomentofsilence,
Timsaid,“Youknowhewastellingajoke,right?Thatwassupposedtobefunny.”“Oh,” said Venkat. “I’m a
physics guy, not a computerguy.”“He’s not funny to
computerguys,either.”
“You’re a very unpleasantman,Tim,”Jacksaid.“System’s online,” said
Tim.“What?”“It’sonline.FYI.”“Holycrap!”Jacksaid.“It worked!” Venkat
announcedtotheroom.
•••
[11:18]JPL:Mark,thisisVenkatKapoor.We’vebeenwatchingyousinceSol49.Thewholeworld’sbeenrootingforyou.Amazingjob,gettingPathfinder.We’reworkingonrescueplans.JPLisadjustingAres4’sMDVtodoashortoverlandflight.They’llpickyouup,thentakeyouwiththemtoSchiaparelli.We’reputtingtogetherasupplymissiontokeepyoufedtillAres4arrives.
[11:29]WATNEY:Gladtohearit.Reallylookingforwardtonotdying.Iwanttomakeitclearitwasn’tthecrew’sfault.Sidequestion:WhatdidtheysaywhentheyfoundoutIwasalive?Also,“Hi,Mom!”
[11:41]JPL:Tellusaboutyour“crops.”WeestimatedyourfoodpackswouldlastuntilSol400at3/4rationpermeal.Willyourcropsaffect
thatnumber?Astoyourquestion:Wehaven’ttoldthecrewyou’realiveyet.Wewantedthemtoconcentrateontheirownmission.
[11:52]WATNEY:Thecropsarepotatoes,grownfromtheonesweweresupposedtoprepareonThanksgiving.They’redoinggreat,buttheavailablefarmlandisn’tenoughforsustainability.I’llrunoutoffoodaroundSol900.Also:TellthecrewI’malive!Whatthefuckiswrongwithyou?
[12:04]JPL:We’llgetbotanistsintoaskdetailedquestionsanddouble-checkyourwork.Yourlifeisatstake,sowewanttobesure.Sol900isgreatnews.It’llgiveusalotmoretimetogetthesupplymissiontogether.Also,pleasewatchyourlanguage.Everythingyoutypeisbeing
broadcastliveallovertheworld.[12:15]WATNEY:Look!Apair
ofboobs!->(.Y.)
•••
“THANK YOU, Mr. President,”Teddysaidintothephone.“Iappreciate the call, and I’llpass your congratulations ontothewholeorganization.”He terminated the call and
puthisphoneonthecornerof
his desk, flush with thedesktop’sedges.Mitchknockedontheopen
doortotheoffice.“Thisagoodtime?”Mitch
asked.“Come in, Mitch,” Teddy
said.“Haveaseat.”“Thanks,” Mitch said,
sittinginafineleathercouch.Hereacheduptohisearpieceandloweredthevolume.“How’sMissionControl?”
Teddyasked.“Fantastic,” Mitch said.
“All’swellwithHermes.Andeveryone’s in great spiritsthanks towhat’s going on atJPL.Todaywasadamngooddayforachange!”“Yes, it was,” Teddy
agreed. “Another step closerto getting Watney backalive.”“Yeah, about that,” said
Mitch. “You probably know
whyI’mhere.”“I can take a guess,” said
Teddy. “Youwant to tell thecrewWatney’salive.”“Yes,”Mitchsaid.“And you’re bringing this
upwithmewhileVenkatisinPasadena, so he can’t arguetheotherside.”“I shouldn’t have to clear
this with you or Venkat oranyone else. I’m the flightdirector. It should have been
my call from the beginning,but you two stepped in andoverrode me. Ignoring allthat, we agreed we’d tellthem when there was hope.Andnowthere’shope.We’vegot communication, we haveaplanforrescueintheworks,andhis farmbuysus enoughtimetogethimsupplies.”“Okay, tell them,” Teddy
said.Mitch paused. “Just like
that?”“I knew you’d be here
sooner or later, so I alreadythought it through anddecided. Go ahead and tellthem.”Mitchstoodup.“All right.
Thanks,”hesaidashelefttheoffice.Teddyswiveledinhischair
and looked out his windowstothenightsky.Heponderedthe faint, red dot among the
stars. “Hang in there,Watney,” he said. “We’recoming.”
CHAPTER12
WATNEYSLEPTpeacefully inhisbunk. He shifted slightly assome pleasant dream put asmile on his face.He’d donethreeEVAsthepreviousday,all filledwith labor-intensiveHabmaintenance.Sohesleptdeeperandbetterthanhehadinalongtime.“Good morning, crew!”
Lewis called out. “It’s a
brand-new day! Sol 6! Upandat’em!”Watneyaddedhisvoice to
achorusofgroans.“Come on,” Lewis
prodded, “no bitching. Yougot fortyminutesmore sleepthanyouwould’veonEarth.”Martinez was first out of
his bunk. An air force man,hecouldmatchLewis’snavyschedule with ease.“Morning, Commander,” he
saidcrisply.Johanssensatup,butmade
no further move toward theharsh world outside herblankets. A career softwareengineer, mornings wereneverherforte.Vogel slowly lumbered
from his bunk, checking hiswatch. He wordlessly pulledon his jumpsuit, smoothingout what wrinkles he could.He sighed inwardly at the
grimy feeling of another daywithoutashower.Watney turned away,
huggingapillowtohishead.“Noisy people, go away,” hemumbled.“Beck!” Martinez called
out, shaking the mission’sdoctor. “Rise and shine,bud!”“Yeah, okay,” Beck said
blearily.Johanssen fell out of her
bunk, then remained on thefloor.Pulling the pillow from
Watney’s hands, Lewis said,“Let’s move,Watney! UncleSampaidahundredthousanddollarsforeverysecondwe’llbehere.”“Badwoman take pillow,”
Watneygroaned,unwillingtoopenhiseyes.“BackonEarth,I’vetipped
two-hundred-pound men out
of their bunks. Want to seewhatIcandoin0.4g?”“No, not really,” Watney
said,sittingup.Having rousted the troops,
Lewissatatthecommstationto check overnight messagesfromHouston.Watney shuffled to the
ration cupboard and grabbedabreakfastatrandom.“Hand me an ‘eggs,’ will
ya,”Martinezsaid.
“You can tell thedifference?” Watney said,passingMartinezapack.“Not really,” Martinez
said.“Beck,what’ll you have?”
Watneycontinued.“Don’t care,” Beck said.
“Givemewhatever.”Watney tossed a pack to
him.“Vogel, your usual
sausages?”
“Ja, please,” Vogelresponded.“You know you’re a
stereotype,right?”“I am comfortable with
that,” Vogel replied, takingtheprofferedbreakfast.“Hey Sunshine,” Watney
called to Johanssen. “Eatingbreakfasttoday?”“Mnrrn,” Johanssen
grunted.“Pretty sure that’s a no,”
Watneyguessed.The crew ate in silence.
Johanssen eventually trudgedtotherationcupboardandgotacoffeepacket.Sheclumsilyadded hotwater, then sippeduntilwakefulnesscreptin.“Mission updates from
Houston,” Lewis said.“Satellites show a stormcoming, but we can dosurface ops before it getshere.Vogel,Martinez, you’ll
be with me outside.Johanssen, you’re stucktracking weather reports.Watney, your soilexperiments are bumped upto today. Beck, run thesamples from yesterday’sEVA through thespectrometer.”“Should you really go out
with a storm on the way?”Beckasked.“Houston authorized it,”
Lewissaid.“Seems needlessly
dangerous.”“Coming to Mars was
needlesslydangerous,”Lewissaid.“What’syourpoint?”Beck shrugged. “Just be
careful.”
•••
THREEFIGURESlookedeastward.
Their bulky EVA suitsrendered them nearlyidentical. Only the EuropeanUnion flag on Vogel’sshoulder distinguished himfrom Lewis and Martinez,who wore the Stars andStripes.The darkness to the east
undulatedandflickeredintheraysoftherisingsun.“Thestorm,”Vogelsaidin
his accented English, “it is
closer than Houstonreported.”“We’ve got time,” Lewis
said. “Focus on the task athand. This EVA’s all aboutchemical analysis. Vogel,you’re thechemist, soyou’reinchargeofwhatwedigup.”“Ja,” Vogel said. “Please
digthirtycentimetersandgetsoil samples. At least onehundred grams each. Veryimportantisthirtycentimeters
down.”“Will do,” Lewis said.
“Stay within a hundredmeters of the Hab,” sheadded.“Mm,”Vogelsaid.“Yes, ma’am,” said
Martinez.They split up. Greatly
improved since the days ofApollo, Ares EVA suitsallowed much more freedomof motion. Digging, bending
over, and bagging samplesweretrivialtasks.After a time,Lewis asked,
“How many samples do youneed?”“Seveneach,perhaps?”“That’s fine,” Lewis
confirmed. “I’ve got four sofar.”“Fivehere,”Martinezsaid.
“Of course, we can’t expectthenavy to keepupwith theairforce,nowcanwe?”
“Sothat’showyouwanttoplayit?”Lewissaid.“Justcall’emasIsee’em,
Commander.”“Johanssen here.” The
sysop’s voice came over theradio. “Houston’s upgradedthe storm to ‘severe.’ It’sgoing to be here in fifteenminutes.”“Backtobase,”Lewissaid.
•••
THE HAB shook in the roaringwind as the astronautshuddledinthecenter.Allsixofthemnowworetheirflightspace suits, in case they hadtoscrambleforanemergencytakeoff in the MAV.Johanssenwatchedherlaptopwhiletherestwatchedher.“Sustainedwinds over one
hundred kph now,” she said.
“Gustingtoonetwenty-five.”“Jesus,we’regonnaendup
inOz,”Watneysaid.“What’stheabortwindspeed?”“Technically one fifty
kph,” Martinez said. “Anymore than that and theMAV’sindangeroftipping.”“Any predictions on the
stormtrack?”Lewisasked.“This is the edge of it,”
Johanssen said, staringatherscreen. “It’sgonnagetworse
beforeitgetsbetter.”The Hab canvas rippled
underthebrutalassaultastheinternal supports bent andshiveredwith each gust. Thecacophony grew louder bytheminute.“All right,” Lewis said.
“Prep for abort. We’ll go tothe MAV and hope for thebest. If the wind gets toohigh,we’lllaunch.”Leaving the Hab in pairs,
they grouped up outsideAirlock 1. The driving windand sand battered them, buttheywereabletostayontheirfeet.“Visibility is almost zero,”
Lewis said. “If you get lost,home in on my suit’stelemetry. The wind’s gonnabe rougher away from theHab,sobeready.”Pressing through the gale,
they stumbled toward the
MAV, with Lewis and Beckin the lead and Watney andJohanssen bringing up therear.“Hey,” Watney panted.
“Maybe we could shore uptheMAV.Make tipping lesslikely.”“How?”Lewishuffed.“Wecouldusecablesfrom
the solar farm as guylines.”He wheezed for a fewmoments, then continued.
“Theroverscouldbeanchors.Thetrickwouldbegettingthelinearoundthe—”Flying wreckage slammed
Watney,carryinghimoffintothewind.“Watney!” Johanssen
exclaimed.“What happened?” Lewis
said.“Something hit him!”
Johanssenreported.“Watney, report,” Lewis
said.Noreply.“Watney, report,” Lewis
repeated.Again, she was met with
silence.“He’s offline,” Johanssen
reported. “I don’t knowwhereheis!”“Commander,” Beck said,
“beforewelosttelemetry,hisdecompression alarm wentoff!”
“Shit!” Lewis exclaimed.“Johanssen, where did youlastseehim?”“He was right in front of
me and then he was gone,”she said. “He flew off duewest.”“Okay,” Lewis said.
“Martinez, get to the MAVand prep for launch.Everyone else, home in onJohanssen.”“Dr. Beck,” Vogel said as
he stumbled through thestorm, “how long can aperson survivedecompression?”“Lessthanaminute,”Beck
said, emotion choking hisvoice.“I can’t see anything,”
Johanssen said as the crewcrowdedaroundher.“Line up and walk west,”
Lewis commanded. “Smallsteps. He’s probably prone;
we don’t want to step overhim.”Staying in sight of one
another,theytrudgedthroughthechaos.MartinezfellintotheMAV
airlock and forced it closedagainst the wind. Once itpressurized, he quicklydoffed his suit. Havingclimbed the ladder to thecrew compartment, he slidinto the pilot’s couch and
bootedthesystem.Grabbing the emergency
launch checklist with onehand, he flicked switchesrapidlywiththeother.Onebyone, the systems reportedflight-ready status. As theycameonline, henotedone inparticular.“Commander,” he radioed.
“The MAV’s got a seven-degreetilt.It’lltipat12.3.”“Copythat,”Lewissaid.
“Johanssen,” Beck said,looking at his arm computer,“Watney’s bio-monitor sentsomething before goingoffline. My computer justsays‘BadPacket.’”“I have it, too,” Johanssen
said. “It didn’t finishtransmitting. Some data’smissing, and there’s nochecksum.Gimmeasec.”“Commander,” Martinez
said. “Message from
Houston. We’re officiallyscrubbed. The storm’sdefinitely gonna be toorough.”“Copy,”Lewissaid.“They sent that four and a
half minutes ago,” Martinezcontinued, “while looking atsatellite data from nineminutesago.”“Understood,” Lewis said.
“Continue prepping forlaunch.”
“Copy,”Martinezsaid.“Beck,” Johanssen said. “I
have the raw packet. It’splaintext: BP 0, PR 0, TP36.2.That’sasfarasitgot.”“Copy,” Beck said
morosely. “Blood pressurezero, pulse rate zero,temperaturenormal.”The channel fell silent for
some time. They continuedpressing forward, shufflingthrough the sandstorm,
hopingforamiracle.“Temperature normal?”
Lewis said, ahintofhope inhervoice.“Ittakesawhileforthe—”
Beck stammered. “It takes awhiletocool.”“Commander,” Martinez
said. “Tilting at 10.5 degreesnow,withgustspushing it toeleven.”“Copy,” Lewis said. “Are
youatpilot-release?”
“Affirmative,” Martinezreplied. “I can launchanytime.”“If it tips, can you launch
before it falls completelyover?”“Uh,” Martinez said, not
expecting thequestion. “Yes,ma’am. I’d take manualcontrol and go full throttle.Then I’d nose up and returntopreprogrammedascent.”“Copy that,” Lewis said.
“Everyone home in onMartinez’s suit. That’ll getyou to theMAVairlock.Getinandprepforlaunch.”“What about you,
Commander?”Beckasked.“I’m searching a little
more. Get moving. AndMartinez, if you start to tip,launch.”“YoureallythinkI’llleave
youbehind?”Martinezsaid.“I just ordered you to,”
Lewis replied. “You three,gettotheship.”They reluctantly obeyed
Lewis’sorderandmadetheirway toward the MAV. Thepunishing wind fought themeverystepoftheway.Unable to see the ground,
Lewis shuffled forward.Rememberingsomething,shereachedtoherbackandgotapairofrock-drillbits.Shehadadded the one-meter bits to
her equipment that morning,anticipating geologicalsampling later in the day.Holding one in each hand,she dragged them along thegroundasshewalked.After twenty meters, she
turnedaroundandwalkedtheoppositedirection.Walkingastraight line proved to beimpossible.Not only did shelack visual references, theendless wind pushed her off
course. The sheer volume ofattackingsandburiedherfeetwitheachstep.Grunting,shepressedon.Beck, Johanssen, and
Vogel squeezed into theMAV airlock. Designed fortwo,itcouldbeusedbythreein emergencies. As itequalized, Lewis’s voicecameovertheradio.“Johanssen,” she said,
“would the rover IR camera
doanygood?”“Negative,” Johanssen
replied.“IRcan’tgetthroughsand any better than visiblelight.”“What’s she thinking?”
Beck asked after removinghis helmet. “She’s ageologist.SheknowsIRcan’tgetthroughasandstorm.”“She is grasping,” Vogel
said, opening the inner door.“Wemustgettothecouches.
Pleasehurry.”“I don’t feel good about
this,”Becksaid.“Neither do I, Doctor,”
said Vogel, climbing theladder, “but the commanderhas given us orders.Insubordination will nothelp.”“Commander,” Martinez
radioed, “we’re tilting 11.6degrees. One good gust andwe’retipping.”
“What about theproximityradar?”Lewissaid.“Could itdetectWatney’ssuit?”“No way,” Martinez said.
“It’s made to seeHermes inorbit,notthemetalinasinglespacesuit.”“Giveitatry,”Lewissaid.“Commander,” said Beck,
puttingonaheadsetasheslidintohisaccelerationcouch,“Iknowyoudon’twant tohearthis, but Watn—…Mark’s
dead.”“Copy,” Lewis said.
“Martinez,trytheradar.”“Roger,”Martinezradioed.Hebroughttheradaronline
andwaited for it tocompleteaself-check.GlaringatBeck,he said, “What’s the matterwithyou?”“My friend just died,”
Beckanswered.“AndIdon’twant my commander to die,too.”
Martinez gave him a sternlook. Turning his attentionbacktotheradar,heradioed,“Negative contact onproximityradar.”“Nothing?”Lewisasked.“ItcanbarelyseetheHab,”
he replied. “The sandstorm’sfucking things up. Even if itwasn’t, there’s not enoughmetalin—Shit!”“Strapin!”heyelledtothe
crew.“We’retipping!”
The MAV creaked as ittiltedfasterandfaster.“Thirteen degrees,”
Johanssencalledoutfromhercouch.Buckling his restraints,
Vogel said, “We are far pastbalance. We will not rockback.”“Wecan’tleaveher!”Beck
yelled. “Let it tip, we’ll fixit!”“Thirty-two metric tons
including fuel,” Martinezsaid,hishandsflyingoverthecontrols. “If it hits theground, it’ll do structuraldamage to the tanks, frame,and probably the second-stage engine.We’d never beabletofixit.”“You can’t abandon her!”
Becksaid.“Youcan’t.”“I’ve got one trick. If that
doesn’t work, I’m followingherorders.”
Bringing the orbitalmaneuvering system online,hefiredasustainedburnfromthe nose cone array. Thesmall thrusters foughtagainstthe lumbering mass of theslowlytiltingspacecraft.“YouarefiringtheOMS?”
Vogelasked.“Idon’tknowifit’llwork.
We’re not tipping very fast,”Martinez said. “I think it’sslowingdown…”
“The aerodynamic capswill have automaticallyejected,” Vogel said. “It willbeabumpyascentwiththreeholesinthesideoftheship.”“Thanks for the tip,”
Martinez said, maintainingtheburnandwatchingthetiltreadout.“C’mon…““Still thirteen degrees,”
Johanssenreported.“What’s going on up
there?” Lewis radioed. “You
wentquiet.Respond.”“Stand by,” Martinez
replied.“Twelve point nine
degrees,”Johanssensaid.“Itisworking,”Vogelsaid.“For now,” Martinez said.
“Idon’tknowifmaneuveringfuelwilllast.”“Twelve point eight now,”
Johanssensupplied.“OMS fuel at sixty
percent,” Beck said. “How
much do you need to dockwithHermes?”“TenpercentifIdon’tfuck
anything up,” Martinez said,adjustingthethrustangle.“Twelve point six,”
Johanssen said. “We’retippingback.”“Or thewind died down a
little,”Beckpostulated.“Fuelatforty-fivepercent.”“There is danger of
damage to the vents,” Vogel
cautioned. “The OMS wasnot made for prolongedthrusts.”“Iknow,”Martinezsaid.“I
can dock without nose ventsifIhaveto.”“Almost there…,”
Johanssen said. “Okay we’reunder12.3.”“OMS cutoff,” Martinez
announced, terminating theburn.“Still tipping back,”
Johanssen said. “11.6…11.5…holdingat11.5.”“OMS Fuel at twenty-two
percent,”Becksaid.“Yeah, I see that,”
Martinez replied. “It’ll beenough.”“Commander,” Beck
radioed, “you need to get totheshipnow.”“Agreed,” Martinez
radioed. “He’s gone, ma’am.Watney’sgone.”
The four crewmatesawaited their commander’sresponse.“Copy,”shefinallyreplied.
“Onmyway.”They lay in silence,
strapped to theircouchesandreadyforlaunch.BecklookedatWatney’semptycouchandsaw Vogel doing the same.Martinez ran a self-check onthenoseconeOMSthrusters.Theywereno longersafe for
use.Henotedthemalfunctioninhislog.The airlock cycled. After
removing her suit, Lewismade her way to the flightcabin. She wordlesslystrapped into her couch, herface a frozen mask. OnlyMartinezdaredspeak.“Still at pilot-release,” he
said quietly. “Ready forlaunch.”Lewis closed her eyes and
nodded.“I’m sorry, Commander,”
Martinez said. “You need toverbally—”“Launch,”shesaid.“Yes, ma’am,” he replied,
activatingthesequence.The retaining clamps
ejected from the launchgantry, falling to the ground.Seconds later, preignitionpyrosfired, igniting themainengines, and the MAV
lurchedupward.The ship slowly gained
speed. As it did, wind shearblew it laterally off course.Sensing the problem, theascent software angled theship into the wind tocounteractit.Asfuelwasconsumed,the
ship got lighter, and theacceleration morepronounced. Rising at thisexponential rate, the craft
quickly reached maximumacceleration, a limit definednot by the ship’s power, butby thedelicatehumanbodiesinside.As the ship soared, the
open OMS ports took theirtoll.Thecrewrockedintheircouches as the craft shookviolently. Martinez and theascent software kept it trim,though it was a constantbattle.Theturbulencetapered
off and eventually fell tonothing as the atmospherebecamethinnerandthinner.Suddenly, all force
stopped. The first stage hadbeen completed. The crewexperienced weightlessnessforseveralseconds,thenwerepressed back into theircouches as the next stagebegan. Outside, the now-empty first stage fell away,eventually to crash on some
unknown area of the planetbelow.The second stage pushed
theshipeverhigher,andintolow orbit. Lasting less timethan the massive first stage,and thrusting much moresmoothly, it seemed almostlikeanafterthought.Abruptly, the engine
stopped, and an oppressivecalm replaced the previouscacophony.
“Main engine shutdown,”Martinez said. “Ascent time:eight minutes, fourteenseconds. On course forHermesintercept.”Normally, an incident-free
launch would be cause forcelebration. This one earnedonly silence broken byJohanssen’sgentlesobbing.
•••
Fourmonthslater…Beck tried not to think
about the painful reason hewas doing zero-g plantgrowth experiments. Henoted the size and shape ofthe fern leaves, took photos,andmadenotes.Having completed his
science schedule for the day,hecheckedhiswatch.Perfecttiming.Thedatadumpwouldbe completing soon. He
floatedpast thereactor to theSemicone-Aladder.Traveling feet-first along
the ladder, he soon had togrip it in earnest as thecentripetal force of therotating ship took hold. Bythe time he reachedSemicone-Ahewasat0.4g.No mere luxury, the
centripetalgravityofHermeskeptthemfit.Withoutit,theywould have spent their first
week onMars barely able towalk. Zero-g exerciseregimenscouldkeeptheheartand bones healthy, but nonehad been devised that wouldgive them full function fromSol1.Because the ship was
already designed for it, theyusedthesystemonthereturntripaswell.Johanssensatatherstation.
Lewissatintheadjacentseat
while Vogel and Martinezhovered nearby. The datadump carried e-mails andvideosfromhome.Itwasthehighpointoftheday.“Is it here yet?” Beck
asked as he entered thebridge.“Almost,” Johanssen said.
“Ninety-eightpercent.”“You’re looking cheerful,
Martinez,”Becksaid.“My son turned three
yesterday.” He beamed.“Should be some pics of theparty.Howaboutyou?”“Nothing special,” Beck
said.“PeerreviewsofapaperIwroteafewyearsback.”“Complete,” Johanssen
said. “All the personal e-mails are dispatched to yourlaptops. Also there’s atelemetry update for Vogeland a system update for me.Huh…there’s a voice
message addressed to thewholecrew.”She looked over her
shouldertoLewis.Lewisshrugged.“Playit.”Johanssen opened the
message,thensatback.“Hermes, this is Mitch
Henderson,” the messagebegan.“Henderson?” Martinez
said, puzzled. “Talkingdirectly to us without
CAPCOM?”Lewis held her handup to
signalforsilence.“I have some news,”
Mitch’s voice continued.“There’snosubtlewaytoputthis: Mark Watney’s stillalive.”Johanssengasped.“Wha—”Beckstammered.Vogel stood with his
mouth agape as a shockedexpression swept across his
face.Martinez looked to Lewis.
She leaned forward andpinchedherchin.“I know that’s a surprise,”
Mitch continued. “And Iknow you’ll have a lot ofquestions. We’re going toanswer those questions. ButfornowI’ll justgiveyou thebasics.“He’s alive and healthy.
We found out two months
ago and decided not to tellyou; we even censoredpersonal messages. I wasstrongly against all that.We’re telling you nowbecause we finally havecommunicationwithhimanda viable rescue plan. It boilsdown to Ares 4 picking himupwithamodifiedMDV.“We’llgetyouafullwrite-
upofwhathappened,butit’sdefinitely not your fault.
Markstressesthateverytimeit comes up. It was just badluck.“Takesometimetoabsorb
this. Your science schedulesare cleared for tomorrow.Send all the questions youwant andwe’ll answer them.Hendersonout.”Themessage’sendbrought
stunnedsilencetothebridge.“He…He’s alive?”
Martinezsaid,thensmiled.
Vogel nodded excitedly.“Helives.”Johanssen stared at her
screeninwide-eyeddisbelief.“Holyshit,”Beck laughed.
“Holy shit! Commander!He’salive!”“I left him behind,”Lewis
saidquietly.The celebrations ceased
immediately as the crew sawtheir commander’sexpression.
“But,”Beckbegan,“wealllefttogeth—”“You followed orders,”
Lewisinterrupted.“I lefthimbehind. In a barren,unreachable, godforsakenwasteland.”Beck looked to Martinez
pleadingly. Martinez openedhismouth, but could find nowordstosay.Lewis trudged off the
bridge.
CHAPTER13
The employees of DeyoPlasticsworked double shiftsto finish the Hab canvas forAres 3. There was talk oftriple shifts, if NASAincreasedtheorderagain.Nooneminded.Theovertimepaywas spectacular, and thefundingwaslimitless.Woven carbon thread ran
slowly through the press,
which sandwiched it betweenpolymer sheets. Thecompleted material wasfolded four times and gluedtogether. The resulting thicksheet was then coated withsoft resin and taken to thehot-roomtoset.
LOGENTRY:SOL114
Now that NASA can talk tome, they won’t shut the hellup.They want constant
updatesoneveryHabsystem,andthey’vegotaroomfullofpeopletryingtomicromanagemy crops. It’s awesome tohave a bunch of dipshits onEarth telling me, a botanist,howtogrowplants.I mostly ignore them. I
don’t want to come off asarrogant here, but I’m thebestbotanistontheplanet.Onebigbonus:e-mail!Just
likethedaysbackonHermes,I get data dumps. Of course,theyrelaye-mailfromfriendsand family, but NASA alsosends along choicemessagesfromthepublic.I’vegottene-mailfromrockstars,athletes,actorsandactresses,andeventhePresident.
Oneof themwas frommyalmamater, theUniversityofChicago. They say once yougrow crops somewhere, youhaveofficially“colonized”it.So technically, I colonizedMars.In your face, Neil
Armstrong!Butmyfavoritee-mailwas
theone frommymother. It’sexactly what you’d expect.ThankGodyou’realive,stay
strong, don’t die, your fathersayshello,etc.I read it fifty times in a
row. Hey, don’t get mewrong,I’mnotamama’sboyoranything.I’mafull-grownman who only occasionallywearsdiapers(youhavetoinan EVA suit). It’s totallymanly and normal for me tocling to a letter from mymom. It’s not like I’m somehomesickkidatcamp,right?
Admittedly, I have toschleptotheroverfivetimesa day to check e-mail. TheycangetamessagefromEarthtoMars,but theycan’tget itanothertenmeterstotheHab.But hey, I can’t bitch. Myoddsoflivingthroughthisarewayhighernow.Last Iheard, they’dsolved
the weight problem on Ares4’sMDV.Onceitlandshere,they’ll ditch the heat shield,
allthelifesupportstuff,andabunch of empty fuel tanks.Then theycan take thesevenofus(Ares4’screwplusme)all the way to Schiaparelli.They’re already working onmydutiesforthesurfaceops.Howcoolisthat?Inothernews,I’mlearning
Morse code. Why? Becauseit’s our backupcommunications system.NASA figured a decades-old
probe isn’t ideal as a solemeansofcommunication.IfPathfindercrapsout,I’ll
spell messages with rocks,which NASA will see withsatellites. They can’t reply,but at least we’d have one-way communication. WhyMorsecode?Becausemakingdotsanddasheswithrocksisa lot easier than makingletters.It’s a shitty way to
communicate. Hopefully itwon’tcomeup.
All chemical reactionscomplete, the sheet wassterilized and moved to aclean room. There, a workercut a strip off the edge,divided it into squares, andput each through a series ofrigoroustests.Having passed inspection,
the sheet was then cut toshape.Theedgeswerefolded
over,sewn,andresealedwithresin.Amanwithaclipboardmade final inspections,independently verifying themeasurements,thenapproveditforuse.
LOGENTRY:SOL115
The meddling botanists havegrudgingly admitted I did agood job. They agree I’llhave enough food to last tillSol900.Bearingthatinmind,NASA has fleshed out themission details of the supplyprobe.Atfirst,theywereworking
on a desperate plan to get aprobe here before Sol 400.But I bought another five
hundred sols of life withmypotato farm, so they havemoretimetoworkonit.They’ll launch next year
duringtheHohmannTransferWindow,andit’lltakealmostnine months to get here. ItshouldarrivearoundSol856.It’ll have plenty of food, aspare oxygenator, waterreclaimer, andcommsystem.Three comm systems,actually. I guess they aren’t
takinganychances,whatwithmy habit of being nearbywhenradiosbreak.Got my first e-mail from
Hermes today.NASA’s beenlimiting direct contact. Iguess they’re afraid I’ll saysomething like “Youabandoned me onMars, youassholes!” I know the crewwas surprised to hear fromthe Ghost of Mars MissionsPast, but c’mon! I wish
NASA was less of a nannysometimes. Anyway, theyfinallyletonee-mail throughfromtheCommander:
Watney,obviouslywe’reveryhappytohearyousurvived.Asthepersonresponsibleforyoursituation,IwishtherewasmoreIcoulddotodirectlyhelp.ButitlookslikeNASAhasagoodrescueplan.I’msureyou’llcontinuetoshowyourincredibleresourcefulnessandgetthroughthis.LookingforwardtobuyingyouabeerbackonEarth.
—Lewis
Myreply:
Commander,purebadluckisresponsibleformysituation,notyou.Youmadetherightcallandsavedeveryoneelse.Iknowitmusthavebeenatoughdecision,butanyanalysisofthatdaywillshowitwastherightone.GeteveryoneelsehomeandI’llbehappy.
Iwilltakeyouuponthatbeer,though.
—Watney
The employees carefullyfoldedthesheetandplaceditin an argon-filled airtightshipping container. The manwith the clipboard placed asticker on the package.
“Project Ares 3; HabCanvas;SheetAL102.”Thepackagewasplacedon
a charter plane and flown toEdwards Air Force Base inCalifornia.Itflewabnormallyhigh, at great cost of fuel, toensureasmootherflight.Upon arrival, the package
was carefully transported byspecial convoy to Pasadena.Once there, it was moved tothe JPL Spacecraft Assembly
Facility. Over the next fiveweeks, engineers in whitebodysuits assembledPresupply 309. It containedAL102aswellastwelveotherHabCanvaspackages.
LOGENTRY:SOL116
It’s almost time for thesecondharvest.Ayup.IwishIhadastrawhatand
somesuspenders.My reseed of the potatoes
went well. I’m beginning tosee that crops on Mars areextremely prolific, thanks tothe billions of dollars’ worthof life support equipmentaround me. I now have four
hundred healthy potatoplants, each one making lotsof calorie-filled taters formydining enjoyment. In just tendaysthey’llberipe!And this time, I’m not
replanting themasseed.Thisis my food supply. Allnatural, organic, Martian-grown potatoes. Don’t hearthateveryday,doyou?You may be wondering
how I’ll store them. I can’t
just pile them up; most ofthem would go bad before Igotaroundtoeatingthem.Soinstead,I’lldosomethingthatwouldn’tworkatallonEarth:throwthemoutside.Most of the water will be
sucked out by the near-vacuum; what’s left willfreeze solid. Any bacteriaplanningtorotmytaterswilldiescreaming.In other news, I got an e-
mailfromVenkatKapoor:
Mark,someanswerstoyourearlierquestions:
No,wewillnottellourBotanyTeamto“Gofuckthemselves.”Iunderstandyou’vebeenonyourownforalongtime,butwe’reintheloopnow,andit’sbestifyoulistentowhatwehavetosay.
TheCubsfinishedtheseasonatthebottomoftheNLCentral.
Thedatatransferratejustisn’tgoodenoughforthesizeofmusicfiles,evenincompressedformats.Soyourrequestfor“Anything,ohGod,ANYTHINGbutDisco”isdenied.Enjoyyourboogiefever.
Also,anuncomfortablesidenote…NASAisputtingtogethera
committee.Theywanttoseeiftherewereanyavoidablemistakesthatledyoutobeingstranded.Justaheads-up.Theymayhavequestionsforyoulateron.
Keepuspostedonyouractivities.—Kapoor
Myreply:
Venkat,telltheinvestigationcommitteethey’llhavetodotheirwitchhuntwithoutme.AndwhentheyinevitablyblameCommanderLewis,beadvisedI’llpubliclyrefuteit.I’msuretherestofthecrewwilldothesame.
Also,pleasetellthemthateachandeveryoneoftheirmothersisaprostitute.
—WatneyPS:Theirsisters,too.
The presupply probes forAres 3 launched on fourteenconsecutive days during theHohmann Transfer Window.Presupply 309 was launchedthird. The 251-day trip toMarswasuneventful,needingonly two minor courseadjustments.After several aerobraking
maneuvers to slow down, it
madeitsfinaldescenttowardAcidalia Planitia. First, itendured reentry via a heatshield. Later, it released aparachute and detached thenow-expendedshield.Once its onboard radar
detected it was thirty metersfrom the ground, it cut loosethe parachute and inflatedballoonsallarounditshull.Itfell unceremoniously to thesurface, bouncing and
rolling,untilitfinallycametorest.Deflating its balloons, the
onboard computer reportedthesuccessfullandingbacktoEarth.Thenitwaitedtwenty-three
months.
LOGENTRY:SOL117
Thewater reclaimer isactingup.Sixpeoplewillgo through
18litersofwaterperday.Soit’s made to process 20. Butlately, it hasn’t been keepingup.It’sdoing10,tops.Do I generate 10 liters of
water per day? No, I’m nottheurinatingchampionofalltime. It’s the crops. Thehumidity inside the Hab is a
lot higher than it wasdesigned for, so the waterreclaimer is constantlyfilteringitoutoftheair.I’mnotworriedaboutit.If
need be, I can piss directlyonto the plants. The plantswill take their shareofwaterandtherestwillcondenseonthe walls. I could makesomething to collect thecondensation,I’msure.Thingis, the water can’t go
anywhere. It’s a closedsystem.Okay, technically I’m
lying. The plants aren’tentirely water-neutral. Theystripthehydrogenfromsomeof it (releasing the oxygen)and use it to make thecomplex hydrocarbons thatare theplant itself.But it’s avery small loss and I madelike 600 liters of water fromMDVfuel.Icouldtakebaths
andstillhaveplentyleftover.NASA, however, is
absolutely shitting itself.They see thewater reclaimerasacriticalsurvivalelement.There’s no backup, and theythinkI’lldieinstantlywithoutit.Tothem,equipmentfailureis terrifying. To me, it’s“Tuesday.”Soinsteadofpreparingfor
my harvest, I have to makeextra trips to and from the
rover to answer theirquestions.Eachnewmessageinstructsme to try somenewsolutionandreporttheresultsback.Sofaraswe’veworkedout
it’s not the electronics,refrigeration system,instrumentation, ortemperature. I’m sure it’llturn out to be a little holesomewhere, then NASA willhave four hours of meetings
before telling me to cover itwithducttape.
Lewis and Beck openedPresupply 309. Working asbest theycould in theirbulkyEVA suits, they removed thevarious portions of Habcanvas and laid them on theground. Three entirepresupply probes werededicatedtotheHab.Following a procedure
they had practiced hundreds
of times, they efficientlyassembledthepieces.Specialseal-strips between thepatches ensured airtightmating.After erecting the main
structure of the Hab, theyassembled the three airlocks.Sheet AL102 had a holeperfectly sized for Airlock1. Beck stretched the sheettight to the seal-stripson theairlock’sexterior.
Once all airlocks were inplace,Lewis flooded theHabwith air and AL102 feltpressure for the first time.Lewis and Beck waited anhour. No pressure was lost;thesetuphadbeenperfect.
LOGENTRY:SOL118
MyconversationwithNASAaboutthewaterreclaimerwasboring and riddled withtechnical details. So I’llparaphraseitforyou:Me: “This is obviously a
clog. How about I take itapart and check the internaltubing?”NASA:(afterfivehoursof
deliberation) “No. You’llfuckitupanddie.”
SoItookitapart.Yeah,Iknow.NASAhasa
lotofultra-smartpeopleandIshould really do what theysay. And I’m being tooadversarial, considering theyspendalldayworkingonhowtosavemylife.Ijustgetsickofbeingtold
how to wipe my ass.Independencewasoneof thequalities they looked forwhen choosing Ares
astronauts. It’s a thirteen-month mission, most of itspent many light-minutesaway from Earth. Theywantedpeoplewhowouldactontheirowninitiative.IfCommanderLewiswere
here, I’d do whatever shesaid, no problem. But acommittee of facelessbureaucrats back on Earth?Sorry,I’mjusthavingatoughtimewithit.
I was really careful. Ilabeled every piece as Idismantled it, and laideverything out on a table. Ihave the schematics in thecomputer, so nothing was asurprise.And just as I’d suspected,
therewasacloggedtube.Thewaterreclaimerwasdesignedto purify urine and strainhumidity out of the air (youexhale almost asmuchwater
as you piss). I’ve mixed mywater with soil, making itmineral water. The mineralsbuilt up in the waterreclaimer.I cleaned out the tubing
andputitallbacktogether.Itcompletely solved theproblem. I’ll have to do itagain someday, but not for ahundred sols or so. No bigdeal.I told NASA what I did.
Our (paraphrased)conversationwas:Me:“I took it apart, found
theproblem,andfixedit.”NASA:“Dick.”
AL102 shuddered in thebrutal storm. Withstandingforcesfargreaterthanitwasdesigned for, it rippledviolently against the airlockseal-strip. Other sections ofcanvas undulated along their
seal-stripstogether,actingasasinglesheet,butAL102hadno such luxury. The airlockbarelymoved, leavingAL102to take the full force of thetempest.The layers of plastic,
constantly bending, heatedthe resin from pure friction.The new, more yieldingenvironment allowed thecarbonfiberstoseparate.AL102stretched.
Not much. Only fourmillimeters. But the carbonfibers, usually 500 micronsapart, now had a gap eighttimes that width in theirmidst.After thestormabated, the
lone remaining astronautperformedafullinspectionoftheHab.Buthedidn’tnoticeanything amiss. The weakpartofcanvaswasconcealedbyaseal-strip.
Designed for a mission ofthirty-one sols, AL102continued well past itsplanned expiration. Sol aftersol went by, with the loneastronauttravelinginandoutof the Hab almost daily.Airlock 1 was closest to theroverchargingstation,sotheastronaut preferred it to theothertwo.When pressurized, the
airlock expanded slightly;
when depressurized, itshrunk. Every time theastronaut used the airlock,the strain on AL102 relaxed,thentightenedanew.Pulling, stressing,
weakening,stretching…
LOGENTRY:SOL119
I woke up last night to theHabshaking.The medium-grade
sandstorm ended as suddenlyas it began. It was only acategory three stormwith 50kphwinds.Nothing toworryabout. Still, it’s a bitdisconcertingtohearhowlingwinds when you’re used touttersilence.I’m worried about
Pathfinder. If the sandstormdamaged it, I’ll have lostmyconnection to NASA.Logically, I shouldn’t worry.The thing’s been on thesurface for decades. A littlegalewon’tdoanyharm.When I head outside, I’ll
confirm Pathfinder’s stillfunctional before moving ontothesweaty,annoyingworkoftheday.Yes, with each sandstorm
comestheinevitableCleaningof the Solar Cells, a time-honored tradition amonghearty Martians such asmyself. It reminds me ofgrowing up in Chicago andhaving to shovel snow. I’llgivemydad credit; he neverclaimed it was to buildcharacter or teach me thevalueofhardwork.“Snowblowers are
expensive,” he used to say.
“You’refree.”Once, I tried to appeal to
my mom. “Don’t be such awuss,”shesuggested.In other news, it’s seven
solstilltheharvest,andIstillhaven’tprepared.Forstarters,Ineedtomakeahoe.Also,Ineedtomakeanoutdoorshedfor the potatoes. I can’t justpile them up outside. Thenextmajorstormwouldcausethe Great Martian Potato
Migration.Anyway, all thatwill have
to wait. I’ve got a full daytoday. After cleaning thesolarcells,Ihavetocheckthewhole solar array to makesure the storm didn’t hurt it.ThenI’llneedtodothesamefortherover.Ibettergetstarted.
•••
AIRLOCK1SLOWLYdepressurizedto 0.006 atmospheres.Watney, wearing an EVAsuit, stood inside it waitingfor thecycletocomplete.Hehaddoneit literallyhundredsof times. Any apprehensionhe may have had on Sol 1was long gone. Now it wasmerelyaboringchorebeforeexitingtothesurface.As the depressurization
continued, the Hab’satmosphere compressed the
airlock, andAL102 stretchedforthelasttime.On Sol 119, the Hab
breached.The initial tear was less
than one millimeter. Theperpendicular carbon fibersshouldhavepreventedtheripfrom growing. But countlessabuses had stretched thevertical fibers apart andweakenedthehorizontalonesbeyonduse.
ThefullforceoftheHab’satmosphere rushed throughthe breach.Within a tenth ofasecond,theripwasameterlong, running parallel to theseal-strip. It propagated allthewayarounduntilitmetitsstarting point. The airlockwasnolongerattachedtotheHab.The unopposed pressure
launched the airlock like acannonball as the Hab’s
atmosphere explosivelyescaped through the breach.Inside, the surprised Watneyslammedagainsttheairlock’sback door with the force oftheexpulsion.The airlock flew forty
meters before hitting theground. Watney, barelyrecovered from the earliershock, now endured anotherashehitthefrontdoor,face-first.
His faceplate took thebrunt of the blow, the safetyglassshatteringintohundredsof small cubes. His headslammedagainsttheinsideofthe helmet, knocking himsenseless.Theairlocktumbledacross
the surface for a furtherfifteen meters. The heavypadding of Watney’s suitsavedhimfrommanybrokenbones.Hetriedtomakesense
of the situation, but he wasbarelyconscious.Finally done tumbling, the
airlockrestedonitssideamidacloudofdust.Watney,onhisback,stared
blankly upward through thehole in his shatteredfaceplate. A gash in hisforehead trickledblooddownhisface.Regaining some of his
wits, he got his bearings.
Turning his head to the side,he looked through the backdoor’s window. Thecollapsed Hab rippled in thedistance,ajunkyardofdebrisstrewn across the landscapeinfrontofit.Then, a hissing sound
reached his ears. Listeningcarefully, he realized it wasnot coming from his suit.Somewhere in the phonebooth–sized airlock, a small
breachwaslettingairescape.He listened intently to the
hiss, then he touched hisbroken faceplate. Then helookedoutthewindowagain.“You fucking kidding
me?”hesaid.
CHAPTER14
AUDIOLOGTRANSCRIPT:SOL119
You knowwhat!? Fuck this!Fuck this airlock, fuck thatHab, and fuck this wholeplanet!Seriously, this is it! I’ve
hadit!I’vegotafewminutesbeforeIrunoutofairandI’llbe damned if I spend themplaying Mars’s little game.I’msogoddamnedsickofitIcouldpuke!AllIhavetodoissithere.
The airwill leak out and I’lldie.I’ll be done. No more
gettingmyhopesup,nomoreself-delusion, and no moreproblem-solving.I’vefuckinghadit!
AUDIOLOGTRANSCRIPT:SOL119(2)
Sigh…okay. I’ve had mytantrum and now I have tofigure out how to stay alive.Again.Okay, let’sseewhatIcandohere.…I’mintheairlock.Icansee
theHabout thewindow; it’sa good 50 meters away.Normally, the airlock isattachedtotheHab.Sothat’saproblem.The airlock’s on its side,
and I can hear a steady hiss.Soeither it’s leakingor thereare snakes in here. Eitherway,I’mintrouble.Also, during the…
whatever the fuckhappened…I got bouncedaround like a pinball andsmashedmy faceplate.Air isnotoriously uncooperativewhen it comes to giant,gaping holes in your EVAsuit.
Looks like the Hab iscompletely deflated andcollapsed. So even if I had afunctional EVA suit to leavethe airlock with, I wouldn’thaveanywheretogo.Sothatsucks.I gotta think for aminute.
And I have toget out of thisEVAsuit. It’sbulky,and theairlock is cramped. Besides,it’snotlikeit’sdoingmeanygood.
AUDIOLOGTRANSCRIPT:SOL119(3)
Things aren’t as bad as theyseem.I’mstillfucked,mindyou.
Justnotasdeeply.Notsurewhathappenedto
the Hab, but the rover’sprobably fine. It’s not ideal,but at least it’s not a leakyphonebooth.I have a patch kit on my
EVA suit, of course. Thesamekind that savedmy life
back on Sol 6.But don’t getexcited. It won’t do the suitany good. The patch kit is acone-shaped valve withsuper-stickyresinonthewideend.It’sjusttoosmalltodealwith a hole larger than eightcentimeters. And really, ifyou have a nine-centimeterhole,you’regoingtobedeadway before you could whipoutthekit.Still, it’s an asset, and
maybeIcanuseittostoptheairlock leak. And that’s mytoppriorityrightnow.It’s a small leak.With the
faceplate gone, theEVA suitis effectively managing thewhole airlock. It’s beenaddingairtomakeupforthemissingpressure.Butit’llrunouteventually.I need to find the leak. I
think it’s near my feet,judging by the sound. Now
thatI’moutof thesuit, Icanturnaroundandgetalook.…I don’t see anything.… I
can hear it, but…it’s downhere somewhere, but I don’tknowwhere.Icanonlythinkofoneway
tofindit:Startafire!Yeah,Iknow.Alotofmy
ideas involve settingsomething on fire. And yes,deliberatelystartingafireinatiny,enclosedspaceisusually
aterribleidea.ButIneedthesmoke.Justalittlewispofit.Asusual,I’mworkingwith
stuff that was deliberatelydesigned not to burn.But noamount of careful design byNASA can get around adetermined arsonist with atankofpureoxygen.Unfortunately, the EVA
suit is made entirely ofnonflammable materials. Sois theairlock.Myclothesare
fireproof as well, even thethread.Iwasoriginallyplanningto
check the solar array, doingrepairs as needed after lastnight’s storm. So I have mytoolboxwithme.Butlookingthroughit, Iseeit’sallmetalornonflammableplastic.I just realized I do have
something flammable: myown hair. It’ll have to do.There’s a sharp knife in the
tool kit. I’ll shave some armhairsoffintoalittlepile.Next step: oxygen. I don’t
have anything so refined aspure oxygen flow. All I candoismuckwiththeEVAsuitcontrols to increase oxygenpercentage in the wholeairlock.Ifigurebumpingitto40percentwilldo.AllIneednowisaspark.The EVA suit has
electronics, but it runs on
very low voltage. I don’tthink I could get an arcwithit. Besides, I don’t want tomess with the suit. I need itworking to get from theairlocktotherover.The airlock itself has
electronics,but itranonHabpower. I guess NASA neverconsidered what wouldhappen if it was launchedfiftymeters.Lazybums.Plasticmightnotburn,but
anyone who’s played with aballoon knows it’s great atbuilding up static charge.Once I do that, I should beable tomake a spark just bytouchingametaltool.Fun fact: This is exactly
how theApollo 1 crew died.Wishmeluck!
AUDIOLOGTRANSCRIPT:SOL119(4)
I’m in a box full of burning-hair smell. It’s not a goodsmell.Onmyfirsttry,thefirelit,
but the smoke just driftedrandomly around. My ownbreathingwasscrewingitup.SoIheldmybreathandtriedagain.My second try, the EVA
suit threw everything off.There’s a gentle flow of air
comingoutofthefaceplateasthe suit constantly replacesthemissingair.So I shut thesuit down, held my breath,and tried again. I had to bequick; the pressure wasdropping.Mythirdtry,thequickarm
movements I used to set thefire messed everything up.Just moving around makesenoughturbulencetosendthesmokeeverywhere.
The fourth time I kept thesuit turned off, held mybreath, and when the timecametolightthefire,Ididitvery slowly. Then I watchedas the little wisp of smokedriftedtowardtheflooroftheairlock, disappearing throughahairlinefracture.Ihaveyounow,littleleak!Igaspedforairand turned
the EVA suit back on. Thepressure had dropped to 0.9
atmospheres during my littleexperiment. But there wasplentyofoxygenintheairforme and my hair-fire tobreathe. The suit quickly gotthingsbacktonormal.Looking at the fracture, I
see that it’s pretty tiny. Itwould be a cinch to seal itwith the suit’s patch kit, butnow that I think about it,that’sabadidea.I’ll need to do some kind
of repair to the faceplate. Idon’t knowhow just yet, butthepatchkitanditspressure-resistant resin are probablyreally important.And I can’tdoitbitbybit,either.OnceIbreak the seal on the patchkit, thebinarycomponentsoftheresinmixandIhavesixtyseconds before it hardens. Ican’t just take a little to fixtheairlock.Giventime,Imightbeable
tocomeupwithaplanforthefaceplate.Then,Icouldtakeafew seconds during that planto scrape resin over theairlock fracture. But I don’thavetime.I’mdown to40percentof
myN2tank.Ineedtosealthatfracturenow,andIneedtodoitwithoutusingthepatchkit.First idea: Little Dutch
Boy. I’m licking my palmandplacingitoverthecrack.
Okay…I can’t quite makea perfect seal, so there’sairflow…getting coldernow…getting prettyuncomfortable…Okay, fuckthis.On to idea number two.
Tape!I have duct tape in my
toolbox. Let’s slap some onandseeifitslowstheflow.Iwonder how long it will lastbefore the pressure rips it.
Puttingitonnow.There we go…still
holding…Lemme check the suit.…
Readouts say the pressure isstable. Looks like the ducttapemadeagoodseal.Let’sseeifitholds.…
AUDIOLOGTRANSCRIPT:SOL119(5)
It’sbeenfifteenminutes,andthe tape is still holding.Looks like that problem issolved.Sort of anticlimactic,
really. Iwasalreadyworkingout how to cover the breachwith ice. I have two liters ofwater in the EVA suit’s“hamster-feeder.” I couldhave shut off the suit’sheating systems and let the
airlockcooltofreezing.ThenI’d…Well,whatever.Coulda done it with ice.
I’mjustsayin’.All right. On to my next
problem: How do I fix theEVA suit? Duct tape mightseal a hairline crack, but itcan’t hold an atmosphere ofpressure against the size ofmybrokenfaceplate.The patch kit is too small,
but still useful. I can spread
the resin around the edge ofwherethefaceplatewas,thenstick something on to coverthehole.Problemis,whatdoI use to cover the hole?Something that can stand uptoalotofpressure.Looking around, the only
thing I see that can hold anatmosphere is the EVA suititself. There’s plenty ofmaterial to work with, and Ican even cut it. Remember
when I was cutting Habcanvas into strips? Thosesame shears are right here inmytoolkit.Cuttingachunkoutofmy
EVA suit leaves it withanotherhole.ButaholeIcancontroltheshapeandlocationof.Yeah…I think I see a
solution here. I’m going tocutoffmyarm!Well,no.Notmyarm.The
EVAsuit’sarm.I’llcutrightbelow the left elbow. Then Ican cut along its length,turning it into a rectangle.It’llbebigenoughtosealthefaceplate, and it’ll be held inplacebytheresin.Material designed to
withstand atmosphericpressure?Check.Resin designed to seal a
breach against that pressure?Check.
Andwhataboutthegapinghole on the stumpy arm?Unlike my faceplate, thesuit’smaterial is flexible. I’llpress it together and seal itwith resin. I’ll have to pressmy left arm against my sidewhile I’m in the suit, butthere’llberoom.I’ll be spreading the resin
pretty thin, but it’s literallythestrongestadhesiveknownto man. And it doesn’t have
tobeaperfectseal.Itjusthastolast longenoughformetogettosafety.And where will that
“safety”be?Notadamnclue.Anyway, oneproblemat a
time. Right now I’m fixingtheEVAsuit.
AUDIOLOGTRANSCRIPT:SOL119(6)
Cutting the arm off the suitwas easy; so was cuttingalong its length to make arectangle. Those shears arestrongashell.Cleaning the glass off the
faceplatetooklongerthanI’dexpected. It’s unlikely itwould puncture EVA suitmaterial, but I’m not takinganychances.Besides, Idon’twant glass in my face when
I’mwearingit.Then came the tricky part.
Once I broke the seal on thepatchkit,Ihadsixtysecondsbeforetheresinset.Iscoopedit off the patch kit with myfingers and quickly spread itaround the rim of thefaceplate. Then I took whatwas left and sealed the armhole.I pressed the rectangle of
suit material onto the helmet
with both hands while usingmyknee to keep pressure onthearm’sseam.Iheldonuntil I’d counted
120seconds.Justtobesure.It seemed to work well.
The seal looked strong andtheresinwasrock-hard.Idid,however,gluemyhandtothehelmet.Stoplaughing.In retrospect, using my
fingers to spread the resin
wasn’t the best plan.Fortunately,mylefthandwasstillfree.Aftersomegruntingandalotofprofanities,Iwasable to reach the toolbox.Once I got a screwdriver, Ichiseled myself free (feelingreallystupidthewholetime).It was a delicate processbecause I didn’twant to flaytheskinoffmyfingers.Ihadto get the screwdriverbetween the helmet and theresin. I freed my hand and
didn’t draw blood, so I callthat a win. Though I’ll havehardenedresinonmyfingersfor days, just like a kidwhoplayedwithKrazyGlue.Using the arm computer, I
hadthesuitoverpressurizeto1.2 atmospheres. Thefaceplate patch bowedoutward but otherwise heldfirm. The arm filled in,threatening to tear the newseam,butstayedinonepiece.
Then I watched thereadouts to see how airtightthingswere.Answer:Notvery.It absolutelypissed the air
out.Insixtysecondsitleakedso much it pressurized thewhole airlock to 1.2atmospheres.The suit is designed for
eight hours of use. Thatworksoutto250millilitersofliquidoxygen.Justtobesafe,
the suit has a full liter ofO2
capacity.But that’s onlyhalfthestory.Therestoftheairisnitrogen.It’sjusttheretoaddpressure.Whenthesuitleaks,that’s what it backfills with.The suit has two liters ofliquidN2storage.Let’scallthevolumeofthe
airlocktwocubicmeters.Theinflated EVA suit probablytakesuphalfof it.So it tookfive minutes to add 0.2
atmospheresto1cubicmeter.That’s285gramsofair(trustme on the math). The air inthe tanks is around 1 gramper cubic centimeter,meaning I just lost 285milliliters.The three tanks combined
had 3000 milliliters to startwith.Alotofthatwasusedtomaintain pressure while theairlockwasleaking.Also,mybreathing turned some
oxygen into carbon dioxide,which was captured by thesuit’sCO2filters.Checking the readouts, I
seethatIhave410millilitersof oxygen, 738 milliliters ofnitrogen.Together,theymakealmost 1150 milliliters towork with. That, divided by285 milliliters lost perminute…Once I’m out of the
airlock, this EVA suit will
onlylastfourminutes.Fuck.
AUDIOLOGTRANSCRIPT:SOL119(7)
Okay, I’ve been thinkingsomemore.What good is going to the
rover? I’d just be trappedthereinstead.Theextraroomwouldbenice,butI’dstilldieeventually. No waterreclaimer, no oxygenator, nofood. Take your pick; all ofthoseproblemsarefatal.I need to fix the Hab. I
know what to do; we
practiced it in training. Butit’lltakealongtime.I’llhaveto scrounge around in thenow-collapsed canvas to getthe spare material forpatching.ThenIhavetofindthe breach and seal-strip apatchinplace.But it’ll take hours to
repair, and my EVA suit isuseless.I’ll need another suit.
Martinez’s used to be in the
rover. I hauled it all thewayto the Pathfinder site andback, just in case I needed aspare.Butwhen I returned, IputitbackintheHab.Damnit!Allright,soI’llneedtoget
another suit before going tothe rover. Which one?Johanssen’s is too small forme (tiny little gal, ourJohanssen).Lewis’s is fullofwater. Actually, by now it’s
fullofslowlysublimatingice.The mangled, glued-togethersuit I have with me is myoriginal one.That leaves justMartinez,Vogel,andBeck’s.I left Martinez’s near my
bunk, in case I needed a suitin a hurry. Of course, afterthatsuddendecompression,itcould be anywhere. Still, it’saplacetostart.Next problem: I’m like 50
meters from the Hab.
Running in 0.4 g whilewearing a bulky EVA suitisn’t easy. At best, I cantrundle 2 meters per second.That’saprecious25seconds;almost an eighth of my fourminutes.I’vegottobringthatdown.Buthow?
AUDIOLOGTRANSCRIPT:SOL119(8)
I’llrollthedamnairlock.It’sbasicallyaphonebooth
on its side. I did someexperiments.IfiguredifIwantittoroll,
I’ll need to hit the wall ashard as possible.And I havetobe in the air at the time. Ican’tpressagainstsomeotherpartoftheairlock.Theforceswould cancel each other outanditwouldn’tmoveatall.
First I tried launchingmyself off one wall andslamming into theother.Theairlock slid a little, but that’sit.Next,Itrieddoingasuper-
push-uptogetairborne(0.4gyay!) then kicking the wallwith both feet. Again, it justslid.The third time, I got it
right. The trick was to plantboth my feet on the ground,
near the wall, then launchmyself to the top of theoppositewallandhitwithmyback. When I tried that justnow,itgavemeenoughforceandleveragetotiptheairlockandrollitonefacetowardtheHab.The airlock is a meter
wide,so…sigh…Ihavetodoitlikefiftymoretimes.I’mgonnahaveahellofa
backacheafterthis.
AUDIOLOGTRANSCRIPT:SOL120
Ihaveahellofabackache.The subtle and refined
“hurl my body at the wall”technique had some flaws. Itworkedonlyoneoutofeveryten tries, and it hurt a lot. Ihad to take breaks, stretchout, and generally convincemyself tobody-slamthewallagainandagain.Ittookalldamnnight,butI
madeit.
I’m ten meters from theHab now. I can’t get anycloser,’causethedebrisfromthedecompression isalloverthe place. This isn’t an “all-terrain” airlock. I can’t rolloverthatshit.It was morning when the
Hab popped. Now it’smorning again. I’ve been inthis damn box for an entireday.ButI’mleavingsoon.I’m in the EVA suit now,
andreadytoroll.All right…Okay…Once
more through the plan: Usethemanualvalvestoequalizetheairlock.Getoutandhurryto the Hab. Wander aroundunder the collapsed canvas.Find Martinez’s suit (orVogel’s if I run into it first).Get to the rover. Then I’msafe.If I run out of time before
finding a suit, I’ll just run to
the rover. I’ll be in trouble,butI’llhavetimetothinkandmaterialstoworkwith.Deepbreath…herewego!
LOGENTRY:SOL120
I’m alive! And I’m in therover!Thingsdidn’tgoexactlyas
planned,butI’mnotdead,soit’sawin.Equalizingtheairlockwent
fine.Iwasoutonthesurfacewithin thirty seconds.SkippingtowardtheHab(thefastest way to move in thisgravity),Ipassedthroughthefield of debris. The rupture
had really sent things flying,myselfincluded.It was hard to see; my
faceplatewas covered by themakeshift patch. Fortunately,myarmhadacamera.NASAdiscovered that turning yourwhole EVA-suited body tolook at something was astrenuous waste of time. Sotheymountedasmallcameraon the right arm.The feed isprojected on the inner
faceplate. This allows us tolookatthingsjustbypointingatthem.The faceplatepatchwasn’t
exactly smooth or reflective,so I had to look at a rippled,messed-up version of thecamera feed. Still, it wasenoughtoseewhatwasgoingon.I beelined for where the
airlock used to be. I knewthere had to be a pretty big
hole there, so I’d be able toget in. I found it easily.Andboyisitanastyrip!It’sgoingtobeapainintheasstofixit.That’s when the flaws in
my plan started to revealthemselves. I only had onearm to work with. My leftarm was pinned against mybody, while the stumpy armofthesuitbouncedfreely.Soas Imoved aroundunder thecanvas, I had to usemy one
good arm to hold the canvasup.Itslowedmedown.FromwhatIcouldsee,the
interior of the Hab is chaos.Everything’s moved. Entiretables and bunks are metersaway from where theystarted. Lighter objects arewildly jumbled, many ofthem out on the surface.Everything’s covered in soilandmangledpotatoplants.Trudging onward, I got to
whereI’dleftMartinez’ssuit.To my shock, it was stillthere!“Yay!” I naively thought.
“Problemsolved.”Unfortunately,thesuitwas
pinned under a table, whichwas held down by thecollapsed canvas. If I’d hadboth arms, I could havepulled it free, but with onlyone,Ijustcouldn’tdoit.Running low on time, I
detached the helmet. Settingit aside, I reached past thetable to getMartinez’s patchkit.Ifounditwiththehelpofthe arm-camera. I dropped itin the helmet and hauled assoutofthere.I barely made it to the
rover in time. My ears werepopping from pressure lossjust as the rover’s airlockfilled with wonderful 1-atmosphereair.
Crawling in, I collapsedandpantedforamoment.So I’m back in the rover.
Just like I was back on theGreat Pathfinder RecoveryExpedition.Ugh.Atleastthistimeitsmellsalittlebetter.NASA’s probably pretty
worried about me by now.They probably saw theairlockmovebacktotheHab,so they know I’m alive, butthey’llwant status.And as it
happens, it’s the rover thatcommunicates withPathfinder.I tried to send a message,
but Pathfinder isn’tresponding. That’s not a bigsurprise.It’spowereddirectlyfromtheHab,andtheHabisoffline. During my brief,panicked scramble outside, IsawthatPathfinderwasrightwhereI left it,andthedebrisdidn’t reach that far out. It
should be fine, once I get itsomepower.Asformycurrentsituation,
the big gain is the helmet.They’re interchangeable, so Ican replace my broken-assone with Martinez’s. Thestumpy arm is still an issue,but the faceplate was themain source of leaks. Andwiththefreshpatchkit,Icansealthearmwithmoreresin.Butthatcanwait.I’vebeen
awake for over twenty-fourhours. I’m not in anyimmediate danger, so I’mgoingtosleep.
LOGENTRY:SOL121
Got agoodnight’s sleep andmaderealprogresstoday.First thingIdidwasreseal
the arm. Last time, I had tospread the resin pretty thin;I’d used most of it for thefaceplatepatch.But this timeI had a whole patch kit justfor the arm. I got a perfectseal.Istillonlyhadaone-armed
suit,butatleastitdidn’tleak.
I’d lost most of my airyesterday, but I had a halfhour of oxygen left. Like Isaid earlier, a human bodydoesn’t need much oxygen.Maintainingpressurewas theproblem.Withthatmuchtime,Iwas
able to take advantageof therover’s EVA tank-refill.SomethingIcouldn’tdowiththeleakysuit.The tank-refill is an
emergency measure. Theexpecteduseoftheroveristostartwith fullEVAsuits andcome backwith air to spare.It wasn’t designed for longtrips, or even overnighters.But, just in case ofemergency, ithas refillhosesmounted on the exterior.Inside space was limitedalready, and NASAconcluded that most air-relatedemergencieswouldbeoutdoors.
But refilling is slow,slower than my suit wasleaking.So itwasn’t anyuseto me until I swappedhelmets. Now, with a solidsuit capable of holdingpressure, refilling the tankswasabreeze.After refilling,andmaking
sure the suit was still notleaking, I had a fewimmediate tasks to take careof. Much as I trust my
handiwork, I wanted a two-armedsuit.I ventured back into the
Hab. This time, not beingrushed, I was able to use apole to leverage the tableoffMartinez’s suit. Pulling itloose,Idraggeditbacktotherover.Afterathoroughdiagnostic
to be sure, I finally had afully functional EVA suit! Ittook me two trips to get it,
butIgotit.Tomorrow,I’llfixtheHab.
LOGENTRY:SOL122
The first thing I did todaywas line up rocks near therovertospell“A-okay.”ThatshouldmakeNASAhappy.I went into the Hab again
toassessdamage.Myprioritywill be to get the structureintact and holding pressure.From there, I can work onfixingstuffthatbroke.The Hab is normally a
dome, with flexible support
poles maintaining the archand rigid, folding floormaterial tokeep its base flat.The internal pressure was avital part of its support.Without it, the whole thingcollapsed. I inspected thepoles, and none of them hadbroken.They’rejustlyingflatisall. I’llhavetore-coupleafew of them, but that’ll beeasy.The hole where Airlock 1
used to be is huge, butsurmountable. I have seal-strips and spare canvas. It’llbealotofwork,butIcangettheHab togetheragain.OnceI do, I’ll reestablish powerand get Pathfinder backonline. From there, NASAcan tell me how to fixanythingIcan’tfigureoutonmyown.I’m notworried about any
of that. Ihaveamuchbigger
problem.Thefarmisdead.With a complete loss of
pressure, most of the waterboiled off. Also, thetemperature is well belowfreezing. Not even thebacteria in the soil cansurvive a catastrophe likethat. Someof the cropswereinpop-tentsoff theHab.Butthey’redead, too. Ihad themconnecteddirectlytotheHab
via hoses to maintain airsupply and temperature.WhentheHabblew,thepop-tents depressurized as well.Even if they hadn’t, thefreezing cold would havekilledthecrops.Potatoesarenowextincton
Mars.So is the soil bacteria. I’ll
never grow another plant solongasI’mhere.We had it all planned out.
Myfarmwouldgivemefoodtill Sol 900. A supply probewould get here on Sol 856;waybeforeIranout.Withthefarm dead, that plan ishistory.The ration packs won’t
have been affected by theexplosion. And the potatoesI’ve already grown may bedead, but they’re still food. Iwasjustabouttoharvest,soitwas a good time for this to
happen,Iguess.Therationswilllastmetill
Sol 400. I can’t say for surehow long the potatoes willlast, until I see how many Igot.ButIcanestimate.Ihad400 plants, probablyaveraging 5 potatoes each:2000 taters. At 150 calorieseach, I’ll need to eat 10 persol to survive. That meansthey’ll last me 200 sols.Grand total: I have enough
foodtolasttillSol600.By Sol 856 I’ll be long
dead.
CHAPTER15
[08:12]WATNEY:Test.[08:25]JPL:Received!Yougave
usquiteascarethere.Thanksforthe“A-okay”message.OuranalysisofsatelliteimageryshowsacompletedetachmentofAirlock1.Isthatcorrect?What’syourstatus?
[08:39]WATNEY:Ifby“detachment”youmean“shotmeoutlikeacannon”thenyeah.Minorcutonmyforehead.HadsomeissueswithmyEVAsuit(I’llexplainlater).IpatcheduptheHabandrepressurizedit(mainairtankswereintact).Ijustgotpowerbackonline.Thefarmisdead.I’verecoveredasmanypotatoesasIcouldandstoredthemoutside.I
count1841.Thatwilllastme184days.Includingtheremainingmissionrations,I’llstartstarvingonSol584.
[08:52]JPL:Yeah,wefigured.We’reworkingonsolutionstothefoodissue.What’sthestatusoftheHabsystems?
[09:05]WATNEY:Primaryairandwatertankswereunharmed.Therover,solararray,andPathfinderwereoutoftheblastrange.I’llrundiagnosticsontheHab’ssystemswhileIwaitforyournextreply.Bytheway,whoamItalkingto?
[09:18]JPL:VenkatKapoorinHouston.Pasadenarelaysmymessages.I’mgoingtohandlealldirectcommunicationwithyoufromnowon.Checktheoxygenatorandwaterreclaimerfirst.They’rethemostimportant.
[09:31]WATNEY:Duh.Oxygenatorfunctioningperfectly.Waterreclaimeriscompletelyoffline.Bestguessiswaterfrozeupinsideandburstsometubing.I’msureIcanfixit.TheHab’smaincomputerisalsofunctioningwithoutanyproblems.AnyideawhatcausedtheHabtoblowup?
[09:44]JPL:BestguessisfatigueonthecanvasnearAirlock1.Thepressurizationcyclestressedituntilitfailed.Fromnowon,alternateAirlock2and3forallEVAs.Also,we’llbegettingyouachecklistandproceduresforafullcanvasexam.
[09:57]WATNEY:Yay,Igettostareatawallforseveralhours!Letmeknowifyoucomeupwithawayformetonotstarve.
[10:11]JPL:Willdo.
•••
“IT’SSOL122,”Brucesaid.“Wehave until Sol 584 to get aprobe to Mars. That’s fourhundred and sixty-two sols,which is four hundred andseventy-fivedays.”The assembled department
heads of JPL furrowed theirbrowsandrubbedtheireyes.He stood from his chair.
“The positions of Earth and
Mars aren’t ideal. The tripwill take four hundred andfourteen days. Mounting theprobe to the booster anddealing with inspections willtake thirteen days. Thatleavesuswithjustforty-eightdaystomakethisprobe.”Sounds of whispered
exasperation filled the room.“Jesus,”someonesaid.“It’s a whole new ball
game,” Bruce continued.
“Ourfocus is food.Anythingelse is a luxury. We don’thavetimetomakeapowered-descent lander. It’ll have tobeatumbler.Sowecan’tputanything delicate inside. Saygood-byetoalltheothercrapwe’dplannedtosend.”“Where’s the booster
coming from?” asked NormToshi,whowas in charge ofthereentryprocess.“The EagleEye 3 Saturn
probe,” Bruce said. “It wasscheduled to launch nextmonth.NASAput it on holdsowecanhavethebooster.”“I bet the EagleEye team
waspissedaboutthat,”Normsaid.“I’m sure they were,”
Brucesaid.“Butit’stheonlybooster we have that’s bigenough.Which brings me tomy next point: We only getone shot at this. If we fail,
MarkWatneydies.”Helookedaroundtheroom
andletthatsinkin.“We do have some things
goingforus,”hefinallysaid.“We have some of the partsbuiltfortheAres4presupplymissions. We can steal fromthem, and that’ll save ussome time. Also, we’resending food,which isprettyrobust. Even if there’s areentry problem and the
probe impacts at highvelocity,foodisstillfood.“And we don’t need a
precision landing. Watneycan travel hundreds ofkilometers if necessary. Wejustneedtolandcloseenoughforhimtoreachit.Thisendsup being a standard tumble-land presupply. All we haveto do is make it quickly. Solet’sgettoit.”
•••
[08:02]JPL:We’vespunupaprojecttogetyoufood.It’sbeeninprogressforaweekorso.Wecangetittoyoubeforeyoustarve,butit’llbetight.It’lljustbefoodandaradio.Wecan’tsendanoxygenator,waterreclaimer,oranyofthatotherstuffwithoutpowereddescent.
[08:16]WATNEY:Nocomplaintshere!Yougetmethefood,I’llbeahappycamper.I’vegotallHabsystemsupandrunningagain.ThewaterreclaimerisworkingfinenowthatIreplacedthebursthoses.Asforwatersupply,Ihave620litersremaining.Istartedwith900liters(300tostartwith,600morefrom
reducinghydrazine).SoIlostalmost300literstosublimation.Still,withthewaterreclaimeroperationalagain,it’splenty.
[08:31]JPL:Good,keepuspostedonanymechanicalorelectronicproblems.Bytheway,thenameoftheprobewe’resendingisIris.NamedaftertheGreekgoddesswhotraveledtheheavenswiththespeedofwind.She’salsothegoddessofrainbows.
[08:47]WATNEY:Gayprobecomingtosaveme.Gotit.
•••
RICH PURNELL sipped coffee in
the silent building. He ran afinaltestonthesoftwarehe’dwritten. It passed. With arelievedsigh,hesankbackinhischair.Checking theclockonhiscomputer,heshookhishead.3:42a.m.As an astrodynamicist,
Rich rarely had towork late.His jobwas to find theexactorbits and course correctionsneededforanygivenmission.Usually,itwasoneofthefirstpartsofaproject,alltheother
steps being based on theorbit.But this time, things were
reversed. Iris needed anorbital path, and nobodyknewwhenitwouldlaunch.Planetsmove as time goes
by.Acourse calculated for aspecificlaunchdatewillworkonly for that date. Even asingleday’sdifferencewouldresult in missing Marsentirely.
So Rich had to calculatemanycourses.Hehadarangeof twenty-five days duringwhich Iris might launch. Hecalculated one course foreach.He began an e-mail to his
boss.Mike, he typed, Attached
arethecourses forIris, in1-day increments. We shouldstart peer review and vettingso they can be officially
accepted.Andyouwereright,Iwasherealmostallnight.It wasn’t that bad.
Nowhere near the pain ofcalculating orbits forHermes.Iknowyougetboredwhen I go into the math, soI’ll summarize: The small,constant thrust of Hermes’sion drives ismuch harder todeal with than the largepoint-thrusts of presupplyprobes.
All 25 of the courses take414 days, and vary onlyslightlyinthrustdurationandangle.Thefuelrequirementisnearlyidenticalfortheorbitsand is well within thecapacity of EagleEye’sbooster.It’s too bad. Earth and
Mars are really badlypositioned. Heck, it’s almosteasierto—Hestoppedtyping.
Furrowing his brow, hestaredintothedistance.“Hmm,”hesaid.He grabbed his coffee cup
and went to the break roomforarefill.
•••
TEDDY SCANNED the crowdedconference room. Itwas rareto see such an assembly of
NASA’s most importantpeople all in one place. Hesquaredasmallstackofnoteshe’d prepared and placedthemneatlyinfrontofhim.“I know you’re all busy,”
Teddy said. “Thank you formakingtimeforthismeeting.I need status on Project Irisfromalldepartments.Venkat,let’sstartwithyou.”“The mission team’s
ready,” Venkat said, looking
atspreadsheetsonhis laptop.“Therewas aminor turfwarbetween theAres3andAres4 presupply control teams.The Ares 3 guys said theyshould run it, because whileWatney’s onMars,Ares 3 isstill in progress. The Ares 4team points out it’s theircoopted probe in the firstplace. I ended up goingwithAres3.”“Did that upset Ares 4?”
Teddyasked.“Yes, but they’ll get over
it. They have thirteen otherpresupply missions comingup. Theywon’t have time tobepissy.”“Mitch,”Teddysaid to the
flight controller, “what aboutthelaunch?”Mitch pulled the earpiece
from his ear. “We’ve got acontrol roomready,”hesaid.“I’ll oversee the launch, then
hand cruise and landing overtoVenkat’sguys.”“Media?” Teddy said,
turningtoAnnie.“I’m giving daily updates
to the press,” she said,leaning back in her chair.“Everyone knows Watney’sfucked if this doesn’t work.The public hasn’t been thisengaged in ship constructionsince Apollo 11. CNN’sTheWatney Report has been the
number one show in its timeslotforthepasttwoweeks.”“The attention is good,”
Teddy said. “It’ll help get usemergency funding fromCongress.”Helookeduptoaman standing near theentrance. “Maurice, thanksfor flying out on shortnotice.”Mauricenodded.Teddygesturedtohimand
addressed the room. “For
those who don’t know him,this is Maurice Stein fromCape Canaveral. He was thescheduled pad leader forEagleEye 3, so he inheritedtheroleforIris.Sorryforthebaitandswitch,Maurice.”“No problem,” said
Maurice. “Glad I can helpout.”Teddyflippedthetoppage
of his notes facedown besidethe stack. “How’s the
booster?”“It’s all right for now,”
said Maurice. “But it’s notideal. EagleEye 3 was set tolaunch. Boosters aren’tdesignedtostanduprightandbear the stress of gravity forlong periods. We’re addingexternal supports that we’llremove before launch. It’seasierthandisassembly.Alsothe fuel is corrosive to theinternal tanks, so we had to
drain it. In the meantime,we’re performing inspectionson all systems every threedays.”“Good, thank you,” Teddy
said. He turned his attentiontoBruceNg,whostaredbackat him with heavy bloodshoteyes.“Bruce, thank you for
flying out, too. How’s theweather in California thesedays?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Brucesaid. “I rarely see theoutdoors.”Subduedlaughterfilledthe
roomforafewseconds.Teddy flipped another
page. “Time for the bigquestion, Bruce. How’s Iriscomingalong?”“We’re behind,” Bruce
saidwitha tiredshakeofhishead.“We’regoingasfastaswe can, but it’s just not fast
enough.”“I can find money for
overtime,”Teddyoffered.“We’re already working
aroundtheclock.”“How far behind are we
talkingabout?”Teddyasked.Bruce rubbed his eyes and
sighed. “We’ve been at ittwenty-ninedays;soweonlyhavenineteenleft.Afterthat,thePadneedsthirteendaystomount it on the booster.
We’re at least two weeksbehind.”“Is that as far behind as
you’re going to get?” Teddyasked, writing a note on hispapers. “Or will you slipmore?”Bruce shrugged. “If we
don’t have any moreproblems, it’ll be two weekslate. But we always haveproblems.”“Give me a number,”
Teddysaid.“Fifteen days,” Bruce
responded.“Ifwehadanotherfifteen days, I’m sure wecouldgetitdoneintime.”“All right,” Teddy said,
taking another note. “Let’screatefifteendays.”Turninghisattentiontothe
Ares 3 flight surgeon,Teddyasked, “Dr. Keller, can wereduceWatney’s food intaketo make the rations last
longer?”“Sorry, but no,” Keller
said. “He’s already at aminimal calorie count. Infact, considering the amountof physical labor he does,he’s eating far less than heshould.Andit’sonlygoingtoget worse. Soon his entirediet will be potatoes andvitamin supplements. He’sbeen saving protein-richrationsfor lateruse,buthe’ll
stillbemalnourished.”“Onceherunsoutoffood,
how long until he starves todeath?”Teddyasked.“Presuminganamplewater
supply, he might last threeweeks.Shorter than a typicalhunger strike, but rememberhe’ll be malnourished andthintobeginwith.”Venkat raised a hand and
caught their attention.“Remember,Irisisatumbler;
hemighthave todrivea fewdays to get it. And I’mguessingit’shardtocontrolarover when you’re literallystarvingtodeath.”“He’s right,” Dr. Keller
confirmed.“Withinfourdaysof running out of food, he’llbarelybeabletostandup,letalone control a rover. Plus,his mental faculties willrapidly decline. He’d have ahard time even staying
awake.”“So the landing date’s
firm,” Teddy said. “Maurice,can you get Iris on thebooster in less than thirteendays?”Maurice leanedagainst the
wall and pinched his chin.“Well…it only takes threedaystoactuallymountit.Thefollowing ten are for testingandinspections.”“How much can you
reducethose?”“With enough overtime, I
couldget themountingdownto two days. That includestransport from Pasadena toCape Canaveral. But theinspections can’t beshortened. They’re time-based. We do checks andrechecks with set intervalsbetween them to see ifsomething deforms orwarps.If you shorten the intervals,
you invalidate theinspections.”“How often do those
inspections reveal aproblem?”Teddyasked.A silence fell over the
room.“Uh,”Maurice stammered.
“Areyousuggestingwedon’tdotheinspections?”“No,” said Teddy. “Right
now I’m asking how oftentheyrevealaproblem.”
“About one in twentylaunches.”Teddy wrote that down.
“And how often is theproblem they find somethingthat would have caused amissionfailure?”“I’m, uh, not sure.Maybe
halfthetime?”He wrote that down as
well. “So if we skipinspections and testing, wehaveaoneinfortychanceof
mission failure?” Teddyasked.“That’s two point five
percent,” Venkat said,steppingin.“Normally,that’sgroundsforacountdownhalt.We can’t take a chance likethat.”“‘Normally’ was a long
time ago,” Teddy said.“Ninety-seven point fivepercent is better than zero.Can anyone think of a safer
waytogetmoretime?”He scanned the room.
Blankfacesstaredback.“All right, then,” he said,
circling something on hisnotes. “Speeding up themounting process andskipping inspections buys uselevendays.IfBrucecanpulla rabbit out of a hat and getdone sooner,Maurice candosomeinspections.”“Whatabouttheotherfour
days?”Venkatasked.“I’m sure Watney can
stretch the food to last fourextra days, malnutritionnotwithstanding,”Teddysaid,lookingtoDr.Keller.“I—” Keller started. “I
can’trecommend—”“Hang on,” Teddy
interrupted. He stood andstraightened his blazer.“Everyone,Iunderstandyourpositions. We have
procedures. Skipping thoseprocedures means risk. Riskmeans trouble for yourdepartment.Butnowisn’tthetime to cover our asses. Wehave to take risks or MarkWatneydies.”Turning toKeller, he said,
“Make the food last anotherfourdays.”Kellernodded.
•••
“RICH,”saidMike.Rich Purnell concentrated
on his computer screen. Hiscubicle was a landfill ofprintouts, charts, andreference books. Emptycoffee cups rested on everysurface; take-out packaginglitteredtheground.“Rich,” Mike said, more
forcefully.
Richlookedup.“Yeah?”“What the hell are you
doing?”“Just a little side project.
SomethingIwanted tocheckupon.”“Well…that’s fine, I
guess,” Mike said, “but youneed to do your assignedwork first. I asked for thosesatellite adjustments twoweeks ago and you stillhaven’tdonethem.”
“I need somesupercomputer time,” Richsaid.“You need supercomputer
time to calculate routinesatelliteadjustments?”“No, it’s for this other
thing I’mworking on,” Richsaid.“Rich,seriously.Youhave
todoyourjob.”Richthoughtforamoment.
“Would now be a good time
foravacation?”heasked.Mike sighed. “You know
what, Rich? I think nowwould be an ideal time foryoutotakeavacation.”“Great!”Rich smiled. “I’ll
startrightnow.”“Sure,”Mike said. “Goon
home.Getsomerest.”“Oh,I’mnotgoinghome,”
said Rich, returning to hiscalculations.Mike rubbed his eyes.
“Okay, whatever. Aboutthosesatelliteorbits…?”“I’m on vacation,” Rich
saidwithoutlookingup.Mikeshruggedandwalked
away.
•••
[08:01]WATNEY:How’smycarepackagecomingalong?
[08:16]JPL:Alittlebehindschedule,butwe’llgetitdone.Inthe
meantime,wewantyoutogetbacktowork.We’resatisfiedtheHabisingoodcondition.Maintenanceonlytakesyoutwelvehoursperweek.We’regoingtopacktherestofyourtimewithresearchandexperiments.
[08:31]WATNEY:Great!I’msickofsittingonmyass.I’mgoingtobehereforyears.Youmayaswellmakeuseofme.
[08:47]JPL:That’swhatwe’rethinking.We’llgetyouascheduleassoonasthescienceteamputsittogether.It’llbemostlyEVAs,geologicalsampling,soiltests,andweeklyself-administeredmedicaltests.Honestly,thisisthebest“bonusMarstime”we’vehadsincetheOpportunitylander.
[09:02]WATNEY:OpportunityneverwentbacktoEarth.
[09:17]JPL:Sorry.Badanalogy.
•••
THE JPL Spacecraft AssemblyFacility,knownas the“cleanroom,” was the little-knownbirthplaceofthemostfamousspacecraft in Marsexploration history. Mariner,Viking, Spirit, Opportunity,andCuriosity, just tonamea
few,hadallbeenborninthisoneroom.Today,theroomwasabuzz
with activity as technicianssealed Iris into the speciallydesignedshippingcontainer.Theoff-dutytechswatched
the procedure from theobservation deck. They hadrarelyseentheirhomesinthelast twomonths; amakeshiftbunkroomhadbeensetupinthe cafeteria. Fully a third of
them would normally beasleep at this hour, but theydid not want to miss thismoment.The shift leader tightened
thefinalbolt.Asheretractedthe wrench, the engineersbrokeintoapplause.Manyofthemwereintears.After sixty-three days of
grueling work, Iris wascomplete.
•••
ANNIE TOOK the podium andadjusted the microphone.“The launch preparations arecomplete,” she said. “Iris isready to go. The scheduledlaunchis9:14a.m.“Once launched, it will
stay inorbit forat least threehours. During that time,Mission Control will gatherexacttelemetryinpreparation
for the trans-Mars injectionburn. When that’s complete,the mission will be handedoff to the Ares 3 presupplyteam, who will monitor itsprogress over the followingmonths. It will take fourhundredandfourteendays toreachMars.”“About the payload,” a
reporterasked,“Ihearthere’smorethanjustfood?”“That’s true.” Annie
smiled. “We allocated onehundred grams for luxuryitems. There are somehandwritten letters fromMark’s family, a note fromthe President, and a USBdrive filled with music fromallages.”“Any disco?” someone
asked.“Nodisco,”Annie said, as
chuckles cascaded throughtheroom.
CNN’s Cathy Warnerspokeup.“Ifthislaunchfails,is there any recourse forWatney?”“There are risks to any
launch,” Annie said,sidestepping the question,“but we don’t anticipateproblems.Theweatherat theCape is clear with warmtemperatures. Conditionscouldn’tbebetter.”“Is there any spending
limit to this rescueoperation?” another reporterasked. “Some people arebeginningtoaskhowmuchistoomuch.”“It’s not about the bottom
line,” Annie said, preparedforthequestion.“It’saboutahuman life in immediatedanger. But if you want tolookatitfinancially,considerthe value of Mark Watney’sextended mission. His
prolonged mission and fightfor survival are giving usmore knowledge about Marsthan the rest of the Aresprogramcombined.”
•••
“DO YOU believe in God,Venkat?”Mitchasked.“Sure,lotsof’em,”Venkat
said.“I’mHindu.”
“Ask ’emall forhelpwiththislaunch.”“Willdo.”Mitch stepped forward to
his station in MissionControl. The room bustledwithactivityasthedozensofcontrollers each made finalpreparationsforlaunch.He put his headset on and
glancedatthetimereadoutonthe giant center screen at thefront of the room.He turned
onhisheadsetandsaid,“Thisis the flight director. Beginlaunchstatuscheck.”“Roger that,Houston”was
the reply from the launchcontrol director in Florida.“CLCDR checking allstations are manned andsystemsready,”hebroadcast.“Give me a go/no-go forlaunch.Talker?”“Go”wastheresponse.“Timer.”
“Go,”saidanothervoice.“QAM1.”“Go.”Resting his chin on his
hands, Mitch stared at thecenter screen. It showed thepad video feed. The booster,amid cloudy water vaporfromthecoolingprocess,stillhad EagleEye3 stenciled ontheside.“QAM2.”“Go.”
“QAM3.”“Go.”Venkat leaned against the
back wall. He was anadministrator. His job wasdone. He could only watchand hope. His gaze wasfixated on the far wall’sdisplays. Inhismind,hesawthe numbers, the shiftjuggling,theoutrightliesandborderline crimes he’dcommittedtoputthismission
together. It would all beworthwhile,ifitworked.“FSC.”“Go.”“PropOne.”“Go.”Teddy sat in the VIP
observation room behindMission Control. Hisauthority afforded him thevery best seat: front-rowcenter.Hisbriefcaselayathisfeetandheheldabluefolder
inhishands.“PropTwo.”“Go.”“PTO.”“Go.”Annie Montrose paced in
her private office next to thepress room. Nine televisionsmounted to the wall wereeach tuned to a differentnetwork; each networkshowed the launch pad. Aglance at her computer
showed foreign networksdoing the same. The worldwasholdingitsbreath.“ACC.”“Go.”“LWO.”“Go.”Bruce Ng sat in the JPL
cafeteriaalongwithhundredsof engineers who had giveneverything they had to Iris.Theywatchedthelivefeedona projection screen. Some
fidgeted, unable to findcomfortablepositions.Othersheld hands. It was 6:13 a.m.inPasadena, yet every singleemployeewaspresent.“AFLC.”“Go.”“Guidance.”“Go.”Millions of kilometers
away, the crew of Hermeslistened as they crowdedaround Johanssen’s station.
The two-minute transmissiontime didn’tmatter. They hadnoway tohelp; therewasnoneed to interact. Johanssenstared intently at her screen,althoughitdisplayedonlytheaudio signal strength. Beckwrunghishands.Vogelstoodmotionless, his eyes fixedonthe floor. Martinez prayedsilently at first, then saw noreasontohideit.CommanderLewis stood apart, her armsfoldedacrossherchest.
“PTC.”“Go.”“LaunchVehicleDirector.”“Go.”“Houston, this is Launch
Control, we are go forlaunch.”“Roger,” Mitch said,
checking the countdown.“ThisisFlight,wearegoforlaunchonschedule.”“Roger that, Houston,”
Launch Control said.
“Launchonschedule.”Once the clock reached
−00:00:15, the televisionnetworks gotwhat theywerewaiting for. The timercontroller began the verbalcountdown. “Fifteen,” shesaid, “fourteen…thirteen…twelve…eleven…”Thousands had gathered at
Cape Canaveral, the largestcrowd ever to watch anunmanned launch. They
listened to the timercontroller’svoiceasitechoedacrossthegrandstands.“…ten…nine…eight…
seven…”RichPurnell,entrenchedin
his orbital calculations, hadlost track of time. He didn’tnotice when his coworkersmigratedtothelargemeetingroom where a TV had beenset up. In the back of hismind, he thought the office
was unusually quiet, but hegaveitnofurtherthought.“…six…five…four…”“Ignitionsequencestart.”“…three…two…one…”Clamps released, the
boosterroseamidaplumeofsmoke and fire, slowly atfirst, then racing ever faster.Theassembledcrowdcheereditonitsway.“…and liftoff of the Iris
supply probe,” the timer
controllersaid.As the booster soared,
Mitch had no time to watchthe spectacle on the mainscreen.“Trim?”hecalledout.“Trim’s good, Flight” was
theimmediateresponse.“Course?”heasked.“Oncourse.”“Altitude one thousand
meters,”someonesaid.“We’ve reached safe-
abort,” another person called
out, indicating that the shipcould crash harmlessly intothe Atlantic Ocean ifnecessary.“Altitude fifteen hundred
meters.”“Pitch and roll maneuver
commencing.”“Getting a little shimmy,
Flight.”Mitch looked over to the
ascent flight director. “Sayagain?”
“A slight shimmy.Onboardguidanceishandlingit.”“Keepaneyeonit,”Mitch
said.“Altitude twenty-five
hundredmeters.”“Pitch and roll complete,
twenty-two seconds tillstaging.”
•••
WHEN DESIGNING Iris, JPLaccounted for catastrophiclanding failure. Rather thannormalmealkits,mostofthefood was cubed protein barmaterial,whichwouldstillbeedible even if Iris failed todeploy its tumble balloonsand impacted at incrediblespeed.Because Iris was an
unmannedmission,therewasno cap on acceleration. Thecontentsoftheprobeendured
forces no human couldsurvive.ButwhileNASAhadtested the effects of extremeg-forces on protein cubes,they had not done so with asimultaneous lateralvibration. Had they beengivenmore time, theywouldhave.The harmless shimmy,
caused by a minor fuelmixtureimbalance,rattledthepayload. Iris,mounted firmly
within the aeroshell atop thebooster, held firm. Theprotein cubes inside Iris didnot.At the microscopic level,
the protein cubes were solidfood particles suspended inthick vegetable oil. The foodparticles compressed to lessthan half their original size,buttheoilwasbarelyaffectedat all. This changed thevolumeratioofsolidtoliquid
dramatically, which in turnmade the aggregate act as aliquid. Known as“liquefaction,” this processtransformedtheproteincubesfrom a steady solid into aflowingsludge.Stored in a compartment
thatoriginallyhadnoleftoverspace, the now-compressedsludgehadroomtoslosh.Theshimmyalsocausedan
imbalanced load, forcing the
sludge toward theedgeof itscompartment. This shift inweight only aggravated thelarger problem, and theshimmygrewstronger.
•••
“SHIMMY’S GETTING violent,”reported the ascent flightdirector.“Howviolent?”Mitchsaid.
“More than we like,” hesaid. “But the accelerometerscaught it and calculated thenew center of mass. Theguidance computer isadjusting the engines’ thruststo counteract. We’re stillgood.”“Keep me posted,” Mitch
said.“Thirteen seconds till
staging.”The unexpected weight
shifthadnot spelleddisaster.All systems were designedforworst-casescenarios;eachdid its job admirably. Theship continued toward orbitwith only a minor courseadjustment, implementedautomatically bysophisticatedsoftware.The first stage depleted its
fuel, and the booster coastedforafractionofasecondasitjettisoned stage clamps via
explosive bolts. The now-empty stage fell away fromthe craft as the second-stageenginespreparedtoignite.The brutal forces had
disappeared. The proteinsludge floated free in thecontainer.Giventwoseconds,it would have re-expandedand solidified. But it wasgivenonlyaquartersecond.As the second stage fired,
the craft experienced a
suddenjoltofimmenseforce.No longer contending withthe deadweight of the firststage, the acceleration wasprofound. The three hundredkilogramsofsludgeslammedintothebackofitscontainer.The point of impact was attheedgeofIris,nowherenearwherethemasswasexpectedtobe.Though Iris was held in
place by five large bolts, the
forcewasdirectedentirely toa single one. The bolt wasdesigned to withstandimmense forces; if necessaryto carry the entire weight ofthe payload. But it was notdesigned to sustain a suddenimpact from a loose three-hundred-kilogrammass.The bolt sheared. The
burdenwasthenshiftedtotheremaining four bolts. Theforceful impact having
passed, their work wasconsiderably easier than thatoftheirfallencomrade.Had the pad crew been
given time to do normalinspections, theywould havenoticed the minor defect inoneofthebolts.Adefectthatslightly weakened it, thoughitwould not cause failure ona normal mission. Still, theywould have swapped it outwithaperfectreplacement.
The off-center loadpresentedunequalforcetothefour remaining bolts, thedefective one bearing thebrunt of it. Soon, it failed aswell. From there, the otherthree failed in rapidsuccession.Iris slipped from its
supports in the aeroshell,slammingintothehull.
•••
“WOAH!” EXCLAIMED the ascentflight director. “Flight,we’regettingalargeprecession!”“What?” Mitch said as
alerts beeped and lightsflashed across all theconsoles.“Force on Iris is at seven
g’s,”someonesaid.“Intermittent signal loss,”
calledanothervoice.“Ascent,what’s happening
here?”Mitchdemanded.
“All hell broke loose. It’sspinningonthelongaxiswitha seventeen-degreeprecession.”“Howbad?”“At least five rp’s, and
fallingoffcourse.”“Canyougetittoorbit?”“I can’t talk to it at all;
signalfailuresleftandright.”“Comm!”Mitchshottothe
communicationsdirector.“Workin’ on it, Flight,”
was the response. “There’s aproblem with the onboardsystem.”“Getting some major g’s
inside,Flight.”“Groundtelemetryshowsit
two hundred meters low oftargetpath.”“We’ve lost readings on
theprobe,Flight.”“Entirely lost the probe?”
heasked.“Affirm, Flight.
Intermittent signal from theship,butnoprobe.”“Shit,” Mitch said. “It
shooklooseintheaeroshell.”“It’sdreideling,Flight.”“Can it limp to orbit?”
Mitch said. “Even super-lowEO?Wemightbeableto—”“Lossofsignal,Flight.”“LOShere,too.”“Samehere.”Other than the alarms, the
roomfellsilent.After a moment, Mitch
said,“Reestablish?”“Noluck,”saidComm.“Ground?”Mitchasked.“GC” was the reply.
“Vehicle had already leftvisualrange.”“SatCon?”Mitchasked.“Nosatellite acquisitionof
signal.”Mitch looked forward to
themainscreen.Itwasblacknow, with large white lettersreading“LOS.”“Flight,” a voice said over
the radio, “US destroyerStocktonreportsdebrisfallingfromthesky.SourcematcheslastknownlocationofIris.”Mitch put his head in his
hands.“Roger,”hesaid.Then he uttered the words
every flight director hopesnever to say: “GC, Flight.
Lockthedoors.”It was the signal to start
post-failureprocedures.From the VIP observation
room, Teddy watched thedespondent Mission ControlCenter. He took a deepbreath, then let it out. Helooked forlornly at the bluefolder that contained hischeerful speech praising aperfectlaunch.Heplaceditinhis briefcase and extracted
the red folder,with theotherspeechinit.
•••
VENKAT STARED out his officewindows to the space centerbeyond. A space center thathoused mankind’s mostadvanced knowledge ofrocketryyethadstillfailedtoexecutetoday’slaunch.
His mobile rang. His wifeagain. No doubt worriedabout him. He let it go tovoice mail. He just couldn’tfaceher.Oranyone.A chime came from his
computer. Glancing over, hesaw an e-mail from JPL. Arelayed message fromPathfinder:
[16:03]WATNEY:How’dthelaunchgo?
CHAPTER16
Martinez:Dr.ShieldssaysIneedtowrite
personalmessagestoeachofthecrew.Shesaysit’llkeepmetetheredtohumanity.Ithinkit’sbullshit.Buthey,it’sanorder.
Withyou,Icanbeblunt:IfIdie,Ineedyoutocheckonmy
parents.They’llwanttohearaboutourtimeonMarsfirsthand.I’llneedyoutodothat.
Itwon’tbeeasytalkingtoacoupleabouttheirdeadson.It’salottoask;that’swhyI’maskingyou.I’dtellyouyou’remybestfriendandstuff,butitwouldbelame.
I’mnotgivingup.Justplanning
foreveryoutcome.It’swhatIdo.
•••
GUOMING,directoroftheChinaNational SpaceAdministration,examinedthedauntingpileofpaperworkathis desk. In the old days,whenChinawantedtolauncharocket,theyjustlaunchedit.Nowtheywerecompelledby
international agreements towarnothernationsfirst.It was a requirement, Guo
Ming noted to himself, thatdid not apply to the UnitedStates. To be fair, theAmericans publiclyannounced their launchscheduleswellinadvance,soit amounted to the samething.He walked a fine line
filling out the form: making
the launch date and flightpath clear, while doingeverything possible to“concealstatesecrets.”He snorted at the last
requirement.“Ridiculous,”hemumbled. The Taiyang Shenhad no strategic or militaryvalue. It was an unmannedprobe thatwould be inEarthorbitlessthantwodays.Afterthat,itwouldtraveltoasolarorbit between Mercury and
Venus. It would be China’sfirst heliology probe to orbitthesun.Yet the State Council
insisted all launches beshrouded in secrecy. Evenlauncheswithnothingtohide.Thisway,othernationscouldnot infer from lack ofopenness which launchescontainedclassifiedpayloads.A knock at the door
interruptedhispaperwork.
“Come,” Guo Ming said,happyfortheinterruption.“Good evening, sir,” said
UnderDirectorZhuTao.“Tao,welcomeback.”“Thank you, sir. It’s good
tobebackinBeijing.”“How were things at
Jiuquan?” asked Guo Ming.“Not too cold, I hope? I’llnever understand why ourlaunch complex is in themiddleoftheGobiDesert.”
“It was cold, yetmanageable,”ZhuTaosaid.“And how are launch
preparationscomingalong?”“Iamhappy to report they
areallonschedule.”“Excellent.” Guo Ming
smiled.ZhuTaosatquietly,staring
athisboss.Guo Ming looked
expectantly back at him, butZhu Tao neither stood to
leave nor said anythingfurther.“Something else, Tao?”
GuoMingasked.“Mmm,” Zhu Tao said.
“Of course, you’ve heardabouttheIrisprobe?”“Yes,Idid,”Guofrowned.
“Terriblesituation.Thatpoorman’sgoingtostarve.”“Possibly,” Zhu Tao said.
“Possiblynot.”Guo Ming leaned back in
his chair. “What are yousaying?”“It’s the Taiyang Shen’s
booster, sir. Our engineershave run the numbers, and ithas enough fuel for a Marsinjection orbit. It could getthere in four hundred andnineteendays.”“Areyoukidding?”“Haveyoueverknownme
to‘kid,’sir?”Guo Ming stood and
pinched his chin. Pacing, hesaid,“WecanreallysendtheTaiyangShentoMars?”“No, sir,” said Zhu Tao.
“It’s far too heavy. Themassiveheatshieldingmakesit the heaviest unmannedprobewe’veeverbuilt.That’swhy theboosterhad tobesopowerful. But a lighterpayload could be sent all thewaytoMars.”“Howmuchmasscouldwe
send?”GuoMingasked.“Nine hundred and forty-
onekilograms,sir.”“Hmm,”GuoMingsaid,“I
bet NASA could work withthat limitation. Why haven’ttheyapproachedus?”“Because they don’t
know,” Zhu Tao said. “Allour booster technology isclassified information. TheMinistry of State Securityeven spreads disinformation
aboutourcapabilities.Thisisforobviousreasons.”“So they don’t know we
can help them,” Guo Mingsaid. “If we decide not tohelp, no one will know wecouldhave.”“Correct,sir.”“For thesakeofargument,
let’s saywe decided to help.Whatthen?”“Time would be the
enemy, sir,” Zhu Tao
answered. “Based on travelduration and the suppliestheirastronauthasremaining,anysuchprobewouldhavetobe launched within a month.Even then he would starve alittle.”“That’s right around when
weplannedtolaunchTaiyangShen.”“Yes, sir.But it took them
twomonths tobuild Iris,anditwassorusheditfailed.”
“That’s their problem,”Guo Ming said. “Our endwould be providing thebooster. We’d launch fromJiuquan; we can’t ship aneight-hundred-ton rocket toFlorida.”“Any agreement would
hinge on the Americansreimbursing us for thebooster,”ZhuTao said, “andthe State Council wouldlikely want political favors
fromtheUSgovernment.”“Reimbursement would be
pointless,” Guo Ming said.“This was an expensiveproject,andtheStateCouncilgrumbledaboutitallalong.Iftheyhadabulkpayoutforitsvalue, they’d just keep it.We’d never get to buildanotherone.”He clasped his hands
behind his back. “And theAmerican people may be
sentimental, but theirgovernment is not. The USStateDepartmentwon’t tradeanythingmajorforoneman’slife.”“So it’s hopeless?” asked
ZhuTao.“Nothopeless,”GuoMing
corrected. “Just hard. If thisbecomes a negotiation bydiplomats, it will never beresolved. We need to keepthis among scientists. Space
agency to space agency. I’llget a translator and callNASA’s administrator.We’llwork out an agreement, thenpresentit toourgovernmentsasafaitaccompli.”“Butwhat can they do for
us?” Zhu Tao asked. “We’dbe giving up a booster andeffectivelycancelingTaiyangShen.”GuoMingsmiled.“They’ll
give us something we can’t
getwithoutthem.”“Andthatis?”“They’ll put a Chinese
astronautonMars.”Zhu Tao stood. “Of
course.” He smiled. “TheAres5crewhasn’tevenbeenselectedyet.We’llinsistonacrewman.Onewegettopickand train.NASAand theUSState Department wouldsurely accept that. But willourStateCouncil?”
Guo Ming smiled wryly.“Publicly rescue theAmericans? Put a Chineseastronaut onMars?Have theworld see China as equal tothe US in space? The StateCouncilwould sell theirownmothersforthat.”
•••
TEDDYLISTENED to thephoneat
his ear. The voice on theotherendfinishedwhatithadto say, then fell silent as itawaitedananswer.He stared at nothing in
particular as he processedwhathe’djustheard.After a few seconds, he
replied,“Yes.”
•••
Johanssen:Yourposteroutsoldtherestof
ourscombined.You’reahotchickwhowenttoMars.You’reondorm-roomwallsallovertheworld.
Lookinglikethat,whyareyousuchanerd?Andyouare,youknow.Aseriousnerd.IhadtodosomecomputershittogetPathfindertalkingtotheroverandohmygod.AndIhadNASAtellingmewhattodoeverystepoftheway.
Youshouldtrytobemorecool.Weardarkglassesandaleatherjacket.Carryaswitchblade.Aspiretoalevelofcoolnessknownonlyas…“BotanistCool.”
DidyouknowCommanderLewishadachatwithusmen?Ifanyonehitonyou,we’dbeoffthemission.Iguessafteralifetimeofcommanding
sailors,she’sgotanunfairlyjadedview.
Anyway,thepointisyou’reanerd.RemindmetogiveyouawedgienexttimeIseeyou.
•••
“OKAY,HEREweareagain,”saidBrucetotheassembledheadsof JPL. “You’ve all heardabout the Taiyang Shen, soyou know our friends inChina have given us one
more chance. But this time,it’sgoingtobeharder.“Taiyang Shen will be
ready to launch in twenty-eight days. If it launches ontime, our payloadwill get toMars on Sol 624, six weeksafter Watney’s expected torun out of food. NASA’salready working on ways tostretchhissupply.“We made history when
wefinishedIrisinsixty-three
days.Nowwehavetodoitintwenty-eight.”He looked across the table
totheincredulousfaces.“Folks,” he said, “this is
going tobe themost ‘ghetto’spacecraft ever built. There’sonly one way to finish thatfast:nolandingsystem.”“Sorry,what?”JackTrevor
stammered.Brucenodded. “Youheard
me.Nolandingsystem.We’ll
need guidance for in-flightcourseadjustments.Butonceit gets toMars, it’s going tocrash.”“That’s crazy!” Jack said.
“It’ll be going an insanevelocitywhenithits!”“Yep,” Bruce said. “With
ideal atmospheric drag, it’llimpact at three hundredmeterspersecond.”“What good will a
pulverized probe do
Watney?”Jackasked.“As long as the food
doesn’t burn up on the wayin,Watneycaneat it,”Brucesaid.Turning to thewhiteboard,
he began drawing a basicorganizational chart. “I wanttwoteams,”hebegan.“Team One will make the
outer shell, guidance system,and thrusters.Allwe need isfor it to get toMars. I want
the safest possible system.Aerosol propellant would bebest. High-gain radio so wecan talk to it, and standardsatellite navigationalsoftware.“TeamTwowill dealwith
the payload. They need tofindawaytocontainthefoodduringimpact.Ifproteinbarshit sand at three hundredmeters per second, they’llmake protein-scented sand.
We need them edible afterimpact.“We can weigh nine
hundred and forty-onekilograms. At least threehundred of that needs to befood.Getcrackin’.”
•••
“UH, DR. KAPOOR?” Rich said,peeking his head into
Venkat’s office. “Do youhaveaminute?”Venkat gestured him in.
“Youare…?”“Rich, Rich Purnell,” he
said,shufflingintotheoffice,his arms wrapped around asheaf of disorganized papers.“Fromastrodynamics.”“Nice to meet you,”
Venkat said. “What can I doforyou,Rich?”“Icameupwithsomething
a while ago. Spent a lot oftime on it.” He dumped thepapers on Venkat’s desk.“Lemme find the summary.…”Venkat stared forlornly at
his once-clean desk, nowstrewn with scores ofprintouts.“Here we go!” Rich said
triumphantly, grabbing apaper. Then his expressionsaddened.“No,thisisn’tit.”
“Rich,” Venkat said.“Maybe you should just tellmewhatthisisabout?”Richlookedat themessof
papersandsighed.“ButIhadsuchacoolsummary.…”“Asummaryforwhat?”“HowtosaveWatney.”“That’s already in
progress,”Venkatsaid.“It’salast-ditcheffort,but—”“TheTaiyangShen?”Rich
snorted. “That won’t work.
Youcan’tmakeaMarsprobeinamonth.”“We’re sure as hell going
totry,”Venkatsaid,anoteofannoyanceinhisvoice.“Oh, sorry, am I being
difficult?” Rich asked. “I’mnot good with people.Sometimes I’m difficult. Iwish people would just tellme. Anyway, the TaiyangShen is critical. In fact, myidea won’t work without it.
But a Mars probe? Pfft.C’mon.”“All right,” Venkat said.
“What’syouridea?”Richsnatchedapaperfrom
the desk. “Here it is!” Hehanded it to Venkat with achildlikesmile.Venkat took the summary
andskimmedit.Themoreheread, the wider his eyes got.“Areyousureaboutthis?”“Absolutely!” Rich
beamed.“Have you told anyone
else?”“WhowouldItell?”“I don’t know,” Venkat
said.“Friends?”“I don’t have any of
those.”“Okay, keep it under your
hat.”“Idon’twearahat.”“It’sjustanexpression.”
“Really?”Richsaid.“It’sastupidexpression.”“Rich, you’re being
difficult.”“Ah.Thanks.”
•••
Vogel:Beingyourbackuphasbackfired.IguessNASAfiguredbotanyand
chemistryaresimilarbecausetheybothendin“Y,”Onewayoranother,Iendedupbeingyourbackupchemist.
Rememberwhentheymadeyouspendadayexplainingyourexperimentstome?Itwasinthemiddleofintensemissionprep.Youmayhaveforgotten.
Youstartedmytrainingbybuyingmeabeer.Forbreakfast.Germansareawesome.
Anyway,nowthatIhavetimetokill,NASAgavemeapileofwork.Andallyourchemistrycrapisonthelist.SonowIhavetodoboring-assexperimentswithtesttubesandsoilandpHlevelsandZzzzzzzzzz.…
Mylifeisnowadesperatestruggleforsurvival…withoccasionaltitration.
Frankly,Isuspectyou’reasuper-villain.You’reachemist,youhaveaGermanaccent,youhadabaseonMars…whatmorecantherebe?
•••
“WHAT THE fuck is ‘ProjectElrond’?”Annieasked.“I had to make something
up,”Venkatsaid.“So you came up with
‘Elrond’?”Anniepressed.“Because it’s a secret
meeting?” Mitch guessed.“The e-mail said I couldn’teventellmyassistant.”
“I’ll explain everythingonce Teddy arrives.” Venkatsaid.“Why does ‘Elrond’ mean
‘secret meeting’?” Annieasked.“Are we going to make a
momentousdecision?”BrugeNgasked.“Exactly,”Venkatsaid.“Howdidyouknowthat?”
Annie asked, gettingannoyed.
“Elrond,”Brucesaid.“TheCouncilofElrond.FromLordof theRings. It’s themeetingwhere they decide to destroytheOneRing.”“Jesus,”Anniesaid.“None
ofyougotlaidinhighschool,didyou?”“Good morning,” Teddy
said as he walked into theconference room. Seatinghimself, he rested his handson the table. “Anyone know
what this meeting’s about?”heasked.“Wait,”Mitchsaid,“Teddy
doesn’tevenknow?”Venkattookadeepbreath.
“Oneofourastrodynamicists,RichPurnell,hasfoundawayto getHermes back toMars.The course he came up withwould give Hermes a MarsflybyonSol549.”Silence.“You shittin’ us?” Annie
demanded.“Sol549?How’sthateven
possible?” asked Bruce.“Even Iris wouldn’t havelandedtillSol588.”“Irisisapoint-thrustcraft,”
Venkat said. “Hermes has aconstant-thrust ion engine.It’salwaysaccelerating.Also,Hermes has a lot of velocityright now. On their currentEarth-intercept course, theyhavetodecelerateforthenext
month just to slow down toEarth’sspeed.”Mitch rubbed the back of
hishead.“Wow…549.That’sthirty-fivesolsbeforeWatneyrunsoutof food.Thatwouldsolveeverything.”Teddy leaned forward.
“Run us through it, Venkat.Whatwoulditentail?”“Well,” Venkat began, “if
they did this ‘Rich PurnellManeuver,’ they’d start
accelerating right away, topreserve their velocity andgain even more. Theywouldn’t intercept Earth atall, but would come closeenoughtouseagravityassistto adjust course.Around thattime, they’d pick up aresupply probe withprovisions for the extendedtrip.“Afterthat,they’dbeonan
accelerating orbit toward
Mars, arriving on Sol 549.LikeIsaid,it’saMaryflyby.This isn’t anything like anormalAresmission.They’llbe going too fast to fall intoorbit. The rest of themaneuver takes themback toEarth. They’d be home twohundredandelevendaysaftertheflyby.”“What good is a flyby?”
Bruce asked. “They don’thave anyway to getWatney
offthesurface.”“Yeah…,” Venkat said.
“Nowfortheunpleasantpart:Watneywouldhave toget totheAres4MAV.”“Schiaparelli!?” Mitch
gaped. “That’s thirty-twohundredkilometersaway!”“Three thousand, two
hundred, and thirty-fivekilometers to be exact,”Venkat said. “It’s not out ofthe question. He drove to
Pathfinder’s landing site andback. That’s over fifteenhundredkilometers.”“Thatwasover flat, desert
terrain,” Bruce chimed in,“but the trip to Schiaparelli—”“Suffice it to say,”Venkat
interrupted,“itwouldbeverydifficult and dangerous. Butwe have a lot of cleverscientiststohelphimtrickoutthe rover. Also there would
beMAVmodifications.”“What’s wrong with the
MAV?”Mitchasked.“It’sdesignedtogettolow
Mars orbit,” Venkatexplained. “But Hermeswould be on a flyby, so theMAV would have to escapeMars gravity entirely tointercept.”“How?”Mitchasked.“It’dhavetoloseweight…
a lot of weight. I can get
roomsfullofpeopleworkingon these problems, if wedecidetodothis.”“Earlier,”Teddysaid,“you
mentionedasupplyprobeforHermes. We have thatcapability?”“Yes, with the Taiyang
Shen,” Venkat said. “We’dshoot for a near-Earthrendezvous. It’s a lot easierthangettingaprobe toMars,that’sforsure.”
“Isee,”Teddysaid.“Sowehavetwooptionsonthetable:SendWatneyenoughfood tolast until Ares 4, or sendHermesbacktogethimrightnow. Both plans require theTaiyangShen,sowecanonlydoone.”“Yes,”Venkatsaid.“We’ll
havetopickone.”Theyall tookamoment to
consider.“What about the Hermes
crew?”Annieasked,breakingthesilence.“Wouldtheyhavea problem with adding…”She did some quick math inher head. “Five hundred andthirty-three days to theirmission?”“They wouldn’t hesitate,”
Mitchsaid.“Notforasecond.That’swhyVenkatcalledthismeeting.” He glared atVenkat. “He wants us todecideinstead.”
“That’sright,”Venkatsaid.“It should be Commander
Lewis’scall,”Mitchsaid.“Pointlesstoevenaskher,”
Venkat said. “We need tomake this decision; it’s amatteroflifeanddeath.”“She’s the mission
commander,” Mitch said.“Life-and-deathdecisions areherdamnjob.”“Easy,Mitch,”Teddysaid.“Bullshit,” Mitch said.
“You guys have done endruns around the crew everytime something goes wrong.You didn’t tell themWatneywas still alive; now you’renottellingthemthere’sawaytosavehim.”“Wealreadyhaveawayto
keep him alive,” Teddy said.“We’re just discussinganotherone.”“The crash-lander?”Mitch
said. “Does anyone think
that’llwork?Anyone?”“All right, Mitch,” Teddy
said.“You’veexpressedyouropinion, and we’ve heard it.Let’smoveon.”HeturnedtoVenkat. “Can Hermesfunctionforfivehundredandthirty-three days beyond thescheduledmissionend?”“It should,” Venkat said.
“The crew may have to fixthings here and there, butthey’re well trained.
Remember, Hermes wasmade to do all five Aresmissions. It’s only halfwaythrough its designed lifespan.”“It’s the most expensive
thingeverbuilt,”Teddysaid.“Wecan’tmakeanotherone.Ifsomethingwentwrong,thecrewwoulddie,andtheAresProgramwiththem.”“Losingthecrewwouldbe
adisaster,”Venkatsaid.“But
we wouldn’t lose Hermes.We can remotely operate it.Solongasthereactorandionengines continued to work,wecouldbringitback.”“Space travel is
dangerous,”Mitch said. “Wecan’t make this a discussionaboutwhat’ssafest.”“I disagree,” Teddy said.
“This is absolutely adiscussion about what’ssafest. And about howmany
lives are at stake.Both plansare risky, but resupplyingWatney only risks one lifewhile the Rich PurnellManeuverriskssix.”“Consider degree of risk,
Teddy,” Venkat said. “Mitchis right. The crash-lander ishigh-risk.ItcouldmissMars,it could reenter wrong andburn up, it could crash toohard and destroy the food…We estimate a thirty percent
chanceofsuccess.”“A near-Earth rendezvous
with Hermes is moredoable?”Teddyasked.“Much more doable,”
Venkat confirmed. “Withsub-second transmissiondelays, we can control theprobe directly from Earthratherthanrelyonautomatedsystems. When the timecomes to dock, MajorMartinezcanpilotitremotely
from Hermes with notransmissiondelayatall.AndHermes has a human crew,abletoovercomeanyhiccupsthat may happen. And wedon’thavetodoareentry;thesuppliesdon’thavetosurvivea three-hundred-meters-per-secondimpact.”“So,” Bruce offered, “we
can have a high chance ofkilling one person, or a lowchance of killing six people.
Jeez.How dowe evenmakethisdecision?”“We talk about it, then
Teddy makes the decision,”Venkat said. “Not sure whatelsewecando.”“We could let Lewis—”
Mitchbegan.“Yeah, other than that,”
Venkatinterrupted.“Question,” Annie said.
“What am I even here for?Thisseemslikesomethingfor
younerdstodiscuss.”“You need to be in the
loop,” Venkat said. “We’renotdecidingrightnow.We’llneed to quietly research thedetails internally. Somethingmight leak, and you need tobe ready to dance aroundquestions.”“How longhavewegot to
make a decision?” Teddyasked.“The window for starting
the maneuver ends in thirty-ninehours.”“All right,” Teddy said.
“Everyone, we discuss thisonly in person or on thephone; never e-mail. Anddon’t talk to anyone aboutthis, other than the peoplehere. The last thingwe needispublicopinionpressingfora risky cowboy rescue thatmaybeimpossible.”
•••
Beck:Hey,man.Howyabeen?NowthatI’mina“diresituation,”
Idon’thavetofollowsocialrulesanymore.Icanbehonestwitheveryone.
Bearingthatinmind,Ihavetosay…dude…youneedtotellJohanssenhowyoufeel.Ifyoudon’t,you’llregretitforever.
Iwon’tlie:Itcouldendbadly.Ihavenoideawhatshethinksofyou.Orofanything.She’sweird.
Butwaittillthemission’sover.You’reonashipwithherforanothertwomonths.Also,ifyouguysgotuptoanythingwhilethemissionwasin
progress,Lewiswouldkillyou.
•••
VENKAT, MITCH, Annie, Bruce,andTeddymetforthesecondtime in as many days.“ProjectElrond”hadtakenonadarkconnotationthroughoutthe Space Center, veiled insecrecy. Many people knewthe name, none knew its
purpose.Speculation ran rampant.
Some thought it was acompletely new program inthe works. Others worried itmight be a move to cancelAres4and5.MostthoughtitwasAres6intheworks.“It wasn’t an easy
decision,” Teddy said to theassembled elite. “But I’vedecided togowithIris2.NoRichPurnellManeuver.”
Mitch slammed his fist onthetable.“We’ll do all we can to
makeitwork,”Brucesaid.“If it’s not too much to
ask,” Venkat began, “whatmadeupyourmind?”Teddy sighed. “It’s a
matter of risk,” he said. “Iris2 only risks one life. RichPurnellrisksallsixofthem.Iknow Rich Purnell is morelikely to work, but I don’t
think it’s six times morelikely.”“Youcoward,”Mitchsaid.“Mitch…,”Venkatsaid.“You god damned
coward,” Mitch continued,ignoring Venkat. “You justwant to cut your losses.You’re on damage control.You don’t give a shit aboutWatney’slife.”“Of course I do,” Teddy
replied. “And I’m sick of
your infantile attitude. Youcan throw all the tantrumsyou want, but the rest of ushavetobeadults.Thisisn’taTVshow;theriskiersolutionisn’talwaysthebest.”“Space is dangerous,”
Mitchsnapped.“It’swhatwedohere.Ifyouwanttoplayitsafe all the time, go join aninsurance company. And bythe way, it’s not even yourlife you’re risking. The crew
canmakeuptheirownmindsaboutit.”“No, they can’t,” Teddy
fired back. “They’re tooemotionally involved.Clearly, so are you. I’m notgamblingfiveadditionallivesto saveone.Especiallywhenwe might save him withoutriskingthematall.”“Bullshit!”Mitchshotback
as he stood from his chair.“You’re just convincing
yourself thecrash-landerwillwork so you don’t have totake a risk. You’re hanginghim out to dry, youchickenshitsonofabitch!”He stormed out of the
room, slamming the doorbehindhim.After a few seconds,
Venkat followed behind,saying, “I’ll make sure hecoolsoff.”Bruceslumpedinhischair.
“Sheesh,” he said nervously.“We’rescientists,forChrist’ssake.Whatthehell!?”Annie quietly gathered her
thingsandplacedtheminherbriefcase.Teddy looked to her.
“Sorryaboutthat,Annie,”hesaid. “What can I say?Sometimes men lettestosteronetakeover—”“I was hoping he’d kick
yourass,”sheinterrupted.
“What?”“Iknowyoucareaboutthe
astronauts, but he’s right.Youareafuckingcoward.Ifyou had balls, we might beabletosaveWatney.”
•••
Lewis:Hi,Commander.Betweentrainingandourtripto
Mars,Ispenttwoyearsworkingwithyou.IthinkIknowyouprettywell.
SoI’mguessingyoustillblameyourselfformysituation,despitemyearliere-mailaskingyounotto.
Youwerefacedwithanimpossiblescenarioandmadeatoughdecision.That’swhatcommandersdo.Andyourdecisionwasright.Ifyou’dwaitedanylonger,theMAVwouldhavetipped.
I’msureyou’verunthroughallthepossibleoutcomesinyourhead,soyouknowthere’snothingyoucouldhavedonedifferently(otherthan“bepsychic”).
Youprobablythinklosingacrewmanistheworstthingthatcanhappen.Nottrue.Losingthewholecrewisworse.Youkeptthatfromhappening.
Butthere’ssomethingmoreimportantweneedtodiscuss:Whatis
itwithyouanddisco?Icanunderstandthe’70sTVbecauseeveryoneloveshairypeoplewithhugecollars.Butdisco?
Disco!?
•••
VOGELCHECKEDthepositionandorientationofHermesagainstthe projected path. Itmatched,asusual.Inadditionto being the mission’schemist, he was also an
accomplished astrophysicist.Though his duties asnavigator were laughablyeasy.The computer knew the
course.Itknewwhentoanglethe ship so the ion engineswould be aimed correctly.And it knew the location ofthe ship at all times (easilycalculated from the positionof the sun and Earth, andknowing the exact time fromanon-boardatomicclock).
Barring a completecomputer failure or othercritical event, Vogel’s vastknowledge of astrodynamicswouldnevercomeintoplay.After completing the
check,heranadiagnosticonthe engines. They werefunctioning at peak. He didall this fromhisquarters.Allonboard computers couldcontrol all ships’ functions.Gone were the days of
physically visiting theenginestocheckuponthem.Havingcompletedhiswork
for the day, he finally hadtimetoreade-mail.Sorting through the
messages NASA deemedworthytoupload,hereadthemost interesting first andresponded when necessary.His responses were cachedand would be sent to EarthwithJohanssen’snextuplink.
A message from his wifecaught his attention. Titled“unsere kinder” (“ourchildren”), it containednothing but an imageattachment. He raised aneyebrow.Severalthingsstoodout at once. First, “kinder”shouldhavebeencapitalized.Helena, a grammar schoolteacher in Bremen, was veryunlikelytomakethatmistake.Also, to each other, theyaffectionately called their
kidsdieAffen.When he tried to open the
image, his viewer reportedthatthefilewasunreadable.He walked down the
narrow hallway. The crewquarters stood against theouter hull of the constantlyspinning ship to maximizesimulated gravity.Johanssen’s door was open,asusual.“Johanssen. Good
evening,” Vogel said. Thecrew kept the same sleepschedule, and it was nearingbedtime.“Oh, hello,” Johanssen
said, looking up from hercomputer.“I have the computer
problem,” Vogel explained.“Iwonderifyouwillhelp.”“Sure,”shesaid.“You are in the personal
time,” Vogel said. “Perhaps
tomorrow when you are onthedutyisbetter?”“Now’s fine,” she said.
“What’swrong?”“It isafile. It isan image,
but my computer cannotview.”“Where’s the file?” she
asked, typing on herkeyboard.“It is onmy shared space.
Thenameis‘kinder.jpg.’”“Let’s take a look,” she
said.Her fingers flew over her
keyboardaswindowsopenedand closed on her screen.“Definitelyabadjpgheader,”she said. “Probably mangledinthedownload.Lemmelookwith a hex editor, see if wegotanythingatall.…”After a few moments she
said,“This isn’ta jpeg.It’saplain ASCII text file. Lookslike…well,Idon’tknowwhat
it is. Looks like a bunch ofmathformulae.”Shegesturedto the screen. “Does any ofthismakesensetoyou?”Vogelleanedin,lookingat
thetext.“Ja,”hesaid.“ItisacoursemaneuverforHermes.It says the name is ‘RichPurnellManeuver.’”“What’s that?” Johanssen
asked.“I have not heard of this
maneuver.”He looked at the
tables. “It is complicated…verycomplicated.…”He froze. “Sol 549!?” he
exclaimed.“MeinGott!”
•••
THEHERMEScrewenjoyed theirscantpersonaltimeinanareacalled “the Rec.” Consistingofa tableandbarelyroomtoseat six, it ranked low in
gravity priority. Its positionamidships granted it a mere0.2g.Still,itwasenoughtokeep
everyone in a seat as theypondered what Vogel toldthem.“…andthenmissionwould
concludewithEarth intercepttwohundredandelevendayslater,”hefinishedup.“Thankyou,Vogel,”Lewis
said. She’d heard the
explanation earlier whenVogel came to her, butJohanssen, Martinez, andBeck were hearing it for thefirst time. She gave them amomenttodigest.“Would this really work?”
Martinezasked.“Ja.”Vogelnodded.“Iran
the numbers. They all checkout. It is brilliant course.Amazing.”“How would he get off
Mars?”Martinezasked.Lewis leaned forward.
“There was more in themessage,” she began. “We’dhavetopickupasupplynearEarth,andhe’dhavetogettoAres4’sMAV.”“Why all the cloak and
dagger?”Beckasked.“According to the
message,” Lewis explained,“NASA rejected the idea.They’d rather take a big risk
onWatney than a small riskonallofus.WhoeversnuckitintoVogel’se-mailobviouslydisagreed.”“So,” Martinez said,
“we’re talking about goingdirectly against NASA’sdecision?”“Yes,” Lewis confirmed,
“that’s exactly what we’retalking about. If we gothrough with the maneuver,they’ll have to send the
supply ship orwe’ll die.Wehave theopportunity to forcetheirhand.”“Are we going to do it?”
Johanssenasked.TheyalllookedtoLewis.“Iwon’tlie,”shesaid.“I’d
sure as hell like to. But thisisn’t a normal decision. ThisissomethingNASAexpresslyrejected.We’re talking aboutmutiny.Andthat’snotawordIthrowaroundlightly.”
She stood and pacedslowly around the table.“We’ll only do it if we allagree. And before youanswer, consider theconsequences. Ifwemessupthe supply rendezvous, wedie. Ifwemess up the Earthgravityassist,wedie.“If we do everything
perfectly, we add fivehundredand thirty-threedaysto ourmission. Five hundred
and thirty-three days ofunplannedspacetravelwhereanything could go wrong.Maintenancewillbeahassle.Something might break thatwe can’t fix. If it’s life-critical,wedie.”“Sign me up!” Martinez
smiled.“Easy, cowboy,” Lewis
said.“YouandIaremilitary.There’s a good chance we’dbe court-martialed when we
got home. As for the rest ofyou,Iguaranteethey’llneversendyouupagain.”Martinezleanedagainstthe
wall, arms foldedwith ahalfgrin on his face. The restsilentlyconsideredwhat theircommanderhadsaid.“Ifwedothis,”Vogelsaid,
“it would be over onethousand days of space. Thisis enough space for a life. Idonotneedtoreturn.”
“Sounds like Vogel’s in,”Martinez grinned. “Me, too,obviously.”“Let’sdoit,”Becksaid.“If you think it’ll work,”
Johanssen said to Lewis, “Itrustyou.”“Okay,”Lewissaid.“Ifwe
goforit,what’sinvolved?”Vogelshrugged.“Iplotthe
course and execute it,” hesaid.“Whatelse?”“Remote override,”
Johanssensaid.“It’sdesignedtoget the shipback ifwealldie or something. They cantake over Hermes fromMissionControl.”“But we’re right here,”
Lewis said. “We can undowhatevertheytry,right?”“Not really,” Johanssen
said. “Remote override takespriority over any onboardcontrols. It assumes there’sbeenadisasterandtheship’s
control panels can’t betrusted.”“Can you disable it?”
Lewisasked.“Hmm…” Johanssen
pondered. “Hermes has fourredundant flight computers,each connected to threeredundant comm systems. Ifany computer gets a signalfrom any comm system,Mission Control can takeover.Wecan’tshutdownthe
comms; we’d lose telemetryand guidance.We can’t shutdownthecomputers;weneedthem to control the ship. I’llhave to disable the remoteoverride on each system.…It’s part of theOS; I’ll havetojumpoverthecode.…Yes.Icandoit.”“You’re sure?” Lewis
asked.“Youcanturnitoff?”“Shouldn’t be hard,”
Johanssen said. “It’s an
emergency feature, not asecurity program. It isn’tprotected against maliciouscode.”“Malicious code?” Beck
smiled. “So…you’ll be ahacker?”“Yeah.” Johanssen smiled
back.“IguessIwill.”“All right,” Lewis said.
“Lookslikewecandoit.ButI don’t want peer pressureforcing anyone into it.We’ll
wait for twenty-four hours.During that time,anyonecanchangetheirmind.Justtalktome in private or sendme ane-mail. I’ll call it off andnever tell anyone who itwas.”Lewisstayedbehindasthe
rest filedout.Watching themleave, she saw they weresmiling.Allfourofthem.Forthe first time since leavingMars,theywerebacktotheir
old selves. She knew rightthen no one’s mind wouldchange.They were going back to
Mars.
•••
EVERYONEKNEWBrendanHutchwould be running missionssoon.He’d risen through
NASA’s ranks as fast as onecould in the large, inertia-bound organization. He wasknown as a diligent worker,and his skill and leadershipqualitieswereplain toallhissubordinates.Brendan was in charge of
Mission Control from onea.m.toninea.m.everynight.Continued excellentperformance in this rolewould certainly net him a
promotion. It had alreadybeen announced he’d bebackup flight controller forAres 4, and he had a goodshotatthetopjobforAres5.“Flight, CAPCOM,” a
voice said through hisheadset.“Go, CAPCOM,” Brendan
responded.Thoughtheywerein the same room, radioprotocol was observed at alltimes.
“Unscheduled statusupdatefromHermes.”WithHermes ninety light-
secondsaway,back-and-forthvoice communication wasimpractical.Otherthanmediarelations, Hermes wouldcommunicate via text untiltheyweremuchcloser.“Roger,” Brendan said.
“Readitout.”“I…I don’t get it, Flight,”
cametheconfusedreply.“No
real status, just a singlesentence.”“What’sitsay?”“Message reads: ‘Houston,
be advised:RichPurnell is asteely-eyedmissileman.’”“What?” Brendan asked.
“Who the hell is RichPurnell?”“Flight, Telemetry,”
anothervoicesaid.“Go, Telemetry,” Brendan
said.
“Hermesisoffcourse.”“CAPCOM,adviseHermes
they’re drifting. Telemetry,get a correction vector ready—”“Negative, Flight,”
Telemetry interrupted. “It’snot drift. They adjustedcourse. Instrumentationuplink shows a deliberate27.812-degreerotation.”“What the hell?” Brendan
stammered. “CAPCOM, ask
themwhatthehell.”“Roger, Flight…message
sent. Minimum reply timethreeminutes,fourseconds.”“Telemetry, any chance
this is instrumentationfailure?”“Negative, Flight. We’re
tracking them with SatCon.Observed position isconsistent with the coursechange.”“CAPCOM,readyourlogs
and see what the previousshift did. See if a massivecourse change was orderedand somehow nobody toldus.”“Roger,Flight.”“Guidance, Flight,”
Brendansaid.“Go,Flight,”wasthereply
fromtheguidancecontroller.“Work out how long they
canstayonthiscoursebeforeit’sirreversible.Atwhatpoint
willtheynolongerbeabletointerceptEarth?”“Working on that now,
Flight.”“And somebody find out
whothehellRichPurnellis!”
•••
MITCH PLOPPED down on thecouch in Teddy’s office. Heput his feet up on the coffee
table and smiled at Teddy.“Youwantedtoseeme?”“Why’dyoudoit,Mitch?”
Teddydemanded.“Dowhat?”“You know damn well
whatI’mtalkingabout.”“Oh,youmeantheHermes
mutiny?” Mitch saidinnocently. “You know,that’d make a good movietitle.TheHermesMutiny.Gotaniceringtoit.”
“We know you did it,”Teddysaidsternly.“Wedon’tknowhow,butweknowyousentthemthemaneuver.”“So you don’t have any
proof.”Teddy glared. “No. Not
yet,butwe’reworkingonit.”“Really?” Mitch said. “Is
thatreallythebestuseofourtime?Imean,wehaveanear-Earthresupplytoplan,nottomention figuring out how to
get Watney to Schiaparelli.We’ve got a lot on ourplates.”“You’re damn right we
have a lot on our plates!”Teddy fumed. “After yourlittle stunt, we’re committedtothisthing.”“Alleged stunt,” Mitch
said, raising a finger. “Isuppose Annie will tell themedia we decided to try thisrisky maneuver? And she’ll
leaveoutthemutinypart?”“Of course,” Teddy said.
“Otherwise we’d look likeidiots.”“Iguesseveryone’soffthe
hook then!” Mitch smiled.“Can’t fire people forenactingNASApolicy.EvenLewis is fine.What mutiny?And maybe Watney gets tolive. Happy endings allaround!”“You may have killed the
whole crew,” Teddycountered. “Ever think ofthat?”“Whoever gave them the
maneuver,”Mitchsaid,“onlypassed along information.Lewis made the decision toact on it. If she let emotioncloudher judgment, she’dbea shitty commander. Andshe’s not a shittycommander.”“If Icaneverprove itwas
you, I’ll find a way to fireyouforit,”Teddywarned.“Sure.” Mitch shrugged.
“But if I wasn’t willing totake risks to save lives,I’d…” He thought for amoment. “Well, I guess I’dbeyou.”
CHAPTER17
LOGENTRY:SOL192
Holyshit!They’re coming back for
me!I don’t even know how to
react.I’mchokedup!And I’ve got a shitload of
worktodobeforeIcatchthatbushome.Theycan’torbit.IfI’mnot
in space when they pass by,alltheycandoiswave.
I have to get to Ares 4’sMAV. Even NASA acceptsthat.AndwhenthenanniesatNASA recommend a 3200-kilometeroverlanddrive,youknowyou’reintrouble.Schiaparelli,hereIcome!Well…not right away. I
still have to do theaforementioned shitload ofwork.MytriptoPathfinderwasa
quick jaunt compared to the
epic journey that’s comingup. I got away with a lot ofshortcuts because I only hadtosurviveeighteensols.Thistime,thingsaredifferent.I averaged 80 kilometers
per sol on my way toPathfinder. If I do that welltowardSchiaparelli,thetrip’lltakefortysols.Callitfiftytobesafe.But there’smore to it than
just travel. Once I get there,
I’ll need to set up camp anddo a bunch of MAVmodifications. NASAestimates they’ll take thirtysols, forty-five to be safe.Between the trip and theMAV mods, that’s ninety-five sols.Call itonehundredbecause ninety-five cries outtobeapproximated.So I’ll need to survive
away from the Hab for ahundredsols.
“Whatabout theMAV?” Ihear you ask (in my feveredimagination). “Won’t it havesomesupplies?Airandwaterattheveryleast?”Nope.It’sgotdick-all.It does have air tanks, but
they’re empty. An Aresmissionneeds lots ofO2,N2,andwateranyway.Whysendmore with the MAV? Easierto have the crew top off theMAV from the Hab.
Fortunately for mycrewmates, the mission planhad Martinez fill the MAVtanksonSol1.TheflybyisonSol549,so
I’llneedtoleaveby449.Thatgivesme 257 sols to getmyassingear.Seems like a long time,
doesn’tit?In that time, I need to
modify the rover tocarry the“BigThree”: theatmospheric
regulator,theoxygenator,andthewaterreclaimer.All threeneed to be in the pressurizedarea, but the rover isn’t bigenough.All three need to berunning at all times, but therover’s batteries can’t handlethatloadforlong.Theroverwillalsoneedto
carryallmyfood,water,andsolar cells, my extra battery,my tools, some spare parts,and Pathfinder. As my sole
means of communicationwith NASA, Pathfinder getsto ride on the roof, GrannyClampettstyle.Ihavea lotofproblemsto
solve, but I have a lot ofsmart people to solve them.PrettymuchthewholeplanetEarth.NASA is still working on
the details, but the idea is tousebothrovers.Onetodrivearound,theothertoactasmy
cargotrailer.I’llhavetomakestructural
changes to that trailer. Andby “structural changes” Imean “cut a big hole in thehull.” Then I can move theBig Three in and use Habcanvas to loosely cover thehole. It’ll balloonoutwhen Ipressurize the rover, but it’llhold. How will I cut a bigchunk out of a rover’s hull?I’ll let my lovely assistant
Venkat Kapoor explainfurther:
[14:38]JPL:I’msureyou’rewonderinghowtocutaholeintherover.
Ourexperimentsshowarocksampledrillcangetthroughthehull.Wearandtearonthebitisminimal(rocksareharderthancarboncomposite).Youcancutholesinaline,thenchiselouttheremainingchunksbetweenthem.
Ihopeyoulikedrilling.Thedrillbitis1cmwide,theholeswillbe0.5cmapart,andthelengthofthetotalcutis11.4m.That’s760holes.Andeachonetakes160secondstodrill.
Problem:Thedrillsweren’tdesignedforconstructionprojects.
Theywereintendedforquickrocksamples.Thebatteriesonlylast240seconds.Youdohavetwodrills,butyou’dstillonlyget3holesdonebeforeneedingtorecharge.Andrechargingtakes41minutes.
That’s173hoursofwork,limitedto8EVAhoursperday.That’s21daysofdrilling,andthat’sjusttoolong.Allourotherideashingeonthiscutworking.Ifitdoesn’t,weneedtimetocomeupwithnewones.
SowewantyoutowireadrilldirectlytoHabpower.
Thedrillexpects28.8Vandpulls9amps.Theonlylinesthatcanhandlethataretheroverrechargelines.They’re36V,10ampmax.Sinceyouhavetwo,we’recomfortablewithyoumodifyingone.
We’llsendyouinstructionson
howtostepdownthevoltageandputanewbreakerintheline,butI’msureyoualreadyknowhow.
I’ll be playing with high-voltage power tomorrow.Can’timagineanythinggoingwrongwiththat!
LOGENTRY:SOL193
Imanaged to not kill myselftoday, even though I wasworking with high voltage.Well, it’s not as exciting asall that. I disconnected thelinefirst.As instructed, I turned a
rover charging cable into adrill power source. Gettingthevoltagerightwasasimplematter of adding resistors,whichmy electronics kit has
inabundance.I had to make my own
nine-amp breaker. I strungthree three-amp breakers inparallel. There’s no way fornineampstogetthroughthatwithout tripping all three inrapidsuccession.ThenIhadtorewireadrill.
Prettymuch the same thing IdidwithPathfinder.Takeoutthebatteryandreplaceitwitha power line from the Hab.
But this time it was a loteasier.Pathfinder was too big to
fit through any of myairlocks,soIhadtodoalltherewiring outside. Ever doneelectronics while wearing aspace suit? Pain in the ass. Ieven had to make aworkbench out of MAVlandingstruts,remember?Anyway,thedrillfitinthe
airlock easily. It’s only a
meter tall, and shaped like ajackhammer.Wedidourrocksampling standing up, likeApolloastronauts.Also,unlikemyPathfinder
hatchet job, I had the fullschematics of the drill. Iremoved the battery andattachedapowerlinewhereitused to be. Then, taking thedrillanditsnewcordoutside,Iconnectedittothemodifiedroverchargerandfireditup.
Worked like a charm!Thedrillwhirledawaywithhappyabandon. Somehow, I hadmanaged to do everythingrightthefirsttry.Deepdown,I thought I’d fry the drill forsure.Itwasn’t evenmiddayyet.
I figuredwhynotgeta jumpondrilling?
[10:07]Watney:Powerlinemodificationscomplete.Hookedituptoadrill,anditworksgreat.Plentyofdaylightleft.Sendmeadescriptionof
thatholeyouwantmetocut.[10:25]JPL:Gladtohearit.
Startingonthecutsoundsgreat.Justtobeclear,thesearemodificationstoRover1,whichwe’vebeencalling“thetrailer.”Rover2(theonewithyourmodificationsforthetriptoPathfinder)shouldremainasisfornow.
You’llbetakingachunkoutoftheroof,justinfrontoftheairlockintherearofthevehicle.Theholeneedstobeatleast2.5mlongandthefull2mwidthofthepressurevessel.
Beforeanycuts,drawtheshapeonthetrailer,andpositionthetrailerwherePathfinder’scameracanseeit.We’llletyouknowifyougotitright.
[10:43]Watney:Roger.Takeapicat11:30,ifyouhaven’theardfrommebythen.
The rovers are made tointerlock so one can tow theother. That way you canrescue your crewmates if allhell breaks loose. For thatsamereason,roverscanshareair via hoses you connectbetween them. That littlefeature will let me shareatmospherewiththetraileronmylongdrive.I’d stolen the trailer’s
battery long ago; it had no
abilitytomoveunderitsownpower. So I hitched it up tomy awesomely modifiedrover and towed it intoplacenearPathfinder.Venkat told me to “draw”
theshapeIplantocut,butheneglected to mention how.It’s not like I have aSharpiethat can work out on thesurface. So I vandalizedMartinez’sbed.The cots are basically
hammocks. Lightweightstring woven loosely intosomething that’s comfortableto sleep on. Every gramcounts when making stuff tosendtoMars.IunraveledMartinez’sbed
and took the string outside,thentapedittothetrailerhullalong the path I planned tocut.Yes, of course duct tapeworksinanear-vacuum.Ducttape works anywhere. Duct
tape is magic and should beworshiped.I can see what NASA has
in mind. The rear of thetrailer has an airlock thatwe’renotgoingtomesswith.Thecutisjustaheadofitandwill leaveplentyofspacefortheBigThreetostand.Ihaveno ideahowNASA
planstopowertheBigThreefor twenty-four and a halfhours a day and still have
energylefttodrive.Ibettheydon’t know, either. Butthey’re smart; they’ll worksomethingout.
[11:49]JPL:Whatwecanseeofyourplannedcutlooksgood.We’reassumingtheothersideisidentical.You’reclearedtostartdrilling.
[12:07]Watney:That’swhatshesaid.
[12:25]JPL:Seriously,Mark?Seriously?
First, I depressurized thetrailer. Call me crazy, but Ididn’t want the drill
explosively launched at myface.Then I had to pick
somewhere tostart. I thoughtit’d be easiest to start on theside.Iwaswrong.The roofwould have been
better. The sidewas a hasslebecauseIhadtoholdthedrillparallel to the ground. Thisisn’t your dad’s Black &Decker we’re talking about.It’s a meter long and only
safetoholdbythehandles.Gettingittobitewasnasty.
I pressed it against the hulland turned it on, but itwandered all over the place.So I got my trusty hammerand screwdriver.With a fewtaps, I made a small chip inthecarboncomposite.Thatgavethebitaplaceto
seat, so I could keep drillingin one place. As NASApredicted, it took about two
and a halfminutes to get allthewaythrough.I followed the same
procedureforthesecondholeand it went much smoother.Afterthethirdhole,thedrill’soverheatlightcameon.The poor drill wasn’t
designed to operateconstantly for so long.Fortunately, it sensed theoverheatandwarnedme.SoIleaned it against the
workbenchforafewminutes,and it cooled down. OnethingyoucansayaboutMars:It’s really cold. The thinatmosphere doesn’t conductheat very well, but it coolseverything,eventually.I had already removed the
drill’s cowling (the powercord needed a way in). Apleasantsideeffectisthedrillcoolsevenfaster.ThoughI’llhave to clean it thoroughly
every few hours as dustaccumulates.By 17:00, when the sun
began to set, I had drilledseventy-five holes. A goodstart, but there’s still tons todo. Eventually (probablytomorrow) I’ll have to startdrilling holes that I can’treach from the ground. Forthat I’ll need something tostandon.I can’t use my
“workbench.” It’s gotPathfinder on it, and the lastthingI’mgoingtodoismesswith that. But I’ve got threemore MAV landing struts.I’msureIcanmakearamporsomething.Anyway,that’sallstufffor
tomorrow. Tonight is abouteatingafullrationfordinner.Awww yeah. That’s right.
I’m either getting rescued onSol 549 or I’m dying. That
means I have thirty-five solsof extra food. I can indulgeonceinawhile.
LOGENTRY:SOL194
I average a hole every 3.5minutes. That includes theoccasional breather to let thedrillcooloff.I learned this by spending
all damn day drilling. Aftereighthoursofdull,physicallyintensework,Ihad137holestoshowforit.It turned out to be easy to
deal with places I couldn’treach.Ididn’tneedtomodify
alandingstrutafterall.I justhadtogetsomethingtostandon. I used a geologicalsamplecontainer(alsoknownas“abox”).Before I was in contact
with NASA, I would haveworked more than eighthours. I can stay out for tenbefore even dipping into“emergency” air. ButNASA’sgot a lot ofnervousNellies who don’t want me
outlongerthanspec.With today’s work, I’m
about one-fourth of the waythrough the whole cut. Atleast, one-fourth of the waythroughthedrilling.ThenI’llhave 759 little chunks tochisel out. And I’m not surehowwellcarboncompositeisgoing to take to that. ButNASA’ll do it a thousandtimes back on Earth and tellme the best way to get it
done.Anyway, at this rate, it’ll
take four more sols of(boring-ass) work to finishthedrilling.I’ve actually exhausted
Lewis’s supply of shittyseventies TV. And I’ve readall of Johanssen’s mysterybooks.I’ve already rifled through
othercrewmates’stufftofindentertainment. But all of
Vogel’s stuff is in German,Beck brought nothing butmedical journals, andMartinez didn’t bringanything.I got really bored, so I
decidedtopickathemesong!Something appropriate.
And naturally, it should besomething from Lewis’sgodawful seventiescollection. It wouldn’t berightanyotherway.
There are plenty of greatcandidates: “Life on Mars?”by David Bowie, “RocketMan” by Elton John, “AloneAgain(Naturally)”byGilbertO’Sullivan.But I settled on “Stayin’
Alive”bytheBeeGees.
LOGENTRY:SOL195
Another day, another bunchof holes: 145 this time (I’mgetting better). I’m halfwaydone. This is getting reallyold.But at least I have
encouraging messages fromVenkattocheermeon!
[17:12]Watney:145holestoday.357total.
[17:31]JPL:Wethoughtyou’dhavemoredonebynow.
Dick.Anyway, I’m still bored at
night. I guess that’s a goodthing. Nothing’s wrong withthe Hab. There’s a plan tosave me, and the physicallabor is making me sleepwonderfully.Imisstendingthepotatoes.
The Hab isn’t the samewithoutthem.There’s still soil
everywhere. No point in
lugging it back outside.Lackinganythingbettertodo,I ran some tests on it.Amazingly, some of thebacteria survived. Thepopulation is strong andgrowing. That’s prettyimpressive, when youconsider it was exposed tonear-vacuum and subarctictemperaturesforovertwenty-fourhours.Myguess ispocketsof ice
formed around some of thebacteria, leaving a bubble ofsurvivable pressure inside,and the cold wasn’t quiteenough to kill them. Withhundreds of millions ofbacteria, it only takes onesurvivor to stave offextinction.Life is amazingly
tenacious.Theydon’twanttodieanymorethanIdo.
LOGENTRY:SOL196
Ifuckedup.I fucked up big-time. I
made a mistake that mightkillme.I started my EVA around
08:45, same as always. I gotmy hammer and screwdriverand started chipping thetrailer’shull.It’sapainintheass to make a chip beforeeach drilling, so I make alltheday’schipsinasinglego.
After chipping out 150divots(hey,I’manoptimist),Igottowork.It was the same as
yesterdayandthedaybefore.Drill through, relocate. Drillthrough, relocate. Drillthrougha third time, thensetthedrillasidetocool.Repeatthatprocessoverandovertilllunchtime.At 12:00, I took a break.
Back in theHab, Ienjoyeda
nice lunch and played somechessagainstthecomputer(itkicked my ass). Then backout for the day’s secondEVA.At 13:30 my ruination
occurred, though I didn’trealizeitatthetime.Theworstmoments in life
are heralded by smallobservations. The tiny lumponyoursidethatwasn’ttherebefore.Cominghometoyour
wife and seeing twowineglasses in the sink.Anytime you hear “Weinterruptthisprogram…”For me, it was when the
drilldidn’tstart.Only threeminutes earlier,
it was working fine. I hadfinished a hole and set thedrill aside to cool. Same asalways.But when I tried to get
back to work, it was dead.
The power light wouldn’tevencomeon.Iwasn’tworried.Ifallelse
failed, I had another drill. Itwould take a few hours towireitup,butthat’shardlyaconcern.The power light being off
meant there was probablysomething wrong with theline. A quick glance at theairlock window showed thelightswereonintheHab.So
therewerenosystemicpowerproblems. I checkedmy newbreakers,andsureenough,allthreehadtripped.I guess the drill pulled a
little toomuchamperage.Nobig deal. I reset the breakersand got back to work. Thedrill firedrightup,andIwasbacktomakingholes.Doesn’t seem like a big
deal, right? I certainly didn’tthinksoatthetime.
I finishedmydayat17:00after drilling 131 holes. Notas good as yesterday, but Ilost some time to the drillmalfunction.Ireportedmyprogress.
[17:08]Watney:131holestoday.488total.Minordrillissue;ittrippedthebreakers.Theremaybeanintermittentshortinthedrill,probablyintheattachmentpointofthepowerline.Mightneedtoredoit.
Earth and Mars are justover eighteen light-minutes
apart now. Usually, NASAresponds within twenty-fiveminutes. Remember, I do allmy communication fromRover 2, which relayseverything throughPathfinder.Ican’tjustloungeintheHabawaitingareply;Ihavetostayintheroveruntilthey acknowledge themessage.
[17:38]Watney:Havereceivednoreply.Lastmessagesent30minutesago.Pleaseacknowledge.
I waited another thirtyminutes. Still no reply. Fearstartedtotakeroot.Back when JPL’s Nerd
BrigadehackedtheroverandPathfindertobeapoorman’sIM client, they sent me acheat sheet fortroubleshooting. I executedthefirstinstruction:
[18:09]Watney:system_command:STATUS
[18:09]SYSTEM:Lastmessagesent00h31mago.Lastmessage
received26h17mago.Lastpingreplyfromprobereceived04h24mago.WARNING:52unansweredpings.
Pathfinder was no longertalking to the rover. It hadstoppedansweringpingsfourhours and twenty-fourminutes ago. Some quickmathtoldmethatwasaround13:30today.The same time the drill
died.I tried not to panic. The
troubleshooting sheet has alist of things to try ifcommunication is lost. Theyare(inorder):
1.ConfirmpowerstillflowingtoPathfinder.
2.Rebootrover.
3.RebootPathfinderbydisconnecting/reconnectingpower.
4.Installrover’scomm
softwareontheotherrover’scomputer,tryfromthere.
5.Ifbothroversfail,problemislikelywithPathfinder.Checkconnectionsveryclosely.CleanPathfinderofMartiandust.
6.SpellmessageinMorsecodewithrocks,includethings
attempted.ProblemmayberecoverablewithremoteupdateofPathfinder.
Ionlygotasfarasstep1.Ichecked Pathfinder’sconnections and the negativeleadwasnolongerattached.Iwaselated!Whatarelief!
With a smile on my face, Ifetchedmyelectronicskitandprepared to reattach the lead.Ipulleditoutoftheprobeto
give it a good cleaning (asbest I could with the glovesofmyspacesuit)andnoticedsomething strange. Theinsulationhadmelted.I pondered this
development. Meltedinsulation usually means ashort. More current than thewirecouldhandlehadpassedthrough.But thebareportionof the wire wasn’t black oreven singed, and thepositive
lead’s insulation wasn’tmeltedatall.Then, one by one, the
horrible realities of Marscame into play. The wirewouldn’tbeburnedorsinged.That’saresultofoxidization.Andthere’snooxygenintheair. There likely was a shortafterall.Butwiththepositivelead being unaffected, thepowermust have come fromsomewhereelse.…
And the drill’s breakertrippedaroundthesametime.…Oh…shit…Theinternalelectronicsfor
Pathfinder includedagroundlead to the hull. This way itcould not build up a staticcharge in Martian weatherconditions (no water andfrequent sandblasting canmake impressive staticcharge).
The hull sat on Panel A,one of four sides of thetetrahedron which broughtPathfindertoMars.Theotherthree sides are still in AresValliswhereIleftthem.Between Panel A and the
workbench were the MylarballoonsPathfinder had usedto tumble-land. I hadshredded many of them totransport it, but a lot ofmaterial remained—enough
to reach around PanelA andbe in contactwith the hull. Ishouldmention thatMylar isconductive.At13:30,I leanedthedrill
against the workbench. Thedrill’s cowling was off tomake room for the powerline.Theworkbenchismetal.If thedrill leanedagainst theworkbenchjustright,itcouldmake a metal-to-metalconnection.
And that’s exactly whathadhappened.Power traveled from the
drill line’s positive lead,through the workbench,through the Mylar, throughPathfinder’s hull, through abunch of extremely sensitiveand irreplaceable electronics,and out the negative lead ofPathfinder’spowerline.Pathfinder operates on 50
milliamps. It got 9000
milliamps, which plowedthrough the delicateelectronics, frying everythingalong the way. The breakerstripped,butitwastoolate.Pathfinder’sdead.I’velost
theabilitytocontactEarth.I’monmyown.
CHAPTER18
LOGENTRY:SOL197
Sigh…Just once I’d like
something to go as planned,yaknow?Mars keeps trying to kill
me.Well…Mars didn’t
electrocutePathfinder.SoI’llamendthat:Mars and my stupidity
keeptryingtokillme.
Okay, enough self-pity.I’m not doomed.Thingswilljustbeharderthanplanned.Ihave all I need to survive.And Hermes is still on theway.IspelledoutaMorsecode
message using rocks. “PFFRIED WITH 9 AMPS.DEAD FOREVER. PLANUNCHANGED. WILL GETTOMAV.”If I can get to the Ares 4
MAV, I’llbe set.Buthavinglost contact with NASA, IhavetodesignmyownGreatMartian Winnebago to getthere.For the time being, I’ve
stoppedallworkonit.Idon’twant to continue without aplan. I’m sureNASAhadallkindsofideas,butnowIhaveto come up with one on myown.As I mentioned, the Big
Three(atmosphericregulator,oxygenator, and waterreclaimer) are criticalcomponents.Iworkedaroundthem for my trip toPathfinder.IusedCO2 filtersto regulate the atmosphere,and brought enough oxygenandwater for thewhole trip.That won’t work this time. IneedtheBigThree.Problemis, theysoakupa
lotofpower,andtheyhaveto
run all day long. The roverbatteries have 18 kilowatt-hours of juice. Theoxygenator alone uses 44.1kilowatt-hours per sol. Seemyproblem?You know what?
“Kilowatt-hours per sol” is apain in the ass to say. I’mgonnainventanewscientificunitname.Onekilowatt-hourper sol is…it can beanything…um…I suck at
this…I’ll call it a “pirate-ninja.”All told, the Big Three
need 69.2 pirate-ninjas, mostof that going to theoxygenator and theatmospheric regulator. (Thewater reclaimer only needs3.6ofthat.)There’llbecutbacks.The easiest cutback is the
water reclaimer. I have 620liters of water (I had a lot
more before the Hab blewup).Ineedonlythreelitersofwater per sol, so my supplywill last 206 sols. There’sonly100solsafterIleaveandbefore I’m picked up (or dieintheattempt).Conclusion: I don’t need
thewaterreclaimeratall.I’lldrinkasneededanddumpmywaste outdoors. Yeah, that’sright, Mars, I’m gonna pissand shit on you. That’swhat
you get for trying to kill meallthetime.There. I saved myself 3.6
pirate-ninjas.
LOGENTRY:SOL198
I’vehadabreakthroughwiththeoxygenator!I spent most of the day
looking at the specs. It heatsCO2 to 900°C, then passes itover a zirconia electrolysiscelltoyankthecarbonatomsoff. Heating the gas is whattakes most of the energy.Why is that important?BecauseI’mjustoneguyandtheoxygenatorwasmade for
six.One-sixth thequantityofCO2 means one-sixth theenergytoheatit.Thespecsaysitdraws44.1
pirate-ninjas,butall thistimeit’s only been using 7.35because of the reduced load.Now we’re gettingsomewhere!Then there’s the matter of
the atmospheric regulator.Theregulatorsamplestheair,figuresoutwhat’swrongwith
it, and corrects the problem.ToomuchCO2? Take it out.Not enough O2? Add some.Without it, the oxygenator isworthless. The CO2 needs tobe separated in order to beprocessed.The regulator analyzes the
air with spectroscopy, thenseparates the gasses bysupercooling them. Differentelements turn to liquid atdifferent temperatures. On
Earth,supercoolingthismuchair would take ridiculousamounts of energy. But (asI’m acutely aware) this isn’tEarth.Here on Mars,
supercooling is done bypumping air to a componentoutside the Hab. The airquickly cools to the outdoortemperature, which rangesfrom −150°C to 0°C. Whenit’s warm, additional
refrigerationisused,butcolddayscanturnairtoliquidforfree. The real energy costcomes from heating it backup.IfitcamebacktotheHabunheated,I’dfreezetodeath.“But wait!” You’re
thinking,“Mars’satmosphereisn’t liquid. Why does theHab’saircondense?”The Hab’s atmosphere is
over100timesasdense,soitturnstoliquidatmuchhigher
temperatures. The regulatorgets the best of bothworlds.Literally. Side note: Mars’satmospheredoes condense atthepoles.Infact, itsolidifiesintodryice.Problem: The regulator
takes21.5pirate-ninjas.Evenadding some of the Hab’spower cells would barelypowertheregulatorforasol,let alone give me enoughjuicetodrive.
Morethinkingisrequired.
LOGENTRY:SOL199
I’ve got it. I know how topower the oxygenator andatmosphericregulator.The problem with small
pressure vessels is CO2
toxicity.Youcanhavealltheoxygenintheworld,butoncetheCO2getsabove1percent,you’ll start togetdrowsy.At2 percent, it’s like beingdrunk.At5percent, it’shardto stay conscious. Eight
percent will eventually killyou.Stayingaliveisn’taboutoxygen, it’s about getting ridofCO2.That means I need the
regulator. But I don’t needtheoxygenatorall the time. IjustneedtogetCO2outoftheairandback-fillwithoxygen.I have 50 liters of liquidoxygen in two 25-liter tankshere in the Hab. That’s50,000litersingaseousform,
enough to last 85 days. Notenough to seeme through torescue,butahellofalot.The regulator can separate
theCO2andstoreitinatank,and it can addoxygen tomyair frommyoxygen tanks asneeded. When I run low onoxygen, Icancampout foradayanduseallmy power torun the oxygenator on thestored CO2. That way, theoxygenator’s power
consumption doesn’t eat upmydrivingjuice.SoI’llruntheregulatorall
the time, but only run theoxygenatorondaysIdedicatetousingit.Now, on to the next
problem. After the regulatorfreezes the CO2 out, theoxygen and nitrogen are stillgasses, but they’re −75°C. Ifthe regulator fed thatback tomy air without reheating it,
I’d be a Popsicle withinhours.Mostoftheregulator’spower goes to heating thereturn air so that doesn’thappen.But I have a betterway to
heat it up. SomethingNASAwouldn’t consider on theirmosthomicidalday.TheRTG!Yes, the RTG. You may
rememberitfrommyexcitingtrip to Pathfinder. A lovely
lump of plutonium soradioactive it gives off 1500wattsofheat,whichitusestoharvest 100 watts ofelectricity. So what happensto the other 1400 watts? Itgetsradiatedoutasheat.OnthetriptoPathfinder,I
had to actually removeinsulation from the rover tovent excess heat from thedamnthing.I’llbetapingthatback in place because I’ll
needthatheattowarmupthereturnairfromtheregulator.I ran the numbers. The
regulator uses 790 watts toconstantly reheat air. TheRTG’s 1400 watts is morethanequaltothetask,aswellas keeping the rover areasonabletemperature.To test, I shut down the
heaters in the regulator andnoteditspowerconsumption.Afterafewminutes,I turned
them right back on again.Jesus Christ that return airwascold.ButIgotthedataIwanted.Withheating, theregulator
needs 21.5 pirate-ninjas.Without it…(drumroll) 1pirate-ninja. That’s right,almost all of the power wasgoingtoheat.As with most of life’s
problems, this one can besolved by a box of pure
radiation.I spent the rest of the day
double-checkingmynumbersand runningmore tests. It allchecksout.Icandothis.
LOGENTRY:SOL200
Ihauledrockstoday.I needed to know what
kind of power efficiency therover/trailer will get. On theway to Pathfinder, I got 80kilometers from 18 kilowatt-hours.Thistime,theloadwillbealotheavier.I’llbetowingthe trailer and all the othershit.Ibackedtheroveruptothe
trailer and attached the tow
clamps.Easyenough.The trailer has been
depressurized for some timenow (there’s a couple ofhundredlittleholesinit,afterall), so I openedboth airlockdoors to have a straight shotattheinterior.ThenIthrewabunchofrocksin.I had to guess at the
weight.TheheaviestthingI’llbring with me is the water.620 kilograms’ worth. My
freeze-driedpotatoeswilladdanother 200 kilograms. I’llprobably have more solarcells than before, andmaybea battery from the Hab. Plustheatmosphericregulatorandoxygenator,ofcourse.Ratherthanweighallthatshit,Itooka guess and called it 1200kilograms.Halfacubicmeterofbasalt
weighs about that much(more or less). After two
hours of brutal labor, duringwhichIwhineda lot, Igot itallloadedin.Then, with both batteries
fully charged, I drove circlesaroundtheHabuntilIdrainedthemboth.Withablisteringtopspeed
of25kph, it’snot anaction-packed thrill ride. But I wasimpressed it could maintainthat speed with all the extraweight. The rover has
spectaculartorque.Butphysicallawisapushy
little shit, and it exactedrevenge for the additionalweight. I only got 57kilometersbeforeIwasoutofjuice.Thatwas57kilometerson
level ground, without havingtopowertheregulator(whichwon’t take much with theheater off). Call it 50kilometersperdaytobesafe.
At that rate itwould take 64daystogettoSchiaparelli.But that’s just the travel
time.Every now and then, I’ll
need to break for a day andlet theoxygenatoruseall thepower. How often? After abunch of math I worked outthat my 18-pirate-ninjabudget can power theoxygenator enough to makeabout2.5solsofO2.I’dhave
tostopeverytwotothreesolsto reclaimoxygen.Mysixty-four-sol trip would becomeninety-two!That’s too long. I’ll tear
myownheadoff if Ihavetoliveintheroverthatlong.Anyway, I’m exhausted
from lifting rocks andwhiningabout liftingrocks. Ithink I pulled something inmy back.Gonna take it easytherestoftoday.
LOGENTRY:SOL201
Yeah, I definitely pulledsomething in my back. Iwokeupinagony.So I took a break from
rover planning. Instead, Ispent the day taking drugsandplayingwithradiation.First, I loaded up on
Vicodinformyback.HoorayforBeck’smedicalsupplies!Then I drove out to the
RTG.ItwasrightwhereIleft
it, in a hole four kilometersaway. Only an idiot wouldkeep that thingnear theHab.Soanyway, Ibrought itbacktotheHab.Either it’ll kill me or it
won’t. A lot of work wentinto making sure it doesn’tbreak. If I can’t trustNASA,whocanItrust?(FornowI’llforget that NASA told us toburyitfaraway.)Istoreditontheroofofthe
rover for the trip back. Thatpuppyreallyspewsheat.Ihavesomeflexibleplastic
tubing intended for minorwaterreclaimerrepairs.Afterbringing the RTG into theHab, I very carefully gluedsome tubing around the heatbaffles.Using a funnelmadefrom a piece of paper, I ranwater through the tubing,letting it drain into a samplecontainer.
Sure enough, the waterheatedup.That’snotreallyasurprise, but it’s nice to seethermodynamics being wellbehaved.There’sonetrickybit:The
atmosphericregulatordoesn’trun constantly. The freeze-separation speed isdrivenbythe weather outside. So thereturning frigid air doesn’tcome as a steady flow. AndtheRTGgeneratesaconstant,
predictable heat. It can’t“rampup”itsoutput.So I’ll heatwaterwith the
RTG to create a heatreservoir, then I’ll make thereturn air bubble through it.That way I don’t have toworry about when the aircomes in. And I won’t haveto deal with suddentemperature changes in therover.When the Vicodin wore
off,my back hurt evenmorethan before. I’m going toneed to take it easy. I can’tjustpoppills forever.So I’mtaking a few days off fromheavy labor. To that end, Imadealittleinventionjustforme.…I took Johanssen’s cot and
cutout thehammock.Then IdrapedspareHabcanvasovertheframe,makingapitinsidethe cot, with extra canvas
around the edges. Once Iweighed down the excesscanvas with rocks, I had awater-tightbathtub!It only took 100 liters to
filltheshallowtub.Then, I stole the pump
from the water reclaimer. (Ican go quite awhilewithoutthe water reclaimeroperating.) I hooked it up tomyRTGwaterheaterandputboth the input and output
linesintothetub.Yes, I know this is
ridiculous,but Ihadn’thadabathsinceEarth,andmybackhurts. Besides, I’m going tospend100solswiththeRTGanyway. A few more won’thurt. That’s my bullshitrationalization and I’mstickingwithit.It took two hours to heat
the water to 37°C. Once itdid, I shut off the pump and
gotin.Ohman!AllIcansayis“Ahhhhhh.”Whythehelldidn’tIthink
ofthisbefore?
LOGENTRY:SOL207
I spent the last weekrecovering from backproblems. The pain wasn’tbad, but there aren’t anychiropractors on Mars, so Iwasn’ttakingchances.I took hot baths twice a
day,layinmybunkalot,andwatched shitty seventies TV.I’ve already seen Lewis’sentire collection, but I didn’thavemuch else to do. I was
reducedtowatchingreruns.Igotalotofthinkingdone.I can make everything
better by having more solarpanels.The fourteenpanels Itook to Pathfinder providedthe18kilowatt-hoursthatthebatteries could store. Whentraveling,Istowedthepanelson the roof.The trailer givesme room to store anotherseven(halfofitsroofwillbemissing because of the hole
I’mcuttinginit).This trip’s power needs
will be driven by theoxygenator. It all comesdown to how much power Ican give that greedy littlebastardinasinglesol.IwanttominimizehowoftenIhavedayswithnotravel.Themorejuice I can give theoxygenator, themoreoxygenit’ll liberate, and the longer Ican go between those “air
sols.”Let’sgetgreedy.Let’s say
Icanfindahomeforfourteenmorepanelsinsteadofseven.Not sure how to do that, butlet’s say I can. That wouldgive me thirty-six pirate-ninjas to work with, whichwould net me five sols ofoxygen per air sol. I’d onlyhave to stop once per fivesols. That’s much morereasonable.
Plus, if I can arrangebattery storage for the extrapower, I could drive 100kilometers per sol! Easiersaid than done, though. Thatextra 18 kilowatt-hours ofstorage will be tough. I’llhavetotaketwooftheHab’s9-kilowatt-hourfuelcellsandload them onto the rover ortrailer. They aren’t like therover’s batteries; they’re notsmall or portable. They’relight enough, but they’re
pretty big. I may have toattach them to the outsidehull, and that would eat intomysolarcellstorage.One hundred kilometers
per sol is pretty optimistic.Butlet’ssayIcouldmake90kilometers per sol, stoppingevery fifth sol to reclaimoxygen.I’dgetthereinforty-five sols. That would besweet!In other news, it occurred
tomethatNASAisprobablyshitting bricks. They’rewatching me with satellitesand haven’t seen me comeout of the Hab for six days.With my back better, it wastimetodropthemaline.I headed out for an EVA.
This time, beingvery carefulwhileluggingrocksaround,Ispelled out a Morse codemessage: “INJUREDBACK.BETTER NOW.
CONTINUING ROVERMODS.”That was enough physical
labor for today. I don’twanttooverdoit.ThinkI’llhaveabath.
LOGENTRY:SOL208
Today, it was time toexperimentwiththepanels.First,IputtheHabonlow-
power mode: no internallights, all nonessentialsystems offline, all internalheating suspended. I’d beoutside most of the dayanyway.Then I detached twenty-
eight panels from the solarfarmanddraggedthemtothe
rover. I spent four hoursstacking them this way andthat. The poor rover lookedlike the Beverly Hillbilliestruck.NothingIdidworked.The only way to get all
twenty-eight on the roofwastomakestackssohighthey’dfalloffthefirsttimeIturned.If I lashed them together,they’d fall off as a unit. If Ifound a way to attach themperfectly to the rover, the
roverwouldtip.Ididn’tevenbother to test. Itwasobviousbylooking,andIdidn’twanttobreakanything.I haven’t removed the
chunkofhullfromthetraileryet.Halftheholesaredrilled,but I’m not committed toanything.IfIleftitinplace,Icould have four stacks ofsevencells.Thatwouldworkfine; it’s just two rovers’worth of what I did for the
triptoPathfinder.Problem is I need that
opening.Theregulatorhastobeinthepressurizedareaandit’s too big to fit in theunmodified rover. Pluswhich, the oxygenator needsto be in a pressurized areawhile operating. I’ll onlyneed it every five sols, butwhatwould Idoon that sol?No,theholehastobethere.Asitis,I’llbeabletostow
twenty-one panels. I needhomes for the other seven.There’s only one place theycango: thesidesof theroverandtrailer.One of my earlier
modifications was“saddlebags”drapedover therover.Onesideheldtheextrabattery (stolen from what isnow the trailer), while theothersidewasfullofrocksascounterweight.
I won’t need the bags thistime around. I can return thesecond battery to the trailerfromwhenceitcame.Infact,it’llsavemethehassleofthemid-drive EVA I had to doevery day to swap cables.When the rovers are linkedup, they share resources,includingelectricity.I went ahead and
reinstalled the trailer’sbattery.Ittookmetwohours,
butit’soutofthewaynow.Iremoved the saddlebags andset them aside. Theymay behandy down the line. If I’velearned one thing from mystay at Club Mars, it’s thateverythingcanbeuseful.Ihad liberated thesidesof
theroverandthetrailer.Afterstaringat them for awhile, Ihadmysolution.I’ll make L-brackets that
stick out from the
undercarriages, with thehooks facing up. Twobrackets per side to make ashelf. I can set panels on theshelvesandleanthemagainsttherover.ThenI’lllashthemto the hull with homemaderope.There’ll be four “shelves”
total; two on the rover andtwo on the trailer. If thebrackets stick out far enoughtoaccommodatetwopanels,I
could store eight additionalpanels that way. That wouldgivemeonemorepanel thanI’devenplannedfor.I’ll make those brackets
and install them tomorrow. Iwouldhavedoneittoday,butitgotdarkandIgotlazy.
LOGENTRY:SOL209
Cold night last night. Thesolarcellswerestilldetachedfrom the farm, so I had toleave the Hab in low-powermode.Ididturntheheatbackon (I’mnot insane),but I setthe internal temperature to1°C to conserve power.Waking up to frigid weatherfelt surprisingly nostalgic. IgrewupinChicago,afterall.But nostalgia only lasts so
long.Ivowedtocompletethebracketstoday,soIcanreturnthepanelstothefarm.ThenIcan turn the damn heat backon.IheadedouttotheMAV’s
landing strut array toscavenge metal for theshelves.Mostof theMAVismadefromcomposite,butthestrutshadtoabsorbtheshockof landing. Metal was thewaytogo.
I brought a strut into theHabtosavemyselfthehassleofworkinginanEVAsuit.Itwas a triangular lattice ofmetal strips held togetherwithbolts.Idisassembledit.Shaping the brackets
involved a hammer and…well, that’s it, actually.Making an L doesn’t take alotofprecision.I needed holes where the
bolts would pass through.
Fortunately, my Pathfinder-murdering drill made shortworkofthattask.I was worried it would be
hard toattach thebrackets totherover’sundercarriage,butitendedupbeingsimple.Theundercarriage comes rightoff. After some drilling andbolting, I got the bracketsattached to it and thenmounteditbackontherover.I repeated theprocess for the
trailer. Important note—theundercarriage is not part ofthepressurevessel.TheholesIdrilledwon’tletmyairout.I tested the brackets by
hitting themwith rocks.Thiskindofsophisticationiswhatwe interplanetary scientistsareknownfor.After convincing myself
the brackets wouldn’t breakatthefirstsignofuse,Itestedthe new arrangement. Two
stacksofsevensolarcellsontheroofof therover;anothersevenonthetrailer, thentwopershelf.Theyallfit.After lashing the cells in
place, I took a little drive. Idid some basic accelerationand deceleration, turned inincreasingly tightcircles,andeven did a power-stop. Thecellsdidn’tbudge.Twenty-eight solar cells,
baby! And room for one
extra!After some well-earned
fist-pumping, I unloaded thecells and dragged them backto the farm. No Chicagomorningformetomorrow.
LOGENTRY:SOL211
I am smiling a great smile.The smile of a man whofuckedwithhiscaranddidn’tbreakit.I spent today removing
unnecessary crap from theroverandtrailer.Iwasprettydamnaggressiveaboutit,too.Space inside the pressurevessels is at a premium. Themore crap I clear out of therover,themorespacethereis
forme.ThemorecrapIclearout of the trailer, the moresupplies Icanstore in it,andthelessIhavetostore in therover.Firstoff:Eachvehiclehad
abenchforpassengers.Bye!Next:There’snoreasonfor
the trailer to have lifesupport. The oxygen tanks,nitrogen tanks, CO2 filterassembly…all unnecessary.It’ll be sharing air with the
rover(whichhasitsowncopyofeachof those),andit’llbecarrying the regulator andoxygenator.BetweentheHabcomponentsandtherover,I’llhave two redundant lifesupport systems. That’splenty.Then Iyanked thedriver’s
seat and control panel out ofthe trailer. The linkup withthe rover is physical. Thetrailer doesn’t do anything
butgetdraggedalongandfedair.Itdoesn’tneedcontrolsorbrains. However, I didsalvage its computer. It’ssmallandlight,soI’llbringitwith me. If something goeswrong with the rover’scomputerenroute,I’llhaveaspare.The trailer had tons more
space now. It was time forexperimentation.The Hab has twelve 9-
kilowatt-hour batteries.They’re bulky and awkward.Over two meters tall, a halfmeter wide, and three-quarters of a meter thick.Making them bigger makesthem take less mass perkilowatt hour of storage.Yeah, it’s counterintuitive.But once NASA figured outtheycouldincreasevolumetodecrease mass, they were alloverit.Massistheexpensivepart about sending things to
Mars.Idetachedtwoofthem.As
long as I return them beforethe end of the day, thingsshould be fine. The Habmostly uses the batteries atnight.With both of the trailer’s
airlockdoorsopenIwasableto get the first battery in.After playing real-life Tetrisfor awhile I found away togetthefirstbatteryoutofthe
wayenoughtolet thesecondbattery in. Together, they eatupthewholefronthalfofthetrailer. If Ihadn’tcleared theuseless shit out earlier today,I’d never have gotten thembothin.The trailer’s battery is in
the undercarriage, but themainpowerlinerunsthroughthe pressure vessel, so I wasabletowiretheHabbatteriesdirectly in (no small feat in
thedamnEVAsuit).A system check from the
rover showed I had done thewiringcorrectly.This may all seem minor,
but it’s awesome. It means Ican have twenty-nine solarcellsand36kilowatt-hoursofstorage.I’llbeable todomy100 kilometers per day afterall.Four days out of five,
anyway.
According to my calendar,theHermes resupplyprobe isbeinglaunchedfromChinaintwo days (if there were nodelays).Ifthatscrewsup,thewhole crew will be in deepshit. I’mmorenervous aboutthatthananythingelse.I’vebeen inmortaldanger
formonths; I’mkindofusedto it now. But I’m nervousagain.Dyingwouldsuck,butmy crewmates dying wouldbe way worse. And I won’t
findouthowthelaunchwenttillIgettoSchiaparelli.Goodluck,guys.
CHAPTER19
“HEY, MELISSA…,” said Robert.“Am I getting through? Canyouseeme?”“Loud and clear, babe,”
saidCommanderLewis.“Thevideolinkissolid.”“They say I have five
minutes,”Robertsaid.“Better than nothing,”
Lewis said. Floating in herquarters, she gently touched
the bulkhead to stopdrifting.“It’s nice to see you in real-timeforachange.”“Yeah.” Robert smiled. “I
canhardlynoticethedelay.Igotta say, I wish you werecominghome.”Lewis sighed. “Me, too,
babe.”“Don’t get me wrong,”
Robert quickly added. “Iunderstandwhyyou’redoingall this. Still, from a selfish
pointofview,Imissmywife.Hey,areyoufloating?”“Huh?” Lewis said. “Oh,
yeah.The ship isn’t spinningright now. No centripetalgravity.”“Whynot?”“Because we’re docking
with the Taiyang Shen in afew days. We can’t spinwhilewedockwiththings.”“I see,” said Robert. “So
how are things up on the
ship? Anyone giving youshit?”“No.” Lewis shook her
head. “They’re a good crew;I’mluckytohavethem.”“Oh hey!” Robert said. “I
found a great addition to ourcollection!”“Oh?What’dyouget?”“An original-production
eight-track of Abba’sGreatest Hits. Still in theoriginalpackaging.”
Lewis widened her eyes.“Seriously?A1976oroneofthereprints?”“1976alltheway.”“Wow!Goodfind!”“Iknow,right!?”
•••
WITH A final shudder, thejetliner came to a stop at thegate.
“Oh gods,” said Venkat,massaging his neck. “Thatwas the longest flight I’veeverbeenon.”“Mm,”saidTeddy,rubbing
hiseyes.“At leastwedon’t have to
go to Jiuquan till tomorrow,”Venkat moaned. “Fourteenand a half hours of flying isenoughforoneday.”“Don’t get too
comfortable,” Teddy said.
“We still have to go throughcustoms, and we’ll probablyhave to fill out a bunch offorms because we’re U.S.government officials.… It’sgonna be hours before wesleep.”“Craaaap.”Gathering their carry-on
luggage, they trudgedoff theplane with the rest of thewearytravelers.Beijing Capital
International Airport’sTerminal 3 echoed with thecacophony common to hugeair terminals. Venkat andTeddymovedtowardthelongimmigration line as theChinese citizens from theirflight split off to go to asimpler point-of-entryprocess.AsVenkattookhisplacein
line, Teddy filed in behindhimandscannedtheterminal
for a convenience store.Anyform of caffeine would bewelcome.“Excuse me, gentlemen,”
came a voice from besidethem.Theyturnedtoseeayoung
Chinese man wearing jeansandapoloshirt.“MynameisSu Bin Bao,” he said inperfect English. “I am anemployee of the ChinaNational Space
Administration.Iwillbeyourguide and translator duringyour stay in the People’sRepublicofChina.”“Nice to meet you, Mr.
Su,”Teddysaid. “I’mTeddySanders, and this is Dr.VenkatKapoor.”“We need sleep,” Venkat
said immediately. “Just assoon as we get throughcustoms,pleasegetus toourhotel.”
“I can do better than that,Dr. Kapoor.” Su smiled.“YouareofficialguestsofthePeople’s Republic of China.Youhavebeenpreauthorizedtobypasscustoms.Icantakeyou to your hotelimmediately.”“Iloveyou,”Venkatsaid.“TellthePeople’sRepublic
of China we said thanks,”Teddyadded.“I’ll pass that along.” Su
Binsmiled.
•••
“HELENA, MY LOVE,” Vogel saidto his wife. “I trust you arewell?”“Yes,” she said. “I’m fine.
ButIdomissyou.”“Sorry.”“Can’t be helped.” She
shrugged.
“Howareourmonkeys?”“The children are fine.”
She smiled. “Eliza has acrush on a new boy in herclass, and Victor has beennamed goalkeeper for hishighschool’steam.”“Excellent!”Vogelsaid.“I
hear you are at MissionControl.WasNASAunabletopipethesignaltoBremen?”“They could have,” she
said. “But it was easier for
themtobringmetoHouston.A freevacation to theUnitedStates.WhoamI to turnthatdown?”“Well played. And how is
mymother?”“As well as can be
expected,” Helena said. “Shehas her good days and baddays. She did not recognizemeonmylastvisit.Inaway,it’s a blessing. She doesn’thavetoworryaboutyoulikeI
do.”“Shehasn’tworsened?”he
asked.“No, she’s about the same
aswhenyouleft.Thedoctorsare sure she’ll still be herewhenyoureturn.”“Good,” he said. “I was
worried I’d seen her for thelasttime.”“Alex,” Helena said, “will
youbesafe?”“Assafeaswecanbe,”he
said. “The ship is in perfectcondition,andafterreceivingthe Taiyang Shen, we willhaveallthesuppliesweneedfor the remainder of thejourney.”“Becareful.”“I will, my love,” Vogel
promised.
•••
“WELCOME TO JIUQUAN,” GuoMingsaid.“Ihopeyourflightwassmooth?”Su Bin translated Guo
Ming’swords as Teddy tookthe second-best seat in theobservation room.He lookedthroughtheglasstoJiuquan’sMission Control Center. Itwas remarkably similar toHouston’s, though Teddycouldn’t read any of theChinese text on the bigscreens.
“Yes, thank you,” Teddysaid.“Thehospitalityofyourpeople has been wonderful.The private jet you arrangedto bring us here was a nicetouch.”“My people have enjoyed
working with your advanceteam,” GuoMing said. “Thelast month has been veryinteresting. Attaching anAmericanprobetoaChinesebooster. I believe this is the
first time it’s ever beendone.”“It just goes to show,”
Teddysaid.“Loveofscienceis universal across allcultures.”Guo Ming nodded. “My
people have especiallycommentedontheworkethicof your man, MitchHenderson. He is verydedicated.”“He’s a pain in the ass,”
Teddysaid.Su Bin paused before
translatingbutpressedon.Guo Ming laughed. “You
can say that,” he said. “Icannot.”
•••
“SO EXPLAIN it again,” Beck’ssister Amy said. “Why doyouhavetodoanEVA?”
“I probably don’t,” Beckexplained. “I just need to bereadyto.”“Why?”“In case the probe can’t
dock with us. If somethinggoeswrong,it’llbemyjobtogooutandgrabit.”“Can’t you just move
Hermestodockwithit?”“No way,” Beck said.
“Hermes is huge. It’s notmade for fine maneuvering
control.”“Why does it have to be
you?”“’Cause I’m the EVA
specialist.”“But I thought you were
thedoctor.”“I am,” Beck said.
“Everyonehasmultipleroles.I’m the doctor, the biologist,and the EVA specialist.Commander Lewis is ourgeologist. Johanssen is the
sysop and reactor tech. Andsoon.”“How about that good-
looking guy…Martinez?”Amy asked. “What does hedo?”“He pilots the MDV and
MAV,”Becksaid.“He’salsomarried with a kid, youlecheroushomewrecker.”“Ah well. How about
Watney?Whatdidhedo?”“He’s our botanist and
engineer. And don’t talkabouthiminthepasttense.”“Engineer?LikeScotty?”“Kind of,” Beck said. “He
fixesstuff.”“I bet that’s coming in
handynow.”“Yeah,noshit.”
•••
THE CHINESE had arranged asmallconferenceroomfortheAmericans to work in. Thecramped conditions wereluxurious by Jiuquanstandards. Venkat wasworking on budgetspreadsheets when Mitchcame in, so he was glad fortheinterruption.“They’re a weird bunch,
these Chinese nerds,” Mitchsaid, collapsing into a chair.“But they make a good
booster.”“Good,” Venkat said.
“How’s the linkage betweentheboosterandourprobe?”“It all checks out,” Mitch
said.“JPLfollowedthespecsperfectly.Itfitslikeaglove.”“Any concerns or
reservations?”Venkatasked.“Yeah. I’m concerned
aboutwhat I ate last night. Ithinkithadaneyeballinit.”“I’m sure there wasn’t an
eyeball.”“The engineers here made
itformespecial,”Mitchsaid.“There may have been an
eyeball,” Venkat said. “Theyhateyou.”“Why?”“’Cause you’re a dick,
Mitch,”Venkatsaid.“Atotaldick.Toeveryone.”“Fair enough. So long as
the probe gets to Hermes,theycanburnmeineffigyfor
allIcare.”
•••
“WAVETODADDY!”Marissasaid,waving David’s hand at thecamera.“WavetoDaddy!”“He’s too young to know
what’s going on,” Martinezsaid.“Just think of the
playground cred he’ll have
later in life,” she said. “‘Mydad went to Mars. What’syourdaddo?’”“Yes, I’m pretty
awesome,”heagreed.Marissa continued towave
David’s hand at the camera.Davidwasmoreinterestedinhis other hand, which wasactively engaged in pickinghisnose.“So,” Martinez said,
“you’repissed.”
“You can tell?” Marissaasked.“Itriedtohideit.”“We’vebeentogethersince
wewerefifteen.Iknowwhenyou’repissed.”“Youvolunteeredtoextend
themission fivehundredandthirty-three days,” she said,“asshole.”“Yeah,” Martinez said. “I
figuredthat’dbethereason.”“Your son will be in
kindergarten when you get
back. He won’t have anymemoriesofyou.”“Iknow,”Martinezsaid.“Ihavetowaitanotherfive
hundredand thirty-threedaystogetlaid!”“So do I,” he said
defensively.“Ihavetoworryaboutyou
thatwholetime,”sheadded.“Yeah,”hesaid.“Sorry.”She took a deep breath.
“We’llgetpastit.”
“We’ll get past it,” heagreed.
•••
“WELCOME TO CNN’s MarkWatney Report. Today, wehave the director of Marsoperations, Venkat Kapoor.He’s speaking to us live viasatellite from China. Dr.Kapoor,thankyouforjoining
us.”“Happy to do it,” Venkat
said.“So, Dr. Kapoor, tell us
abouttheTaiyangShen.Whygo to China to launch aprobe? Why not launch itfromtheUS?”“Hermes isn’t going to
orbit Earth,” Venkat said.“It’s just passing by on itswaytoMars.Anditsvelocityis huge. We need a booster
capable of not only escapingEarth’s gravity but matchingHermes’s current velocity.Only the Taiyang Shen hasenoughpowertodothat.”“Tell us about the probe
itself.”“Itwasarushjob,”Venkat
said. “JPL only had thirtydays to put it together. Theyhadtobeassafeandefficientastheycould.It’sbasicallyashell full of food and other
supplies. It has a standardsatellite thruster package formaneuvering,butthat’sit.”“And that’s enough to fly
toHermes?”“The Taiyang Shen will
send it to Hermes. Thethrusters are for fine controlanddocking.And JPLdidn’thavetimetomakeaguidancesystem. So it’ll be remote-controlledbyahumanpilot.”“Who will be controlling
it?”Cathyasked.“The Ares 3 pilot, Major
RickMartinez. As the probeapproaches Hermes, he’lltake over and guide it to thedockingport.”“And what if there’s a
problem?”“Hermes will have their
EVA specialist, Dr. ChrisBeck,suitedupandreadythewhole time. If necessary, hewill literally grab the probe
withhis hands anddrag it tothedockingport.”“Sounds kind of
unscientific.”Cathylaughed.“You want unscientific?”
Venkat smiled. “If the probecan’t attach to the dockingport for some reason, Beckwillopentheprobeandcarryitscontentstotheairlock.”“Like bringing in the
groceries?”Cathyasked.“Exactlylikethat,”Venkat
said. “And we estimate itwould take four trips backand forth. But that’s all anedge case. We don’tanticipate any problems withthedockingprocess.”“Sounds like you’re
covering all your bases.”Cathysmiled.“Wehaveto,”Venkatsaid.
“If they don’t get thosesupplies…Well, they needthosesupplies.”
“Thanksfortakingthetimeto answer our questions,”Cathysaid.“Always a pleasure,
Cathy.”
•••
JOHANSSEN’S FATHER fidgeted inthechair,unsurewhattosay.After a moment, he pulled ahandkerchief fromhispocket
and mopped sweat from hisbaldinghead.“What if theprobedoesn’t
gettoyou?”heasked.“Try not to think about
that,”Johanssensaid.“Yourmotherissoworried
shecouldn’tevencome.”“I’m sorry,” Johanssen
mumbled,lookingdown.“She can’t eat, she can’t
sleep, she feels sick all thetime. I’m not much better.
How can they make you dothis?”“They’re not ‘making’ me
doit,Dad.Ivolunteered.”“Whywouldyoudothatto
yourmother?”hedemanded.“Sorry,” Johanssen
mumbled. “Watney’s mycrewmate.Ican’tjustlethimdie.”He sighed. “I wish we’d
raised you to be moreselfish.”
Shechuckledquietly.“How did I end up in this
situation? I’m the districtsales manager of a napkinfactory.Why ismy daughterinspace?”Johanssenshrugged.“You were always
scientifically minded,” hesaid.“Itwasgreat!Straight-Astudent. Hanging aroundnerdy guys too scared to tryanything.Nowildsideatall.
You were every father’sdreamdaughter.”“Thanks,Dad,I—”“But then you got on a
giant bomb that blasted youto Mars. And I mean thatliterally.”“Technically,” she
corrected, “the booster onlytookmeintoorbit.Itwasthenuclear-powered ion enginethattookmetoMars.”“Oh,muchbetter!”
“Dad, I’llbeall right.TellMomI’llbeallright.”“What goodwill that do?”
he said. “She’s going to betied up in knots until you’rebackhome.”“I know,” Johanssen
mumbled.“But…”“What?Butwhat?”“Iwon’tdie.Ireallywon’t.
Even if everything goeswrong.”“Whatdoyoumean?”
Johanssen furrowed herbrow.“JusttellMomIwon’tdie.”“How? I don’t
understand.”“I don’t want to get into
thehow,”Johanssensaid.“Look,” he said, leaning
toward the camera, “I’vealways respected yourprivacy and independence. Inever tried to pry into yourlife, never tried to control
you. I’ve been really goodaboutthat,right?”“Yeah.”“So in exchange for a
lifetimeofstayingoutofyourbusiness, let me nose in justthis once. What are you nottellingme?”She fell silent for several
seconds. Finally, she said,“Theyhaveaplan.”“Who?”“Theyalwayshaveaplan,”
she said. “They work outeverythinginadvance.”“Whatplan?”“They picked me to
survive.I’myoungest.Ihavethe skills necessary to gethome alive. And I’m thesmallest and need the leastfood.”“Whathappensiftheprobe
fails,Beth?”herfatherasked.“Everyone would die but
me,” she said. “They’d all
takepills anddie.They’ll doit right away so they don’tuseupanyfood.CommanderLewis picked me to be thesurvivor.Shetoldmeaboutityesterday. I don’t thinkNASAknowsaboutit.”“And the supplies would
last until you got back toEarth?”“No,” she said. “We have
enough food left to feed sixpeople for amonth. If I was
theonlyone,itwouldlastsixmonths.WithareduceddietIcould stretch it to nine. Butit’ll be seventeen monthsbeforeIgetback.”“So how would you
survive?”“The supplies wouldn’t be
theonly sourceof food,” shesaid.He widened his eyes.
“Oh…ohmygod…”“JusttellMomthesupplies
wouldlast,okay?”
•••
AMERICAN AND Chineseengineers cheered together atJiuquanMissionControl.The main screen showed
Taiyang Shen’s contrailwafting in the chilly Gobisky. The ship, no longervisible to the naked eye,
pressed onward toward orbit.Itsdeafeningroardwindledtoadistantrumblingthunder.“Perfect launch,” Venkat
exclaimed.“Ofcourse,”saidZhuTao.“You guys really came
through forus,”Venkat said.“Andwe’regrateful!”“Naturally.”“And hey, you guys get a
seat on Ares 5. Everyonewins.”
“Mmm.”Venkat looked at Zhu Tao
sideways. “You don’t seemtoohappy.”“Ispentfouryearsworking
on Taiyang Shen,” he said.“So did countless otherresearchers, scientists, andengineers. Everyone pouredtheir souls into constructionwhile I waged a constantpolitical battle to maintainfunding.
“In the end, we built abeautiful probe. The largest,sturdiest unmanned probe inhistory. And now it’s sittinginawarehouse.It’llneverfly.TheStateCouncilwon’tfundanotherboosterlikethat.”He turned to Venkat. “It
could have been a lastinglegacy of scientific research.Nowit’sadeliveryrun.We’llget a Chinese astronaut onMars, but what science will
hebringbackthatsomeotherastronautcouldn’thave?Thisoperation is a net loss formankind’sknowledge.”“Well,” Venkat said
cautiously,“it’sanetgainforMarkWatney.”“Mmm,”ZhuTaosaid.
•••
“DISTANCE 61 meters, velocity
2.3 meters per second,”Johanssensaid.“No problem,” Martinez
said, his eyes glued to hisscreens. One showed thecamera feed from DockingPort A, the other a constantfeedoftheprobe’stelemetry.Lewis floated behind
Johanssen’s and Martinez’sstations.Beck’svoicecameoverthe
radio. “Visual contact.” He
stood in Airlock 3 (viamagnetic boots), fully suitedupwith the outer door open.ThebulkySAFERunitonhisback would allow him freemotion in space should theneedarise.Anattachedtetherledtoaspoolonthewall.“Vogel,” Lewis said into
her headset. “You inposition?”Vogel stood in the still-
pressurized Airlock 2, suited
up save his helmet. “Ja, inposition and ready,” hereplied. He was theemergency EVA if Beckneededrescue.“All right, Martinez,”
Lewissaid.“Bringitin.”“Aye,Commander.”“Distance 43 meters,
velocity 2.3 meters persecond,” Johanssen calledout.“All stats nominal,”
Martinezreported.“Slight rotation in the
probe,” Johanssen said.“Relative rotational velocityis 0.05 revolutions persecond.”“Anything under 0.3 is
fine,” Martinez said. “Thecapture system can dealwithit.”“Probe is well within
manual recovery range,”Beckreported.
“Copy,”Lewissaid.“Distance 22 meters,
velocity 2.3 meters persecond,” Johanssen said.“Angleisgood.”“Slowing her down a
little,”Martinezsaid,sendinginstructionstotheprobe.“Velocity 1.8…1.3…,”
Johanssen reported. “0.9…stable at 0.9 meters persecond.”“Range?”Martinezasked.
“Twelve meters,”Johanssen replied. “Velocitysteady at 0.9 meters persecond.”“Angle?”“Angleisgood.”“Then we’re in line for
auto-capture,” Martinez said.“CometoPapa.”Theprobedriftedgentlyto
the docking port. Its captureboom, a long metal triangle,entered the port’s funnel,
scraping slightly along theedge. Once it reached theport’s retractor mechanism,the automated systemclamped on to the boom andpulled it in, aligning andorienting the probeautomatically. After severalloud clanks echoed throughthe ship, the computerreportedsuccess.“Docking complete,”
Martinezsaid.
“Seal is tight,” Johanssensaid.“Beck,” Lewis said, “your
serviceswon’tbeneeded.”“Roger that, Commander,”
Becksaid.“Closingairlock.”“Vogel, return to interior,”
sheordered.“Copy, Commander,” he
said.“Airlock pressure to one
hundred percent,” Beckreported. “Reentering ship.…
I’mbackin.”“Alsoinside,”Vogelsaid.Lewis pressed a button on
her headset. “Houst— er…Jiuquan, probe dockingcomplete.Nocomplications.”Mitch’s voice came over
the comm. “Glad to hear it,Hermes. Report status of allsupplies once you get themaboardandinspected.”“Roger, Jiuquan,” Lewis
said.
Takingoffherheadset,sheturned to Martinez andJohanssen.“Unloadtheprobeand stow the supplies. I’mgoingtohelpBeckandVogelde-suit.”Martinez and Johanssen
floated down the hall towardDockingPortA.“So,”hesaid,“whowould
youhaveeatenfirst?”Sheglaredathim.“’Cause I think I’d be
tastiest,” he continued,flexinghisarm.“Lookatthat.Goodsolidmusclethere.”“You’renotfunny.”“I’mfree-range,youknow.
Corn-fed.”She shook her head and
accelerateddownthehall.“Come on! I thought you
likedMexican!”“Not listening,” she called
back.
CHAPTER20
LOGENTRY:SOL376
I’m finally done with therovermodifications!The tricky part was
figuring out how tomaintainlife support. Everything elsewasjustwork.Alotofwork.I haven’t been good at
keepingtheloguptodate,sohere’sarecap:FirstIhadtofinishdrilling
holes with the Pathfinder-murderin’ drill. Then I
chiseled out a billion littlechunks between the holes.Okay, it was 759 but it feltlikeabillion.ThenIhadonebighole in
the trailer. I filed down theedges to keep them frombeingtoosharp.Rememberthepop-tents?I
cutthebottomoutofoneandtheremainingcanvaswastheright size and shape. I usedseal-strips to attach it to the
inside of the trailer. Afterpressurizing and sealing upleaksasIfoundthem,Ihadanice big balloon bulging outofthetrailer.Thepressurizedareaiseasilybigenoughtofitthe oxygenator andatmosphericregulator.Onehitch:Ineedtoputthe
AREC outside. Theimaginatively named“atmospheric regulatorexternal component” is how
the regulator freeze-separatesair. Why sink a bunch ofenergy into freezing stuffwhen you have incrediblycold temperatures rightoutside?Theregulatorpumpsair to
theAREC to letMars freezeit. It does this along a tubethat runs through a valve intheHab’swall.Thereturnaircomes back through anothertubejustlikeit.
Getting the tubing throughtheballooncanvaswasn’ttoohard. I have several sparevalve patches. Basicallythey’re ten-by-ten-centimeterpatchesofHabcanvaswithavalveinthemiddle.WhydoIhave these? Consider whatwould happen on a normalmissionif theregulatorvalvebroke. They’d have to scrubthe whole mission. Easier tosendspares.
TheARECisfairlysmall.Imadeashelf for it justunderthe solar panel shelves.Noweverything’sreadyforwhenIeventuallymovetheregulatorandARECover.There’sstillalottodo.I’m not in any hurry; I’ve
beentakingitslow.Onefour-hour EVA per day spent onwork, the rest of the time torelax in the Hab. Plus, I’lltakeadayoffeverynowand
then, especially if my backhurts. I can’t afford to injuremyselfnow.I’ll try to be better about
this log. Now that I mightactually get rescued, peoplewill probably read it. I’ll bemore diligent and log everyday.
LOGENTRY:SOL380
Ifinishedtheheatreservoir.Remembermyexperiments
with the RTG and having ahotbath?Sameprinciple,butI came up with animprovement: submerge theRTG.Noheatwillbewastedthatway.I startedwith a large rigid
sample container (or “plasticbox” to people who don’tworkatNASA). I rana tube
through the open top anddown the insidewall.Then Icoiled it in the bottom tomake a spiral. I glued it inplace like thatandsealed theend. Using my smallest drillbit,Iputdozensoflittleholesinthecoil.Theideaisforthefreezing return air from theregulator to pass through thewater as a bunch of littlebubbles. The increasedsurface areawill get theheatintotheairbetter.
Then I got a mediumflexible sample container(“Ziploc bag”) and tried toseal the RTG in it. But theRTG has an irregular shape,and I couldn’t get all the airout of the bag. I can’t allowany air in there. Instead ofheatgoingtothewater,somewould get stored in the air,which could superheat andmeltthebag.Itriedabunchoftimes,but
there was always an airpocket I couldn’t get out. Iwas getting pretty frustrateduntil I rememberedIhaveanairlock.Suiting up, I went to
Airlock 2 and depressurizedto a full vacuum. I ploppedthe RTG in the bag andclosed it. Perfect vacuumseal.Next came some testing. I
put the bagged RTG at the
bottom of the container andfilled it with water. It holdstwenty liters, and the RTGquickly heated it. It wasgainingadegreeperminute.Ilet it go until it was a good40°C. Then I hooked up theregulator’s return air line tomy contraption and watchedtheresults.It worked great! The air
bubbled through, just likeI’dhoped. Even better, the
bubbles agitated the water,which distributed the heatevenly.Iletitrunforanhour,and
the Hab started to get cold.TheRTG’sheatcan’tkeepupwith the total loss from theHab’s impressive surfacearea. Not a problem. I’vealreadyestablishedit’splentytokeeptheroverwarm.I reattached the return air
line to the regulator and
thingsgotbacktonormal.
LOGENTRY:SOL381
I’vebeenthinkingaboutlawsonMars.Yeah, Iknow, it’sastupid
thing to think about, but Ihavealotoffreetime.There’s an international
treaty saying no country canlay claim to anything that’snotonEarth.Andbyanothertreaty, if you’re not in anycountry’s territory, maritimelawapplies.
So Mars is “internationalwaters.”NASA is an American
nonmilitaryorganization,anditownstheHab.SowhileI’min the Hab, American lawapplies. As soon as I stepoutside, I’m in internationalwaters. Then when I get inthe rover, I’m back toAmericanlaw.Here’s thecoolpart: Iwill
eventually go to Schiaparelli
and commandeer the Ares 4lander. Nobody explicitlygave me permission to dothis, and they can’t until I’maboard Ares 4 and operatingthe comm system. After Iboard Ares 4, before talkingtoNASA, Iwill take controlof a craft in internationalwaterswithoutpermission.Thatmakesmeapirate!Aspacepirate!
LOGENTRY:SOL383
YoumaybewonderingwhatelseIdowithmyfreetime.IspendalotofitsittingaroundonmylazyasswatchingTV.Butsodoyou,sodon’tjudge.Also,Iplanmytrip.Pathfinderwasacakerun.
Flat,levelgroundalltheway.The only problem wasnavigating. But the trip toSchiaparelli will mean goingover massive elevation
changes.Ihavearoughsatellitemap
ofthewholeplanet.Itdoesn’thave much detail, but I’mluckytohaveitatall.NASAdidn’t expect me to wander3200 kilometers from theHab.Acidalia Planitia (where I
am) has a relatively lowelevation. So doesSchiaparelli. But betweenthemitgoesupanddownby
10 kilometers. There’s goingto be a lot of dangerousdriving.Things will be smooth
while I’m in Acidalia, butthat’s only the first 650kilometers. After that comesthe crater-riddled terrain ofArabiaTerra.I do have one thing going
forme.AndIswearit’sagiftfrom God. For somegeological reason, there’s a
valley called Mawrth Vallisthat’sperfectlyplaced.Millions of years ago it
wasariver.Nowit’savalleythatjutsintothebrutalterrainof Arabia, almost directlytoward Schiaparelli. It’smuch gentler terrain than therest ofArabia Terra, and thefar end looks like a smoothascentoutofthevalley.Between Acidalia and
Mawrth Vallis I’ll get 1350
kilometers of relatively easyterrain.The other 1850
kilometers…well, that won’tbesonice.EspeciallywhenIhave to descend intoSchiaparelliitself.Ugh.Anyway. Mawrth Vallis.
Awesome.
LOGENTRY:SOL385
The worst part of thePathfinder trip was beingtrapped in the rover. Ihad tolive in a crampedenvironment that was full ofjunkandreekedofbodyodor.Sameasmycollegedays.Rimshot!Seriously though, it
sucked. It was twenty-twosolsofabjectmisery.I plan to leave for
Schiaparelli 100 sols beforemy rescue (or death), and IsweartoGodI’llripmyownfaceoffifIhavetoliveintheroverforthatlong.I need a place to stay
whereIcanstandupandtakea few steps without hittingthings.Andno,beingoutsidein a goddamn EVA suitdoesn’tcount.Ineedpersonalspace, not 50 kilograms ofclothing.
So today, I startedmakingatent.SomewhereIcanrelaxwhile the batteries recharge;somewhere I can lie downcomfortablywhilesleeping.Irecentlysacrificedoneof
my two pop-tents to be thetrailer balloon, but the otheris in perfect shape. Evenbetter, it has an attachmentfortherover’sairlock.BeforeI made it a potato farm, itsoriginal purpose was to be a
lifeboatfortherover.I could attach the pop-tent
to either vehicle’s airlock.I’m going with the roverinstead of the trailer. Therover has the computer andcontrols.IfIneedtoknowthestatus of anything (like lifesupport or how well thebattery is charging), I’llneedaccess.Thisway, I’llbeabletowalkrightin.NoEVA.Also, while traveling, I’ll
keepthetentfoldedupintherover.Inanemergency,Icangettoitfast.Thepop-tentisthebasisof
my “bedroom,” but not thewhole thing. The tent’s notvery big; not much morespace than the rover. But ithas theairlockattachment soit’sagreatplace tostart.Myplan is to double the floorarea and double the height.That’ll give me a nice big
spacetorelaxin.For the floor, I’ll use the
original flooring materialfrom the two pop-tents. If Ididn’t, my bedroom wouldbecome a big hamster ballbecause Hab canvas isflexible.Whenyoufillitwithpressure,itwantstobecomeasphere. That’s not a usefulshape.To combat this, the Hab
and pop-tents have special
flooring material. It unfoldsas a bunch of little segmentsthat won’t open beyond 180degrees,soitremainsflat.The pop-tent base is a
hexagon. Ihaveanotherbaseleft over from what is nowthe trailerballoon.WhenI’mdone, the bedroom will betwoadjacenthexeswithwallsaround them and a crudeceiling.It’sgonnatakealotofglue
tomakethishappen.
LOGENTRY:SOL387
The pop-tent is 1.2 meterstall. It’s not made forcomfort. It’s made forastronauts to cower in whiletheir crewmates rescue them.Iwant twometers. Iwant tobeabletostand!Idon’tthinkthat’stoomuchtoask.On paper, it’s not hard to
do. I just need to cut canvaspieces to the right shapes,seal them together, then seal
them to the existing canvasandflooring.Butthat’salotofcanvas.I
started this mission with sixsquare meters and I’ve usedup most of that. Mostly onsealingthebreachfromwhentheHabblewup.GoddamnAirlock1.Anyway,mybedroomwill
take 30 square meters of thestuff.WaythehellmorethanI have left. Fortunately, I
have an alternate supply ofHabcanvas:theHab.Problem is (follow me
closely here, the science isprettycomplicated),ifIcutaholeintheHab,theairwon’tstayinsideanymore.I’ll have to depressurize
theHab, cut chunks out, andputitbacktogether(smaller).Ispent todayfiguringout theexact sizes and shapes ofcanvasI’llneed.Ineedtonot
fuck this up, so I triple-checked everything. I evenmadeamodeloutofpaper.The Hab is a dome. If I
take canvas from near thefloor,Icanpulltheremainingcanvas down and reseal it.The Hab will become alopsided dome, but thatshouldn’t matter. As long asitholdspressure. Ionlyneedit to last another sixty-twosols.
I drew the shapes on thewall with a Sharpie. Then Ispent a long time re-measuring them and makingsure,overandover, that theywereright.That was all I did today.
Might not seem like much,butthemathanddesignworktook all day. Now it’s timefordinner.I’ve been eating potatoes
forweeks.Theoretically,with
mythree-quarterrationplan,Ishould still be eating foodpacks. But three-quarterration is hard tomaintain, sonowI’meatingpotatoes.I have enough to last till
launch,soIwon’tstarve.ButI’m pretty damn sick ofpotatoes.Also,theyhavealotoffiber,so…let’sjustsayit’sgoodI’mtheonlyguyonthisplanet.Isavedfivemealpacksfor
special occasions. I wrotetheirnamesoneachone.Igetto eat “Departure” the day IleaveforSchiaparelli. I’lleat“Halfway” when I reach the1600-kilometer mark, and“Arrival”whenIgetthere.The fourth one is
“Survived Something ThatShould Have Killed Me”because some fucking thingwill happen, I just know it. Idon’t knowwhat it’ll be, but
it’ll happen. The rover willbreak down, or I’ll comedownwithfatalhemorrhoids,or I’ll run into hostileMartians,orsomeshit.WhenIdo(ifIlive),Igettoeatthatmealpack.The fifth one is reserved
for the day I launch. It’slabeled“LastMeal.”Maybe that’s not such a
goodname.
LOGENTRY:SOL388
I started the day with apotato.Iwasheditdownwithsome Martian coffee. That’smynamefor“hotwaterwithacaffeinepilldissolvedinit.”I ran out of real coffeemonthsago.My first order of business
wasacarefulinventoryoftheHab. I needed to root outanything that would have aproblem with losing
atmospheric pressure. Ofcourse,everythingintheHabhad a crash course indepressurization a fewmonths back. But this timewould be controlled, and Imightaswelldoitright.The main thing is the
water. I lost 300 liters tosublimation when the Habblewup.Thistime,thatwon’thappen. I drained the waterreclaimer and sealed all the
tanks.Therestwasjustcollecting
knickknacks and dumpingtheminAirlock3.AnythingIcouldthinkofthatdoesn’tdowell in a near-vacuum. Allthe pens, vitamin bottles(probably not necessary butI’m not taking chances),medicalsupplies,etc.Then I did a controlled
shutdown of the Hab. Thecritical components are
designed to survive avacuum. Hab depress is oneofthemanyscenariosNASAaccounted for.Onesystematatime,Icleanlyshutthemalldown, ending with the maincomputeritself.I suited up and
depressurized the Hab. Lasttime, the canvas collapsedand made a mess ofeverything. That’s notsupposed to happen. The
dome of the Hab is mostlysupportedbyairpressure,butthere are flexible reinforcingpolesacrosstheinsidetoholdup the canvas. It’s how theHab was assembled in thefirstplace.I watched as the canvas
gently settled onto the poles.To confirm thedepressurization, I openedbothdoorsofAirlock2.IleftAirlock3alone.Itmaintained
pressure for its cargo ofrandomcrap.ThenIcutshitup!I’m not a materials
engineer; my design for thebedroom isn’t elegant. It’sjustasix-meterperimeteranda ceiling. No, it won’t haveright angles and corners(pressure vessels don’t likethose). It’ll balloon out to amoreroundshape.Anyway, it means I only
needed to cut two big-assstrips of canvas. One for thewallsandonefortheceiling.After mangling the Hab, I
pulled the remaining canvasdown to the flooring andresealed it. Ever set up acamping tent? From theinside?While wearing a suitofarmor?Itwasapainintheass.I repressurized to one-
twentiethofanatmosphereto
seeifitcouldholdpressure.Ha ha ha! Of course it
couldn’t!Leaks galore.Timetofindthem.OnEarth,tinyparticlesget
attached to water or weardown to nothing. On Mars,they just hang around. Thetop layer of sand is liketalcum powder. I wentoutside with a bag andscraped along the surface. Igot some normal sand, but
plentyofpowder,too.IhadtheHabmaintainthe
one-twentieth atmosphere,backfilling as air leaked out.ThenI“puffed”thebagtogetthe smallest particles to floataround. They were quicklydrawn to where the leakswere.AsIfoundeachleak,Ispot-sealeditwithresin.It took hours, but I finally
got a good seal. I’ll tell ya,theHablookspretty“ghetto”
now.Onewhole side of it islower than the rest. I’ll havetohunchdownwhenI’moverthere.I pressurized to a full
atmosphere and waited anhour.Noleaks.It’sbeenalong,physically
taxing day. I’m totallyexhausted but I can’t sleep.Every sound scares the shitout of me. Is that the Habpopping?No?Okay.…What
was that!? Oh, nothing?Okay.…It’sa terriblethingtohave
my life depend on my half-assedhandiwork.Time toget a sleepingpill
fromthemedicalsupplies.
LOGENTRY:SOL389
What the hell is in thosesleeping pills!? It’s themiddleoftheday.After two cups ofMartian
coffee, I woke up a little. Iwon’t be taking another oneof those pills. It’s not like Ihave to go to work in themorning.Anyway, as you can tell
fromhownotdead I am, theHab stayed sealed overnight.
Thesealissolid.Uglyashell,butsolid.Today’s task was the
bedroom.Assembling the bedroom
waswayeasierthanresealingtheHab.Because this time, Ididn’t have to wear an EVAsuit. I made the whole thinginsidetheHab.Whynot?It’sjust canvas. I can roll it upand take it out an airlockwhenI’mdone.
First,Ididsomesurgeryonthe remaining pop-tent. Ineeded to keep the rover–airlock connector andsurrounding canvas. The restofthecanvashadtogo.Whyhack off most of the canvasonly to replace it with morecanvas?Seams.NASA is good at making
things. I am not. Thedangerous part of thisstructurewon’tbethecanvas.
It’ll be the seams. And I getless total seam length by nottryingtousetheexistingpop-tentcanvas.After hacking away most
of the remaining tent, I seal-stripped the two pop-tentfloorstogether.ThenIsealedthe new canvas pieces intoplace.It was so much easier
without the EVA suit on. Somucheasier!
ThenIhadtotestit.Again,Idid it in theHab. IbroughtanEVAsuitintothetentwithme and closed the mini-airlock door. Then I fired upthe EVA suit, leaving thehelmet off. I told it to bumpthepressureupto1.2atm.It took a little while to
bringituptopar,andIhadtodisable some alarms on thesuit. (“Hey, I’m pretty surethe helmet’s not on!”). It
depletedmost of theN2 tankbut was finally able to bringupthepressure.Then I sat around and
waited. I breathed; the suitregulated the air. All waswell. I watched the suitreadouts carefully to see if ithad to replace any “lost” air.After an hour with nonoticeable change, I declaredthefirsttestasuccess.Irolledupthewholething
(wadded up, really) and tookitouttotherover.You know, I suit up a lot
these days. I bet that’sanother record I hold. Atypical Martian astronautdoes,what,fortyEVAs?I’vedoneseveralhundred.Once I brought the
bedroom to the rover, Iattachedittotheairlockfromthe inside. Then I pulled therelease to let it loose. I was
still wearing my EVA suit,becauseI’mnotanidiot.Thebedroomfiredoutand
filled in three seconds. Theopen airlock hatchway leddirectly to it, and it appearedtobeholdingpressure.Just like before, I let it sit
for an hour. And just likebefore, it worked great.Unlike the Hab canvasresealing, I got thisone righton the first try. Mostly
becauseIdidn’thavetodoitwithadamnEVAsuiton.Originally, Iplanned to let
mybedroomsitovernightandcheck on it in the morning.But I ran into a problem: Ican’tgetoutifIdothat.Therover has only one airlock,and the bedroom wasattached to it. There was nowayformetogetoutwithoutdetaching the bedroom, andno way to attach and
pressurize the bedroomwithout being inside therover.It’s a little scary. The first
timeItestthethingovernightwill be with me in it. Butthat’ll be later. I’ve doneenoughtoday.
LOGENTRY:SOL390
Ihavetofacefacts.I’mdoneprepping the rover. I don’t“feel” like I’mdone.But it’sreadytogo:
Food:1692potatoes.Vitaminpills.Water:620liters.Shelter:Rover,trailer,bedroom.Air:Roverandtrailercombinedstorage:14
litersliquidO2,14litersliquidN2.LifeSupport:Oxygenatorandatmosphericregulator.418hoursofuse-and-discardCO2filtersforemergencies.Power:36kilowatt-hoursofstorage.Carryingcapacityfor29solarcells.Heat:1400-wattRTG.
Homemadereservoirtoheatregulator’sreturnair.Electricheaterinroverasabackup.Disco:Lifetimesupply.
I’m leaving here on Sol449.Thatgivesmefifty-ninesolstotesteverythingandfixwhatever isn’tworking right.Then decide what’s comingwith me and what’s stayingbehind. And plot a route toSchiaparelli using a grainy
satellite map. And rack mybrains trying to think ofanythingimportantIforgot.SinceSol6allI’vewanted
to dowas get the hell out ofhere. Now the prospect ofleavingtheHabbehindscaresthe shit out of me. I needsome encouragement. I needto ask myself, “What wouldanApolloastronautdo?”He’d drink three whiskey
sours, drive his Corvette to
thelaunchpad,thenflytothemoon in a commandmodulesmaller thanmyRover.Manthoseguyswerecool.
CHAPTER21
LOGENTRY:SOL431
I’mworkingouthowtopack.It’sharderthanitsounds.I have two pressure
vessels: the rover and thetrailer. They’re connected byhoses, but they’re also notstupid. If one loses pressure,the other will instantly sealoffthesharedlines.There’s a grim logic to
this: If the rover breaches,I’m dead. No point in
planning around that. But ifthe trailer breaches, I’ll befine.ThatmeansIshouldputeverything important in therover.Everythingthatgoesinthe
trailer has to be comfortablein near-vacuum and freezingtemperatures. Not that Ianticipatethat,butyouknow.Planfortheworst.The saddlebags Imade for
thePathfinder tripwill come
in handy for food storage. Ican’tjuststorepotatoesintheroveror trailer.They’drot inthe warm, pressurizedenvironment. I’ll keep somein the rover for easy access,buttherestwillbeoutsideinthe giant freezer that is thisplanet. The trailer will bepackedpretty tight. It’llhavetwo bulky Hab batteries, theatmospheric regulator, theoxygenator, and myhomemade heat reservoir. It
wouldbemoreconvenient tohave the reservoir in therover,butithastobeneartheregulator’sreturnairfeed.The rover will be pretty
packed, too. When I’mdriving,I’llkeepthebedroomfolded up near the airlock,ready for emergency egress.Also, I’ll have the twofunctionalEVAsuits intherewith me and anything thatmight be needed for
emergency repairs: tool kits,spare parts, my nearlydepleted supply of sealant,the other rover’s maincomputer (just in case!), andall 620 glorious liters ofwater.And a plastic box to serve
as a toilet. One with a goodlid.
•••
“HOW’SWATNEYdoing?”Venkatasked.Mindy lookedup fromher
computer with a start. “Dr.Kapoor?”“Ihearyoucaughtapicof
himduringanEVA?”“Uh, yeah,” Mindy said,
typing on her keyboard. “Inoticed things would alwayschange around 9 a.m. localtime.Peopleusuallykeepthesamepatterns,soIfiguredhe
likes to start work aroundthen. I did some minorrealignment to get seventeenpics between 9 and 9:10.Heshowedupinoneofthem.”“Good thinking. Can I see
thepic?”“Sure.”Shebroughtupthe
imageonherscreen.Venkatpeeredattheblurry
image. “Is this as good as itgets?”“Well, it is a photo taken
fromorbit,”Mindysaid.“TheNSA enhanced the imagewith the best software theyhave.”“Wait, what?” Venkat
stammered.“TheNSA?”“Yeah, they called and
offered to help out. Samesoftware they use forenhancing spy satelliteimagery.”Venkat shrugged. “It’s
amazing how much red tape
gets cut when everyone’srooting for one man tosurvive.” He pointed to thescreen. “What’s Watneydoinghere?”“I think he’s loading
somethingintotherover.”“Whenwasthelasttimehe
worked on the trailer?”Venkatasked.“Not for a while. Why
doesn’t he write us notesmoreoften?”
Venkat shrugged. “He’sbusy. He works most of thedaylighthours,andarrangingrockstospellamessagetakestimeandenergy.”“So…,” Mindy said.
“Why’d you come here inperson?We could have doneallthisovere-mail.”“Actually,Icametotalkto
you,”hesaid.“There’sgoingto be a change in yourresponsibilities. From now
on, instead of managing thesatellites around Mars, yoursole responsibility iswatchingMarkWatney.”“What?” Mindy said.
“What about coursecorrectionsandalignment?”“We’ll assign that to other
people,” Venkat said. “Fromnow on, your only focus isexamining imagery of Ares3.”“That’s a demotion,”
Mindy said. “I’m an orbitalengineer, and you’re turningme into a glorified PeepingTom.”“It’s short-term,” Venkat
said.“Andwe’llmakeituptoyou. Thing is, you’ve beendoing it for months, andyou’re an expert atidentifying elements of Ares3 from satellite pics. Wedon’t have anyone else whocandothat.”
“Why is this suddenly soimportant?”“He’srunningoutoftime,”
Venkatsaid.“Wedon’tknowhow far along he is on therover modifications. But wedoknowhe’sonlygotsixteensols to get them done. Weneed to know exactly whathe’s doing. I’ve got mediaoutlets and senators askingforhisstatusallthetime.ThePresident even called me a
coupleoftimes.”“But seeing his status
doesn’t help,” Mindy said.“It’s not like we can doanything about it if he fallsbehind. This is a pointlesstask.”“How long have you
workedfor thegovernment?”Venkatsighed.
LOGENTRY:SOL434
Thetimehascometotestthisbabyout.This presents a problem.
UnlikeonmyPathfindertrip,I have to take vital lifesupport elements out of theHabifI’mgoingtodoarealdry run. When you take theatmospheric regulator andoxygenator out of the Hab,you’re left with…a tent. Abig round tent that can’t
supportlife.It’snotasriskyasitseems.
Asalways,thedangerouspartabout life support ismanaging carbon dioxide.Whentheairgetsto1percentCO2, you start gettingsymptoms of poisoning. So Ineed to keep the Hab’s mixbelowthat.TheHab’s internalvolume
is about 120,000 liters.Breathing normally, it would
take me over two days tobring the CO2 level up to 1percent (and Iwouldn’t evenputadentintheO2level).Soit’ssafetomovetheregulatorand oxygenator over for awhile.Botharewaytoobigtofit
through the trailer airlock.Lucky for me, they came toMars with “some assemblyrequired.”Theywere toobigtosendwhole,sothey’reeasy
todismantle.Overseveraltrips,Imoved
all of their chunks to thetrailer. I brought each chunkin through theairlock,oneatatime.Itwasapainintheassreassembling them inside, letme tell you. There’s barelyenough room for all the shitthetrailer’sgottohold.Therewasn’t much left for ourintrepidhero.ThenIgottheAREC.Itsat
outside the Hab like an ACunitmightonEarth.Inaway,that’s what it is. I hauled itover to the trailer and lashedittotheshelfI’dmadeforit.Then I hooked it up to thefeedlinesthatledthroughthe“balloon” to the insideof thetrailer’spressurevessel.Theregulatorneedstosend
air to the AREC, then thereturn air needs to bubblethrough the heat reservoir.
The regulator also needs apressure tank to contain theCO2itpullsfromtheair.Whengutting the trailer to
makeroom,Ileftonetankinplaceforthis.It’ssupposedtohold oxygen, but a tank’s atank. Thank God all the airlines and valves arestandardized across themission.That’snomistake.Itwas a deliberate decision tomakefieldrepairseasier.
Once I had the AREC inplace, I hooked theoxygenatorandregulatorintothe trailer’s power andwatchedthempowerup.Iranboth through full diagnosticstoconfirmtheywereworkingcorrectly. Then I shut downthe oxygenator. Remember,I’llonlyuse itonesoloutofeveryfive.I moved to the rover,
which meant I had to do an
annoying ten-meter EVA.From there, I monitored thelife support situation. It’sworth noting that I can’tmonitor the actual supportequipment from the rover(it’sall inthetrailer),buttherovercantellmeallabouttheair. Oxygen, CO2,temperature, humidity, etc.Everythingseemedokay.After getting back into the
EVA suit, I released a
canister of CO2 into therover’s air. I watched therovercomputerhaveashitfitwhenitsawtheCO2spiketolethallevels.Then,overtime,the levelsdropped tonormal.The regulator was doing itsjob.Goodboy!I left the equipment
running when I returned totheHab.It’llbeonitsownallnight and I’ll check it in themorning. It’s not a true test,
because I’m not there tobreathe up the oxygen andmakeCO2, but one step at atime.
LOGENTRY:SOL435
Lastnightwasweird.Iknewlogically that nothing badwould happen in just onenight, but it was a littleunnerving to know I had nolife support other thanheaters.My lifedependedonsomemathI’ddoneearlier.IfIdroppedasignoraddedtwonumbers wrong, I mightneverwakeup.ButIdidwakeup,andthe
main computer showed theslight rise in CO2 I hadpredicted.Looks likeI’ll liveanothersol.LiveAnotherSolwouldbe
an awesome name for aJamesBondmovie.I checked up on the rover.
Everything was fine. If Idon’tdriveit,asinglechargeofthebatteriescouldkeeptheregulator going for over amonth (with the heater off).
It’s a pretty good safetymargin to have. If all hellbreaks loose on my trip, I’llhavetimetofixthings.I’llbelimited by oxygenconsumption rather thanCO2
removal,andIhaveplentyofoxygen.I decided it was a good
timetotestthebedroom.I got in the rover and
attached the bedroom to theouter airlock door from the
inside. Like I mentionedbefore,thisistheonlywaytodo it. Then I turned it looseonanunsuspectingMars.As intended, the pressure
from the rover blasted thecanvas outward and inflatedit. After that, chaos. Thesudden pressure popped thebedroom like a balloon. Itquicklydeflated,leavingbothitselfand theroverdevoidofair. I was wearing my EVA
suit at the time; I’m not afuckingidiot.SoIgetto…LiveAnotherSol!(Starring
Mark Watney as…probablyQ.I’mnoJamesBond.)I dragged the popped
bedroom into the Hab andgave it a good going-over. Itfailed at the seam where thewall met the ceiling. Makessense. It’s a right angle in apressurevessel.Physicshatesthatsortofthing.
First,Ipatcheditup,thenIcut strips of spare canvas toplace over the seam. Now ithas double-thickness anddouble sealing resin allaround. Maybe that’ll beenough. At this point, I’mkind of guessing. Myamazing botany skills aren’tmuchuseforthis.I’lltestitagaintomorrow.
LOGENTRY:SOL436
I’m out of caffeine pills. NomoreMartiancoffeeforme.Soittookalittlelongerfor
me towake up thismorning,and I quickly developed asplitting headache. One nicething about living in amultibillion-dollar mansionon Mars: access to pureoxygen. For some reason, ahighconcentrationofO2willkill most headaches. Don’t
know why. Don’t care. Theimportant thing is I don’thavetosuffer.I tested out the bedroom
again.Isuitedupintheroverand released the bedroom,same as last time. But thistimeitheld.That’sgreat,buthavingseenthefragilenatureofmyhandiwork, Iwantedagoodlongtestofthepressureseal.After a few minutes
standing around in my EVAsuit,Idecidedtomakebetteruseofmytime.Imaynotbeable to leave therover/bedroomuniversewhilethebedroomisattachedtotheairlock, but I can stay in theroverandclosethedoor.Once I did that, I took off
the uncomfortable EVA suit.The bedroom was on theothersideoftheairlockdoor,still fullypressurized.SoI’m
still running my test, but Idon’t have to wear the EVAsuit.I arbitrarily picked eight
hoursforthetestduration,soI was trapped in the roveruntilthen.I spent my time planning
the trip. There wasn’t muchto add to what I alreadyknew. I’ll beeline out ofAcidalia Planitia to MawrthVallis, then follow thevalley
untilitends.It’lltakemeonazigzagroutewhichwilldumpme in to Arabia Terra. Afterthat,thingsgetrough.Unlike Acidalia Planitia,
Arabia Terra is riddled withcraters. And each craterrepresents two brutalelevation changes. Firstdown, thenup. Ididmybestto find the shortest patharound them. I’m sure I’llhave to adjust the course
when I’m actually driving it.Noplansurvivesfirstcontactwiththeenemy.
•••
MITCH TOOK his seat in theconference room. The usualgang was present: Teddy,Venkat, Mitch, and Annie.But this time there was alsoMindyPark,aswellasaman
Mitchhadneverseenbefore.“What’sup,Venk?”Mitch
asked. “Why the suddenmeeting?”“We’ve got some
developments,” Venkat said.“Mindy,whydon’tyoubringthemuptodate?”“Uh, yeah,” Mindy said.
“Looks likeWatney finishedthe balloon addition to thetrailer. It mostly uses thedesignwesenthim.”
“Any idea how stable itis?”Teddyasked.“Pretty stable,” she said.
“It’sbeeninflatedforseveraldayswithnoproblems.Also,he built some kind of…room.”“Room?”Teddyasked.“It’smadeofHabcanvas,I
think,” Mindy explained. “Itattachestotherover’sairlock.Ithinkhecutasectionoutofthe Hab to make it. I don’t
knowwhatit’sfor.”Teddy turned to Venkat.
“Whywouldhedothat?”“We think it’s a
workshop,” Venkat said.“There’ll be a lot ofwork todoon theMAVoncehegetstoSchiaparelli. It’ll be easierwithout an EVA suit. Heprobablyplanstodoasmuchashecaninthatroom.”“Clever,”Teddysaid.“Watney’s a clever guy,”
Mitch said. “How aboutgettinglifesupportinthere?”“I think he’s done it,”
Mindy said. “He moved theAREC.”“Sorry,”Annieinterrupted.
“What’sanAREC?”“It’s the external
component of theatmospheric regulator,”Mindy said. “It sits outsidethe Hab, so I saw when itdisappeared. He probably
mounted it on the rover.There’s no other reason tomoveit,soI’mguessinghe’sgotlifesupportonline.”“Awesome,” Mitch said.
“Things are comingtogether.”“Don’t celebrate yet,
Mitch,” Venkat said. Hegestured to the newcomer.“This is Randall Carter, oneof our Martianmeteorologists. Randall, tell
themwhatyoutoldme.”Randall nodded. “Thank
you,Dr.Kapoor.”He turnedhis laptop around to show amap ofMars. “Over the pastfew weeks, a dust storm hasbeen developing in ArabiaTerra.Notabigdealintermsofmagnitude.Itwon’thinderhisdrivingatall.”“So what’s the problem?”
Annieasked.“It’s a low-velocity dust
storm,” Randall explained.“Slowwinds,butfastenoughtopickupverysmallparticlesonthesurfaceandwhiptheminto thick clouds. There arefiveorsixofthemeveryyear.The thing is, they last formonths, they cover hugesections of the planet, andthey make the atmospherethickwithdust.”“I still don’t see the
problem,”Anniesaid.
“Light,”Randallsaid.“Thetotal sunlight reaching thesurfaceisverylowintheareaof the storm. Right now, it’stwenty percent of normal.And Watney’s rover ispoweredbysolarpanels.”“Shit,”Mitchsaid,rubbing
hiseyes.“Andwecan’twarnhim.”“So he gets less power,”
Annie said. “Can’t he justrechargelonger?”
“The current plan alreadyhas him recharging all daylong,” Venkat explained.“With twenty percent ofnormaldaylight,it’lltakefivetimesas longtoget thesameenergy. It’ll turn his fortyfive-soltripintotwohundredand twenty-five sols. He’llmisstheHermesflyby.”“Can’t Hermes wait for
him?”Annieasked.“It’saflyby,”Venkatsaid.
“Hermes isn’t going intoMartian orbit. If they did,they wouldn’t be able to getback. They need theirvelocity for the returntrajectory.”After a few moments of
silence, Teddy said, “We’lljust have to hope he finds away through. We can trackhisprogressand—”“No, we can’t,” Mindy
interrupted.
“Wecan’t?”Teddysaid.She shook her head. “The
satelliteswon’tbeabletoseethrough the dust. Once heenters the affected area, wewon’t see anything until hecomesouttheotherside.”“Well…,” Teddy said.
“Shit.”
LOGENTRY:SOL439
BeforeIriskmylifewiththiscontraption,Ineedtotestit.AndnotthelittletestsI’ve
been doing so far. Sure, I’vetested power generation, lifesupport, the trailer bubble,and the bedroom.But I needto test all aspects of itworkingtogether.I’mgoing to load itup for
the long trip and drive incircles. Iwon’t everbemore
than 500 meters from theHab, so I’ll be fine if shitbreaks.I dedicated today to
loading up the rover andtrailer for the test. Iwant theweight tomatchwhat it’llbeon the real trip.Plus ifcargois going to shift around orbreak things, Iwant to knowaboutitnow.I made one concession to
commonsense:I leftmostof
mywatersupplyintheHab.Iloaded twenty liters; enoughfor the test but no more.There are a lot of ways Icould lose pressure in thismechanical abomination I’vecreated, and I don’t want allmy water to boil off if thathappens.On the real trip, I’mgoing
to have 620 liters ofwater. Imade up the weightdifference by loading 600
kilogramsofrocksinwithmyothersupplies.BackonEarth,universities
and governments are willingto pay millions to get theirhands on Mars rocks. I’musingthemasballast.I’m doing one more little
test tonight. I made sure thebatteries were good and full,then disconnected the roverand trailer from Hab power.I’ll be sleeping in the Hab,
but I left the rover’s lifesupport on. It’llmaintain theair overnight, and tomorrowI’ll see how much power itate up. I’ve watched thepowerconsumptionwhileit’sattachedtotheHab,andthereweren’t any surprises. Butthis’llbethetrueproof.Icallitthe“plugs-outtest.”Maybe that’s not the best
name.
•••
THE CREW ofHermes gatheredintheRec.“Let’s get through status
quickly,”Lewis said. “We’reall behind in our scienceassignments. Vogel, youfirst.”“Irepairedthebadcableon
VASIMR4,”Vogelreported.“It was our last thick-gaugecable. If another such
problemoccurs,wewillhaveto braid lower-gauge lines tocarry the current. Also, thepoweroutputfromthereactorisdeclining.”“Johanssen,” Lewis said,
“what’s the deal with thereactor?”“I had to dial it back,”
Johanssen said. “It’s thecooling vanes. They aren’tradiatingheataswellas theyusedto.They’retarnishing.”
“How can that happen?”Lewis asked. “They’reoutside the craft. There’snothing for them to reactwith.”“I think they picked up
dust or small air leaks fromHermes itself. One way oranother, they’re definitelytarnishing. The tarnish isclogging the micro-lattice,and that reduces the surfacearea.Lesssurfaceareameans
less heat dissipation. So Ilimited the reactor enoughthat we weren’t gettingpositiveheat.”“Any chance of repairing
thecoolingvanes?”“It’s on the microscopic
scale,”Johanssensaid.“We’dneed a lab. Usually theyreplace the vanes after eachmission.”“Will we be able to
maintainenginepowerforthe
restofthemission?”“Yes, if the rate of
tarnishingdoesn’tincrease.”“All right, keep an eye on
it.Beck,how’slifesupport?”“Limping,” Beck said.
“We’ve been in space waylongerthanitwasdesignedtohandle.There are a bunch offiltersthatwouldnormallybereplaced each mission. Ifound a way to clean themwith a chemical bath Imade
in the lab,but iteatsawayatthe filters themselves. We’reokay right now, but whoknowswhat’llbreaknext?”“We knew this would
happen,” Lewis said. “ThedesignofHermes assumed itwould get an overhaul aftereach mission, but we’veextended Ares 3 from 396daysto898.Thingsaregoingto break. We’ve got all ofNASA to help when that
happens.Wejustneedtostayon top of maintenance.Martinez, what’s the dealwithyourbunkroom?”Martinez furrowed his
brow.“It’sstilltryingtocookme. The climate control justisn’t keeping up. I think it’sthe tubing in the walls thatbringsthecoolant.Ican’tgetatitbecauseit’sbuiltintothehull.Wecanusetheroomforstorage of non-temperature-
sensitive cargo, but that’saboutit.”“So did you move into
Mark’sroom?”“It’srightnexttomine,”he
said. “It has the sameproblem.”“Where have you been
sleeping?”“InAirlock2.It’stheonly
placeIcanbewithoutpeopletrippingoverme.”“No good,” Lewis said,
shakingherhead.“Ifonesealbreaks,youdie.”“I can’t think of anywhere
else to sleep,” he said. “Theshipisprettycramped,andifIsleepinahallwayI’llbeinpeople’sway.”“Okay,fromnowon,sleep
in Beck’s room. Beck cansleepwithJohanssen.”Johanssen blushed and
lookeddownawkwardly.“So…,” Beck said, “you
knowaboutthat?”“You thought I didn’t?”
Lewis said. “It’s a smallship.”“You’renotmad?”“If it were a normal
mission, I would be,” Lewissaid. “But we’re way off-script now. Just keep it frominterfering with your duties,andI’mhappy.”“Million-mile-high club,”
Martinezsaid.“Nice!”
Johanssen blushed deeperand buried her face in herhands.
LOGENTRY:SOL444
I’m getting pretty good atthis. Maybe when all this isover I could be a producttesterforMarsrovers.Things went well. I spent
five sols driving in circles; Iaveraged 93 kilometers persol.That’s a littlebetter thanI’dexpected.Theterrainhereis flat and smooth, so it’spretty much a best-casescenario. Once I’m going up
hills and around boulders, itwon’tbenearlythatgood.The bedroom is awesome.
Large, spacious, andcomfortable. On the firstnight, I ran into a littleproblem with thetemperature. It was fuckingcold. The rover and trailerregulate their owntemperatures just fine, butthingsweren’t hot enough inthebedroom.
Storyofmylife.The rover has an electric
heater that pushes air with asmall fan. I don’t use theheater itself for anythingbecausetheRTGprovidesalltheheatIneed,soIliberatedthe fan and wired it into apower line near the airlock.Once it had power, all I hadto do was point it at thebedroom.It’salow-techsolution,but
it worked. There’s plenty ofheat,thankstotheRTG.Ijustneededtogetitevenlyspreadout.Foronce,entropywasonmyside.I’ve discovered that raw
potatoesaredisgusting.WhenI’m in the Hab, I cook mytaters using a smallmicrowave. I don’t haveanything like that in therover.IcouldeasilybringtheHab’s microwave into the
rover and wire it in, but theenergy required to cook tenpotatoesadaywouldactuallycutintomydrivingdistance.I fell into a routine pretty
quickly. In fact, it washauntingly familiar. I did itfortwenty-twomiserablesolson the Pathfinder trip. Butthis time, I had the bedroomand that makes all thedifference. Instead of beingcoopedupintherover,Ihave
myownlittleHab.After waking up, I have a
potato for breakfast. Then, Ideflate thebedroomfromtheinside.It’skindoftricky,butIworkedouthow.First,IputonanEVAsuit.
ThenIclosetheinnerairlockdoor, leaving the outer door(which the bedroom isattached to) open.This isolates the bedroom,withmeinit,fromtherestof
the rover. Then I tell theairlock to depressurize. Itthinks it’s just pumpingtheairoutofasmallarea,butit’s actually deflating thewholebedroom.Once the pressure is gone,
I pull the canvas in and foldit. Then I detach it from theouter hatch and close theouter door. This is the mostcrampedpart.Ihavetosharethe airlock with the entire
folded-up bedroom while itrepressurizes. Once I havepressure again, I open theinner door and more or lessfall into the rover. Then Istow the bedroom and goback to the airlock for anormalegresstoMars.It’s a complicated process,
but it detaches the bedroomwithout having todepressurize the rover cabin.Remember, the rover has all
my stuff that doesn’t playwellwithvacuum.The next step is to gather
upthesolarcellsIlaidoutthedaybeforeandstowthemonthe rover and trailer. Then Ido a quick check on thetrailer. I go in through itsairlock and basically take aquick look at all theequipment. I don’t even takeoffmyEVAsuit. I justwantto make sure nothing’s
obviouslywrong.Then, back to the rover.
Once inside, I take off theEVA suit and start driving. Idrive for almost four hours,andthenI’moutofpower.Once I park, it’s back into
theEVAsuitforme,andouttoMarsagain. I lay thesolarpanels out and get thebatteriescharging.ThenIsetupthebedroom.
Prettymuchthereverseofthe
sequence I use to stow it.Ultimately, it’s the airlockthat inflates it. In away, thebedroom is just an extensionoftheairlock.Eventhoughit’spossible,I
don’t rapid-inflate thebedroom. I did that to test itbecause I wanted to findwhereit’llleak.Butit’snotagood idea. Rapid inflationputs a lot of shock andpressure on it. It would
eventually rupture. I didn’tenjoy that time the Hablaunched me like acannonball. I’m not eager torepeatit.Oncethebedroomissetup
again,IcantakeoffmyEVAsuitandrelax.Imostlywatchcrappy seventies TV. I’mindistinguishable from anunemployed guy for most oftheday.I followed that process for
foursols,andthenitwastimeforan“AirDay.”AnAirDayturnsouttobe
prettymuch the same as anyother day, but without thefour-hourdrive.OnceIsetupthesolarpanels,Ifireduptheoxygenator and let it workthrough the backlog of CO2
that the regulator had storedup.It convertedall theCO2 to
oxygenanduseduptheday’s
powergenerationtodoit.Thetestwasasuccess.I’ll
bereadyontime.
LOGENTRY:SOL449
Today’s the big day. I’mleavingforSchiaparelli.Theroverandtrailerareall
packed.They’vebeenmostlypackedsincethetestrun.Butnow I even have the wateraboard.Over the last few days, I
cooked all the potatoes withtheHab’smicrowave. It tookquite a while, because themicrowavecanonlyholdfour
atatime.Aftercooking,Iputthembackouton the surfaceto freeze. Once frozen, I putthem back in the rover’ssaddlebags. This may seemlike a waste of time, but it’scritical. Insteadofeatingrawpotatoes during my trip, I’llbe eating (cold) precookedpotatoes. First off, they’lltaste a lot better. But moreimportant, they’ll be cooked.When you cook food, theproteins breakdown, and the
foodbecomeseasiertodigest.I’llgetmorecaloriesoutofit,andIneedeverycalorieIcangetmyhandson.Ispentthelastseveraldays
running full diagnostics oneverything. The regulator,oxygenator, RTG, AREC,batteries, rover life support(in case I need a backup),solar cells, rover computer,airlocks, and everything elsewith a moving part or
electronic component. I evenchecked each of the motors.Eight in all, one for eachwheel,fourontherover,fouron the trailer. The trailer’smotorswon’tbepowered,butit’snicetohavebackups.It’s all good to go. No
problemsthatIcansee.The Hab is a shell of its
former self. I’ve robbed it ofall critical components and abig chunk of its canvas. I’ve
looted that poor Hab foreverything it could give me,and in return it’s kept mealiveforayearandahalf.It’sliketheGivingTree.I performed the final
shutdown today.Theheaters,lighting, main computer, etc.All the components I didn’tsteal for the trip toSchiaparelli.I could have left them on.
It’s not like anyone would
care. But the originalprocedure for Sol 31 (whichwas supposed to be the lastday of the surface mission)was tocompletelyshutdownthe Hab and deflate it,becauseNASAdidn’twantabig tent full of combustibleoxygen next to the MAVwhenitlaunched.Iguess Idid the shutdown
as an homage to themissionAres 3 could have been. A
small piece of the Sol 31 Inevergottohave.Once I’d shut everything
down,theinteriorof theHabwas eerily silent. I’d spent449 sols listening to itsheaters, vents, and fans. Butnowitwasdeadquiet.Itwasa creepy kind of quiet that’shard to describe. I’ve beenaway from the noises of theHab before, but always in aroveroranEVAsuit,bothof
which have noisy machineryoftheirown.Butnowtherewasnothing.
I never realized how utterlysilent Mars is. It’s a desertworld with practically noatmosphere to convey sound.I could hear my ownheartbeat.Anyway, enough waxing
philosophical.I’mintheroverrightnow.
(Thatshouldbeobvious,with
the Hab main computeroffline forever.) I’ve got twofull batteries, all systems arego, and I’ve got forty-fivesolsofdrivingaheadofme.Schiaparelliorbust!
CHAPTER22
LOGENTRY:SOL458
Mawrth Vallis! I’m finallyhere!Actually, it’s not an
impressive accomplishment.I’ve only been traveling tensols. But it’s a goodpsychologicalmilestone.So far, the rover and my
ghetto life support areworking admirably. At least,aswellascanbeexpectedforequipment being used ten
timeslongerthanintended.Today is my second Air
Day (the first was five solsago).WhenIputthisschemetogether, I figured Air Dayswould be godawful boring.But now I look forward tothem.They’remydaysoff.Onanormalday, Igetup,
fold up the bedroom, stackthe solar cells, drive fourhours, set up the solar cells,unfurlthebedroom,checkall
myequipment (especially therover chassis and wheels),then make a Morse codestatus report for NASA, if Icanfindenoughnearbyrocks.OnanAirDay, Iwakeup
and turn on the oxygenator.The solar panels are alreadyout from the day before.Everything’s ready to go.Then I chill out in thebedroomor rover. I have thewhole day to myself. The
bedroom gives me enoughspacethatIdon’tfeelcoopedup, and the computer hasplentyofshittyTVrerunsformetoenjoy.Technically, I entered
MawrthVallisyesterday.ButIonlyknewthatbylookingata map. The entrance to thevalley is wide enough that Icouldn’tseethecanyonwallsineitherdirection.ButnowI’mdefinitelyina
canyon. And the bottom isnice and flat. Exactly what Iwashopingfor.It’samazing;this valleywasn’tmade by ariver slowly carving it away.Itwasmadebyamega-floodinasingleday.Itwouldhavebeenahellofathingtosee.Weird thought: I’m not in
Acidalia Planitia anymore. Ispent457solsthere,almostayearandahalf,andI’llnevergo back. I wonder if I’ll be
nostalgic about that later inlife.If there is a “later in life,”
I’llbehappytoendurealittlenostalgia.But fornow, I justwanttogohome.
•••
“WELCOMEBACKtoCNN’sMarkWatney Report,” Cathy saidto the camera. “We’re
speaking with our frequentguest, Dr. Venkat Kapoor.Dr. Kapoor, I guess whatpeople want to know is, isMarkWatneydoomed?”“We hope not,” Venkat
responded, “but he’s got arealchallengeaheadofhim.”“According to your latest
satellite data, the dust stormin Arabia Terra isn’t abatingat all, and will block eightypercentofthesunlight?”
“That’scorrect.”“And Watney’s only
source of energy is his solarpanels,correct?”“Yes,that’sright.”“Can his makeshift rover
operate at twenty percentpower?”“We haven’t found any
waytomakethathappen,no.His life support alone takesmoreenergythanthat.”“How long until he enters
thestorm?”“He’s just enteredMawrth
Vallis now. At his currentrate of travel, he’ll be at theedgeofthestormonSol471.That’s twelve days fromnow.”“Surelyhe’llseesomething
iswrong,”Cathy said. “Withsuch low visibility, it won’ttake long for him to realizehis solar cells will have aproblem. Couldn’t he just
turnaroundatthatpoint?”“Unfortunately,
everything’s working againsthim,”Venkatsaid.“Theedgeof the storm isn’t a magicline. It’s just an area wherethe dust gets a little moredense.It’llkeepgettingmoreandmoredense ashe travelsonward. It’llbe really subtle;every day will be slightlydarker than the last. Toosubtletonotice.”
Venkat sighed. “He’ll gohundreds of kilometers,wondering why his solarpanel efficiency is goingdown, before he notices anyvisibility problems. And thestorm is moving west as hemoveseast.He’llbetoodeepintogetout.”“Are we just watching a
tragedy play out?” Cathyasked.“There’s always hope,”
Venkat said. “Maybe he’llfigure it out faster than wethinkandturnaroundintime.Maybe the storm willdissipate unexpectedly.Maybe he’ll find a way tokeephislifesupportgoingonless energy than we thoughtwaspossible.MarkWatneyisnowanexpertatsurvivingonMars.Ifanyonecandoit,it’shim.”“Twelvedays,”Cathy said
tothecamera.“AllofEarthiswatching but powerless tohelp.”
LOGENTRY:SOL462
Another uneventful sol.Tomorrow is an Air Day, sothis is kind of my Fridaynight.I’mabouthalfway through
Mawrth Vallis now. Just asI’dhoped,thegoinghasbeeneasy. No major elevationchanges. Hardly anyobstacles. Just smooth sandwithrockssmallerthanhalfameter.
You may be wonderinghowInavigate.WhenIwentto Pathfinder, I watchedPhobos transit the sky tofigure out the east-west axis.But Pathfinder was an easytrip compared to this, and Ihad plenty of landmarks tonavigateby.I can’t get away with that
thistime.My“map”(suchasit is) consists of satelliteimagesfar too low-resolution
to be of any use. I can onlysee major landmarks, likecraters 50 kilometers across.They just never expectedmeto be out this far. The onlyreason I had high-res imagesof the Pathfinder region isbecause they were includedfor landing purposes; in caseMartinez had to land waylongofourtarget.So this time around, I
needed a reliable way to fix
mypositiononMars.Latitude and longitude.
That’s the key. The first iseasy.AncientsailorsonEarthfigured that one out rightaway. Earth’s 23.5-degreeaxis points at Polaris. Marshas a tilt of just over 25degrees, so it’s pointed atDeneb.Making a sextant isn’t
hard.Allyouneedisatubetolook through, a string, a
weight, and something withdegree markings. I mademineinunderanhour.So I go out every night
withahomemadesextantandsightDeneb.It’skindofsillyif you think about it. I’m inmy space suit on Mars andI’m navigating withsixteenth-century tools. Buthey,theywork.Longitude is a different
matter.OnEarth, the earliest
way to work out longituderequired them to know theexacttime,thencompareittothe sun’s position in the sky.The hard part for them backthen was inventing a clockthat would work on a boat(pendulums don’t work onboats). All the top scientificminds of the age worked ontheproblem.Fortunately, I have
accurate clocks. There are
four computers in myimmediate line of sight rightnow.AndIhavePhobos.Because Phobos is
ridiculously close toMars, itorbits the planet in less thanone Martian day. It travelswest to east (unlike the sunand Deimos) and sets everyeleven hours. And naturally,itmovesinaverypredictablepattern.I spend thirteen hours
every sol just sitting aroundwhile the solarpanelschargethe batteries. Phobos isguaranteedtosetatleastonceduring that time. I note thetime when it does. Then Iplug it intoanasty formula Iworked out and I know mylongitude.So working out longitude
requires Phobos to set, andworking out latitude requiresit to be night so I can sight
Deneb. It’s not a very fastsystem. But I only need itonce a day. I work out mylocation when I’m parked,andaccount for it in thenextday’s travel. It’s kind of asuccessive approximationthing.Sofar,Ithinkit’sbeenworking. But who knows? Icansee itnow:meholdingamap, scratching my head,trying to figure out how IendeduponVenus.
•••
MINDY PARK zoomed in on thelatest satellite photo withpracticed ease. Watney’sencampment was visible inthecenter,thesolarcellslaidout in a circular pattern aswashishabit.The workshop was
inflated. Checking the timestampon the image, she sawit was from noon local time.
She quickly found the statusreport;Watneyalwaysplacedit close to the rover whenrocks were in abundance,usuallytothenorth.To save time, Mindy had
taughtherselfMorsecode,soshe wouldn’t have to lookeachletterupeverymorning.She opened an e-mail andaddressed it to the ever-growing list of people whowantedWatney’sdaily status
message.
“ONTRACKFORSOL494ARRIVAL.”
She frowned and added“Note: five sols until duststormentry.”
LOGENTRY:SOL466
MawrthValliswasfunwhileit lasted. I’m inArabiaTerranow.Ijustenteredtheedgeofit,
if my latitude and longitudecalculations are correct. Buteven without the math, it’spretty obvious the terrain ischanging.For the last two sols, I’ve
spent almost all my time onan incline, working my way
up the back wall of MawrthVallis. It was a gentle rise,but a constant one. I’m at amuch higher altitude now.Acidalia Planitia (where thelonelyHab ishangingout) is3000 meters below elevationzero,andArabiaTerrais500meters below. So I’ve goneuptwoandahalfkilometers.Want to know what
elevation zero means? OnEarth, it’s sea level.
Obviously, that won’t workonMars.Solab-coatedgeeksgot together and decidedMars’s elevation zero iswherever the air pressure is610.5 pascals. That’s about500 meters up from where Iamrightnow.Now things get tricky.
BackinAcidaliaPlanitia,ifIgot off course, I could justpoint in the right directionbased on new data. Later, in
Mawrth Vallis, it wasimpossibletoscrewup.Ijusthadtofollowthecanyon.Now I’m in a rougher
neighborhood. The kind ofneighborhood where youkeepyourroverdoorslockedandnevercometoacompletestop at intersections. Well,not really, but it’s bad to getoffcoursehere.Arabia Terra has large,
brutal craters that I have to
drive around. If I navigatepoorly,I’llendupattheedgeofone.Ican’tjustdrivedownone side and up the other.Risinginelevationcostsatonof energy. On flat ground, Ican make 90 kilometers perday.Ona steep slope, I’dbelucky to get 40 kilometers.Plus, driving on a slope isdangerous.OnemistakeandIcould roll the rover. I don’tevenwanttothinkaboutthat.
Yes,I’lleventuallyhavetodrive down into Schiaparelli.Nowayaroundthat.I’llhavetobereallycareful.Anyway, if Iendupat the
edge of a crater, I’ll have tobacktrack to somewhereuseful.Andit’sadamnmazeof craters out here. I’ll havetobeonmyguard,observantat all times. I’ll need tonavigate with landmarks aswellaslatitudeandlongitude.
My first challenge is topass between the cratersRutherford and Trouvelot. Itshouldn’t be too hard.They’re100kilometersapart.Even I can’t fuck that up,right?Right?
LOGENTRY:SOL468
I managed to thread theneedle between Rutherfordand Trouvelot nicely.Admittedly, the needle was100kilometerswide,buthey.I’m now enjoying my
fourth Air Day of the trip.I’ve been on the road fortwentysols.So far, I’mrightonschedule.Accordingtomymaps, I’ve traveled 1440kilometers.Notquitehalfway
there,butalmost.I’ve been gathering soil
and rock samples from eachplace I camp. I did the samething on my way toPathfinder. But this time, Iknow NASA’s watching me.So I’m labeling each sampleby the current sol. They’llknowmy locationahellofalotmoreaccuratelythanIdo.They can correlate thesamples with their locations
later.Itmightbeawastedeffort.
TheMAVisn’tgoingtohavemuchweightallowancewhenI launch. To interceptHermes, it’ll have to reachescape velocity, but it wasonlydesigned toget toorbit.Theonlyway to get it goingfastenoughistolosealotofweight.At least that jury-rigging
will be NASA’s job to work
out, not mine. Once I get tothe MAV, I’ll be back incontact with them and theycan tell me whatmodificationstomake.They’ll probably say,
“Thanks for gatheringsamples. But leave thembehind. And one of yourarms,too.Whicheveroneyoulike least.” But on the offchance I can bring thesamples,I’mgatheringthem.
The next few days’ travelshould be easy. The nextmajor obstacle is MarthCrater. It’s right in mystraight-line path towardSchiaparelli. It’ll cost me ahundred kilometers or so togo around, but it can’t behelped. I’ll try toaimfor thesouthern edge. The closer IgettotherimthelesstimeI’llwastegoingaroundit.
•••
“DID YOU read today’supdates?” Lewis asked,pulling her meal from themicrowave.“Yeah,” Martinez said,
sippinghisdrink.ShesatacrosstheRectable
from him and carefullyopenedthesteamingpackage.Shedecidedtoletitcoolabitbefore eating. “Mark entered
theduststormyesterday.”“Yeah,Isawthat,”hesaid.“We need to face the
possibility that he won’tmake it to Schiaparelli,”Lewis said. “If that happens,we need to keep morale up.We still have a long way togobeforewegethome.”“He was dead before,”
Martinez said. “It was roughon morale, but we soldieredon.Besides,hewon’tdie.”
“It’s pretty bleak, Rick,”Lewis said. “He’s alreadyfifty kilometers into thestorm, and he’ll go anotherninety kilometers per sol.He’ll get in too deep torecoversoon.”Martinez shook his head.
“He’ll pull through,Commander.Havefaith.”She smiled forlornly.
“Rick, you know I’m notreligious.”
“Iknow,”hesaid.“I’mnottalking about faith in God,I’m talking about faith inMarkWatney.LookatalltheshitMars has thrown at him,and he’s still alive. He’llsurvive this. I don’t knowhow, but he will. He’s acleversonofabitch.”Lewis took a bite of her
food.“Ihopeyou’reright.”“Want to bet a hundred
bucks?”Martinezsaidwitha
smile.“Of course not,” Lewis
said.“Damnright,”hesmiled.“I’d never bet on a
crewmatedying,”Lewissaid.“But that doesn’t mean Ithinkhe’ll—”“Blahblahblah,”Martinez
interrupted.“Deepdown,youthinkhe’llmakeit.”
LOGENTRY:SOL473
MyfifthAirDay, and thingsare going well. I should beskimming south of MarthCrater tomorrow. It’ll geteasierafterthat.I’m in the middle of a
bunch of craters that form atriangle. I’m calling it theWatney Triangle becauseafterwhat I’vebeen through,stuff on Mars should benamedafterme.
Trouvelot, Becquerel, andMarth form the points of thetriangle,withfiveothermajorcraters along the sides.Normally this wouldn’t be aproblem at all, but with myextremelyroughnavigation,Icouldeasilyendupat the lipof one of them and have tobacktrack.AfterMarth, I’ll be out of
the Watney Triangle (yeah,I’m liking that name more
andmore).ThenIcanbeelinetoward Schiaparelli withimpunity. There’ll still beplenty of craters in the way,but they’re comparativelysmall,andgoingaroundthemwon’tcostmuchtime.Progress has been great.
Arabia Terra is certainlyrockierthanAcidaliaPlanitia,but nowhere near as bad asI’d feared. I’ve been able todriveovermostof the rocks,
and around the ones that aretoo big. I have 1435kilometerslefttogo.I did some research on
Schiaparelli and found somegoodnews.Thebestwayinisright inmydirect-linepath.Iwon’t have to drive theperimeteratall.Andthewayin iseasy to find,evenwhenyou suck at navigating. Thenorthwest rim has a smallercrater on it, and that’s the
landmark I’ll be looking for.Tothesouthwestofthatlittlecrater is a gentle slope intoSchiaparelliBasin.The little crater doesn’t
haveaname.Atleast,notonthemaps I have. So I dub it“Entrance Crater.” Because Ican.In other news, my
equipmentisstartingtoshowsigns of age. Not surprising,considering it’s way the hell
past its expiration date. Forthepasttwosols,thebatterieshavetakenlongertorecharge.The solar cells just aren’tproducingasmuchwattageasbefore. It’s not a big deal, Ijust need to charge a littlelonger.
LOGENTRY:SOL474
Well,Ifuckeditup.It was bound to happen
eventually. I navigated badlyand ended up at the ridge ofMarth Crater. Because it’s100 kilometers wide, I can’tseethewholething,soIdon’tknow where on the circle Iam.The ridge runs
perpendicular to thedirectionI was going. So I have no
cluewhichway I should go.And I don’twant to take thelong way around if I canavoid it. Originally I wantedtogoaroundtothesouth,butnorthisjustaslikelytobethebest path now that I’m offcourse.I’llhavetowaitforanother
Phobos transit to get mylongitude, and I’ll need towait for nightfall to sightDenebformylatitude.SoI’m
done driving for the day.Luckily I’d made 70kilometers out of the 90kilometers I usually do, soit’s not too much wastedprogress.Marth isn’t too steep. I
could probably just drivedown one side and up theother.It’sbigenoughthatI’dendupcamping inside itonenight.ButIdon’twanttotakeunnecessary risks. Slopes are
badand shouldbe avoided. Igave myself plenty of buffertime, so I’m going to play itsafe.I’m ending today’s drive
early and setting up forrecharge. Probably a goodidea anyway with the solarcellsactingup;it’llgivethemmore time to work. Theyunderperformed again lastnight. I checked all theconnections and made sure
there wasn’t any dust onthem,buttheystilljustaren’t100percent.
LOGENTRY:SOL475
I’mintrouble.I watched two Phobos
transitsyesterdayandsightedDeneb last night. I workedoutmylocationasaccuratelyasIcould,anditwasn’twhatI wanted to see. As far as Ican tell, I hit Marth Craterdead-on.Craaaaap.I can go north or south.
Oneofthemwillprobablybe
better than theother,becauseit’ll be a shorter path aroundthecrater.I figured I should put at
least a little effort intofiguring out which directionwas best, so I took a littlewalk this morning. It wasover a kilometer to the peakof the rim.That’s the sort ofwalk people do on Earthwithoutthinkingtwice,butinanEVAsuitit’sanordeal.
I can’t wait till I havegrandchildren. “When I wasyounger,Ihadtowalkto therimof a crater.Uphill! In anEVA suit!OnMars, ya littleshit!Yahearme?Mars!”Anyway, I got up to the
rim,anddamn,it’sabeautifulsight. Frommy high vantagepoint, I got a stunningpanorama. I figured I mightbe able to see the far side ofMarth Crater, and maybe
work out the best wayaround.But I couldn’t see the far
side.Therewasahazein theair.It’snotuncommon;Marshas weather and wind anddust, after all. But it seemedhazier than it should. I’maccustomed to thewide-openexpansesofAcidaliaPlanitia,myformerprairiehome.Then it got weirder. I
turned around and looked
back toward the rover andtrailer.EverythingwaswhereI’d left it (very few carthieves on Mars). But theviewseemedalotclearer.I looked east acrossMarth
again. Then west to thehorizon.Theneast,thenwest.Each turn required me torotate my whole body, EVAsuitsbeingwhattheyare.Yesterday, I passed a
crater. It’s about 50
kilometers west of here. It’sjust visible on the horizon.But looking east, I can’t seeanywherenearthatfar.MarthCrateris110kilometerswide.With a visibility of 50kilometers, I should at leastbe able to see a distinctcurvature of the rim. But Ican’t.Atfirst,Ididn’tknowwhat
tomakeofit.Butthelackofsymmetry bothered me. And
I’ve learned to be suspiciousof everything. That’swhen abunchofstuffstartedtodawnonme:
1.Theonlyexplanationforasymmetricalvisibilityisaduststorm.
2.Duststormsreducetheeffectivenessofsolarcells.
3.Mysolarcellshavebeenslowlylosing
effectivenessforseveralsols.
From this, I concluded thefollowing:
1.I’vebeeninaduststormforseveralsols.
2.Shit.
Not only am I in a duststorm,but itgets thickeras IapproachSchiaparelli.A few
hours ago, I was worriedbecause I had to go aroundMarthCrater.NowI’mgoingto have to go aroundsomethingalotbigger.And Ihave tohustle.Dust
storms move. Sitting stillmeans I’ll likely getoverwhelmed.Butwhichwaydo I go? It’s no longer anissueoftryingtobeefficient.If I go the wrong way thistime,I’lleatdustanddie.
I don’t have satelliteimagery. I have no way ofknowing the sizeor shapeofthe storm, or its heading.Man, I’d give anything for afive-minuteconversationwithNASA.NowthatIthinkofit,NASAmustbeshittingbrickswatchingthisplayout.I’montheclock.Ihaveto
figure out how to figure outwhat I need to know aboutthestorm.AndIhavetodoit
now.And right this second
nothingcomestomind.
•••
MINDY TRUDGED to hercomputer. Today’s shiftbegan at 2:10 p.m. Herschedule matched Watney’severyday.Shesleptwhenheslept.Watney simply slept at
night on Mars, while Mindyhad to drift forty minutesforward every day, tapingaluminum foil to herwindows to get any sleep atall.She brought up the most
recent satellite images. Shecocked an eyebrow. He hadnotbrokencampyet.Usuallyhe drove in the earlymorning, as soon as it waslight enough to navigate.Then he capitalized on the
midday sun to maximizerecharging.But today, he had not
moved, and it was well pastmorning.She checked around the
roversand thebedroomforamessage. She found it in theusual place (north of thecampsite). As she read theMorse code, her eyeswidened.“DUST STORM.
MAKINGPLAN.”Fumbling with her cell
phone, she dialed Venkat’spersonalnumber.
CHAPTER23
LOGENTRY:SOL476
IthinkIcanworkthisout.I’m on the very edge of a
storm.Idon’tknowitssizeorheading.Butit’smoving,andthat’s something I can takeadvantageof. I don’t have towander around exploring it.It’llcometome.The storm is just dust in
the air; it’s not dangerous totherovers.Icanthinkofitas“percent power loss.” I
checked yesterday’s powergeneration, and it was 97percent of optimal. So rightnow,it’sa3percentstorm.I need to make progress
and I need to regenerateoxygen. Those are my twomain goals. I use 20 percentof my overall power toreclaim oxygen (when I stopforAirDays). If I end up inan 81 percent part of thestorm, I’ll be in real trouble.
I’llrunoutofoxygenevenifIdedicateallavailablepowerto producing it. That’s thefatal scenario.But really, it’sfatalmuchearlier than that. IneedpowertomoveorI’llbestranded until the stormpasses or dissipates. Thatcouldbemonths.ThemorepowerIgenerate,
the more I’ll have formovement.Withclearskies,Idedicate 80 percent of my
total power towardmovement. I get 90kilometers per sol this way.So right now, at 3 percentloss, I’m getting 2.7kilometerslessthanIshould.It’s okay to lose some
driving distance per sol. Ihave plenty of time, but Ican’t letmyself get too deepin the storm or I’ll never beabletogetout.Attheveryleast,Ineedto
travelfasterthanthestorm.IfI can go faster, I canmaneuver around it withoutbeingenveloped.SoIneedtofindouthowfastit’smoving.Icandothatbysittinghere
for a sol. I can comparetomorrow’s wattage totoday’s. All I have to do ismake sure to compare at thesame times of day. Then I’llknow how fast the storm ismoving, at least in terms of
percentpowerloss.But I need to know the
shapeofthestorm,too.Dust storms are big. They
can be thousands ofkilometers across. Sowhen Iwork my way around it, I’llneed to know which way togo. I’ll want to moveperpendicular to the storm’smovement, and in whateverdirectionhaslessstorm.Sohere’smyplan:
Right now, I can go 86kilometers (because Icouldn’t get a full batteryyesterday). Tomorrow, I’mgoing to leave a solar cellhere and drive 40 kilometersdue south. Then I’ll drop offanother solar cell and driveanother 40 kilometers duesouth. That’ll give me threepoints of reference across 80kilometers.The next day, I’ll go back
tocollectthecellsandgetthedata. By comparing thewattage at the same time ofday in those three locations,I’ll learn the shape of thestorm. If the storm is thickerto the south, I’ll go north toget around it. If it’s thickernorth,I’llgosouth.I’m hoping to go south.
Schiaparelli is southeast ofme.Goingnorthwouldaddalotoftimetomytotaltrip.
There’soneslightproblemwith my plan: I don’t haveany way to “record” thewattage from an abandonedsolar cell. I can easily trackand log wattage with therover computer, but I needsomethingIcandropoffandleavebehind.Ican’tjusttakereadings as I drive along. Ineed readings at the sametimeindifferentplaces.So I’m going to spend
today working on some madscience. I have to makesomething that can logwattage. Something I canleave behind with a singlesolarcell.Since I’m stuck here for
thedayanyway,I’llleavethesolarcellsout. Imayaswellgetafullbatteryoutofit.
LOGENTRY:SOL477
It took all day yesterday andtoday,butIthinkI’mreadytomeasurethisstorm.I needed a way to log the
time of day and the wattageofeachsolarcell.Oneof thecells would be with me, butthe other two would bedroppedoffandleftfaraway.And the solution was theextra EVA suit I broughtalong.
EVA suits have camerasrecording everything theysee. There’s one on the rightarm (or the left if theastronaut is left-handed) andanother above the faceplate.A time stamp is burned intothe lower left corner of theimage, just like on the shakyhome videos Dad used totake.My electronics kit has
several power meters. So I
figured, why make my ownlogging system? I can justfilm the powermeter all daylong.So that’s what I set up.
When I packed for this roadtrip, Imade sure to bring allmykitsandtools.JustincaseI had to repair the rover enroute.First, I harvested the
cameras frommyspareEVAsuit. I had to be careful; I
didn’t want to ruin the suit.It’smyonlyspare.Iextractedthe cameras and the linesleading to their memorychips.I put a powermeter into a
small sample container, thenglued a camera to theunderside of the lid.When Isealed up the container, thecamera was properlyrecording the readout of thepowermeter.
For testing, I used roverpower. How will my loggerget power once I abandon iton the surface? It’ll beattached to a two-square-meter solar cell! That’llprovideplentyofpower.AndI put a small rechargeablebatteryinthecontainertotideit over during nighttime(again, harvested from thespareEVAsuit).Thenextproblemwasheat,
or the lack thereof. As soonasI takethis thingoutof therover, it’llstartcoolingdownmighty fast. If it gets toocold, theelectronicswillstopworking.So I needed a heat source.
And my electronics kitprovided the answer:resistors. Lots and lots ofthem. Resistors heat up. It’swhattheydo.Thecameraandthe powermeter only need a
tiny fraction of what a solarcell canmake. So the rest ofthe energy goes throughresistors.I made and tested two
“power loggers” andconfirmed that the imageswerebeingproperlyrecorded.Then I had an EVA. I
detached two of my solarcells and hooked them up tothepower loggers. I let themloghappily for an hour, then
brought them back in tocheck the results. Theyworkedgreat.It’sgettingtowardnightfall
now.Tomorrowmorning,I’llleave one power loggerbehindandheadsouth.WhileIwasworking,Ileft
the oxygenator going (whynot?). So I’m all stocked uponO2andgoodtogo.Thesolarcellefficiencyfor
today was 92.5 percent.
Compared to yesterday’s 97percent. This proves thestormismovingeasttowest,becausethedenserpartofthestorm was to the eastyesterday.So right now, the sunlight
inthisareaisdroppingby4.5percent per sol. If I were tostayhereanothersixteensols,it would get dark enough tokillme.Just aswell I’m not going
tostayhere.
LOGENTRY:SOL478
Everything went as plannedtoday.Nohiccups.Ican’ttellifI’mdrivingdeeperintothestormoroutofit.It’shardtotelliftheambientlightislessormorethanitwasyesterday.The human brainworks hardtoabstractthatout.I left a power logger
behind when I started out.Then, after 40 kilometers’travelduesouth,Ihadaquick
EVA to set up another.NowI’ve gone the full 80kilometers, set up my solarcells for charging, and I’mloggingthewattage.Tomorrow, I’ll have to
reverse course and pick upthe power loggers. Itmaybedangerous; I’ll be drivingrightbackintoaknownstormarea.Buttheriskisworththegain.Also,haveImentionedI’m
sickofpotatoes?Because,byGod,Iamsickofpotatoes.IfI ever return to Earth, I’mgoing to buy a nice littlehome in Western Australia.BecauseWesternAustralia ison theopposite sideofEarthfromIdaho.I bring it up because I
dinedonamealpacktoday.Ihad saved five packs forspecial occasions. I ate thefirstofthemtwenty-ninesols
ago when I left forSchiaparelli, but I totallyforgottoeatthesecondwhenIreachedthehalfwaypointafewsolsago.SoI’menjoyingmybelatedhalfwayfeast.It’sprobablymoreaccurate
to eat it today anyway.Whoknowshowlongit’lltakemetogoaroundthisstorm?AndifIendupstuckinthestormand doomed to die, I’mtotally eating the other
earmarkedmeals.
LOGENTRY:SOL479
Have you ever taken thewrongfreewayentrance?Youjustneed todrive to thenextexit to turn around, but youhate every inch of travelbecause you’re going awayfromyourgoal.I felt like that all day. I’m
now back where I startedyesterdaymorning.Yuk.Alongtheway,Ipickedup
the power logger I’d left
behind at the halfway point.JustnowIbroughtintheoneI’dlefthereyesterday.Both loggers worked the
wayI’dhoped.Idownloadedeachoftheirvideorecordingsto a laptop and advancedthem to noon. Finally I hadsolarefficiencyreadingsfromthree locations along an 80-kilometer line, all from thesametimeofday.As of noon yesterday, the
northernmost logger showed12.3 percent efficiency loss,the middle one had a 9.5percent loss, and the roverrecordeda6.4percentlossatits southernmost location. Itpaints a pretty clear picture:Thestorm’snorthofme.AndI already worked out it’stravelingwest.So I should be able to
avoid it by heading south aways,lettingitpassmetothe
north, then heading eastagain.Finally, some good news!
Southeast iswhat Iwanted. Iwon’tlosemuchtime.Sigh…I have to drive the
samegoddamnedpathathirdtimetomorrow.
LOGENTRY:SOL480
I think I’m getting ahead ofthestorm.Having traveled along
MarsHighway1allday,I’mback at my campsite fromyesterday. Tomorrow, I’llfinally make real headwayagain.Iwasdonedrivingandhadthecampsetupbynoon.The efficiency loss here is15.6 percent. Compared tothe 17 percent loss at
yesterday’s camp, thismeansIcanoutrunthestormaslongasIkeepheadingsouth.Hopefully.The storm is probably
circular. They usually are.But I could just be drivinginto an alcove. If that’s thecase, I’m just fucking dead,okay?There’sonlysomuchIcando.I’ll know soon enough. If
thestormiscircular,Ishould
get better and betterefficiencyeverydayuntilI’mback to 100 percent. Once Ireach100percent,thatmeansI’m completely south of thestorm and I can start goingeastagain.We’llsee.If therewerenostorm, I’d
be going directly southeasttoward my goal. As it is,going only south, I’m notnearly as fast. I’m traveling90 kilometers per day as
usual, but I only get 37kilometers closer toSchiaparelli becausePythagoras is a dick. I don’tknow when I’ll finally clearthe storm and be able tobeeline to Schiaparelli again.But one thing’s for sure:Myplan to arrive on Sol 494 isboned.Sol 549.That’swhen they
comeforme.IfImiss it, I’llspend the rest of my very
short life here. And I stillhave the MAV to modifybeforethen,too.Sheesh.
LOGENTRY:SOL482
Air Day. A time forrelaxationandspeculation.For relaxation, I read
eighty pages of AgathaChristie’sEvilUndertheSuncourtesy of Johanssen’sdigital book collection. Ithink Linda Marshall is themurderer.As for speculation, I
speculated on when the hellI’llgetpastthisstorm.
I’m still going due southevery day; and still dealingwith efficiency loss (thoughI’m keeping ahead of it).Every day of this crap I’monly getting 37 kilometerscloser totheMAVinsteadof90.Pissingmeoff.I considered skipping the
Air Day. I could go anothercouple of days before I ranout of oxygen, and gettingawayfromthestormispretty
important. But I decidedagainst it. I’m far enoughaheadof the storm that I canafford one day of nomovement.AndIdon’tknowif a couplemore dayswouldhelp. Who knows how farsouththestormgoes?Well, NASA probably
knows.Andthenewsstationsback on Earth are probablyshowing it. And there’sprobably a website like
www.watch-mark-watney-die.com. So there’s like ahundredmillion people or sowho know exactly how farsouthitgoes.ButI’mnotoneofthem.
LOGENTRY:SOL484
Finally!I am FINALLY past the
god damned storm. Today’spowerregenwas100percent.Nomoredustintheair.Withthe storm movingperpendiculartomydirectionof travel, itmeans I’m southof the southernmost point ofthe cloud (presuming it’s acircularstorm.Ifit’snot,thenfuck).
Startingtomorrow,Icangodirectly toward Schiaparelli.Whichisgood,’causeIlostalot of time. I went 540kilometers due south whileavoiding that storm. I’mcatastrophicallyoffcourse.Mind you, it hasn’t been
that bad. I’mwell into TerraMeridiani now, and thedriving is a little easier herethan the rugged, ass-kickingterrain of Arabia Terra.
Schiaparelli is almost dueeast, and if my sextant andPhobos calculations arecorrect,I’vegotanother1030kilometerstogetthere.Accounting for Air Days
and presuming 90 kilometersof travel per sol, I shouldarrive on Sol 498. Not toobad,really.TheNearly-Mark-Killin’ storm only ended updelayingmebyfoursols.I’ll still have forty-four
sols to do whatever MAVmodifications NASA has inmind.
LOGENTRY:SOL487
I have an interestingopportunity here. And by“opportunity” I meanOpportunity.I got pushed so far off
course, I’m actually not farfrom the Mars explorationroverOpportunity. It’s about300kilometersaway. I couldgetthereinaboutfoursols.Damn it’s tempting. If I
couldgetOpportunity’sradio
working,I’dbeintouchwithhumanity again. NASAwouldcontinuallytellmemyexact position and bestcourse, warn me if anotherstorm was on its way, andgenerally be there watchingoverme.But if I’m being honest,
that’snot the real reason I’minterested. I’m sick of beingonmyown, damn it!Once IgotPathfinderworking, Igot
used to talking to Earth. Allthat went away because Ileaned a drill against thewrong table, and now I’malone again. I could end thatinjustfoursols.Butit’sanirrational,stupid
thought. I’monlyelevensolsawayfromtheMAV.Whygoout of my way to dig upanother broken-ass rover touseasamakeshiftradiowhenI’ll have a brand-new, fully
functional communicationssystem within a couple ofweeks?So, while it’s really
tempting that I’m withinstriking range of anotherrover (man,wereally litteredthis planet with them, didn’twe?),it’snotthesmartmove.Besides, I’ve defiled
enough future historical sitesfornow.
LOGENTRY:SOL492
I need to put some thoughtintothebedroom.Rightnow,Icanonlyhave
it setupwhen I’m inside therover. It attaches to theairlock, so I can’t get out ifit’sthere.Duringmyroadtripthatdoesn’tmatter,becauseIhave to furl it every dayanyway.ButonceIgettotheMAV, I won’t have to drivearound anymore. Each
decompress/recompress ofthe bedroom stresses theseams (I learned that lessonthe hard way when the Habblewup),so it’sbest if Icanfindawaytoleaveitout.Holy shit. I just realized I
actuallybelieveI’llgettotheMAV.SeewhatIdidthere?Icasually talked about whatI’lldoafterIgettotheMAV.Like it was nothing. No bigdeal. I’m just going to pop
overtoSchiaparelliandhangwiththeMAVthere.Nice.Anyway, I don’t have
another airlock. I’ve got oneon the rover and one on thetrailer and that’s it. They’refirmly fixed in place, so it’snot likeIcandetachoneandattachittothebedroom.ButIcansealthebedroom
entirely. Idon’tevenhave todoanyhatchetjobsonit.The
airlockattachmentpointhasaflap I canunroll and seal theopening with. Remember, Istole the airlock attachmentfrom a pop-tent, which is anemergency feature forpressure loss while in therover.It’dbeprettyuselessifitcouldn’tsealitselfoff.Unfortunately, as an
emergency device, it wasneverintendedtobereusable.Theideawasthatpeopleseal
themselves in the pop-tent,then the rest of the crewdrivestowherevertheyareinthe other rover and rescuesthem. The crew of the goodrover detaches the pop-tentfrom the breached rover andreattaches it to theirs. Thentheycutthroughthesealfromtheir side to recover theircrewmates.To make sure this would
alwaysbe anoption,mission
rules dictated no more thanthree people could be in aroveratonce,andbothrovershad to be fully functional orwecouldn’tuseeither.Sohere’smybrilliantplan:
Iwon’tuse thebedroomasabedroom anymore once I getto the MAV. I’ll use it tohouse the oxygenator andatmospheric regulator. ThenI’ll use the trailer as mybedroom.Neat,eh?
The trailer has tons ofspace.Iputashitloadofworkintomakingthathappen.Theballoon gives plenty ofheadroom.Not a lot of floorspace,butstilllotsofverticalarea.Also, the bedroom has
several valve apertures in itscanvas. I have the Hab’sdesign to thank for that. Thecanvas I stole from it hasvalve apertures (triple-
redundant ones, actually).NASA wanted to make surethe Hab could be refilledfromtheoutsideifnecessary.In the end, I’ll have the
bedroom sealed with theoxygenator and atmosphericregulator inside. It’ll beattached to the trailer viahoses to share the sameatmosphere, and I’ll run apowerlinethroughoneofthehoses.Theroverwillserveas
storage(becauseIwon’tneedto get to the driving controlsanymore),and the trailerwillbe completely empty. ThenI’ll have a permanentbedroom. I’ll evenbeable touse it as a workshop forwhateverMAVmodificationsIneedtodoonpartsthatcanfit through the trailer’sairlock.Of course, if the
atmospheric regulator or
oxygenator have problems,I’ll need to cut into thebedroom to get to them. ButI’ve been here 492 sols andthey’ve worked fine thewhole time, so I’ll take thatrisk.
LOGENTRY:SOL497
I’ll be at the entrance toSchiaparellitomorrow!Presuming nothing goes
wrong, that is. But hey,everything else has gonesmoothly thismission, right?(Thatwassarcasm.)Today’s an Air Day, and
foronce, Idon’twant it. I’msoclosetoSchiaparelli,Icantasteit.Iguessitwouldtastelike sand, mostly, but that’s
notthepoint.Of course, that won’t be
the end of the trip. It’ll takeanotherthreesolstogetfromtheentrancetotheMAV,buthotdamn!I’malmostthere!I think I can even see the
rim of Schiaparelli. It’s waythe hell off in the distanceand it might just be myimagination. It’s 62kilometers away, so if I’mseeingit,I’monlyjustbarely
seeingit.Tomorrow, once I get to
Entrance Crater, I’ll turnsouth and enter theSchiaparelli Basin via the“EntranceRamp.”Ididsomeback-of-the-napkinmath,andthe slope should be prettysafe. The elevation changefrom the rim to the basin is1.5 kilometers, and the rampisatleast45kilometerslong.Thatmakes for a two-degree
grade.Noproblem.Tomorrow night, I’ll sink
toanall-newlow!Lemmerephrasethat.…Tomorrow night, I’ll be at
rockbottom!No, that doesn’t sound
goodeither.…Tomorrownight, I’ll be in
Giovanni Schiaparelli’sfavoritehole!Okay, I admit I’m just
playingaroundnow.
•••
FOR MILLIONS of years, the rimof the crater had been underconstant attack fromwind. Iteroded the rocky crest theway a river cuts through amountainrange.Aftereons,itfinallybreachedtheedge.The high-pressure zone
createdby thewindnowhad
an avenue to drain. Thebreach widened more andmore with each passingmillennium. As it widened,dust and sand particlescarried along with the attacksettledinthebasinbelow.Eventually,abalancepoint
was reached. The sand hadpiled up high enough to beflushwiththelandoutsidethecrater. It no longer builtupward but outward. The
slope lengthened until a newbalance point was reached,one defined by the complexinteractions of countless tinyparticles and their ability tomaintain an angled shape.Entrance Ramp had beenborn.Theweatherbroughtdunes
and desert terrain. Nearbycrater impacts brought rocksand boulders. The shapebecameuneven.
Gravity did its work. Theramp compressed over time.But it did not compressevenly. Differing densitiesshrunk at different rates.Some areas became hard asrockwhileothersremainedassoftastalc.While providing a small
average slope into thecrater,the ramp itself was ruggedandbitterlyuneven.On reaching Entrance
Crater, the lone inhabitant ofMars turned his vehicletowardtheSchiaparelliBasin.The difficult terrain of theramp was unexpected, but itlooked no worse than otherterrainheroutinelynavigated.Hewentaroundthesmaller
dunes and carefully crestedthe largerones.He tookcarewitheveryturn,everyriseorfall in elevation, and everyboulder in his path. He
thought througheverycourseand considered allalternatives.Butitwasn’tenough.The rover, while
descendingdownaseeminglyordinary slope, drove off aninvisible ridge. The dense,hard soil suddenly gave wayto soft powder. With theentire surface covered by atleastfivecentimetersofdust,there were no visual hints to
thesuddenchange.Therover’sleftfrontwheel
sank.Thesudden tiltbroughtthe right rear wheelcompletely off the ground.This in turnputmoreweighton the left rearwheel,whichslipped from its precariouspurchase into the powder aswell.Before the traveler could
react,theroverrolledontoitsside.Asitdid, thesolarcells
neatly stacked on the roofflew off and scattered like adroppeddeckofcards.The trailer, attached to the
roverwith a tow clamp,wasdraggedalong.Thetorsionontheclampsnapped thestrongcomposite like a brittle twig.Thehosesconnectingthetwovehicles also snapped. Thetrailer plunged headlong intothe soft soil and flippedoveron to its balloon-roof,
shudderingtoanabrupthalt.The rover was not so
lucky. It continued tumblingdown the hill, bouncing thetraveleraroundlikeclothesina dryer.After twentymeters,the soft powder gaveway tomoresolidsandandtherovershudderedtoahalt.It had come to rest on its
side. The valves leading tothe now- missing hoses haddetected the sudden pressure
dropandclosed.Thepressuresealwasnotbreached.The travelerwas alive, for
now.
CHAPTER24
THEDEPARTMENTheadsstaredatthe satellite image on theprojectionscreen.“Jesus,”Mitchsaid.“What
thehellhappened?”“The rover’s on its side,”
Mindy said, pointing to thescreen. “The trailer’s upsidedown. Those rectanglesscattered around are solarcells.”
Venkat put a hand on hischin. “Do we have anyinformationonthestateoftheroverpressurevessel?”“Nothing obvious,”Mindy
said.“Any signs of Watney
doing something after theaccident?AnEVAmaybe?”“No EVA,” Mindy said.
“Theweather’s clear. If he’dcome out, there’d be visiblefootsteps.”
“Is this the entire crashsite?”BruceNgasked.“I think so,” Mindy said.
“Up toward the top of thephoto, which is north, thereare ordinary wheel tracks.Right here,” she pointed to alarge disturbance in the soil,“iswhereI think thingswentwrong.Judgingbywherethatditch is, I’d say the roverrolled and slid from there.Youcansee the trench it left
behind. The trailer flippedforwardontoitsroof.”“I’m not saying
everything’s okay,” Brucesaid,“butIdon’tthinkit’sasbadasitlooks.”“Goon,”Venkatsaid.“The rover’s designed to
handle a roll,” Bruceexplained. “And if there’dbeenpressureloss,there’dbeastarburstpatterninthesand.I don’t see anything like
that.”“Watney may still be hurt
inside,” Mitch said. “Hecould have banged his heador broken an arm orsomething.”“Sure,” Bruce said. “I’m
just saying the rover isprobablyokay.”“Whenwasthistaken?”Mindy checked herwatch.
“Wegotitseventeenminutesago.We’ll get another pic in
nine minutes when MGS4’sorbitbringsitintoview.”“First thing he’ll do is an
EVA to assess damage,”Venkatsaid.“Mindy,keepuspostedonanychanges.”
LOGENTRY:SOL498
Hmm.Yeah.Things didn’t go well on
the descent into SchiaparelliBasin. To give you someindicationofhowunwelltheywent, I’m reaching up to thecomputer to type this.Because it’s still mountednear the control panel, andtheroverisonitsside.Igotbouncedaroundalot,
butI’mawell-honedmachinein timesofcrisis.Assoonasthe rover toppled, I curledinto a ball and cowered.That’sthekindofactionheroIam.Itworked, too. ’Cause I’m
nothurt.The pressure vessel is
intact, so that’s a plus. Thevalves that lead to the trailerhoses are shut. Probablymeans the hoses
disconnected.Andthatmeansthe trailer junction snapped.Wonderful.Lookingaroundtheinterior
here,Idon’tthinkanythingisbroken. The water tanksstayed sealed. There aren’tany visible leaks in the airtanks. The bedroom cameunfolded,andit’sallovertheplace, but it’s just canvas, soitcan’thavegottentoohurt.The driving controls are
okay,andthenavcomputeristelling me the rover is at an“unacceptably dangeroustilt.”Thanks,Nav!So I rolled. That’s not the
end of the world. I’m aliveandtherover’sfine.I’mmoreworriedaboutthesolarcellsIprobably rolled over. Also,since the trailer detached,there’s a good chance it’sfucked up, too. The balloonroof it has isn’t exactly
durable. If itpopped, theshitinside will have been flungout in all directions and I’llhave togo find it.That’smycriticallifesupport.Speaking of life support,
theroverswitchedovertothelocal tanks when the valvesshut. Good boy, Rover!Here’saScoobySnack.I’ve got twenty liters of
oxygen (enough to keep mebreathing for forty days), but
without the regulator (whichis in the trailer) I’m back tochemical CO2 absorption. Ihave312hoursoffilters left.PlusIhaveanother171hoursof EVA suit CO2 filters aswell. All told, that gives me483 hours, which is close totwentysols.SoIhavetimetogetthingsworkingagain.I’m really damn close to
the MAV now. About 220kilometers. I’m not going to
let something like this stopme fromgetting there.And Idon’t need everything towork at top form anymore. Ijust need the rover to workfor 220 more kilometers andthe life support to work forfifty-onemoresols.That’sit.Time to suit up and look
forthetrailer.
LOGENTRY:SOL498(2)
I had an EVA and thingsaren’t too bad. Mind you,they’renotgood.I trashed three solar cells.
They’re under the rover andcracked all to hell. Theymightstillbeable topissouta few watts, but I’m notholding out much hope.Luckily, I did come into thiswith one extra solar cell. Ineeded twenty-eight for my
dailyoperationsandIbroughttwenty-nine (fourteen on therover’s roof, seven on thetrailer’sroof,andeightonthemakeshift shelves I installedonthesidesofbothvehicles).I tried pushing the rover
over, but I wasn’t strongenough. I’ll need to rigsomething to get a leverageadvantage. Other than beingon its side, I don’t see anyrealproblems.
Well, that’s not true. Thetow hook is ruined beyondrepair.Halfofitrippedcleanoff. Fortunately, the traileralsohasatowhook,soIhaveaspare.Thetrailer’sinaprecarious
situation. It’s upside downand sitting on the inflatedroof. I’mnot surewhichgodsmileddownonmeandkeptthat balloon from popping,but I’m grateful. My first
priority will be righting it.The longer it puts weight onthat balloon, the larger thechancesit’llpop.WhileIwasout,Icollected
thetwenty-sixsolarcells thataren’tundertheroverandsetthem up to recharge mybatteries.Mayaswell,right?Sorightnow,Ihaveafew
problems to tackle: First, Ineedtorightthetrailer.Oratleast get the weight off the
balloon.Next, Ineed to rightthe rover. Finally, I need toreplace the rover’s tow hookwiththeoneonthetrailer.Also, I should spell out a
message for NASA. They’reprobablyworried.
•••
MINDY READ the Morse codealoud. “ROLLED. FIXING
NOW.”“What?That’s it?”Venkat
saidoverthephone.“That’s all he said,” she
reported, cradling the phoneasshe typedoutane-mail tothelistofinterestedparties.“Justthreewords?Nothing
abouthisphysicalhealth?Hisequipment?Hissupplies?”“You got me,” she said.
“He left a detailed statusreport.Ijustdecidedtoliefor
noreason.”“Funny,”Venkat said. “Be
a smart-ass to a guy sevenlevels above you at yourcompany.Seehowthatworksout.”“Oh no,” Mindy said. “I
might lose my job as aninterplanetaryvoyeur?IguessI’d have to use my master’sdegreeforsomethingelse.”“I remember when you
wereshy.”
“I’m space paparazzi now.The attitude comes with thejob.”“Yeah,yeah,”Venkatsaid.
“Justsendthee-mail.”“Alreadysent.”
LOGENTRY:SOL499
Ihadabusydaytoday,andIgotalotdone.I started out pretty sore. I
hadtosleeponthewalloftherover. The bedroom won’twork when the airlock isfacingup.Ididgettousethebedroom, somewhat. I foldeditupanduseditasabed.Anyway, suffice it to say,
the wall of the rover wasn’tmade for sleeping on. But
after a morning potato andVicodin, I was feeling muchbetter.At first I figured my top
prioritywasthetrailer.ThenIchanged my mind. Aftertaking a good look at it, Idecided I’d never be able toright it by myself. I’d needtherover.So today was focused on
gettingtheroverrighted.I brought all my tools
alongonthistrip,figuringI’dneed them for the MAVmodifications. And alongwith them I brought cabling.OnceIgetsetupattheMAV,my solar cells and batterieswill be in a fixed position. Idon’twant tomovetheroveraroundeverytimeIuseadrillon the far side of theMAV.SoIbroughtall theelectricalcablingIcouldfit.Goodthing,too.Becauseit
doublesasrope.Idugupmylongestcable.
It’s the same one I used topowerthedrillthatdestroyedPathfinder.Icallitmy“luckycable.”Ipluggedone end into the
batteryand theother into theinfamous sample drill, thenwalked off with the drill tofind solid ground. Once Ifoundit,IkeptgoinguntilI’dgone as far as the electrical
line would reach. I drove aone-meter bit half a meterinto a rock, unplugged thepowerline,andtieditaroundthebaseofthebit.Then I went back to the
roverand tiedoff thecord tothe roof-rackbaron thehighside. Now I had a long, tautline running perpendicular totherover.I walked to the middle of
the cord and pulled it
laterally. The leverageadvantage on the rover washuge. I only hoped itwouldn’t break the drill bitbeforeittippedtherover.I backed away, pulling the
line more and more.Somethinghadtogive,anditwasn’tgoing tobeme. IhadArchimedes onmy side. Theroverfinallytipped.It fell onto its wheels,
kicking up a large cloud of
soft dust. It was a silentaffair.Iwasfarenoughawaythat the thin atmosphere hadnohopeofcarryingthesoundtome.I untied the power line,
liberated the drill bit, andreturnedtotherover.Igaveita full system’s check. That’sa boring-as-hell task, but Ihadtodoit.Every system and
subsystem was working
correctly. JPL did a damngoodjobmakingtheserovers.If I get back to Earth, I’mbuying Bruce Ng a beer.Though I guess I should buyalltheJPLguysabeer.Beers foreveryone if Iget
backtoEarth.Anyway, with the rover
backonitswheelsitwastimeto work on the trailer.Problem is, I ran out ofdaylight.Remember,I’mina
crater.I had gotten most of the
way down the Ramp when Irolled the rover. And theRamp is up against thewesternedgeofthecrater.Sothesunsets reallyearly frommypoint of view. I’m in theshadow of the western wall.Andthatroyallysucks.Mars is not Earth. It
doesn’t have a thickatmosphere tobend lightand
carry particles that reflectlight around corners. It’sdamn near a vacuum here.Once the sun isn’t visible,I’minthedark.Phobosgivesme some moonlight, but notenoughtoworkwith.Deimosis a little pieceof crap that’snogoodtoanyone.I hate to leave the trailer
sitting on its balloon foranother night, but there’s notmuch else I can do. I figure
it’ssurvivedawholedaylikethat. It’s probably stable fornow.And hey, with the rover
righted, I get to use thebedroom again! It’s thesimple things in life thatmatter.
LOGENTRY:SOL500
When I woke up thismorning, the trailer hadn’tpopped yet. So that was agoodstart.The trailer was a bigger
challenge than the rover. Ionly had to tip the rover. I’dneed to completely flip thetrailer. That requires a lotmore force than yesterday’slittleleveragetrick.The first stepwas to drive
the rover to near the trailer.Thencamethedigging.OhGod,thedigging.The trailer was upside
down, with its nose pointeddownhill. I decided the bestway to right it was to takeadvantage of the slope androll the trailer over its nose.Basically to make it do asomersault to land on itswheels.I canmake thishappenby
tyingoffthecabletotherearofthetrailerandtowingwiththe rover. But if I tried thatwithout digging a hole first,the trailer would just slidealong theground. I needed itto tipup. Ineededahole forthenosetofallinto.SoIdugahole.Aholeone
meter across, three meterswide, and onemeter deep. Ittookmefourmiserablehoursof hard labor, but I got
itdone.I hopped in the rover and
drove it downhill, draggingthe trailer with me. As I’dhoped, the trailer nosed intotheholeand tippedup.Fromthere, it fell onto its wheelswithahugeplumeofdust.Then I sat for a moment,
dumbstruck thatmyplanhadactuallyworked.And now I’m out of
daylightagain.Ican’twaitto
getoutof thisdamnshadow.All I need is one day ofdriving toward theMAVandI’ll be away from the wall.Butfornowit’sanotherearlynight.I’ll spend tonight without
the trailer tomanagemy lifesupport. It may be righted,but I have no idea if the shitinside still works. The roverstill has ample supplies forme.
I’ll spend the rest of theevening enjoying a potato.And by “enjoying” I mean“hatingsomuchIwanttokillpeople.”
LOGENTRY:SOL501
I started the day with somenothin’ tea. Nothin’ tea iseasytomake.First,getsomehotwater, thenaddnothin’.Iexperimented with potatoskinteaafewweeksago.Thelesssaidaboutthatthebetter.I ventured into the trailer
today. Not an easy task. It’sprettycrampedinthere;Ihadto leavemyEVA suit in theairlock.
The first thing I noticedwas that it was really hotinside. It took me a fewminutestoworkoutwhy.The atmospheric regulator
was still in perfect workingorder, but it had nothing todo.Without being connectedto the rover, itno longerhadmy CO2 production to dealwith. The atmosphere in thetrailer was perfect—whychangeanything?
With no regulationnecessary, the air was notbeing pumped out to theAREC for freeze-separation.And thus it wasn’t comingbackinasaliquidinneedofheating.But remember, the RTG
gives off heat all the time.Youcan’tstopit.Sotheheatjust built up. Eventually,things reached a balancepoint where the heat bled
throughthehullasfastastheRTG could add it. If you’recurious, that balance pointwasasweltering41°C.I did a full diagnostic on
the regulator and theoxygenator,andI’mhappytoreport both are workingperfectly.TheRTG’swatertankwas
empty, which is no surprise.It has an open top, notintended to be turned upside
down.Thefloorofthetrailerhas a lot of puddled waterthat tookmequiteawhile tosop up with my jumpsuit. Itoppedthetankoffwithsomemore water from a sealedcontainerthatI’dstoredinthetrailer earlier. Remember, Ineed that water to havesomething for the returningair to bubble through. That’smyheatingsystem.Butallthingsconsidered,it
was good news. The criticalcomponentsareworkingfine,andbothvehiclesarebackontheirwheels.The hoses that connected
the rover and trailer weredesigned well, and releasedwithout breaking. I simplysnappedthembackintoplaceandthevehiclesweresharinglifesupportagain.Theoneremainingthingto
fixwas the towhook. Itwas
absolutely ruined. It took thefullforceofthecrash.ButasI suspected, the trailer’s towhook was unscathed. So Itransferredittotheroverandreconnected the two vehiclesfortravel.All told, that little fender
bendercostmefoursols.ButnowI’mbackinaction!Sortof.What if I run into another
powder pit? I got lucky this
time. Next time I might notgetoffsoeasy. Ineedawaytoknowifthegroundinfrontofmeissafe.Atleastfortheduration of my time on theRamp. Once I’m in theSchiaparelli Basin proper, Ican count on the normalsandyterrainI’musedto.IfIcouldhaveanything,it
would be a radio to askNASAthesafepathdowntheRamp.Well, if I could have
anything, itwould be for thegreen-skinned yet beautifulQueen ofMars to rescuemeso she can learn more aboutthis Earth thing called“lovemaking.”It’sbeena long timesince
I’ve seen a woman. Justsayin’.Anyway, to ensure I don’t
crash again, I’ll—Seriously…nowomeninlike,years. I don’t ask for much.
Believe me, even back onEarth a botanist/mechanicalengineerdoesn’texactlyhaveladies lined up at the door.Butstill,c’mon.Anyway. I’ll drive slower.
Like…a crawl. That shouldgivemeenoughtimetoreactif one wheel starts to sink.Also, the lower speed willgivememoretorque,makingitlesslikelyI’lllosetraction.Up till now I’ve been
driving25kph, so I’mgoingto cut that to5kph. I’m stilltoward the top of the Ramp,butthewholethingisonly45kilometers. I can take mytime and get safely to thebottominabouteighthours.I’ll do it tomorrow. I’m
already out of daylight againtoday. That’s another bonus:Once I clear the ramp, I canstart beelining toward theMAV, which will take me
awayfromthecraterwall.I’llbebacktoenjoyingtheentireday’s sunlight instead of justhalfofit.If I get back to Earth, I’ll
be famous, right? A fearlessastronaut who beat all theodds,right?Ibetwomenlikethat.More motivation to stay
alive.
•••
“SO, IT looks like he’s fixedeverything,” Mindyexplained. “And hismessagetoday was ‘ALL BETTERNOW,’ so I guess he’s goteverythingworking.”She surveyed the smiling
facesinthemeetingroom.“Awesome,”Mitchsaid.“Great news.” Bruce’s
voice came in through thespeakerphone.Venkat leaned forward to
the phone. “How are theMAV modification planscoming,Bruce? Is JPLgoingtohavethatproceduresoon?”“We’reworkingaroundthe
clock on it,” Bruce said.“We’re past most of the bighurdles. Working out thedetailsnow.”“Good, good,” Venkat
said. “Any surprises I shouldknowabout?”“Um…,” Bruce said.
“Yeah,afew.Thismightnotbethebestvenueforit.I’llbeback in Houston with theprocedure in a day or two.Wecangothroughitthen.”“Ominous,” Venkat said.
“But okay, we’ll pick it uplater.”“Can I spread the word?”
Annie asked. “It’dbenice to
see something other than therover crash site on the newstonight.”“Definitely,” Venkat said.
“It’ll be nice to have somegood news for a change.Mindy,howlonguntilhegetstotheMAV?”“At his usual rate of 90
kilometers per sol,” Mindysaid, “he should get there onSol 504. Sol 505 if he takeshis time.Healwaysdrivesin
the early morning, finishingaround noon.” She checkedan application on her laptop.“Noon on Sol 504 will be11:41 a.m. this WednesdayhereinHouston.NoononSol505 will be 12:21 p.m. onThursday.”“Mitch, who’s handling
Ares 4 MAVcommunications?”“The Ares 3 Mission
Controlteam,”Mitchreplied.
“It’llbeinControlRoom2.”“Iassumeyou’llbethere?”“BetyourassI’llbethere.”“SowillI.”
LOGENTRY:SOL502
Every Thanksgiving, myfamily used to drive fromChicago to Sandusky, aneight-hour drive. It’s whereMom’s sister lived. Dadalwaysdrove,andhewastheslowest,most cautious driverwhoevertookthewheel.Seriously.Hedrovelikehe
was taking a driver’s test.Never exceeded the speedlimit,alwayshadhishandsat
tenand two,adjustedmirrorsbeforeeachouting,younameit.Itwasinfuriating.We’dbe
on the freeway, cars blowingby left and right. Some ofthemwould blare their hornsbecause,honestly,drivingthespeedlimitmakesyouaroadhazard. I wanted to get outandpush.Ifeltthatwayalldamnday
today. Five kph is literally a
walking pace. And I drovethatspeedforeighthours.Buttheslowspeedensured
that I wouldn’t fall into anymore powder pits along theway. And of course I didn’tencounter any. I could havedriven full speed and had noproblems.Butbettersafethansorry.The good news is I’m off
the Ramp. I camped out assoon as the terrain flattened
out.I’vealreadyoverdonemydriving time for the day. Icould go further, I still have15 percent battery power orso,butIwanttogetasmuchdaylightonmysolarcellsasIcan.I’m in the Schiaparelli
Basin at last! Far from thecrater wall, too. I get a fullday of sunlight every dayfromnowon.Idecided itwas time fora
very special occasion. I atethe meal pack labeled“Survived Something ThatShouldHaveKilledMe.”Ohmy god, I forgot how goodrealfoodtastes.With luck, I’ll get to eat
“Arrival”inafewsols.
LOGENTRY:SOL503
Ididn’tgetasmuchrechargeas Iusuallywouldyesterday.Because of my extendeddrivingtime,Ionlygotupto70 percent before night fell.So today’s driving wasabbreviated.Igot63kilometersbeforeI
had to campout again.But Idon’tevenmind.BecauseI’monly148kilometers fromtheMAV. That means I’ll get
therethesolaftertomorrow.Holyhell,I’mreallygoing
tomakeit!
LOGENTRY:SOL504
Holy shit, this is awesome!Holyshit!Holyshit!Okaycalm.Calm.I made 90 kilometers
today. By my estimate, I’m50kilometersfromtheMAV.I should get there sometimetomorrow. I’m excited aboutthat, but here’s what I’mreallystokedabout:IcaughtablipfromtheMAV!NASA has the MAV
broadcasting the Ares 3 Habhomingsignal.Whywouldn’tthey? Itmakes perfect sense.The MAV is a sleek,perfectly functional machine,ready to do what it’s told.And they have it pretendingto be theAres 3Hab, somyrover will see the signal andtellmewhereitis.That is an exceptionally
good idea! I won’t have towander around looking for
the thing. I’m going straighttoit.Ionlycaughtablip.I’llget
more as I get closer. It’sstrange to think that a sanddune will stop me fromhearingwhattheMAVhastosaywhen it can talk toEarthno problem. The MAV hasthree redundant methods ofcommunicating with Earth,but they’re all extremelydirectedandaredesigned for
line-of-sight communication.And there aren’t any sanddunes between it and Earthwhentheytalk.Somehow they messed
with things to make a radialsignal, howeverweak itmaybe.AndIheardit!My message for the day
was “GOT BEACONSIGNAL.” If I’d had enoughrocks, I would have added,“AWESOME IDEA!!!” But
it’sareallysandyarea.
•••
THE MAV waited insouthwestern Schiaparelli. Itstood an impressive twenty-seven meters tall, its conicalbodygleaminginthemiddaysun.Therovercrestedanearby
dunewiththetrailerintow.It
slowed for a few moments,then continued toward theshipattopspeed.Itcametoastoptwentymetersaway.There it remained for ten
minutes while the astronautinsidesuitedup.He stumbled excitedly out
of the airlock, falling to thegroundthenscramblingtohisfeet.Beholding theMAV,hegesturedtoitwithbotharms,asifindisbelief.
He leaped into the airseveral times,armsheldhighwith fists clenched. Then heknelt on one knee and fist-pumpedrepeatedly.Running to the spacecraft,
he hugged Landing Strut B.After a few moments, hebroke off the embrace toperform another round ofleapingcelebrations.Now fatigued, the
astronaut stood with arms
akimbo, looking up at thesleeklinesoftheengineeringmarvelbeforehim.Climbingtheladderonthe
landing stage, he reached theascent stage and entered theairlock. He sealed the doorbehindhim.
CHAPTER25
LOGENTRY:SOL505
I finally made it! I’m at theMAV!Well,rightthissecond,I’m
back in the rover. I did gointotheMAVtodoasystemscheck and boot-up. I had tokeep my EVA suit on thewhole time because there’sno life support in there justyet.It’s going through a self-
check right now, and I’m
feeding it oxygen andnitrogenwith hoses from therover. This is all part oftheMAV’sdesign. Itdoesn’tbring air along. Why wouldit? That’s a needless weightwhen you’ll have a Hab fullofairrightnextdoor.I’m guessing folks at
NASA are poppingchampagne right now andsendingme lotsofmessages.I’ll read them in a bit. First
things first: Get the MAVsome life support. Then I’llbe able to work insidecomfortably.AndthenI’llhaveaboring
conversation with NASA.Well, the content may beinteresting, but the fourteen-minute transmission timebetween here and Earth willbeabitdull.
•••
[13:07]HOUSTON:CongratulationsfromallofushereatMissionControl!Welldone!What’syourstatus?
[13:21]MAV:Thanks!Nohealthorphysicalproblems.Theroverandtraileraregettingprettywornout,butstillfunctional.Oxygenatorandregulatorbothworkingfine.Ididn’tbringthewaterreclaimer.Justbroughtthewater.Plentyofpotatoesleft.I’mgoodtolasttill549.
[13:36]HOUSTON:Gladtohearit.HermesisstillontrackforaSol549flyby.Asyouknow,theMAVwillneedtolosesomeweighttomaketheintercept.We’regoingtogetyouthoseprocedureswithintheday.Howmuchwaterdoyouhave?Whatdidyoudowithurine?
[13:50]MAV:Ihave550litersof
remainingwater.I’vebeendumpingurineoutsidealongtheway.
[14:05]HOUSTON:Preserveallwater.Don’tdoanymoreurinedumps.Storeitsomewhere.Turntherover’sradioonandleaveiton.WecancontactitthroughtheMAV.
•••
BRUCE TRUDGED into Venkat’soffice and unceremoniouslyplopped down in a chair. Hedropped his briefcase and lethisarmshanglimp.
“Have a good flight?”Venkatasked.“I only have a passing
memory of what sleep is,”Brucesaid.“So is it ready?” Venkat
asked.“Yes,it’sready.Butyou’re
notgoingtolikeit.”“Goon.”Bruce steeled himself and
stood, picking up hisbriefcase.Hepulledabooklet
fromit.“Bearinmind,thisistheendresultofthousandsofhours of work, testing, andlateralthinkingbyallthebestguysatJPL.”“I’m sure it was hard to
trim down a ship that’salready designed to be aslight as possible,” Venkatsaid.Bruce slid the booklet
across the desk to Venkat.“Theproblemistheintercept
velocity. The MAV isdesigned to get to lowMarsorbit,whichonlyrequires4.1kps. But the Hermes flybywillbeat5.8kps.”Venkat flipped through the
pages.“Caretosummarize?”“First, we’re going to add
fuel. The MAV makes itsown fuel from the Martianatmosphere, but it’s limitedby how much hydrogen ithas. It brought enough to
make 19,397 kilograms offuel,asitwasdesignedtodo.If we can give it morehydrogen,itcanmakemore.”“Howmuchmore?”“For every kilogram of
hydrogen, it can makethirteen kilograms of fuel.Watneyhasfivehundredandfifty liters of water. We’llhavehimelectrolyzeit togetsixtykilogramsofhydrogen.”Bruce reached over the desk
and flipped a few pages,pointing to a diagram. “Thefuel plant can make sevenhundredandeightykilogramsoffuelfromthat.”“If he electrolyzes his
water,what’llhedrink?”“He only needs fifty liters
forthetimehehasleft.Andahuman body only borrowswater. We’ll have himelectrolyzehisurine,too.Weneedallthehydrogenwecan
getourhandson.”“I see. And what does
seven hundred and eightykilograms of fuel buy us?”Venkatasked.“It buys us 300 kilograms
ofpayload.It’sallaboutfuelversus payload. The MAV’slaunchweight is over 12,600kilograms. Even with thebonus fuel,we’ll need to getthatdownto7,300kilograms.So the rest of this booklet is
how to remove over 5,000kilogramsfromtheship.”Venkatleanedback.“Walk
methroughit.”Bruce pulled another copy
of the booklet from hisbriefcase. “There were somegimmesrightoffthebat.ThedesignpresumesfivehundredkilogramsofMartiansoilandrock samples. Obviously wewon’t do that. Also, there’sjust one passenger instead of
six. That saves five hundredkilogramswhenyouconsidertheir weight plus their suitsandgear.Andwecanlosetheotherfiveaccelerationchairs.And of course,we’ll removeall nonessential gear—themed kit, tool kit, internalharnessing, straps, andanythingelsethatisn’tnaileddown.Andsomestuffthatis.“Next up,” he continued,
“We’re ditching all life
support. The tanks, pumps,heaters, air lines, CO2
absorption system, even theinsulationontheinnersideofthe hull. We don’t need it.We’ll haveWatney wear hisEVAsuitforthewholetrip.”“Won’t that make it
awkward for him to use thecontrols?”Venkatasked.“Hewon’tbeusingthem,”
Bruce said. “Major Martinezwill pilot theMAV remotely
from Hermes. It’s alreadydesigned for remote piloting.Itwas remotely landed, afterall.”“What if something goes
wrong?”Venkatasked.“Martinez is the best
trainedpilot,”Brucesaid.“Ifthere is an emergency, he’sthe guy youwant controllingtheship.”“Hmm,” Venkat said
cautiously.“We’veneverhad
a manned ship controlledremotelybefore.Butokay,goon.”“Since Watney won’t be
flying the ship,” Brucecontinued,“hewon’tneedthecontrols. We’ll ditch thecontrol panels and all thepoweranddatalinesthatleadtothem.”“Wow,” Venkat said.
“We’re really gutting thisthing.”
“I’m just getting started,”Brucesaid.“Thepowerneedswill be dramatically reducednowthatlifesupportisgone,so we’ll dump three of thefive batteries and theauxiliary power system. Theorbital maneuvering systemhas threeredundant thrusters.We’ll get rid of those. Also,the secondary and tertiarycommsystemscango.”“Wait,what?”Venkatsaid,
shocked. “You’re going tohave a remote-controlledascentwithnobackupcommsystems?”“Nopoint,”Brucesaid.“If
the comm system goes outduring ascent, the time ittakes to reacquirewillbe toolong to do any good. Thebackupsdon’thelpus.”“This is getting really
risky,Bruce.”Bruce sighed. “I know.
There’s just no other way.AndI’mnoteventothenastystuffyet.”Venkat rubbed his
forehead. “By all means, tellmethenastystuff.”“We’ll remove the nose
airlock, the windows, andHullPanelNineteen.”Venkat blinked. “You’re
taking the front of the shipoff?”“Sure,” Bruce said. “The
nose airlock alone is fourhundred kilograms. Thewindows are pretty damnheavy, too. And they’reconnected by Hull PanelNineteen,somayaswelltakethat,too.”“So he’s going to launch
withabigholeinthefrontoftheship?”“We’ll have him cover it
withHabcanvas.”“Habcanvas?Foralaunch
toorbit!?”Bruce shrugged. “The
hull’s mostly there to keeptheair in.Mars’satmosphereissothinyoudon’tneedalotof streamlining. By the timethe ship’s going fast enoughfor air resistance to matter,it’ll be high enough thatthere’s practically no air.We’verunallthesimulations.Shouldbegood.”“You’re sending him to
spaceunderatarp.”“Prettymuch,yeah.”“Like a hastily loaded
pickuptruck.”“Yeah.CanIgoon?”“Sure,can’twait.”“We’ll also have him
remove thebackpanelof thepressure vessel. It’s the onlyother panel he can removewith the toolsonhand.Also,we’re getting rid of theauxiliary fuel pump. Sad to
see it go, but it weighs toomuch for its usefulness.Andwe’re nixing a Stage Oneengine.”“Anengine?”“Yeah. The Stage One
booster works fine if oneengine goes out. It’ll save usa huge amount of weight.Only during the Stage Oneascent, but still. Pretty goodfuelsavings.”Brucefellsilent.
“Thatit?”Venkatasked.“Yeah.”Venkat sighed. “You’ve
removed most of the safetybackups. What’s this do tothe estimated odds offailure?”“It’saboutfourpercent.”“Jesus Christ,” Venkat
said. “Normally we’d nevereven consider something thatrisky.”“It’s allwe’vegot,Venk,”
Bruce said. “We’ve tested itall out and run simulationsgalore.Weshouldbeokay ifeverythingworksthewayit’ssupposedto.”“Yeah. Great,” Venkat
said.
•••
[08:41]MAV:Youfuckingkiddingme?
[09:55]HOUSTON:Admittedly,
theyareveryinvasivemodifications,buttheyhavetobedone.Theproceduredocwesenthasinstructionsforcarryingouteachofthesestepswithtoolsyouhaveonhand.Also,you’llneedtostartelectrolyzingwatertogetthehydrogenforthefuelplant.We’llsendyouproceduresforthatshortly.
[09:09]MAV:You’resendingmeintospaceinaconvertible.
[09:24]HOUSTON:TherewillbeHabcanvascoveringtheholes.ItwillprovideenoughaerodynamicsinMars’satmosphere.
[09:38]MAV:Soit’saragtop.Muchbetter.
LOGENTRY:SOL506
On the way here, in mycopious free time, I designeda “workshop.” I figured I’dneed space to work on stuffwithout having to wear anEVAsuit.Idevisedabrilliantplan whereby the currentbedroom would become thenew home of the regulatorand the oxygenator, and thenow-empty trailer wouldbecomemyworkshop.
It’s a stupid idea, and I’mnotdoingit.All I need is a pressurized
area that I can work in. Isomehow convinced myselfthat the bedroom wasn’t anoptionbecauseit’sahassletoget stuff into it. But itwon’tbethatbad.It attaches to the rover
airlock,sothegettingstuffinis going to be annoying.Bringthestuffintotherover,
attach the bedroom to theairlock from the inside,inflate it, bring the stuff intothebedroom.I’llalsohavetoempty the bedroom of alltoolsandequipmenttofolditup any time I need to do anEVA.So yeah, it’ll be annoying,
but all it costs me is time.And I’m actually doing wellon that front. I have forty-three more sols before
Hermesfliesby.AndlookingattheprocedureNASAhasinmind for themodifications, Ican take advantage of theMAVitselfasaworkspace.ThelunaticsatNASAhave
medoingallkindsof rape totheMAV,butIdon’thavetoopen the hull till the end. Sothe first thing I’ll do is clearout a bunch of clutter, likechairsandcontrolpanelsandthelike.Oncethey’reout,I’ll
havealotofroomintheretowork.ButIdidn’tdoanythingto
the soon-to-be-mutilatedMAV today. Today was allabout system checks. Nowthat I’mback incontactwithNASA, I have to go back tobeing all “safety first.”Strangely, NASA doesn’thave total faith in mykludged-together roverormymethod of piling everything
into the trailer. They hadmedo a full systems check oneverysinglecomponent.Everything’s still working
fine, though it’s wearingdown. The regulator and theoxygenator are at less-than-peak efficiency (to say theleast), and the trailer leakssome air every day. Notenough to cause problems,but it’s not a perfect seal.NASA’s pretty
uncomfortablewithit,butwedon’thaveanyotheroptions.Then, they had me run a
full diagnostic on the MAV.That’s in much better shape.Everything’s sleek andpristine and perfectlyfunctional. I’d almostforgottenwhatnewhardwareevenlookslike.Pity I’m going to tear it
apart.
•••
“YOU KILLED Watney,” Lewissaid.“Yeah,” Martinez said,
scowling at hismonitor. Thewords “Collision withTerrain”blinkedaccusingly.“I pulled a nasty trick on
him,”Johanssensaid.“Igavehimamalfunctioningaltitudereadout and made EngineThreecutouttooearly.It’sa
deadlycombination.”“Shouldn’t have been a
mission failure,” Martinezsaid. “I should have noticedthereadoutwaswrong.Itwaswayoff.”“Don’t sweat it,” Lewis
said.“That’swhywedrill.”“Aye, Commander,”
Martinez said. He furrowedhis brow and frowned at thescreen.Lewis waited for him to
snap out of it. When hedidn’t, sheput a handonhisshoulder.“Don’t beat yourself up,”
she said. “They only gaveyou two days of remotelaunch training. It was onlysupposed to happen if weabortedbeforelanding;acut-our-losses scenario wherewe’d launch theMAV to actas a satellite. It wasn’tmission-criticalsotheydidn’t
drillyou toohardon it.NowthatMark’slifedependsonit,you’vegotthreeweekstogetit right, and I have no doubtyoucandoit.”“Aye, Commander,”
Martinez said, softening hisscowl.“Resetting the sim,”
Johanssen said. “Anythingspecificyouwanttotry?”“Surprise me,” Martinez
said.
Lewisleftthecontrolroomand made her way to thereactor.As she climbed “up”theladdertothecenteroftheship, the centripetal force onherdiminishedtozero.Vogellooked up from a computerconsole.“Commander?”“How are the engines?”
she asked, grabbing a wall-mounted handle to stayattachedtotheslowlyturningroom.
“All working withintolerance,”Vogelsaid.“Iamnowdoingadiagnosticonthereactor. I am thinking thatJohanssen is busy with thelaunching training. Soperhaps I do this diagnosticforher.”“Good idea,” Lewis said.
“Andhow’sourcourse?”“All is well,” Vogel said.
“No adjustments necessary.We are still on track to
plannedtrajectorywithinfourmeters.”“Keep me posted if
anythingchanges.”“Ja,Commander.”Floatingtotheothersideof
thecore,Lewistooktheotherladder out, again gaininggravity as she went “down.”She made her way to theAirlock2readyroom.Beck held a coil of metal
wireinonehandandapairof
work gloves in the other.“Heya, Commander. What’sup?”“I’dliketoknowyourplan
forrecoveringMark.”“Easy enough if the
interceptisgood,”Becksaid.“I just finished attaching allthe tethers we have into onelong line. It’s two hundredandfourteenmeters long. I’llhave the MMU pack on, somovingaroundwillbeeasy.I
can get going up to aroundtenmeters per second safely.Anymore,andIriskbreakingthe tether if I can’t stop intime.”“Once you get to Mark,
how fast a relative velocitycanyouhandle?”“IcangrabtheMAVeasily
atfivemeterspersecond.Tenmeters per second is kind oflike jumping onto a movingtrain. Anything more than
thatandImightmiss.”“So, including the MMU
safespeed,weneedtogettheshipwithintwentymeterspersecondofhisvelocity.”“And the intercept has to
be within two hundred andfourteen meters,” Beck said.“Pretty narrow margin oferror.”“We’ve got a lot of
leeway,” Lewis said. “Thelaunch will be fifty-two
minutes before the intercept,and it takes twelve minutes.AssoonasMark’sS2enginecuts out, we’ll know ourintercept point and velocity.Ifwedon’tlikeit,we’llhavefortyminutes to correct. Ourengine’s two millimeters persecond may not seem likemuch, but in fortyminutes itcan move us up to 5.7kilometers.”“Good,” Beck said. “And
two hundred and fourteenmeters isn’t a hard limit, perse.”“Yesitis,”Lewissaid.“Nah,”Becksaid.“Iknow
I’m not supposed to gountethered, but without myleash I could get way outthere—”“Not an option.” Lewis
said.“But we could double or
even triple our safe intercept
range—”“We’re done talking about
this,”Lewissaidsharply.“Aye,Commander.”
LOGENTRY:SOL526
There aren’t many peoplewho can say they’vevandalized a three-billion-dollarspacecraft,butI’moneofthem.I’ve been pulling critical
hardwareoutoftheMAVleftand right. It’s nice to knowthatmylaunchtoorbitwon’thave any pesky backupsystemsweighingmedown.First thing I did was
remove the small stuff. Thencame the things I coulddisassemble, like the crewseats, several of the backupsystems, and the controlpanels.I’m not improvising
anything. I’m following ascript sent by NASA, whichwas setup tomake thingsaseasyaspossible.SometimesImissthedayswhenImadeallthe decisions myself. Then I
shake it off and rememberI’minfinitelybetteroffwithabunch of geniuses decidingwhat I do than I ammakingshitupasIgoalong.Periodically, I suit up,
crawlintotheairlockwithasmuch junk as I can fit, anddump it outside. The areaaround the MAV looks likethesetofSanfordandSon.I learned about Sanford
and Son from Lewis’s
collection. Seriously, thatwomanneedstoseesomeoneaboutherseventiesproblem.
LOGENTRY:SOL529
I’m turningwater into rocketfuel.It’seasierthanyou’dthink.Separating hydrogen and
oxygenonlyrequiresacoupleof electrodes and somecurrent. The problem iscollecting the hydrogen. Idon’thaveanyequipmentforpulling hydrogen out of theair. The atmosphericregulator doesn’t even know
how. The last time I had toget hydrogen out of the air(backwhen I turned theHabinto a bomb) I burned it toturn it into water. Obviouslythat would becounterproductive.But NASA thought
everything through and gaveme a process. First, Idisconnected the rover andtrailerfromeachother.Then,whilewearingmyEVAsuit,I
depressurized the trailer andback-filled it with pureoxygen at one-fourth of anatmosphere.Then I opened aplastic box full of water andputacoupleofelectrodes in.That’s why I needed theatmosphere. Without it, thewater would just boilimmediately and I’d behanging around in a steamyatmosphere.The electrolysis separated
the hydrogen and oxygenfrom each other. Now thetrailerwas full of evenmoreoxygen and also hydrogen.Prettydangerous,actually.Then I fired up the
atmosphericregulator.IknowIjustsaiditdoesn’trecognizehydrogen, but it does knowhow to yank oxygen out oftheair.Ibrokeallthesafetiesand set it topull100percentof the oxygen out. After it
wasdone,all thatwas left inthe trailer was hydrogen.That’swhyIstartedoutwithan atmosphere of pureoxygen, so the regulatorcouldseparateitlater.Then I cycled the rover’s
airlock with the inner dooropen. The airlock thought itwas evacuating itself, but itwas actually evacuating thewhole trailer. The air wasstoredintheairlock’sholding
tank.Andthereyouhaveit,atankofpurehydrogen.I carried the airlock’s
holdingtanktotheMAVandtransferredthecontentstotheMAV’s hydrogen tanks. I’vesaid this many times before,but: Hurray for standardizedvalvesystems!Finally, I fired up the fuel
plant, and it got to workmakingtheadditionalfuelI’dneed.
I’llneedtogothroughthisprocessseveralmoretimesasthe launch date approaches.I’mevengoingtoelectrolyzemy urine. That’llmake for apleasantsmellinthetrailer.If I survive this, I’ll tell
people I was pissing rocketfuel.
•••
[19:22]JOHANSSEN:Hello,Mark.
[19:23]MAV:Johanssen!?Holycrap!Theyfinallylettingyoutalktomedirectly?
[19:24]JOHANSSEN:Yes,NASAgavetheOKfordirectcommunicationanhourago.We’reonly35light-secondsapart,sowecantalkinnear-realtime.IjustsetupthesystemandI’mtestingitout.
[19:24]MAV:Whattookthemsolongtoletustalk?
[19:25]JOHANSSEN:Thepsychteamwasworriedaboutpersonalityconflicts.
[19:25]MAV:What?Just’causeyouguysabandonedmeonagodforsakenplanetwithnochanceofsurvival?
[19:26]JOHANSSEN:Funny.
Don’tmakethatkindofjokewithLewis.
[19:27]MAV:Roger.Souh…thanksforcomingbacktogetme.
[19:27]JOHANSSEN:It’stheleastwecoulddo.HowistheMAVretrofitgoing?
[19:28]MAV:Sofar,sogood.NASAputalotofthoughtintotheprocedures.Theywork.That’snottosaythey’reeasy.Ispentthelast3daysremovingHullPanel19andthefrontwindow.EveninMars-gthey’reheavymotherfuckers.
[19:29]JOHANSSEN:Whenwepickyouup,Iwillmakewild,passionatelovetoyou.Prepareyourbody.
[19:29]JOHANSSEN:Ididn’ttypethat!ThatwasMartinez!Isteppedawayfromtheconsolefor
like10seconds![19:29]MAV:I’vereallymissed
youguys.
LOGENTRY:SOL543
I’m…done?IthinkI’mdone.Idideverythingonthelist.
The MAV is ready to fly.And in six sols, that’s justwhatit’lldo.Ihope.Itmightnotlaunchatall.I
did remove an engine, afterall.Icouldhavefuckedupallsorts of things during thatprocess. And there’s no wayto test theascent stage.Once
youlightit,it’slit.Everything else, however,
will go through tests fromnowuntil launch.Somedoneby me, some done remotelybyNASA.They’renottellingme the failure odds, but I’mguessing they’re the highestinhistory.YuriGagarinhadamuch more reliable and safeshipthanIdo.And Soviet ships were
deathtraps.
•••
“ALL RIGHT,” Lewis said,“tomorrow’sthebigday.”The crew floated in the
Rec. They had halted therotation of the ship inpreparation for the upcomingoperation.“I’mready,”Martinezsaid.
“Johanssen threw everythingshe could at me. I got allscenariostoorbit.”
“Everything other thancatastrophic failures,”Johanssencorrected.“Well yeah,” Martinez
said. “Kind of pointless tosimulate anascent explosion.Nothingwecando.”“Vogel,” Lewis said.
“How’sourcourse?”“It is perfect,”Vogel said.
“We arewithin onemeter ofprojected path and twocentimeters per second of
projectedvelocity.”“Good,” she said. “Beck,
howaboutyou?”“Everything’s all set up,
Commander,” Beck said.“The tethers are linked andspooledinAirlock2.Mysuitand MMU are prepped andready.”“Okay, the battle plan is
pretty obvious,” Lewis said.She grabbed a handhold onthe wall to halt a slow drift
she had acquired. “Martinezwill fly theMAV, Johanssenwill sysop the ascent. Beckand Vogel, I want you inAirlock2withtheouterdooropen before the MAV evenlaunches.You’llhavetowaitfifty-twominutes,but Idon’twant to risk any technicalglitches with the airlock oryour suits. Once we reachintercept, it’ll be Beck’s jobtogetWatney.”
“Hemightbeinbadshapewhen I get him,” Beck said.“The stripped-down MAVwill get up to twelve g’sduring the launch. He couldbeunconsciousandmayevenhaveinternalbleeding.”“Just as well you’re our
doctor,” Lewis said. “Vogel,if all goes according to plan,you’re pulling Beck andWatneybackaboardwiththetether. If things go wrong,
you’reBeck’sbackup.”“Ja,”Vogelsaid.“Iwishtherewasmorewe
could do right now,” Lewissaid. “But allwe have left isthe wait. Your workschedules are cleared. Allscientific experiments aresuspended. Sleep if you can,run diagnostics on yourequipmentifyoucan’t.”“We’ll get him,
Commander,” Martinez said
as the others floated out.“Twenty-four hours fromnow, Mark Watney will berighthereinthisroom.”“Let’s hope so, Major,”
Lewissaid.
•••
“FINAL CHECKS for this shift arecomplete,”Mitchsaidintohisheadset.“Timekeeper.”
“Go, Flight,” said thetimekeeper.“TimeuntilMAVlaunch?”“Sixteen hours, nine
minutes, forty seconds…mark.”“Copy that. All stations:
Flight director shift change.”He took his headset off andrubbedhiseyes.Brendan Hutch took the
headset from him and put iton. “All stations, Flight
director is now BrendanHutch.”“Call me if anything
happens,”Mitchsaid.“Ifnot,I’llseeyoutomorrow.”“Get some sleep, Boss,”
Brendansaid.Venkat watched from the
observation booth. “Why askthe timekeeper?” hemumbled. “It’s on the hugemission clock in the centerscreen.”
“He’s nervous,” Anniesaid.“Youdon’toftensee it,but that’s what MitchHenderson looks like whenhe’snervous.Hedouble-andtriple-checkseverything.”“Fair enough,” Venkat
said.“They’re camping out on
thelawn,bytheway,”Anniesaid.“Reportersfromalloverthe world. Our press roomsjust don’t have enough
space.”“The media loves a
drama.” He sighed. “It’ll beover tomorrow, one way oranother.”“What’s our role in all
this?” Annie said. “Ifsomething goes wrong, whatcanMissionControldo?”“Nothing,” Venkat said.
“Notadamnedthing.”“Nothing?”“It’s all happening twelve
light-minutes away. Thatmeans it takes twenty-fourminutes for them to get theanswer to any question theyask. The whole launch istwelveminutes long.They’reontheirown.”“So we’re completely
helpless?”“Yes,” Venkat said.
“Sucks,doesn’tit?”
LOGENTRY:SOL549
I’dbelyingifIsaidIwasn’tshittingmyself.Infourhours,I’m going to ride a giantexplosion into orbit. This issomething I’ve done a fewtimesbefore,butneverwithajury-riggedmesslikethis.Right now, I’m sitting in
the MAV. I’m suited upbecause there’s a big hole inthefrontoftheshipwherethewindow and part of the hull
used to be. I’m “awaitinglaunch instructions.” Really,I’m just awaiting launch. Idon’t have any part in this.I’m just going to sit in theacceleration couch and hopeforthebest.Last night, I ate my final
mealpack. It’s the first goodmeal I’ve had in weeks. I’mleaving forty-one potatoesbehind. That’s how close Icametostarvation.
I carefully collectedsamples during my journey.ButIcan’tbringanyofthemwith me. So I put them in acontainer a few hundredmeters from here. Maybesomedaythey’llsendaprobeto collect them.May aswellmakethemeasytopickup.This is it. There’s nothing
afterthis.Thereisn’tevenanabort procedure. Why makeone? We can’t delay the
launch. Hermes can’t stopand wait. No matter what,we’relaunchingonschedule.I face the very real
possibility that I’ll die today.Can’tsayIlikeit.Itwouldn’tbesobadifthe
MAV blew up. I wouldn’tknow what hit me, but if Imiss the intercept, I’ll justfloat around in space until Irun out of air. I have acontingencyplanforthat.I’ll
drop the oxygen mixture tozero and breathe purenitrogen until I suffocate. Itwouldn’t feel bad. The lungsdon’thavetheabilitytosenselack of oxygen. I’d just gettired,fallasleep,thendie.I still can’t quite believe
thatthisisreallyit.I’mreallyleaving.Thisfrigiddeserthasbeenmyhomeforayearanda half. I figured out how tosurvive, at least for a while,
and I got used to how thingsworked. My terrifyingstruggle to stayalivebecamesomehow routine. Get up inthe morning, eat breakfast,tend my crops, fix brokenstuff, eat lunch, answer e-mail, watch TV, eat dinner,go to bed. The life of amodernfarmer.ThenIwasatrucker,doing
a longhaul across theworld.And finally, a construction
worker, rebuilding a ship inways no one ever consideredbefore this. I’ve done a littleof everything here, becauseI’mtheonlyonearoundtodoit.That’sallovernow.Ihave
no more jobs to do, and nomore nature to defeat. I’vehad my last Martian potato.I’veslept in therover for thelast time. I’ve left my lastfootprints in the dusty red
sand.I’mleavingMarstoday,onewayoranother.Aboutfuckingtime.
CHAPTER26
THEYGATHERED.EverywhereonEarth, they
gathered.In Trafalgar Square and
TiananmenSquareandTimesSquare,theywatchedongiantscreens. In offices, theyhuddled around computermonitors. Inbars, theystaredsilently at the TV in thecorner. In homes, they sat
breathlesslyontheircouches,their eyes glued to the storyplayingout.In Chicago, amiddle-aged
couple clutched each other’shands as they watched. Theman held his wife gently assherockedbackandforthoutof sheer terror. The NASArepresentative knew not todisturb them,butstoodreadyto answer any questions,shouldtheyask.
“Fuel pressure green,”Johanssen’svoicesaidfromabillion televisions. “Enginealignment perfect.Communicationsfivebyfive.We are ready for preflightchecklist,Commander.”“Copy.” Lewis’s voice.
“CAPCOM.”“Go,” Johanssen
responded.“Guidance.”“Go,” Johanssen said
again.“RemoteCommand.”“Go,”saidMartinez.“Pilot.”“Go,” said Watney from
theMAV.A mild cheer coruscated
through the crowdsworldwide.
•••
MITCH SAT at his station inMission Control. Thecontrollers monitoredeverythingandwereready tohelp in any way they could,but the communicationlatency betweenHermes andEarth rendered thempowerless to do anythingbutwatch.“Telemetry,”Lewis’svoice
saidoverthespeakers.“Go,” Johanssen
responded.“Recovery,”shecontinued.“Go,” said Beck from the
airlock.“SecondaryRecovery.”“Go,” said Vogel from
besideBeck.“Mission Control, this is
Hermes Actual,” Lewisreported. “We are go forlaunch and will proceed onschedule. We are T minusfour minutes, ten seconds to
launch…mark.”“Did you get that,
Timekeeper?”Mitchsaid.“Affirmative, Flight” was
theresponse.“Ourclocksaresynchedwiththeirs.”“Not that we can do
anything,” Mitch mumbled,“but at least we’ll knowwhat’s supposedlyhappening.”
•••
“ABOUT FOUR minutes, Mark,”Lewis said into her mic.“How you doing downthere?”“Eager to get up there,
Commander,” Watneyresponded.“We’regoing tomake that
happen,” Lewis said.“Remember,you’llbepullingsome pretty heavy g’s. It’s
okay to pass out. You’re inMartinez’shands.”“Tellthatassholenobarrel
rolls.”“Copy that,MAV,” Lewis
said.“Four more minutes,”
Martinez said, cracking hisknuckles. “You ready forsomeflying,Beth?”“Yeah,” Johanssen said.
“It’ll be strange to sysop alaunchandstay inzero-g the
wholetime.”“Ihadn’t thoughtof it that
way,” Martinez said, “butyeah. I’m not going to besquashed against the back ofmyseat.Weird.”
•••
BECK FLOATED in the airlock,tethered to a wall-mountedspool. Vogel stood beside
him,hisbootsclampedtothefloor.Bothstaredthroughtheopen outer door at the redplanetbelow.“Didn’t think I’d be back
hereagain,”Becksaid.“Yes,”Vogelsaid.“Weare
thefirst.”“Firstwhat?”“We are the first to visit
Marstwice.”“Oh yeah. Even Watney
can’tsaythat.”
“Hecannot.”They looked at Mars in
silenceforawhile.“Vogel,”Becksaid.“Ja.”“If I can’t reach Mark, I
want you to release mytether.”“Dr. Beck,” Vogel said,
“the commander has said notothis.”“I know what the
commandersaid,butifIneed
a few more meters, I wantyoutocutmeloose.IhaveanMMU,Icangetbackwithoutatether.”“I will not do this, Dr.
Beck.”“It’s my own life at risk,
andIsayit’sokay.”“You are not the
commander.”BeckscowledatVogel,but
with their reflective visorsdown,theeffectwaslost.
“Fine,” Beck said. “But Ibet you’ll change your mindifpushcomestoshove.”Vogeldidnotrespond.
•••
“T-MINUS TEN,” said Johanssen,“nine…eight…”“Main engines start,” said
Martinez.“…seven…six…five…
Mooringclampsreleased…”“About five seconds,
Watney,” Lewis said to herheadset.“Hangon.”“See you in a few,
Commander,” Watneyradioedback.“…four…three…two…”
•••
WATNEYLAYintheacceleration
couch as the MAV rumbledinanticipationofliftoff.“Hmm,”hesaidtonobody.
“I wonder how much longer—”The MAV launched with
incredible force. More thanany manned ship hadaccelerated in the history ofspace travel. Watney wasshovedbackintohiscouchsohardhecouldn’tevengrunt.Havinganticipated this, he
had placed a folded up shirtbehindhisheadinthehelmet.Ashisheaddroveeverdeeperinto the makeshift cushion,the edges of his visionbecame blurry. He couldneitherbreathenormove.Directly in his field of
view, the Hab canvas patchflapped violently as the shipexponentially gained speed.Concentration becamedifficult,butsomethinginthe
backofhismindtoldhimthatflappingwasbad.
•••
“VELOCITY SEVEN hundred andforty-onemeterspersecond,”Johanssen called out.“Altitude thirteen hundredandfiftymeters.”“Copy,”Martinezsaid.“That’s low,” Lewis said.
“Toolow.”“I know,” Martinez said.
“It’s sluggish; fighting me.Whatthefuckisgoingon?”“Velocity eight hundred
and fifty, altitude eighteenhundred and forty-three,”Johanssensaid.“I’mnotgetting thepower
Ineed!”Martinezsaid.“Engine power at a
hundred percent,” Johanssensaid.
“I’m telling you it’ssluggish,”Martinezinsisted.“Watney,” Lewis said to
herheadset.“Watney,doyouread?Canyoureport?”
•••
WATNEYHEARDLewis’svoiceinthe distance. Like someonetalkingtohimthroughalongtunnel.Hevaguelywondered
what she wanted. Hisattentionwasbrieflydrawntotheflutteringcanvasaheadofhim.A rip had appeared andwasrapidlywidening.But then hewas distracted
by a bolt in one of thebulkheads. It only had fivesides. He wondered whyNASA decided that boltneeded five sides instead ofsix.Itwouldrequireaspecialwrenchtotightenorloosen.
The canvas tore evenfurther, the tattered materialflapping wildly. Through theopening,Watneysawredskystretching out infinitelyahead. “That’s nice,” hethought.As the MAV flew higher,
the atmosphere grew thinner.Soon, the canvas stoppedfluttering and simplystretched toward Mark. Theskyshiftedfromredtoblack.
“That’s nice, too,” Markthought.As consciousness slipped
away,hewonderedwherehecould get a cool five-sidedboltlikethat.
•••
“I’M GETTING more responsenow,”Martinezsaid.“Back on track with full
acceleration,”Johanssensaid.“Must have been drag.MAV’soutoftheatmospherenow.”“Itwas like flyingacow,”
Martinezgrumbled,hishandsracingoverhiscontrols.“Can you get him up?”
Lewisasked.“He’ll get to orbit,”
Johanssen said, “but theintercept course may becompromised.”
“Get him up first,” Lewissaid.“Thenwe’llworryaboutintercept.”“Copy.Mainenginecutoff
infifteenseconds.”“Totally smooth now,”
Martinez said. “It’s notfightingmeatallanymore.”“Well below target
altitude,” Johanssen said.“Velocityisgood.”“How far below?” Lewis
said.
“Can’t say for sure,”Johanssensaid.“AllIhaveisaccelerometer data. We’llneed radar pings at intervalsto work out his true finalorbit.”“Back to automatic
guidance,”Martinezsaid.“Main shutdown in four,”
Johanssen said, “…three…two…one…Shutdown.”“Confirm shutdown,”
Martinezsaid.
“Watney, you there?”Lewis said. “Watney?Watney,doyouread?”“Probably passed out,
Commander,”Becksaidoverthe radio. “He pulled twelveg’sontheascent.Givehimafewminutes.”“Copy,” Lewis said.
“Johanssen, got his orbityet?”“I have interval pings.
Working out our intercept
rangeandvelocity…”Martinez and Lewis stared
at Johanssen as she broughtup the intercept calculationsoftware. Normally, orbitswould be worked out byVogel, but he was otherwiseengaged. Johanssen was hisbackupfororbitaldynamics.“Intercept velocity will be
elevenmeterspersecond…,”shebegan.“I can make that work,”
Becksaidovertheradio.“Distance at intercept will
be—”Johanssen stoppedandchoked. Shakily, shecontinued. “We’ll be sixty-eight kilometers apart.” Sheburiedherfaceinherhands.“Did she say sixty-eight
kilometers!?” Beck said.“Kilometers!?”“God damn it,” Martinez
whispered.“Keep it together,” Lewis
said. “Work the problem.Martinez,isthereanyjuiceintheMAV?”“Negative, Commander,”
Martinez responded. “Theyditched the OMS system tolightenthelaunchweight.”“Then we’ll have to go to
him. Johanssen, time tointercept?”“Thirty-nine minutes,
twelve seconds,” Johanssensaid,tryingnottoquaver.
“Vogel,” Lewis continued,“how far can we deflect inthirty-nine minutes with theionengines?”“Perhaps five kilometers,”
heradioed.“Not enough,” Lewis said.
“Martinez, what if we pointour attitude thrusters all thesamedirection?”“Depends on how much
fuel we want to save forattitude adjustments on the
triphome.”“Howmuchdoyouneed?”“Icouldgetbywithmaybe
twenty percent of what’sleft.”“All right, if you used the
othereightypercent—”“Checking,”Martinezsaid,
running the numbers on hisconsole. “We’d get a delta-vof thirty-one meters persecond.”“Johanssen,” Lewis said.
“Math.”“In thirty-nine minutes
we’d deflect…,” Johanssenquickly typed, “seventy-twokilometers!”“Therewego,”Lewissaid.
“Howmuchfuel—”“Use seventy-five point
five percent of remainingattitude adjust fuel,”Johanssensaid.“That’llbringtheinterceptrangetozero.”“Doit,”Lewissaid.
“Aye, Commander,”Martinezsaid.“Holdon,”Johanssensaid.
“That’ll get the interceptrange to zero, but theintercept velocity will beforty-twometerspersecond.”“Then we have thirty-nine
minutes to figure out how toslow down,” Lewis said.“Martinez,burnthejets.”“Aye,”Martinezsaid.
•••
“WHOA,” ANNIE said to Venkat.“A lot of shit just happenedreallyfast.Explain.”Venkatstrainedtohearthe
audio feed over the murmuroftheVIPsintheobservationbooth. Through the glass, hesawMitchthrowhishandsupinfrustration.“The launch missed
badly,” Venkat said, looking
past Mitch to the screensbeyond. “The interceptdistancewasgoingtobewaytoo big. So they’re using theattitudeadjusters toclose thegap.”“Whatdoattitudeadjusters
usuallydo?”“They rotate the ship.
They’re not made forthrusting it. Hermes doesn’thave quick-reaction engines.Just the slow, steady ion
engines.”“So…problem solved?”
Anniesaidhopefully.“No,” Venkat said.
“They’ll get to him, butthey’ll be going forty-twometersper secondwhen theygetthere.”“How fast is that?” Annie
asked.“About ninety miles per
hour,” Venkat said. “There’sno hope of Beck grabbing
Watneyatthatspeed.”“Can they use the attitude
adjusterstoslowdown?”“They needed a lot of
velocity to close the gap intime. They used all the fueltheycouldspare togetgoingfast enough. But now theydon’t have enough fuel toslowdown.”Venkatfrowned.“Sowhatcantheydo?”“I don’t know,” he said.
“AndevenifIdid,Icouldn’t
tellthemintime.”“Wellfuck,”Anniesaid.“Yeah,”Venkatagreed.
•••
“WATNEY,” LEWIS said “Do youread?…Watney?” sherepeated.“Commander,” Beck
radioed. “He’s wearing asurfaceEVAsuit,right?”
“Yeah.”“It should have a bio-
monitor,” Beck said. “Andit’llbebroadcasting.It’snotastrong signal; it’s onlydesigned to go a couplehundred meters to the roveror Hab. But maybe we canpickitup.”“Johanssen,”Lewissaid.“On it,” Johanssen said. “I
have to look up thefrequencies in the techspecs.
Gimmeasecond.”“Martinez,” Lewis
continued. “Any idea how toslowdown?”He shook his head. “I got
nothin’, Commander. We’rejustgoingtoodamnfast.”“Vogel?”“The ion drive is simply
not strong enough,” Vogelreplied.“There’s got to be
something,” Lewis said.
“Something we can do.Anything.”“Gothisbio-monitordata,”
Johanssen said. “Pulse fifty-eight, blood pressure ninety-eightoversixty-one.”“That’s not bad,” Beck
said.“LowerthanI’dlike,buthe’sbeeninMarsgravityforeighteen months, so it’sexpected.”“Timetointercept?”Lewis
asked.
“Thirty-two minutes,”Johanssenreplied.
•••
BLISSFUL unconsciousnessbecame foggy awarenesswhich transitioned intopainful reality. Watneyopenedhiseyes, thenwincedatthepaininhischest.Little remained of the
canvas. Tatters floated alongthe edge of the hole it oncecovered.ThisgrantedWatneyanunobstructedviewofMarsfrom orbit. The red planet’scrater-pocked surfacestretched out seeminglyforever, its thinatmosphereaslight blur along the edge.Only eighteen people inhistory had personally seenthisview.“Fuckyou,” he said to the
planetbelow.Reaching toward the
controls on his arm, hewinced. Trying again, moreslowly this time,heactivatedhisradio.“MAVtoHermes.”“Watney!?” came the
reply.“Affirmative. That you,
Commander?”Watneysaid.“Affirmative. What’s your
status?”“I’m on a ship with no
control panel,” he said.“That’s asmuchas I can tellyou.”“Howdoyoufeel?”“My chest hurts. I think I
brokearib.Howareyou?”“We’reworkingongetting
you,”Lewissaid.“Therewasacomplicationinthelaunch.”“Yeah,” Watney said,
looking out the hole in theship.“Thecanvasdidn’thold.I think it ripped early in the
ascent.”“That’s consistent with
what we saw during thelaunch.”“How bad is it,
Commander?”heasked.“We were able to correct
the intercept range withHermes’s attitude thrusters.But there’s a problem withtheinterceptvelocity.”“Howbigaproblem.”“Forty-two meters per
second.”“Wellshit.”
•••
“HEY,ATleasthe’sokayforthemoment,”Martinezsaid.“Beck,” Lewis said, “I’m
coming around to your wayofthinking.Howfastcanyouget going if you’reuntethered?”
“Sorry, Commander,”Beck said. “I already ran thenumbers.At best I could gettwenty-five meters persecond.EvenifIcouldgettoforty-two, I’d need anotherforty-two to match HermeswhenIcameback.”“Copy,”Lewissaid.“Hey,” Watney said over
theradio,“I’vegotanidea.”“Ofcourseyoudo,”Lewis
said.“Whatdoyougot?”
“I could find somethingsharpinhereandpokeaholeinthegloveofmyEVAsuit.Icouldusetheescapingairasa thruster and flymyway toyou. The source of thrustwould be onmy arm, so I’dbe able to direct it prettyeasily.”“How does he come up
with this shit?” Martinezinterjected.“Hmm,” Lewis said.
“Could you get forty-twometerspersecondthatway?”“Noidea,”Watneysaid.“Ican’tseeyouhavingany
control if you did that,”Lewis said. “You’d beeyeballing the intercept andusinga thrustvectoryoucanbarelycontrol.”“I admit it’s fatally
dangerous,” Watney said.“But consider this: I’d get toflyaroundlikeIronMan.”
“We’ll keep working onideas,”Lewissaid.“Iron Man, Commander.
IronMan.”“Standby,”Lewissaid.She furrowed her brow.
“Hmm…Maybe it’s not suchabadidea.…”“You kidding,
Commander?”Martinez said.“It’s a terrible idea. He’dshootoffintospace—”“Not the whole idea, but
part of it,” she said. “Usingatmosphere as thrust.Martinez, getVogel’s stationupandrunning.”“Okay,” Martinez said,
typing at his keyboard. Thescreen changed to Vogel’sworkstation.Martinezquicklychanged the language fromGerman to English. “It’s up.Whatdoyouneed?”“Vogel’s got software for
calculating course offsets
caused by hull breaches,right?”“Yeah,” Martinez said. “It
estimates course correctionsneededintheeventof—”“Yeah, yeah,” Lewis said.
“Fire it up. I want to knowwhathappens ifweblow theVAL.”Johanssen and Martinez
lookedateachother.“Um. Yes, Commander,”
Martinezsaid.
“The vehicular airlock?”Johanssen said. “You wantto…openit?”“Plentyof air in the ship,”
Lewis said. “It’d give us agoodkick.”“Ye-es…,” Martinez said
ashebroughtupthesoftware.“And itmight blow the noseoftheshipoffintheprocess.”“Also, all the air would
leave,” Johanssen feltcompelledtoadd.
“We’ll seal the bridge andreactor room. We can leteverywhere else go vacuo,but we don’t want explosivedecompressioninhereornearthereactor.”Martinez entered the
scenario into the software. “Ithinkwe’lljusthavethesameproblemasWatney,buton alarger scale. We can’t directthatthrust.”“Wedon’thaveto,”Lewis
said. “The VAL is in thenose. Escaping air wouldmake a thrust vector throughour center of mass. We justneedtopointtheshipdirectlyaway from where we wanttogo.”“Okay, I have the
numbers,” Martinez said. “Abreach at the VAL, with thebridge and reactor roomsealed off, would accelerateus twenty-nine meters per
second.”“We’d have a relative
velocityofthirteenmeterspersecondafterward,”Johanssensupplied.“Beck,” Lewis radioed.
“Have you been hearing allthis?”“Affirmative,
Commander,”Becksaid.“Can you do thirteen
meterspersecond?”“It’ll be risky,” Beck
replied. “Thirteen to matchthe MAV, then anotherthirteentomatchHermes.Butit’s ahellof a lotbetter thanforty-two.”“Johanssen,” Lewis said.
“Timetointercept?”“Eighteen minutes,
Commander.”“Whatkindof joltwillwe
feelwiththatbreach?”LewisaskedMartinez.“The air will take four
secondstoevacuate,”hesaid.“We’ll feel a little less thanoneg.”“Watney,” she said to her
headset,“wehaveaplan.”“Yay! A plan!” Watney
replied.
•••
“HOUSTON,” LEWIS’S voice rangthroughMissionControl.“Be
advised we are going todeliberately breach the VALtoproducethrust.”“What?” Mitch said.
“What!?”“Oh…my god,” Venkat
saidintheobservationroom.“Fuck me raw,” Annie
said, getting up. “I better getto the press room. Anyparting knowledge before Igo?”“They’re going to breach
the ship,” Venkat said, stilldumbfounded. “They’regoing to deliberately breachtheship.Ohmygod…”“Got it,” Annie said,
joggingtothedoor.
•••
“HOWWILLweopen theairlockdoors?” Martinez asked.“There’s no way to open
them remotely, and ifanyone’s nearby when itblows—”“Right,” Lewis said. “We
can open one door with theother shut, but how do weopentheother?”She thought foramoment.
“Vogel,”sheradioed.“Ineedyou to come back in andmakeabomb.”“Um. Again, please,
Commander?”Vogelreplied.
“A bomb,” Lewisconfirmed. “You’re achemist. Can you make abomboutofstuffonboard?”“Ja,” Vogel said. “We
have flammables and pureoxygen.”“Sounds good,” Lewis
said.“It is of course dangerous
tosetoffanexplosivedeviceon a spacecraft,” Vogelpointedout.
“Somake it small,”Lewissaid. “It just needs to poke aholeintheinnerairlockdoor.Anyholewill do. If it blowsthe door off, that’s fine. If itdoesn’t, the air will get outslower, but for longer. Themomentum change is thesame, and we’ll get theaccelerationweneed.”“Pressurizing Airlock 2,”
Vogel reported. “How willweactivatethisbomb?”
“Johanssen?”Lewissaid.“Uh…,” Johanssen said.
She picked up her headsetandquicklyputiton.“Vogel,canyourunwiresintoit?”“Ja,” Vogel said. “I will
use threaded stopper with asmall hole for the wires. Itwill have little effect on theseal.”“We could run thewire to
Lighting Panel 41,”Johanssen said. “It’s next to
the airlock, and I can turn itonandofffromhere.”“There’s our remote
trigger,” Lewis said.“Johanssen, go set up thelighting panel. Vogel, get inhere and make the bomb.Martinez, go close and sealthe doors to the reactorroom.”“Yes, Commander,”
Johanssen said, kicking offherseattowardthehallway.
“Commander,” Martinezsaid,pausingattheexit,“youwantme to bring back somespacesuits?”“Nopoint,”Lewissaid.“If
thesealonthebridgedoesn’thold,we’ll get sucked out atclose to the speed of sound.We’llbejellywithorwithoutsuitson.”“Hey,Martinez,”saidBeck
over the radio. “Can youmove my lab mice
somewhere safe? They’re inthe bio lab. It’s just onecage.”“Copy, Beck,” said
Martinez. “I’llmove them tothereactorroom.”“Are you back in yet,
Vogel?”Lewisasked.“I am just reentering now,
Commander.”“Beck,” Lewis said to her
headset. “I’ll need you backin, too. But don’t take your
suitoff.”“Okay,” Beck said.
“Why?”“We’re going to have to
literally blow up one of thedoors,”Lewisexplained.“I’dratherwekilltheinnerone.Iwant the outer doorunharmed, so we keep oursmoothaerobrakingshape.”“Makes sense,” Beck
responded as he floated backintotheship.
“One problem,” Lewissaid. “I want the outer doorlocked in the fully openposition with the mechanicalstopper in place to keep itfrom being trashed by thedecompress.”“You have to have
someone in the airlock to dothat,” Beck said. “And youcan’t open the inner door ifthe outer door is lockedopen.”
“Right,” Lewis said. “So Ineed you to come backinside,depressurizetheVAL,andlocktheouterdooropen.Then you’ll need to crawlalong the hull to get back toAirlock2.”“Copy,Commander,”Beck
said. “There are latch pointsalloverthehull.I’llmovemytether along, mountainclimberstyle.”“Get to it,” Lewis said.
“And Vogel, you’re in ahurry.Youhave tomake thebomb, set it up, get back toAirlock 2, suit up,depressurize it, and open theouter door, so Beck can getbackinwhenhe’sdone.”“He’s taking his suit off
right now and can’t reply,”Beck reported, “but he heardtheorder.”“Watney,howyoudoing?”
Lewis’svoicesaidinhisear.
“Finesofar,Commander,”Watney replied. “Youmentionedaplan?”“Affirmative,” she said.
“We’re going to ventatmospheretogetthrust.”“How?”“We’re going to blow a
holeintheVAL.”“What!?” Watney said.
“How!?”“Vogel’smakingabomb.”“Iknewthatguywasamad
scientist!” Watney said. “Ithinkwe should just gowithmyIronManidea.”“That’s too risky, and you
knowit,”shereplied.“Thing is,” Watney said,
“I’m selfish. I want thememorials back home to bejust forme. I don’twant therest of you losers in them. Ican’t let you guys blow theVAL.”“Oh,” Lewis said, “well if
you won’t let us then—Wait…wait a minute.… I’mlookingatmyshoulderpatchand it turns out I’m thecommander. Sit tight. We’recomingtogetyou.”“Smart-ass.”
•••
ASAchemist,Vogelknewhowto make a bomb. In fact,
much of his training was toavoid making them bymistake.The ship had few
flammablesaboard,duetothefataldangeroffire.Butfood,by its very nature, containedflammable hydrocarbons.Lackingtimetositdownanddothemath,heestimated.Sugar has 4000 food-
calories per kilogram. Onefood-calorie is 4184 Joules.
Sugarinzero-gwillfloatandthe grains will separate,maximizingsurfacearea.Inapure-oxygen environment,16.7 million joules will bereleased for every kilogramof sugar used, releasing theexplosiveforceofeightsticksof dynamite. Such is thenature of combustion in pureoxygen.Vogel measured the sugar
carefully. He poured it into
the strongest container hecould find, a thick glassbeaker. The strength of thecontainerwasasimportantasthe explosive. A weakcontainerwouldsimplycausea fireball without muchconcussive force. A strongcontainer, however, wouldcontain the pressure until itreached true destructivepotential.Hequicklydrilledaholein
the beaker’s stopper, thenstrippedasectionofwire.Heranthewirethroughthehole.“Sehr gefährlich,” he
mumbledashepoured liquidoxygen from the ship’ssupply into the container,then quickly screwed thestopper on. In just a fewminutes, he had made arudimentarypipebomb.“Sehr,sehr,gefährlich.”He floated out of the lab
andmadehiswaytowardthenoseoftheship.
•••
JOHANSSEN WORKED on thelightingpanelasBeckfloatedtowardtheVAL.She grabbed his arm. “Be
careful crawling along thehull.”He turned to faceher. “Be
carefulsettingupthebomb.”She kissed his faceplate
then looked away,embarrassed. “That wasstupid.Don’ttellanyoneIdidthat.”“Don’t tell anyone I liked
it.”Becksmiled.He entered the airlock and
sealed the inner door. Afterdepressurizing,heopenedtheouter door and locked it inplace.Grabbingahandrailon
the hull, he pulled himselfout.Johanssenwatcheduntilhe
was no longer in view, thenreturnedtothelightingpanel.Shehaddeactivated it earlierfrom her workstation. Afterpulling a length of the cableout and stripping the ends,she fiddled with a roll ofelectrical tape until Vogelarrived.He showed up just a
minute later, carefullyfloating down the hall withthebombheldinbothhands.“I have used a singlewire
forigniting,”heexplained.“Ididnotwanttorisktwowiresfor a spark. It would bedangerous to us if we hadstaticwhilesettingup.”“How do we set it off?”
Johanssensaid.“The wire must reach a
hightemperature.Ifyoushort
powerthroughit,thatwillbesufficient.”“I’ll have to pin the
breaker,”Johanssensaid,“butit’llwork.”She twisted the lighting
wires onto the bomb’s andtapedthemoff.“Excuse me,” Vogel said.
“IhavetoreturntoAirlock2toletDr.Beckbackin.”“Mm,”Johanssensaid.
•••
MARTINEZFLOATEDbackintothebridge.“Ihadafewminutes,soIranthroughtheaerobrakelockdown checklist for thereactor room. Everything’sreadyforaccelerationandthecompartment’ssealedoff.”“Good thinking,” Lewis
said. “Prep the attitudecorrection.”“Roger, Commander,”
Martinez said, drifting to hisstation.“The VAL’s propped
open,”Beck’svoicesaidoverthe comm. “Starting mytraverseacrossthehull.”“Copy,”Lewissaid.“Thiscalculationistricky,”
Martinez said. “I need to doeverything backward. TheVAL’sinfront,sothesourceof thrust will be exactlyopposite to our engines. Our
softwarewasn’t expecting ustohaveanenginethere.Ijustneed to tell it we plan tothrusttowardMark.”“Takeyour timeandget it
right,” Lewis said. “Anddon’t execute till I give youtheword.We’renotspinningtheshiparoundwhileBeck’soutonthehull.”“Roger,” he said. After a
moment,headded“Okay,theadjustment’s ready to
execute.”“Standby,”Lewissaid.
•••
VOGEL, BACK in his suit,depressurized Airlock 2 andopenedtheouterdoor.“’Bout time,” Beck said,
climbingin.“Sorry for the delay,”
Vogelsaid.“Iwasrequiredto
makeabomb.”“This has been kind of a
weird day,” Beck said.“Commander,VogelandIareinposition.”“Copy” was Lewis’s
response.“Getupagainst thefore wall of the airlock. It’sgoing to be about one g forfour seconds. Make sureyou’rebothtetheredin.”“Copy,” Beck said as he
attached his tether. The two
men pressed themselvesagainstthewall.
•••
“OKAY, MARTINEZ,” Lewis said,“pointustherightdirection.”“Copy,” said Martinez,
executing the attitudeadjustment.Johanssen floated into the
bridge as the adjustmentwas
performed. The room rotatedaroundherasshereachedfora handhold. “The bomb’sready, and the breaker’sjammed closed,” she said. “Ican set it off by remotelyturning on Lighting Panel41.”“Seal thebridgeandget to
yourstation,”Lewissaid.“Copy,” Johanssen said.
Unstowing the emergencyseal,shepluggedtheentrance
to the bridge. With a fewturnsofthecrank,thejobwasdone. She returned to herstation and ran a quick test.“Increasingbridgepressureto1.03atmospheres.…Pressureis steady. We have a goodseal.”“Copy,”Lewissaid.“Time
tointercept?”“Twenty-eight seconds,”
Johanssensaid.“Wow,” Martinez said.
“Wecutthatprettyclose.”“You ready, Johanssen?”
Lewisasked.“Yes,”Johanssensaid.“All
Ihavetodoishitenter.”“Martinez, how’s our
angle?”“Dead-on, Commander,”
Martinezreported.“Strapin,”Lewissaid.The three of them
tightened the restraints oftheirchairs.
“Twenty seconds,”Johanssensaid.
•••
TEDDYTOOKhisseatintheVIProom.“What’sthestatus?”“Fifteen seconds till they
blowtheVAL,”Venkatsaid.“Wherehaveyoubeen?”“On the phone with the
President,” Teddy said. “Do
youthinkthiswillwork?”“I have no idea,” Venkat
said. “I’ve never felt thishelplessinmylife.”“If it’s any consolation,”
Teddy said, “pretty mucheveryone in the world feelsthesameway.”On the other side of the
glass,Mitchpacedtoandfro.
•••
“…FIVE…four…three…,”Johanssensaid.“Brace for acceleration,”
Lewissaid.“…two…one…,”
Johanssen continued.“Activating Lighting Panel41.”Shepressedenter.Inside Vogel’s bomb, the
full current of the ship’sinternal lighting systemflowed through a thin,
exposed wire. It quicklyreached the ignitiontemperature of the sugar.What would have been aminor fizzle in Earth’satmosphere became anuncontrolled conflagration inthe container’s pure oxygenenvironment. In under onehundred milliseconds, themassive combustion pressureburst the container, and theresultingexplosionrippedtheairlockdoortoshreds.
The internal airofHermesrushed through the openVAL,blastingHermes in theotherdirection.Vogel and Beck were
pressed against the wall ofAirlock 2. Lewis, Martinez,and Johanssen endured theacceleration in their seats. Itwas not a dangerous amountof force. In fact it was lessthan the force of Earth’ssurface gravity. But it was
inconsistentandjerky.After four seconds, the
shaking died down and theship returned toweightlessness.“Reactor room still
pressurized,” Martinezreported.“Bridge seal holding,”
Johanssensaid.“Obviously.”“Damage?”Martinezsaid.“Not sure yet,” Johanssen
said.“IhaveExternalCamera
4 pointed along the nose. Idon’t see any problems withthehullneartheVAL.”“Worry about that later,”
Lewis said. “What’s ourrelative velocity and distancetoMAV?”Johanssen typed quickly.
“We’llgetwithin twenty-twometers and we’re at twelvemeters per second. Weactually got better thanexpectedthrust.”
“Watney,” Lewis said, “itworked.Beck’sonhisway.”“Score!” Watney
responded.“Beck,” Lewis said,
“you’re up. Twelve meterspersecond.”“Close enough!” Beck
replied.
•••
“I’M GOING to jump out,” Becksaid. “Shouldgetme anothertwo or three meters persecond.”“Understood,” Vogel said,
loosely gripping Beck’stether. “Good luck, Dr.Beck.”Placinghisfeetontheback
wall,Beck coiled and leapedoutoftheairlock.Once free, he got his
bearings.Aquick look tohis
right showed him what hecouldnotseefrominside theairlock.“Ihavevisual!”Becksaid.
“IcanseetheMAV!”The MAV barely
resembled a spacecraft asBeck had come to knowthem. The once sleek lineswere now a jagged mess ofmissing hull segments andempty anchor points wherenoncritical components used
tobe.“Jesus,Mark,whatdidyou
dotothatthing?”“YoushouldseewhatIdid
totherover,”Watneyradioedback.Beckthrustonanintercept
course.Hehadpracticed thismanytimes.Thepresumptioninthosepracticesessionswasthat he’d be rescuing acrewmate whose tether hadbroken,but theprinciplewas
thesame.“Johanssen,” he said, “you
gotmeonradar?”“Affirmative,”shereplied.“Call out my relative
velocity to Mark every twosecondsorso.”“Copy. Five point two
meterspersecond.”“Hey Beck,”Watney said,
“the front’s wide open. I’llget up there and be ready tograbatyou.”
“Negative,” interruptedLewis. “No untetheredmovement. Stay strapped toyour chair until you’relatchedtoBeck.”“Copy,”Watneysaid.“Three point one meters
per second,” Johanssenreported.“Going to coast for a bit,”
Beck said. “Gotta catch upbefore I slow it down.” Herotatedhimselfinpreparation
forthenextburn.“Eleven meters to target,”
Johanssensaid.“Copy.”“Six meters,” Johanssen
said.“Aaaaand counter-
thrusting,” Beck said, firingthe MMU thrusters again.The MAV loomed beforehim.“Velocity?”heasked.“One point onemeters per
second,”Johanssensaid.
“Good enough,” he said,reaching for the ship. “I’mdrifting toward it. I think Ican getmy hand on some ofthetorncanvas.…”The tattered canvas
beckoned as the onlyhandhold on the otherwisesmooth ship. Beck reached,extending as best he could,andmanagedtograbhold.“Contact,” Beck said.
Strengthening his grip, he
pulled his body forward andlashedoutwithhisotherhandto grab more canvas. “Firmcontact!”“Dr. Beck,” Vogel said,
“we have passed closestapproach point and you arenow getting further away.You have one hundred andsixty-nine meters of tetherleft. Enough for fourteenseconds.”“Copy,”Becksaid.
Pulling his head to theopening,helookedinsidethecompartment to see Watneystrappedtohischair.“Visual on Watney!” he
reported.“VisualonBeck!”Watney
reported.“How ya doin’, man?”
Beck said, pulling himselfintotheship.“I…I just…”Watney said.
“Give me a minute. You’re
the first person I’ve seen ineighteenmonths.”“Wedon’thaveaminute,”
Beck said, kicking off thewall. “We’ve got elevensecondsbeforewerunoutoftether.”Beck’s course took him to
the chair, where he clumsilycollided with Watney. Thetwo gripped each other’sarms to keep Beck frombouncing away. “Contact
withWatney!”Becksaid.“Eightseconds,Dr.Beck,”
Vogelradioed.“Copy,” Beck said as he
hastilylatchedthefrontofhissuit to the front ofWatney’swith tether clips.“Connected,”hesaid.Watney released the straps
onhischair.“Restraintsoff.”“We’re outa here,” Beck
said, kicking off the chairtowardtheopening.
Thetwomenfloatedacrossthe MAV cabin to theopening.Beckreachedouthisarm and pushed off the edgeastheypassedthrough.“We’re out,” Beck
reported.“Five seconds,” Vogel
said.“Relative velocity to
Hermes: twelve meters persecond,”Johanssensaid.“Thrusting,” Beck said,
activatinghisMMU.Thetwoacceleratedtoward
Hermes for a few seconds.Then the MMU controls onBeck’s heads-up displayturnedred.“That’s it for the fuel,”
Becksaid.“Velocity?”“Five meters per second,”
Johanssenreplied.“Stand by,” Vogel said.
Throughout the process, hehadbeenfeedingtetheroutof
the airlock. Now he grippedthe ever-shrinking remainderof the rope with both hands.He didn’t clamp down on it;thatwouldpullhimoutoftheairlock.Hesimplyclosedhishandsoverthetethertocreatefriction.Hermes was now pulling
BeckandWatneyalong,withVogel’s use of the tetheractingasashockabsorber.IfVogel used too much force,
theshockofitwouldpullthetether free from Beck’s suitclips.Ifheusedtoolittle,thetether would run out beforethey matched speeds, thenjerktoahardstopattheend,whichwouldalsoripitoutofBeck’ssuitclips.Vogelmanaged to find the
balance.After a few secondsof tense, gut-feel physics, hefelt the force on the tetherabate.
“Velocityzero!”Johanssenreportedexcitedly.“Reel ’em in, Vogel,”
Lewissaid.“Copy,” Vogel said. Hand
over hand, he slowly pulledhis crewmates toward theairlock.After a few seconds,he stopped actively pullingandsimplytookinthelineastheycoastedtowardhim.They floated into the
airlock, and Vogel grabbed
them.BeckandWatneybothreached forhandholdson thewallasVogelworkedhiswayaround them and closed theouterdoor.“Aboard!”Becksaid.“Airlock 2 outer door
closed,”Vogelsaid.“Yes!”Martinezyelled.“Copy,”Lewissaid.
•••
LEWIS’SVOICEechoedacrosstheworld: “Houston, this isHermes Actual. Six crewsafelyaboard.”Thecontrolroomexploded
with applause. Leaping fromtheir seats, controllerscheered, hugged, and cried.Thesamesceneplayedoutallovertheworld,inparks,bars,civic centers, living rooms,classrooms,andoffices.The couple in Chicago
clutched each other in sheerrelief, then pulled theNASArepresentative in for a grouphug.Mitchslowlypulledoffhis
headsetandturnedtofacetheVIProom.Throughtheglass,he saw various well-suitedmen and women cheeringwildly. He looked at Venkatand let out a heavy sigh ofrelief.Venkat put his head in his
handsandwhispered,“Thankthegods.”Teddypulledablue folder
fromhis briefcase and stood.“Anniewillbewantingmeinthepressroom.”“Guessyoudon’tneed the
red folder today,” Venkatsaid.“Honestly, I didn’t make
one.” As he walked out headded, “Good work, Venk.Now,getthemhome.”
LOGENTRY:MISSIONDAY687
That “687” caught me offguard for a minute. OnHermes, we track time bymission days. It may be Sol549 down on Mars, but it’sMission Day 687 up here.And you know what? Itdoesn’tmatterwhattimeitison Mars because I’m notthere!Ohmygod. I’m reallynot
on Mars anymore. I can tell
because there’s no gravityand there are other humansaround.I’mstilladjusting.If this were a movie,
everyonewouldhavebeeninthe airlock, and there wouldhave been high fives allaround.But it didn’t pan outthatway.Ibroketworibsduringthe
MAVascent.Theyweresorethe whole time, but theyreallystartedscreamingwhen
Vogel pulled us into theairlockby the tether. I didn’twant to distract the peoplewhoweresavingmylife,soImutedmymic and screamedlikealittlegirl.It’s true, you know. In
space, no one can hear youscreamlikealittlegirl.Once they got me into
Airlock 2, they opened theinner door and I was finallyaboard again. Hermes was
still in vacuo, so we didn’thavetocycletheairlock.Beck told me to go limp
and pushed me down thecorridor toward his quarters(which serve as the ship’s“sickbay”whenneeded).Vogel went the other
directionandclosedtheouterVALdoor.OnceBeckandIgottohis
quarters, we waited for theship to repressurize. Hermes
hadenoughspareair to refillthe ship two more times ifneeded.It’dbeaprettyshittylong-range ship if it couldn’trecover from adecompression.After Johanssen gave us
the all clear,Dr.Bossy-Beckmade me wait while he firsttookoffhissuit,thentookoffmine. After he pulled myhelmet off, he lookedshocked. I thought maybe I
had a major head wound orsomething, but it turns out itwasthesmell.It’s been a while since I
washed…anything.After that, it was X-rays
andchestbandageswhile therest of the crew checked theshipfordamage.Then came the (painful)
high fives, followed bypeople staying as far awayfrom my stench as possible.
We had a few minutes ofreunion before Beck shuttledeveryone out. He gave mepainkillers and told me toshower as soon as I couldmove my arms. So now I’mwaiting for the drugs to kickin.I think about the sheer
numberofpeoplewhopulledtogetherjusttosavemysorryass, and I can barelycomprehend it. My
crewmates sacrificed a yearoftheirlivestocomebackforme. Countless people atNASAworkeddayandnightto invent rover and MAVmodifications. All of JPLbusted their asses to make aprobe that was destroyed onlaunch. Then, instead ofgivingup,theymadeanotherprobe to resupply Hermes.The China National SpaceAdministration abandoned aproject they’dworked on for
years just to provide abooster.The cost for my survival
must have been hundreds ofmillions of dollars. All tosaveonedorkybotanist.Whybother?Well, okay. I know the
answer to that. Part of itmight be what I represent:progress, science, and theinterplanetary future we’vedreamedofforcenturies.But
really, they did it becauseevery human being has abasic instinct to help eachother out. It might not seemthat way sometimes, but it’strue.If a hiker gets lost in the
mountains, people willcoordinateasearch.Ifatraincrashes,peoplewilllineuptogive blood. If an earthquakelevels a city, people all overthe world will send
emergency supplies. This isso fundamentally human thatit’s found in every culturewithout exception.Yes, thereare assholes who just don’tcare, but they’re massivelyoutnumbered by the peoplewhodo.Andbecauseofthat,Ihadbillionsofpeopleonmyside.Prettycool,eh?Anyway,my ribs hurt like
hell,my vision is still blurry
from acceleration sickness,I’m really hungry, it’ll beanother 211 days before I’mback on Earth, and,apparently, I smell like askunk took a shit on somesweatsocks.This is thehappiestdayof
mylife.