Chapter 6 PDF

CHAPTER 6 VENKAT KAPOOR returned to his office, dropped his briefcase on the floor, and collapsed into his leather chair. He took a moment to look out the windows. His office in Building 1 afforded him a commanding view of the large park in the center of the Johnson Space Center complex. Beyond tha...

CHAPTER 6 VENKAT KAPOOR returned to his office, dropped his briefcase on the floor, and collapsed into his leather chair. He took a moment to look out the windows. His office in Building 1 afforded him a commanding view of the large park in the center of the Johnson Space Center complex. Beyond that, dozens of scattered buildings dominated the view all the way to Mud Lake in the distance. Glancing at his computer screen, he noted forty-seven unread e-mails urgently demanding his attention. They could wait. Today had been a sad day. Today was the memorial service for Mark Watney. The President had given a speech, praising Watney’s bravery and sacrifice, and the quick actions of Commander Lewis in getting everyone else to safety. Commander Lewis and the surviving crew, via long-range communication from Hermes, gave eulogies for their departed comrade from deep space. They had another ten months of travel yet to endure. The administrator had given a speech as well, reminding everyone that space flight is incredibly dangerous, and that we will not back down in the face of adversity. They’d asked Venkat if he was willing to make a speech. He’d declined. What was the point? Watney was dead. Nice words from the director of Mars operations wouldn’t bring him back. “You okay, Venk?” came a familiar voice from the doorway. Venkat swiveled around. “Guess so,” he said. Teddy Sanders swept a rogue thread off his otherwise immaculate blazer. “You could have given a speech.” “I didn’t want to. You know that.” “Yeah, I know. I didn’t want to, either. But I’m the administrator of NASA. It’s kind of expected. You sure you’re okay?” “Yeah, I’ll be fine.” “Good,” Teddy said, adjusting his cuff links. “Let’s get back to work, then.” “Sure.” Venkat shrugged. “Let’s start with you authorizing my satellite time.” Teddy leaned against the wall with a sigh. “This again.” “Yes,” Venkat said. “This again. What is the problem?” “Okay, run me through it. What, exactly, are you after?” Venkat leaned forward. “Ares 3 was a failure, but we can salvage something from it. We’re funded for five Ares missions. I think we can get Congress to fund a sixth.” “I don’t know, Venk…” “It’s simple, Teddy.” Venkat pressed on. “They evac’d after six sols. There’s almost an entire mission’s worth of supplies up there. It would only cost a fraction of a normal mission. It normally takes fourteen presupply probes to prep a site. We might be able to send what’s missing in three. Maybe two.” “Venk, the site got hit by a 175 kph sandstorm. It’ll be in really bad shape.” “That’s why I want imagery,” Venkat said. “I just need a couple of shots of the site. We could learn a lot.” “Like what? You think we’d send people to Mars without being sure everything was in perfect working order?” “Everything doesn’t have to be perfect,” Venkat said quickly. “Whatever ’s broken, we’d send replacements for.” “How will we know from imagery what’s broken?” “It’s just a first step. They evac’d because the wind was a threat to the MAV, but the Hab can withstand a lot more punishment. It might still be in one piece. “And it’ll be really obvious. If it popped, it’d completely blow out and collapse. If it’s still standing, then everything inside will be fine. And the rovers are solid. They can take any sandstorm Mars has to offer. Just let me take a look, Teddy, that’s all I want.” Teddy paced to the windows and stared out at the vast expanse of buildings. “You’re not the only guy who wants satellite time, you know. We have Ares 4 supply missions coming up. We need to concentrate on Schiaparelli crater.” “I don’t get it, Teddy. What’s the problem here?” Venkat asked. “I’m talking about securing us another mission. We have twelve satellites in orbit around Mars; I’m sure you can spare one or two for a couple of hours. I can give you the windows for each one when they’ll be at the right angle for Ares 3 shots—” “It’s not about satellite time, Venk,” Teddy interrupted. Venkat froze. “Then…but…what…” Teddy turned to face him. “We’re a public domain organization. There’s no such thing as secret or secure information here.” “So?” “Any imagery we take goes directly to the public.” “Again, so?” “Mark Watney’s body will be within twenty meters of the Hab. Maybe partially buried in sand, but still very visible, and with a comm antenna sticking out of his chest. Any images we take will show that.” Venkat stared. Then glared. “This is why you denied my imagery requests for two months?” “Venk, come on—” “Really, Teddy?” he said. “You’re afraid of a PR problem?” “The media’s obsession with Watney’s death is finally starting to taper off,” Teddy said evenly. “It’s been bad press after bad press for two months. Today’s memorial gives people closure, and the media can move on to some other story. The last thing we want is to dredge everything back up.” “So what do we do, then? He’s not going to decompose. He’ll be there forever.” “Not forever,” Teddy said. “Within a year, he’ll be covered in sand from normal weather activity.” “A year?” Venkat said, rising to his feet. “That’s ludicrous. We can’t wait a year for this.” “Why not? Ares 4 won’t even launch for another five years. Plenty of time.” Venkat took a deep breath and thought for a moment. “Okay, consider this: Sympathy for Watney’s family is really high. Ares 6 could bring the body back. We don’t say that’s the purpose of the mission, but we make it clear that would be part of it. If we framed it that way, we’d get more support in Congress. But not if we wait a year. In a year, people won’t care anymore.” Teddy rubbed his chin. “Hmm…” MINDY PARK stared at the ceiling. She had little else to do. The three a.m. shift was pretty dull. Only a constant stream of coffee kept her awake. Monitoring the status of satellites around Mars had sounded like an exciting proposition when she took the transfer. But the satellites tended to take care of themselves. Her job turned out to be sending e-mails as imagery became available. “Master ’s degree in mechanical engineering,” she muttered. “And I’m working in an all-night photo booth.” She sipped her coffee. A flicker on her screen announced that another set of images was ready for dispatch. She checked the name on the work order. Venkat Kapoor. She posted the data directly to internal servers and composed an e-mail to Dr. Kapoor. As she entered the latitude and longitude of the image, she recognized the numbers. “31.2°N, 28.5°W…Acidalia Planitia…Ares 3?” Out of curiosity, she brought up the first of the seventeen images. As she’d suspected, it was the Ares 3 site. She’d heard they were going to image it. Slightly ashamed of herself, she scoured the image for any sign of Mark Watney’s dead body. After a minute of fruitless searching, she was simultaneously relieved and disappointed. She moved on to perusing the rest of the image. The Hab was intact; Dr. Kapoor would be happy to see that. She brought the coffee mug to her lips, then froze. “Um…,” she mumbled to herself. “Uhhh…” She brought up the NASA intranet and navigated through the site to the specifics of the Ares missions. After some quick research, she picked up her phone. “Hey, this is Mindy Park at SatCon. I need the mission logs for Ares 3, where can I get ’em?…Uh huh…uh-huh…Okay…Thanks.” After some more time on the intranet, she leaned back in her seat. She no longer needed the coffee to keep awake. Picking up the phone again, she said, “Hello, Security? This is Mindy Park in SatCon. I need the emergency contact number for Dr. Venkat Kapoor.… Yes it’s an emergency.” in her seat as Venkat trudged in. To have the director of Mars operations visiting SatCon MINDY FIDGETED was unusual. Seeing him in jeans and a T-shirt was even more unusual. “You Mindy Park?” he asked with the scowl of a man operating on two hours of sleep. “Yes,” she quavered. “Sorry to drag you in.” “I’m assuming you had a good reason. So?” “Um,” she said, looking down. “Um, it’s. Well. The imagery you ordered. Um. Come here and look.” He pulled another chair to her station and seated himself. “Is this about Watney’s body? Is that why you’re shook up?” “Um, no,” she said. “Um. Well…uh.” She winced at her own awkwardness and pointed to the screen. Venkat inspected the image. “Looks like the Hab’s in one piece. That’s good news. Solar array looks good. The rovers are okay, too. Main dish isn’t around. No surprise there. What’s the big emergency?” “Um,” she said, touching her finger to the screen. “That.” Venkat leaned in and looked closer. Just below the Hab, beside the rovers, two white circles sat in the sand. “Hmm. Looks like Hab canvas. Maybe the Hab didn’t do well after all? I guess pieces got torn off and—” “Um,” she interrupted. “They look like rover pop-tents.” Venkat looked again. “Hmm. Probably right.” “How’d they get set up?” Mindy asked. Venkat shrugged. “Commander Lewis probably ordered them deployed during the evac. Not a bad idea. Have the emergency shelters ready in case the MAV didn’t work and the Hab breached.” “Yeah, um,” Mindy said, opening a document on her computer, “this is the entire mission log for Sols 1 through 6. From MDV touchdown to MAV emergency liftoff.” “Okay, and?” “I read through it. Several times. They never threw out the pop-tents.” Her voice cracked at the last word. “Well, uh…,” Venkat said, furrowing his brow. “They obviously did, but it didn’t make it into the log.” “They activated two emergency pop-tents and never told anyone?” “Hmm. That doesn’t make a lot of sense, no. Maybe the storm messed with the rovers and the tents autodeployed.” “So after autodeploying, they detached themselves from the rovers and lined up next to each other twenty meters away?” Venkat looked back to the image. “Well obviously they activated somehow.” “Why are the solar cells clean?” Mindy said, fighting back tears. “There was a huge sandstorm. Why isn’t there sand all over them?” “A good wind could have done it?” Venkat said, unsure. “Did I mention I never found Watney’s body?” she said, sniffling. Venkat’s eyes widened as he stared at the picture. “Oh…,” he said quietly. “Oh God…” Mindy put her hands over her face and sobbed quietly. Annie Montrose said. “You have got to be fucking kidding me!” “FUCK!” Teddy glared across his immaculate mahogany desk at his director of media relations. “Not helping, Annie.” He turned to his director of Mars operations. “How sure are we of this?” “Nearly a hundred percent,” Venkat said. “Fuck!” Annie said.  Teddy moved a folder on his desk slightly to the right so it would line up with his mouse pad. “It is what it is. We have to deal with it.” “Do you have any idea the magnitude of shit storm this is gonna be?” she retorted. “You don’t have to face those damn reporters every day. I do!” “One thing at a time,” Teddy said. “Venk, what makes you sure he’s alive?” “For starters, no body,” Venkat explained. “Also, the pop-tents are set up. And the solar cells are clean. You can thank Mindy Park in SatCon for noticing all that, by the way. “But,” Venkat continued, “his body could have been buried in the Sol 6 storm. The pop-tents might have autodeployed and wind could have blown them around. A 30 kph windstorm some time later would have been strong enough to clean the solar cells but not strong enough to carry sand. It’s not likely, but it’s possible. “So I spent the last few hours checking everything I could. Commander Lewis had two outings in Rover 2. The second was on Sol 5. According to the logs, after returning, she plugged it into the Hab for recharging. It wasn’t used again, and thirteen hours later they evac’d.” He slid a picture across the desk to Teddy. “That’s one of the images from last night. As you can see, Rover 2 is facing away from the Hab. The charging port is in the nose, and the cable isn’t long enough to reach.” Teddy absently rotated the picture to be parallel with the edges of his desk. “She must have parked it facing the Hab or she wouldn’t have been able to plug it in,” he said. “It’s been moved since Sol 5.” “Yeah,” Venkat said, sliding another picture to Teddy. “But here’s the real evidence. In the lower right of the image you can see the MDV. It’s been taken apart. I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t have done that without telling us. “And the clincher is on the right of the image,” Venkat pointed. “The landing struts of the MAV. Looks like the fuel plant has been completely removed, with considerable damage to the struts in the process. There’s just no way that could have happened before liftoff. It would have endangered the MAV way too much for Lewis to allow it.” “Hey,” Annie said. “Why not talk to Lewis? Let’s go to CAPCOM and ask her directly.” Rather than answer, Venkat looked to Teddy knowingly. “Because,” Teddy said, “if Watney really is alive, we don’t want the Ares 3 crew to know.” “What!?” Annie said. “How can you not tell them?” “They have another ten months on their trip home,” Teddy explained. “Space travel is dangerous. They need to be alert and undistracted. They’re sad that they lost a crewmate, but they’d be devastated if they found out they’d abandoned him alive.” Annie looked to Venkat. “You’re on board with this?” “It’s a no-brainer,” Venkat said. “Let ’em deal with that emotional trauma when they’re not flying a spaceship around.” “This’ll be the most talked-about event since Apollo 11,” Annie said. “How will you keep it from them?” Teddy shrugged. “Easy. We control all communication with them.” “Fuck,” Annie said, opening her laptop. “When do you want to go public?” “What’s your take?” he asked. “Mmm,” Annie said. “We can hold the pics for twenty-four hours before we’re required to release them. We’ll need to send out a statement along with them. We don’t want people working it out on their own. We’d look like assholes.” “Okay,” Teddy agreed, “put together a statement.” “That’ll be fun,” she grumbled. “Where do we go from here?” Teddy asked Venkat. “Step one is communication,” Venkat said. “From the pics, it’s clear the comm array is ruined. We need another way to talk. Once we can talk, we can assess and make plans.” “All right,” Teddy said. “Get on it. Take anyone you want from any department. Use as much overtime as you want. Find a way to talk to him. That’s your only job right now.” “Got it.” “Annie, make sure nobody gets wind of this till we announce.” “Right,” Annie said. “Who else knows?” “Just the three of us and Mindy Park in SatCon,” Venkat said. “I’ll have a word with her,” Annie said. Teddy stood and opened his cell phone. “I’m going to Chicago. I’ll be back tomorrow.” “Why?” Annie asked. “That’s where Watney’s parents live,” Teddy said. “I owe them a personal explanation before it breaks on the news.” “They’ll be happy to hear their son’s alive,” Annie said. “Yes, he’s alive,” Teddy said. “But if my math is right, he’s doomed to starve to death before we can possibly help him. I’m not looking forward to the conversation.” “Fuck,” Annie said, thoughtfully. Nothing at all?” Venkat groaned. “Are you kidding me? You had twenty experts working for “NOTHING? twelve hours on this. We have a multibillion-dollar communications network. You can’t figure out any way to talk to him?” The two men in Venkat’s office fidgeted in their chairs. “He’s got no radio,” said Chuck. “Actually,” said Morris, “he’s got a radio, but he doesn’t have a dish.” “Thing is,” Chuck continued, “without the dish, a signal would have to be really strong—” “Like, melting-the-pigeons strong,” Morris supplied. “—for him to get it,” Chuck finished. “We considered Martian satellites,” Morris said. “They’re way closer. But the math doesn’t work out. Even SuperSurveyor 3, which has the strongest transmitter, would need to be fourteen times more powerful—” “Seventeen times,” Chuck said. “Fourteen times,” Morris asserted. “No, it’s seventeen. You forgot the amperage minimum for the heaters to keep the—” “Guys,” Venkat interrupted, “I get the idea.” “Sorry.”  “Sorry.” “Sorry if I’m grumpy,” Venkat said. “I got like two hours sleep last night.” “No problem,” Morris said. “Totally understandable,” Chuck said. “Okay,” Venkat said. “Explain to me how a single windstorm removed our ability to talk to Ares 3.” “Failure of imagination,” Chuck said. “Totally didn’t see it coming,” Morris agreed. “How many backup communications systems does an Ares mission have?” Venkat asked. “Four,” Chuck said. “Three,” Morris said. “No, it’s four,” Chuck corrected. “He said backup systems,” Morris insisted. “That means not including the primary system.” “Oh right. Three.” “So four systems total, then,” Venkat said. “Explain how we lost all four.” “Well,” Chuck said, “The primary ran through the big satellite dish. It blew away in the storm. The rest of the backups were in the MAV.” “Yup,” Morris agreed. “The MAV is, like, a communicating machine. It can talk to Earth, Hermes, even satellites around Mars if it has to. And it has three independent systems to make sure nothing short of a meteor strike can stop communication.” “Problem is,” Chuck said, “Commander Lewis and the rest of them took the MAV when they left.” “So four independent communications systems became one. And that one broke,” Morris finished. Venkat pinched the bridge of his nose. “How could we overlook this?” Chuck shrugged. “Never occurred to us. We never thought someone would be on Mars without an MAV.” “I mean, come on!” Morris said. “What are the odds?” Chuck turned to him. “One in three, based on empirical data. That’s pretty bad if you think about it.” THIS WASgoing to be rough and Annie knew it. Not only did she have to deliver the biggest mea culpa in NASA’s history, every second of it would be remembered forever. Every movement of her arms, intonation of her voice, and expression on her face would be seen by millions of people over and over again. Not just in the immediate press cycle, but for decades to come. Every documentary made about Watney’s situation would have this clip. She was confident that none of that concern showed on her face as she took to the podium. “Thank you all for coming on such short notice,” she said to the assembled reporters. “We have an important announcement to make. If you could all take your seats.” “What this about, Annie?” Bryan Hess from NBC asked. “Something happen with Hermes?” “Please take your seats,” Annie repeated. The reporters milled about and argued over seats for a brief time, then finally settled down. “This is a short but very important announcement,” Annie said. “I won’t be taking any questions at this time, but we will have a full press conference with Q&A in about an hour. We have recently reviewed satellite imagery from Mars and have confirmed that astronaut Mark Watney is, currently, still alive.” After one full second of utter silence, the room exploded with noise. A WEEK after the stunning announcement, it was still the top story on every news network in the world. “I’m getting sick of daily press conferences,” Venkat whispered to Annie. “I’m getting sick of hourly press conferences,” Annie whispered back. The two stood with countless other NASA managers and executives bunched up on the small stage in the press room. They faced a pit of hungry reporters, all desperate for any scrap of new information. “Sorry I’m late,” Teddy said, entering from the side door. He pulled some flash cards from his pocket, squared them in his hands, then cleared his throat. “In the nine days since announcing Mark Watney’s survival, we’ve received a massive show of support from all sectors. We’re using this shamelessly every way we can.” A small chuckle cascaded through the room. “Yesterday, at our request, the entire SETI network focused on Mars. Just in case Watney was sending a weak radio signal. Turns out he wasn’t, but it shows the level of commitment everyone has toward helping us. “The public is engaged, and we will do our best to keep everyone informed. I’ve recently learned CNN will be dedicating a half-hour segment every weekday to reporting on just this issue. We will assign several members of our media relations team to that program, so the public can get the latest information as fast as possible. “We have adjusted the orbits of three satellites to get more view time on the Ares 3 site and hope to catch an image of Mark outside soon. If we can see him outside, we will be able to draw conclusions on his physical health based on stance and activities. “The questions are many: How long can he last? How much food does he have? Can Ares 4 rescue him? How will we talk to him? The answers to these questions are not what we want to hear. “I can’t promise we’ll succeed in rescuing him, but I can promise this: The entire focus of NASA will be to bring Mark Watney home. This will be our overriding and singular obsession until he is either back on Earth or confirmed dead on Mars.” Venkat said as he entered Teddy’s office. “NICE SPEECH,” “Meant every word of it,” Teddy said. “Oh, I know.” “What can I do for you, Venk?” “I’ve got an idea. Well, JPL has an idea. I’m the messenger.”  “I like ideas,” Teddy said, gesturing to a seat. Venkat sat down. “We can rescue him with Ares 4. It’s very risky. We ran the idea by the Ares 4 crew. Not only are they willing to do it, but now they’re really pushing hard for it.” “Naturally,” Teddy said. “Astronauts are inherently insane. And really noble. What’s the idea?” “Well,” Venkat began, “it’s in the rough stages, but JPL thinks the MDV can be misused to save him.” “Ares 4 hasn’t even launched yet. Why misuse an MDV? Why not make something better?” “We don’t have time to make a custom craft. Actually, he can’t even survive till Ares 4 gets there, but that’s a different problem.” “So tell me about the MDV.” “JPL strips it down, loses some weight, and adds some fuel tanks. Ares 4’s crew lands at the Ares 3 site, very efficiently. Then, with a full burn, and I mean a full burn, they can lift off again. It can’t get back to orbit, but it can go to the Ares 4 site on a lateral trajectory that’s, well, really scary. Then they have an MAV.” “How are they losing weight?” Teddy asked. “Don’t they already have it as light as it can be?” “By removing safety and emergency equipment.” “Wonderful,” Teddy said. “So we’d be risking the lives of six more people.” “Yup,” Venkat said. “It would be safer to leave the Ares 4 crew in Hermes and only send the pilot down with the MDV. But that would mean giving up the mission, and they’d rather risk death.” “They’re astronauts,” Teddy said. “They’re astronauts,” Venkat confirmed. “Well. That’s a ludicrous idea and I’ll never okay it.” “We’ll work on it some more,” Venkat said. “Try to make it safer.” “Do that. Any idea how to keep him alive for four years?” “Nope.” “Work on that, too.” “Will do,” Venkat said. Teddy swiveled his chair and looked out the window to the sky beyond. Night was edging in. “What must it be like?” he pondered. “He’s stuck out there. He thinks he’s totally alone and that we all gave up on him. What kind of effect does that have on a man’s psychology?” He turned back to Venkat. “I wonder what he’s thinking right now.”  LOG ENTRY: SOL 61 How come Aquaman can control whales? They’re mammals! Makes no sense. CHAPTER 7  LOG ENTRY: SOL 63 I finished making water some time ago. I’m no longer in danger of blowing myself up. The potatoes are growing nicely. Nothing has conspired to kill me in weeks. And seventies TV keeps me disturbingly more entertained than it should. Things are stable here on Mars. It’s time to start thinking long-term. Even if I find a way to tell NASA I’m alive, there’s no guarantee they’ll be able to save me. I need to be proactive. I need to figure out how to get to Ares 4. Won’t be easy. Ares 4 will be landing at the Schiaparelli crater, 3200 kilometers away. In fact, their MAV is already there. I know because I watched Martinez land it. It takes eighteen months for the MAV to make its fuel, so it’s the first thing NASA sends along. Sending it forty-eight months early gives it plenty of extra time in case fuel reactions go slower than expected. But much more importantly, it means a precision soft landing can be done remotely by a pilot in orbit. Direct remote operation from Houston isn’t an option; they’re anywhere from four to twenty light-minutes away. Ares 4’s MAV spent eleven months getting to Mars. It left before us and got here around the same time we did. As expected, Martinez landed it beautifully. It was one of the last things we did before piling into our MDV and heading to the surface. Ahh, the good old days, when I had a crew with me. I’m lucky. Thirty-two hundred km isn’t that bad. It could have been up to 10,000 km away. And because I’m on the flattest part of Mars, the first 650 kilometers is nice, smooth terrain (Yay Acidalia Planitia!) but the rest of it is nasty, rugged, crater-pocked hell. Obviously, I’ll have to use a rover. And guess what? They weren’t designed for massive overland journeys. This is going to be a research effort, with a bunch of experimentation. I’ll have to become my own little NASA, figuring out how to explore far from the Hab. The good news is I have lots of time to figure it out. Almost four years. Some stuff is obvious. I’ll need to use a rover. It’ll take a long time, so I’ll need to bring supplies. I’ll need to recharge en route, and rovers don’t have solar cells, so I’ll need to steal some from the Hab’s solar farm. During the trip I’ll need to breathe, eat, and drink. Lucky for me, the tech specs for everything are right here in the computer. I’ll need to trick out a rover. Basically it’ll have to be a mobile Hab. I’ll pick Rover 2 as my target. We have a certain bond, after I spent two days in it during the Great Hydrogen Scare of Sol 37. There’s too much shit to think about all at once. So for now, I’ll just think about power. Our mission had a 10-kilometer operational radius. Knowing we wouldn’t take straight-line paths, NASA designed the rovers to go 35 kilometers on a full charge. That presumes flat, reasonable terrain. Each rover has a 9000-watt-hour battery. Step one is to loot Rover 1’s battery and install it in Rover 2. Ta-daa! I just doubled my full-charge range. There’s just one complication. Heating. Part of the battery power goes to heating the rover. Mars is really cold. Normally, we were expected to do all EVAs in under five hours. But I’ll be living in it twenty-four and a half hours a day. According to the specs, the heating equipment soaks up 400 watts. Keeping it on would eat up 9800 watt hours per day. Over half my power supply, every day!  But I do have a free source of heat: me. A couple million years of evolution gave me “warm- blooded” technology. I can just turn off the heater and wear layers. The rover has good insulation, too. It’ll have to be enough; I need every bit of power. According to my boring math, moving the rover eats 200 watt hours of juice to go 1 kilometer, so using the full 18,000 watt hours for motion (minus a negligible amount for computer, life support, etc.) gets me 90 kilometers of travel. Now we’re talkin’. I’ll never actually get 90 kilometers on a single charge. I’ll have hills to deal with, and rough terrain, sand, etc. But it’s a good ballpark. It tells me that it would take at least 35 days of travel to get to Ares 4. It’ll probably be more like 50. But that’s plausible, at least. At the rover ’s blazing 25 kph top speed, it’ll take me three and a half hours before I run the battery down. I can drive in twilight, and save the sunny part of the day for charging. This time of year I get about thirteen hours of light. How many solar cells will I have to pilfer from the Hab’s farm? Thanks to the fine taxpayers of America, I have over 100 square meters of the most expensive solar paneling ever made. It has an astounding 10.2 percent efficiency, which is good because Mars doesn’t get as much sunlight as Earth. Only 500 to 700 watts per square meter (compared to the 1400 Earth gets). Long story short: I need to bring twenty-eight square meters of solar cell. That’s fourteen panels. I can put two stacks of seven on the roof. They’ll stick out over the edges, but as long as they’re secure, I’m happy. Every day, after driving, I’ll spread them out then…wait all day. Man it’ll be dull. Well it’s a start. Tomorrow’s mission: transfer Rover 1’s battery to Rover 2.  LOG ENTRY: SOL 64 Sometimes things are easy, and sometimes they’re not. Getting the battery out of Rover 1 was easy. I removed two clamps on the undercarriage and it dropped right out. The cabling was easy to detach, too, just a couple of complicated plugs. Attaching it to Rover 2, however, is another story. There’s nowhere to put it! The thing is huge. I was barely able to drag it. And that’s in Mars gravity. It’s just too big. There’s no room in the undercarriage for a second one. There’s no room on the roof, either. That’s where the solar cells will go. There’s no room inside the cabin, and it wouldn’t fit through the airlock anyway. But fear not, I found a solution. For emergencies completely unrelated to this one, NASA provided six square meters of extra Hab canvas and some really impressive resin. The same kind of resin, in fact, that saved my life on Sol 6 (the patch kit I used on the hole in my suit). In the event of a Hab breach, everyone would run to the airlocks. Procedure was to let the Hab pop rather than die trying to prevent it. Then, we’d suit up and assess the damage. Once we found the breach, we’d seal it with the spare canvas and resin. Then reinflate and we’re good as new. The six square meters of spare canvas was a convenient one by six meters. I cut 10-centimeter-wide strips, then used them to make a sort of harness. I used the resin and straps to make two 10-meter circumference loops. Then I put a big patch of canvas on each end. I now had poor man’s saddlebags for my rover. This is getting more and more Wagon Train every day. The resin sets almost instantly. But it gets stronger if you wait an hour. So I did. Then I suited up and headed out to the rover. I dragged the battery to the side of the rover and looped one end of the harness around it. Then I threw the other end over the roof. On the other side, I filled it with rocks. When the two weights were roughly equal, I was able to pull the rocks down and bring the battery up. Yay! I unplugged Rover 2’s battery and plugged in Rover 1’s. Then I went through the airlock to the rover and checked all systems. Everything was a-okay. I drove the rover around a bit to make sure the harness was secure. I found a few largish rocks to drive over, just to shake things up. The harness held. Hell yeah. For a short time, I wondered how to splice the second battery’s leads into the main power supply. My conclusion was “Fuck it.” There’s no need to have a continuous power supply. When Battery 1 runs out, I can get out, unplug Battery 1, and plug in Battery 2. Why not? It’s a ten-minute EVA, once per day. I’d have to swap batteries again when I’m recharging them, but again, so what? I spent the rest of the day sweeping off the solar cell farm. Soon, I shall be looting it.  LOG ENTRY: SOL 65 The solar cells were a lot easier to manage than the battery. They’re thin, light, and just lying around on the ground. And I had one additional bonus: I was the one who set them up in the first place. Well, okay. It wasn’t just me. Vogel and I worked together on it. And boy did we drill on it. We spent almost an entire week drilling on the solar array alone. Then we drilled more whenever they figured we had spare time. The array was mission-critical. If we broke the cells or rendered them useless, the Hab wouldn’t be able to make power, and the mission would end. You might wonder what the rest of the crew was doing while we assembled the array. They were setting up the Hab. Remember, everything in my glorious kingdom came here in boxes. We had to set it up on Sols 1 and 2. Each solar cell is on a lightweight lattice that holds it at a 14-degree angle. I’ll admit I don’t know why it’s a 14-degree angle. Something about maximizing solar energy. Anyway, removing the cells was simple, and the Hab can spare them. With the reduced load of only supporting one human instead of six, a 14 percent energy production loss is irrelevant. Then it was time to stack them on the rover. I considered removing the rock sample container. It’s nothing more than a large canvas bag attached to the roof. Way too small to hold the solar cells. But after some thought I left it there, figuring it would provide a good cushion. The cells stacked well (they were made to, for transport to Mars), and the two stacks sat nicely on the roof. They hung over the left and right edges, but I won’t be going through any tunnels, so I don’t care. With some more abuse of the emergency Hab material, I made straps and tied the cells down. The rover has external handles near the front and back. They’re there to help us load rocks on the roof. They made perfect anchor points for the straps. I stood back and admired my work. Hey, I earned it. It wasn’t even noon and I was done. I came back to the Hab, had some lunch, and worked on my crops for the rest of the sol. It’s been thirty-nine sols since I planted the potatoes (which is about forty Earth days), and it was time to reap and resow. They grew even better than I had expected. Mars has no insects, parasites, or blights to deal with, and the Hab maintains perfect growing temperature and moisture at all times. They were small compared to the taters you’d usually eat, but that’s fine. All I wanted was enough to support growing new plants. I dug them up, being careful to leave their plants alive. Then I cut them up into small pieces with one eye each and reseeded them into new dirt. If they keep growing this well, I’ll be able to last a good long time here. After all that physical labor, I deserved a break. I rifled through Johanssen’s computer today and found an endless supply of digital books. Looks like she’s a big fan of Agatha Christie. The Beatles, Christie…I guess she’s an Anglophile or something. I remember liking Hercule Poirot TV specials back when I was a kid. I’ll start with The Mysterious Affair at Styles. Looks like that’s the first one.  LOG ENTRY: SOL 66 The time has come (ominous musical crescendo) for some missions! NASA gets to name their missions after gods and stuff, so why can’t I? Henceforth, rover experimental missions will be “Sirius” missions. Get it? Dogs? Well if you don’t, fuck you. Sirius 1 will be tomorrow. The mission: Start with fully charged batteries and solar cells on the roof, drive until I run out of power, and see how far I get. I won’t be an idiot. I’m not driving directly away from the Hab. I’ll drive a half-kilometer stretch, back and forth. I’ll be within a short walk of home at all times. Tonight, I’ll charge up both batteries so I can be ready for a little test drive tomorrow. I estimate three and a half hours of driving, so I’ll need to bring fresh CO2 filters. And, with the heater off, I’ll wear three layers of clothes.  LOG ENTRY: SOL 67 Sirius 1 is complete! More accurately, Sirius 1 was aborted after one hour. I guess you could call it a “failure,” but I prefer the term “learning experience.” Things started out fine. I drove to a nice flat spot a kilometer from the Hab, then started going back and forth over a 500-meter stretch. I quickly realized this would be a crappy test. After a few laps, I had compressed the soil enough to have a solid path. Nice, hard ground, which makes for abnormally high energy efficiency. Nothing like it would be on a long trip. So I shook it up a bit. I drove around randomly, making sure to stay within a kilometer of the Hab. A much more realistic test. After an hour, things started to get cold. And I mean really cold. The rover ’s always cold when you first get in it. When you haven’t disabled the heater, it warms up right away. I expected it to be cold, but Jesus Christ! I was fine for a while. My own body heat plus three layers of clothing kept me warm, and the rover ’s insulation is top-notch. The heat that escaped my body just warmed up the interior. But there’s no such thing as perfect insulation, and eventually the heat left to the great outdoors, while I got colder and colder. Within an hour, I was chattering and numb. Enough was enough. There’s no way I could do a long trip like this. Turning the heater on, I drove straight back to the Hab. Once I got home, I sulked for a while. All my brilliant plans foiled by thermodynamics. Damn you, Entropy! I’m in a bind. The damn heater will eat half my battery power every day. I could turn it down, I guess. Be a little cold but not freezing to death. Even then I’d still lose at least a quarter. This will require some thought. I have to ask myself…What would Hercule Poirot do? I’ll have to put my “little gray cells” to work on the problem.  LOG ENTRY: SOL 68 Well, shit. I came up with a solution, but…remember when I burned rocket fuel in the Hab? This’ll be more dangerous. I’m going to use the RTG. The RTG (radioisotope thermoelectric generator) is a big box of plutonium. But not the kind used in nuclear bombs. No, no. This plutonium is way more dangerous! Plutonium-238 is an incredibly unstable isotope. It’s so radioactive that it will get red hot all by itself. As you can imagine, a material that can literally fry an egg with radiation is kind of dangerous. The RTG houses the plutonium, catches the radiation in the form of heat, and turns it into electricity. It’s not a reactor. The radiation can’t be increased or decreased. It’s a purely natural process happening at the atomic level. As long ago as the 1960s, NASA began using RTGs to power unmanned probes. They have lots of advantages over solar power. They’re not affected by storms; they work day or night; they’re entirely internal, so you don’t need delicate solar cells all over your probe. But they never used large RTGs on manned missions until the Ares Program. Why not? It should be pretty damned obvious why not! They didn’t want to put astronauts next to a glowing hot ball of radioactive death! I’m exaggerating a little. The plutonium is inside a bunch of pellets, each one sealed and insulated to prevent radiation leakage, even if the outer container is breached. So for the Ares Program, they took the risk. An Ares mission is all about the MAV. It’s the single most important component. It’s one of the few systems that can’t be replaced or worked around. It’s the only component that causes a complete mission scrub if it’s not working. Solar cells are great in the short term, and they’re good for the long term if you have humans around to clean them. But the MAV sits alone for years quietly making fuel, then just kind of hangs out until its crew arrives. Even doing nothing, it needs power, so NASA can monitor it remotely and run self-checks. The prospect of scrubbing a mission because a solar cell got dirty was unacceptable. They needed a more reliable source of power. So the MAV comes equipped with an RTG. It has 2.6 kilograms of plutonium-238, which makes almost 1500 watts of heat. It can turn that into 100 watts of electricity. The MAV runs on that until the crew arrive. One hundred watts isn’t enough to keep the heater going, but I don’t care about the electrical output. I want the heat. A 1500-watt heater is so warm I’ll have to tear insulation out of the rover to keep it from getting too hot. As soon as the rovers were unstowed and activated, Commander Lewis had the joy of disposing of the RTG. She detached it from the MAV, drove four kilometers away, and buried it. However safe it may be, it’s still a radioactive core and NASA didn’t want it too close to their astronauts. The mission parameters don’t give a specific location to dump the RTG. Just “at least four kilometers away.” So I’ll have to find it. I have two things working for me. First, I was assembling solar panels with Vogel when Commander Lewis drove off, and I saw she headed due south. Also, she planted a three-meter pole with a bright green flag over where she buried it. Green shows up extremely well against the Martian terrain. It’s made to ward us off, in case we get lost on a rover EVA later on.  So my plan is: Head south four kilometers, then search around till I see the green flag. Having rendered Rover 1 unusable, I’ll have to use my mutant rover for the trip. I can make a useful test mission of it. I’ll see how well the battery harness holds up to a real journey, and how well the solar cells do strapped to the roof. I’ll call it Sirius 2.  LOG ENTRY: SOL 69 I’m no stranger to Mars. I’ve been here a long time. But I’ve never been out of sight of the Hab before today. You wouldn’t think that would make a difference, but it does. As I made my way toward the RTG’s burial site, it hit me: Mars is a barren wasteland and I am completely alone here. I already knew that, of course. But there’s a difference between knowing it and really experiencing it. All around me there was nothing but dust, rocks, and endless empty desert in all directions. The planet’s famous red color is from iron oxide coating everything. So it’s not just a desert. It’s a desert so old it’s literally rusting. The Hab is my only hint of civilization, and seeing it disappear made me way more uncomfortable than I like to admit. I put those thoughts behind me by concentrating on what was in front of me. I found the RTG right where it was supposed to be, four kilometers due south of the Hab. It wasn’t hard to find. Commander Lewis had buried it atop a small hill. She probably wanted to make sure everyone could see the flag, and it worked great! Except instead of avoiding it, I beelined to it and dug it up. Not exactly what she was going for. It was a large cylinder with heat-sinks all around it. I could feel the warmth it gave off even through my suit’s gloves. That’s really disconcerting. Especially when you know the root cause of the heat is radiation. No point in putting it on the roof; my plan was to have it in the cabin anyway. So I brought it in with me, turned off the heater, then drove back to the Hab. In the ten minutes it took to get home, even with the heater off, the interior of the rover became an uncomfortably hot 37°C. The RTG would definitely be able to keep me warm. The trip also proved that my rigging worked. The solar cells and extra battery stayed beautifully in place while traversing eight kilometers of random terrain. I declare Sirius 2 to be a successful mission! I spent the rest of the day vandalizing the interior of the rover. The pressure compartment is made of carbon composite. Just inside that is insulation, which is covered by hard plastic. I used a sophisticated method to remove sections of plastic (hammer), then carefully removed the solid foam insulation (hammer again). After tearing out some insulation, I suited up and took the RTG outside. Soon, the rover cooled down again, and I brought it back in. I watched as the temperature rose slowly. Nowhere near as fast as it had on my trip back from the burial site. I cautiously removed more insulation (hammer) and checked again. After a few more cycles of this, I had enough insulation torn out that the RTG could barely keep up with it. In fact, it was a losing battle. Over time, heat will slowly leach out. That’s fine. I can turn on the heater for short bursts when necessary. I brought the insulation pieces with me back into the Hab. Using advanced construction techniques (duct tape), I reassembled some of them into a square. I figure if things ever get really cold, I can tape that to a bare patch in the rover, and the RTG will be winning the “heat fight.” Tomorrow, Sirius 3 (which is just Sirius 1 again, but without freezing).  LOG ENTRY: SOL 70 Today, I write to you from the rover. I’m halfway through Sirius 3 and things are going well. I set out at first light and drove laps around the Hab, trying to stay on untouched ground. The first battery lasted just under two hours. After a quick EVA to switch the cables, I got back to driving. When all was said and done, I had driven 81 kilometers in 3 hours and 27 minutes. That’s very good! Mind you, the land around the Hab is really flat, as is all of Acidalia Planitia. I have no idea what my efficiency would be on the nastier land en route to Ares 4. The second battery still had a little juice left, but I can’t just run it down all the way before I stop; remember, I need life support while recharging. The CO2 gets absorbed through a chemical process, but if the fan that pushes it isn’t working, I’ll choke. The oxygen pump is also kind of important. After my drive, I set up the solar cells. It was hard work; last time I had Vogel’s help. They aren’t heavy, but they’re awkward. After setting up half of them, I figured out I could drag them rather than carry them, and that sped things up. Now I’m just waiting for the batteries to recharge. I’m bored, so I’m updating the log. I have all the Poirot books in my computer. That’ll help. It’s going to take twelve hours to recharge, after all. What’s that, you say? Twelve hours is wrong? I said thirteen hours earlier? Well, my friend, let me set you straight. The RTG is a generator. It’s a paltry amount of power, compared to what the rover consumes, but it’s not nothing. It’s one hundred watts. It’ll cut an hour off my total recharge time. Why not use it? I wonder what NASA would think about me fucking with the RTG like this. They’d probably hide under their desks and cuddle with their slide rules for comfort.  LOG ENTRY: SOL 71 As predicted, it took twelve hours to charge the batteries to full. I came straight home as soon as they were done. Time to make plans for Sirius 4. And I think it’ll be a multiday field trip. Looks like power and battery recharging are solved. Food’s not a problem; there’s plenty of space to store things. Water ’s even easier than food. I need two liters per day to be comfortable. When I do my trip to Ares 4 for real, I’ll need to bring the oxygenator. But it’s big and I don’t want to screw with it right now. So I’ll rely on O2 and CO2 filters for Sirius 4. CO2 isn’t a problem. I started this grand adventure with 1500 hours of CO2 filters, plus another 720 for emergency use. All systems use standard filters (Apollo 13 taught us important lessons). Since then, I’ve used 131 hours of filter on various EVAs. I have 2089 left. Eighty-seven days’ worth. Plenty. Oxygen’s a little trickier. The rover was designed to support three people for two days, plus some reserve for safety. So its O2 tanks can hold enough to last me seven days. Not enough. Mars has almost no atmospheric pressure. The inside of the rover has one atmosphere. So the oxygen tanks are on the inside (less pressure differential to deal with). Why does that matter? It means I can bring along other oxygen tanks, and equalize them with the rover ’s tanks without having to do an EVA. So today, I detached one of the Hab’s two 25-liter liquid oxygen tanks and brought it into the rover. According to NASA, a human needs 588 liters of oxygen per day to live. Compressed liquid O2 is about 1000 times as dense as gaseous O2 in a comfortable atmosphere. Long story short: With the Hab tank, I have enough O2 to last 49 days. That’ll be plenty. Sirius 4 will be a twenty-day trip. That may seem a bit long, but I have a specific goal in mind. Besides, my trip to Ares 4 will be at least forty days. This is a good scale model. While I’m away, the Hab can take care of itself, but the potatoes are an issue. I’ll saturate the ground with most of the water I have. Then, I’ll deactivate the atmospheric regulator, so it doesn’t pull water out of the air. It’ll be humid as hell, and water will condense on every surface. That’ll keep the potatoes well watered while I’m away. A bigger problem is CO2. The potatoes need to breathe. I know what you’re thinking. “Mark, old chap! You produce carbon dioxide! It’s all part of the majestic circle of nature!” The problem is: Where will I put it? Sure, I exhale CO2 with every breath, but I don’t have any way to store it. I could turn off the oxygenator and atmospheric regulator and just fill the Hab with my breath over time. But CO2 is deadly to me. I need to release a bunch at once and run away. Remember the MAV fuel plant? It collects CO2 from the Martian atmosphere. A 10-liter tank of compressed liquid CO2, vented into the Hab, will be enough CO2 to do the trick. That’ll take less than a day to create. So that’s everything. Once I vent the CO2 into the Hab, I’ll turn off the atmospheric regulator and oxygenator, dump a ton of water on the crops, and head out. Sirius 4. A huge step forward in my rover research. And I can start tomorrow.  CHAPTER 8 thank you for joining us,” Cathy Warner said to the camera. “Today on CNN’s Mark Watney “HELLO, AND Report: Several EVAs over the past few days…what do they mean? What progress has NASA made on a rescue option? And how will this affect the Ares 4 preparations? “Joining us today is Dr. Venkat Kapoor, director of Mars operations for NASA. Dr. Kapoor, thank you for coming.” “A pleasure to be here, Cathy,” Venkat said. “Dr. Kapoor,” Cathy said, “Mark Watney is the most-watched man in the solar system, wouldn’t you say?” Venkat nodded. “Certainly the most watched by NASA. We have all twelve of our Martian satellites taking pictures whenever his site’s in view. The European Space Agency has both of theirs doing the same.” “All told, how often do you get these images?” “Every few minutes. Sometimes there’s a gap, based on the satellite orbits. But it’s enough that we can track all his EVA activities.” “Tell us about these latest EVAs.” “Well,” Venkat said, “it looks like he’s preparing Rover 2 for a long trip. On Sol 64, he took the battery from the other rover and attached it with a homemade sling. The next day, he detached fourteen solar cells and stacked them on the rover ’s roof.” “And then he took a little drive, didn’t he?” Cathy prompted. “Yes he did. Sort of aimlessly for an hour, then back to the Hab. He was probably testing it. Next time we saw him was two days later, when he drove four kilometers away, then back. Another incremental test, we think. Then, over the past couple of days, he’s been stocking it up with supplies.” “Hmm,” Cathy said, “most analysts think Mark’s only hope of rescue is to get to the Ares 4 site. Do you think he’s come to the same conclusion?” “Probably,” Venkat said. “He doesn’t know we’re watching. From his point of view, Ares 4 is his only hope.” “Do you think he’s planning to go soon? He seems to be getting ready for a trip.” “I hope not,” Venkat said. “There’s nothing at the site other than the MAV. None of the other presupplies. It would be a very long, very dangerous trip, and he’d be leaving the safety of the Hab behind.” “Why would he risk it?” “Communication,” Venkat said. “Once he reaches the MAV, he could contact us.” “So that would be a good thing, wouldn’t it?” “Communication would be a great thing. But traversing thirty-two hundred kilometers to Ares 4 is incredibly dangerous. We’d rather he stayed put. If we could talk to him, we’d certainly tell him that.” “He can’t stay put forever, right? Eventually he’ll need to get to the MAV.” “Not necessarily,” Venkat said. “JPL is experimenting with modifications to the MDV so it can make a brief overland flight after landing.” “I’d heard that idea was rejected as being too dangerous,” Cathy said. “Their first proposal was, yes. Since then, they’ve been working on safer ways to do it.” “With only three and a half years before Ares 4’s scheduled launch, is there enough time to make and test modifications to the MDV?” “I can’t answer that for sure. But remember, we made a lunar lander from scratch in seven years.” “Excellent point.” Cathy smiled. “So what are his odds right now?” “No idea,” Venkat said. “But we’re going to do everything we can to bring him home alive.” MINDY GLANCED nervously around the conference room. She’d never felt so thoroughly outranked in her life. Dr. Venkat Kapoor, who was four levels of management above her, sat to her left. Next to him was Bruce Ng, the director of JPL. He’d flown all the way to Houston from Pasadena just for this meeting. Never one to let precious time go to waste, he typed furiously on his laptop. The dark bags under his eyes made Mindy wonder just how overworked he truly was. Mitch Henderson, the flight director for Ares 3, swiveled back and forth in his chair, a wireless earpiece in his ear. It fed him a real-time stream of all the comm chatter from Mission Control. He wasn’t on shift, but he was kept apprised at all times. Annie Montrose entered the conference room, texting as she walked. Never taking her eyes off her phone, she deftly navigated around the edge of the room, avoiding people and chairs, and sat in her usual spot. Mindy felt a pang of envy as she watched the director of media relations. She was everything Mindy wanted to be. Confident, high-ranking, beautiful, and universally respected within NASA. “How’d I do today?” Venkat asked. “Eeeh,” Annie said, putting her phone away. “You shouldn’t say things like ‘bring him home alive.’ It reminds people he might die.” “Think they’re going to forget that?” “You asked my opinion. Don’t like it? Go fuck yourself.” “You’re such a delicate flower, Annie. How’d you end up NASA’s director of media relations?” “Beats the fuck out of me,” Annie said. “Guys,” Bruce said, “I need to catch a flight back to LA in three hours. Is Teddy coming or what?” “Quit bitching, Bruce,” Annie said. “None of us want to be here.” Mitch turned the volume down on his earpiece and faced Mindy. “Who are you, again?” “Um,” Mindy said, “I’m Mindy Park. I work in SatCon.” “You a director or something?” “No, I just work in SatCon. I’m a nobody.” Venkat looked to Mitch. “I put her in charge of tracking Watney. She gets us the imagery.” “Huh,” said Mitch. “Not the director of SatCon?” “Bob’s got more to deal with than just Mars. Mindy’s handling all the Martian satellites, and keeps them pointed at Mark.” “Why Mindy?” Mitch asked. “She noticed he was alive in the first place.” “She gets a promotion ’cause she was in the hot seat when the imagery came through?” “No,” Venkat frowned, “she gets a promotion ’cause she figured out he was alive. Stop being a jerk, Mitch. You’re making her feel bad.” Mitch raised his eyebrows. “Didn’t think of that. Sorry, Mindy.” Mindy looked at the table and managed to say, “’kay.” Teddy entered the room. “Sorry I’m late.” He took his seat and pulled several folders from his briefcase. Stacking them neatly, he opened the top one and squared the pages within. “Let’s get started. Venkat, what’s Watney’s status?” “Alive and well,” Venkat said. “No change from my e-mail earlier today.” “What about the RTG? Does the public know about that yet?” Teddy asked. Annie leaned forward. “So far, so good,” she said. “The images are public, but we have no obligation to tell them our analysis. Nobody has figured it out yet.” “Why did he dig it up?” “Heat, I think,” Venkat said. “He wants to make the rover do long trips. It uses a lot of energy keeping warm. The RTG can heat up the interior without soaking battery power. It’s a good idea, really.” “How dangerous is it?” Teddy asked. “As long as the container ’s intact, no danger at all. Even if it cracks open, he’ll be okay if the pellets inside don’t break. But if the pellets break, too, he’s a dead man.” “Let’s hope that doesn’t happen,” Teddy said. “JPL, how are the MDV plans coming along?” “We came up with a plan a long time ago,” Bruce said. “You rejected it.” “Bruce,” Teddy cautioned. Bruce sighed. “The MDV wasn’t made for liftoff and lateral flight. Packing more fuel in doesn’t help. We’d need a bigger engine and don’t have time to invent one. So we need to lighten the MDV. We have an idea for that. “The MDV can be its normal weight on primary descent. If we made the heat shield and outer hull detachable, they could ditch a lot of weight after landing at Ares 3, and have a lighter ship for the traverse to Ares 4. We’re running the numbers now.” “Keep me posted,” Teddy said. He turned to Mindy. “Miss Park, welcome to the big leagues.” “Sir,” Mindy said. She tried to ignore the lump in her throat. “What’s the biggest gap in coverage we have on Watney right now?” “Um,” Mindy said. “Once every forty-one hours, we’ll have a seventeen-minute gap. The orbits work out that way.” “You had an immediate answer,” Teddy said. “Good. I like it when people are organized.” “Thank you, sir.” “I want that gap down to four minutes,” Teddy said. “I’m giving you total authority over satellite trajectories and orbital adjustments. Make it happen.” “Yes, sir,” Mindy said, with no idea how to do it. Teddy looked to Mitch. “Mitch, your e-mail said you had something urgent?” “Yeah,” Mitch said. “How long are we gonna keep this from the Ares 3 crew? They all think Watney’s dead. It’s a huge drain on morale.” Teddy looked to Venkat. “Mitch,” Venkat said. “We discussed this—” “No, you discussed it,” Mitch interrupted. “They think they lost a crewmate. They’re devastated.”  “And when they find out they abandoned a crewmate?” Venkat asked. “Will they feel better then?” Mitch poked the table with his finger. “They deserve to know. You think Commander Lewis can’t handle the truth?” “It’s a matter of morale,” Venkat said. “They can concentrate on getting home—” “I make that call,” Mitch said. “I’m the one who decides what’s best for the crew. And I say we bring them up to speed.” After a few moments of silence, all eyes turned to Teddy. He thought for a moment. “Sorry, Mitch, I’m with Venkat on this one,” he said. “But as soon as we come up with a plan for rescue, we can tell Hermes. There needs to be some hope, or there’s no point in telling them.” “Bullshit,” Mitch grumbled, crossing his arms. “Total bullshit.” “I know you’re upset,” Teddy said calmly, “We’ll make it right. Just as soon as we have some idea how to save Watney.” Teddy let a few seconds of quiet pass before moving on. “Okay, JPL’s on the rescue option,” he said with a nod toward Bruce. “But it would be part of Ares 4. How does he stay alive till then? Venkat?” Venkat opened a folder and glanced at the paperwork inside. “I had every team check and double- check the longevity of their systems. We’re pretty sure the Hab can keep working for four years. Especially with a human occupant fixing problems as they arise. But there’s no way around the food issue. He’ll start starving in a year. We have to send him supplies. Simple as that.” “What about an Ares 4 presupply?” said Teddy. “Land it at Ares 3 instead.” “That’s what we’re thinking, yeah,” Venkat confirmed. “Problem is, the original plan was to launch presupplies a year from now. They’re not ready yet. “It takes eight months to get a probe to Mars in the best of times. The positions of Earth and Mars right now…it’s not the best of times. We figure we can get there in nine months. Presuming he’s rationing his food, he’s got enough to last three hundred and fifty more days. That means we need to build a presupply in three months. JPL hasn’t even started yet.” “That’ll be tight,” Bruce said. “Making a presupply is a six-month process. We’re set up to pipeline a bunch of them at once, not to make one in a hurry.” “Sorry, Bruce,” Teddy said. “I know we’re asking a lot, but you have to find a way.” “We’ll find a way,” Bruce said. “But the OT alone will be a nightmare.” “Get started. I’ll find you the money.” “There’s also the booster,” Venkat said. “The only way to get a probe to Mars with the planets in their current positions is to spend a butt-load of fuel. We only have one booster capable of doing that. The Delta IX that’s on the pad right now for the EagleEye 3 Saturn probe. We’ll have to steal that. I talked to ULA, and they just can’t make another booster in time.” “The EagleEye 3 team will be pissed, but okay,” said Teddy. “We can delay their mission if JPL gets the payload done in time.” Bruce rubbed his eyes. “We’ll do our best.” “He’ll starve to death if you don’t,” Teddy said. VENKAT SIPPEDhis coffee and frowned at his computer. A month ago it would have been unthinkable to drink coffee at nine p.m. Now it was necessary fuel. Shift schedules, fund allocations, project juggling, out-and-out looting of other projects…he’d never pulled so many stunts in his life. “NASA’s a large organization,” he typed. “It doesn’t deal with sudden change well. The only reason we’re getting away with it is the desperate circumstances. Everyone’s pulling together to save Mark Watney, with no interdepartmental squabbling. I can’t tell you how rare that is. Even then, this is going to cost tens of millions, maybe hundreds of millions of dollars. The MDV modifications alone are an entire project that’s being staffed up. Hopefully, the public interest will make your job easier. We appreciate your continued support, Congressman, and hope you can sway the committee toward granting us the emergency funding we need.” He was interrupted by a knock at his door. Looking up, he saw Mindy. She wore sweats and a T- shirt, her hair in a sloppy ponytail. Fashion tended to suffer when work hours ran long. “Sorry to bother you,” Mindy said. “No bother,” Venkat said. “I could use a break. What’s up?” “He’s on the move,” she said. Venkat slouched in his chair. “Any chance it’s a test drive?” She shook her head. “He drove straightaway from the Hab for almost two hours, did a short EVA, then drove for another two. We think the EVA was to change batteries.” Venkat sighed heavily. “Maybe it’s just a longer test? An overnight trip kind of thing?” “He’s seventy-six kilometers from the Hab,” Mindy said. “For an overnight test, wouldn’t he stay within walking distance?” “Yes, he would,” Venkat said. “Damn it. We’ve had teams run every conceivable scenario. There’s just no way he can make it to Ares 4 with that setup. We never saw him load up the oxygenator or water reclaimer. He can’t possibly have enough basics to live long enough.” “I don’t think he’s going to Ares 4,” Mindy said. “If he is, he’s taking a weird path.” “Oh?” said Venkat. “He went south-southwest. Schiaparelli crater is southeast.” “Okay, maybe there’s hope,” Venkat said. “What’s he doing right now?” “Recharging. He’s got all the solar cells set up,” Mindy said. “Last time he did that, it took twelve hours. I was going to sneak home for some sleep if that’s okay.” “Sure, sounds good. We’ll see what he does tomorrow. Maybe he’ll go back to the Hab.” “Maybe,” Mindy said, unconvinced. “WELCOME BACK,”Cathy said to the camera. “We’re chatting with Marcus Washington, from the US Postal Service. So, Mr. Washington, I understand the Ares 3 mission caused a postal service first. Can you explain that to our viewers?” “Uh yeah,” said Marcus. “Everyone thought Mark Watney was dead for over two months. In that time, the postal service issued a run of commemorative stamps honoring his memory. Twenty thousand were printed and sent to post offices around the country.” “And then it turned out he was alive,” Cathy said.  “Yeah,” said Marcus. “We don’t print stamps of living people. So we stopped the run immediately and recalled the stamps, but thousands were already sold.” “Has this ever happened before?” Cathy asked. “No. Not once in the history of the postal service.” “I bet they’re worth a pretty penny now.” Marcus chuckled. “Maybe. But like I said, thousands were sold. They’ll be rare, but not super-rare.” Cathy chuckled then addressed the camera. “We’ve been speaking with Marcus Washington of the United States Postal Service. If you’ve got a Mark Watney commemorative stamp, you might want to hold on to it. Thanks for dropping by, Mr. Washington.” “Thanks for having me,” Marcus said. “Our next guest is Dr. Irene Shields, flight psychologist for the Ares missions. Dr. Shields, welcome to the program.” “Thank you,” Irene said, adjusting her microphone clip. “Do you know Mark Watney personally?” “Of course,” Irene said. “I did monthly psych evaluations on each member of the crew.” “What can you tell us about him? His personality, his mind-set?” “Well,” Irene said, “he’s very intelligent. All of them are, of course. But he’s particularly resourceful and a good problem-solver.” “That may save his life,” Cathy interjected. “It may indeed,” Irene agreed. “Also, he’s a good-natured man. Usually cheerful, with a great sense of humor. He’s quick with a joke. In the months leading up to launch, the crew was put through a grueling training schedule. They all showed signs of stress and moodiness. Mark was no exception, but the way he showed it was to crack more jokes and get everyone laughing.” “He sounds like a great guy,” Cathy said. “He really is,” Irene said. “He was chosen for the mission in part because of his personality. An Ares crew has to spend thirteen months together. Social compatibility is key. Mark not only fits well in any social group, he’s a catalyst to make the group work better. It was a terrible blow to the crew when he ‘died.’” “And they still think he’s dead, right? The Ares 3 crew?” “Yes, they do, unfortunately,” Irene confirmed. “The higher-ups decided to keep it from them, at least for now. I’m sure it wasn’t an easy decision.” Cathy paused for a moment, then said, “All right. You know I have to ask: What’s going through his head right now? How does a man like Mark Watney respond to a situation like this? Stranded, alone, no idea we’re trying to help?” “There’s no way to be sure,” Irene said. “The biggest threat is giving up hope. If he decides there’s no chance to survive, he’ll stop trying.” “Then we’re okay for now, right?” Cathy said. “He seems to be working hard. He’s prepping the rover for a long trip and testing it. He plans to be there when Ares 4 lands.” “That’s one interpretation, yes,” Irene said. “Is there another?” Irene carefully formed her answer before speaking. “When facing death, people want to be heard. They don’t want to die alone. He might just want the MAV radio so he can talk to another soul before he dies.  “If he’s lost hope, he won’t care about survival. His only concern will be making it to the radio. After that, he’ll probably take an easier way out than starvation. The medical supplies of an Ares mission have enough morphine to be lethal.” After several seconds of complete silence in the studio, Cathy turned to the camera. “We’ll be right back.” “HEYA, VENK.”Bruce’s voice came from the speakerphone on Venkat’s desk. “Bruce, hi,” said Venkat, typing on his computer. “Thanks for clearing up some time. I wanted to talk about the presupply.” “Sure thing. What’s on your mind?” “Let’s say we soft-land it perfectly. How will Mark know it happened? And how will he know where to look?” “We’ve been thinking about that,” said Bruce. “We’ve got some ideas.” “I’m all ears,” Venkat said, saving his document and closing his laptop. “We’ll be sending him a comm system anyway, right? We could have it turn on after landing. It’ll broadcast on the rover and EVA suit frequencies. It’ll have to be a strong signal, too. “The rovers were only designed to communicate with the Hab and each other; the signal origin was presumed to be within twenty kilometers. The receivers just aren’t very sensitive. The EVA suits are even worse. But as long as we have a strong signal we should be good. Once we land the presupply, we’ll get its exact location from satellites, then broadcast that to Mark so he can go get it.” “But he’s probably not listening,” said Venkat. “Why would he be?” “We have a plan for that. We’re going to make a bunch of bright green ribbons. Light enough to flutter around when dropped, even in Mars’s atmosphere. Each ribbon will have ‘MARK: TURN ON YOUR COMM’ printed on it. We’re working on a release mechanism now. During the landing sequence, of course. Ideally, about a thousand meters above the surface.” “I like it,” Venkat said. “All he needs to do is notice one. And he’s sure to check out a bright green ribbon if he sees one outside.” “Venk,” said Bruce. “If he takes the ‘Watneymobile’ to Ares 4, this’ll all be for nothing. I mean, we can land it at Ares 4 if that happens, but…” “But he’ll be without a Hab. Yeah,” Venkat said. “One thing at a time. Let me know when you come up with a release mechanism for those ribbons.” “Will do.” After terminating the call, Venkat opened his laptop to get back to work. There was an e-mail from Mindy Park waiting for him. “Watney’s on the move again.” in a straight line,” Mindy said, pointing to her monitor. “STILL GOING “I see,” Venkat said. “He’s sure as hell not going to Ares 4. Unless he’s going around some natural obstacle.” “There’s nothing for him to go around,” Mindy said. “It’s Acidalia Planitia.” “Are those the solar cells?” Venkat asked, pointing to the screen. “Yeah,” Mindy said. “He did the usual two-hour drive, EVA, two-hour drive. He’s one hundred and fifty-six kilometers from the Hab now.” They both peered at the screen. “Wait…,” Venkat said. “Wait, no way…” “What?” Mindy asked. Venkat grabbed a pad of Post-its and a pen. “Give me his location, and the location of the Hab.” Mindy checked her screen. “He’s currently at…28.9 degrees north, 29.6 degrees west.” With a few keystrokes, she brought up another file. “The Hab’s at 31.2 degrees north, 28.5 degrees west. What do you see?” Venkat finished taking down the numbers. “Come with me,” he said, quickly walking out. “Um,” Mindy stammered, following after. “Where are we going?” “SatCon break room,” Venkat said. “You guys still have that map of Mars on the wall?” “Sure,” Mindy said. “But it’s just a poster from the gift shop. I’ve got high-quality digital maps on my computer—” “Nope. I can’t draw on those,” he said. Then, rounding the corner to the break room, he pointed to the Mars map on the wall. “I can draw on that.” The break room was empty save for a computer technician sipping a cup of coffee. He looked up in alarm as Venkat and Mindy stormed in. “Good, it has latitude and longitude lines,” Venkat said. Looking at his Post-it, then sliding his finger along the map, he drew an X. “That’s the Hab,” he said. “Hey,” the technician said. “Are you drawing on our poster?” “I’ll buy you a new one,” Venkat said without looking back. Then, he drew another X. “That’s his current location. Get me a ruler.” Mindy looked left and right. Seeing no ruler, she grabbed the technician’s notebook. “Hey!” the technician protested. Using the notebook as a straight-edge, Venkat drew a line from the Hab to Mark’s location and beyond. Then took a step back. “Yup! That’s where he’s going!” Venkat said excitedly. “Oh!” Mindy said. The line passed through the exact center of a bright yellow dot printed on the map. “Pathfinder!” Mindy said. “He’s going to Pathfinder!” “Yup!” Venkat said. “Now we’re getting somewhere. It’s like eight hundred kilometers from him. He can get there and back with supplies on hand.” “And bring Pathfinder and Sojourner rover back with him,” Mindy added. Venkat pulled out his cell phone. “We lost contact with Pathfinder in 1997. If he can get it online again, we can communicate. It might just need the solar cells cleaned. Even if it’s got a bigger problem, he’s an engineer!” Dialing, he added, “Fixing things is his job!” Smiling for what felt like the first time in weeks, he held the phone to his ear and awaited a response. “Bruce? It’s Venkat. Everything just changed. Watney’s headed for Pathfinder. Yeah! I know, right!? Dig up everyone who was on that project and get them to JPL now. I’ll catch the next flight.” Hanging up, he grinned at the map. “Mark, you sneaky, clever, son of a bitch!”