Thisisaworkoffiction.Names,characters,places,andincidentseitheraretheproductoftheauthor’simaginationorareusedfictitiously.Anyresemblancetoactualpersons,livingordead,events,orlocalesisentirelycoincidental.

Copyright©2011,2014byAndyWeir

Allrightsreserved.PublishedintheUnitedStatesbyCrownPublishers,animprintoftheCrownPublishingGroup,adivisionofRandomHouseLLC,aPenguinRandomHouseCompany,NewYork.

www.crownpublishing.com

CROWNandtheCrowncolophonareregisteredtrademarksofRandomHouseLLC.

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

Cover

TitlePage

Copyright

Dedication

Map

Chapter1Chapter2Chapter3

Chapter4Chapter5Chapter6Chapter7Chapter8Chapter9Chapter10Chapter11Chapter12Chapter13Chapter14

Chapter15Chapter16Chapter17Chapter18Chapter19Chapter20Chapter21Chapter22Chapter23Chapter24Chapter25

Chapter26

CHAPTER1

LOGENTRY:SOL6

I’mprettymuchfucked.That’s my considered

opinion.Fucked.Six days into what should

bethegreatesttwomonthsof

mylife,andit’sturnedintoanightmare.I don’t even know who’ll

read this. I guess someonewillfinditeventually.Maybeahundredyearsfromnow.For the record…I didn’t

die on Sol 6. Certainly therestofthecrewthoughtIdid,and I can’t blame them.Maybe there’ll be a day ofnational mourning for me,and myWikipedia page will

say, “Mark Watney is theonly human being to havediedonMars.”Andit’llberight,probably.

’Cause I’ll surely die here.Just not on Sol 6 wheneveryonethinksIdid.Let’s see…where do I

begin?The Ares Program.

Mankind reaching out toMars to send people to

another 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 theworld.Ares2did the same thing,

in a different location onMars. They got a firmhandshake and a hot cup ofcoffeewhentheygothome.

Ares 3.Well, thatwasmymission. Okay, notmine perse.CommanderLewiswasincharge. Iwas just one of hercrew.Actually,Iwastheverylowest rankedmemberof thecrew. I would only be “incommand”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 Iwould have done the samething.Idon’tblameyou,andI’mgladyousurvived.

Iguess I should explainhowMarsmissionswork, for any

layman 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 everything

wasago,wesetoutforMars.But not very fast. Gone arethe days of heavy chemicalfuel burns and trans-Marsinjectionorbits.Hermes is powered by ion

engines. They throw argonoutthebackoftheshipreallyfast to get a tiny amount ofacceleration. The thing is, itdoesn’t take much reactantmass, soa littleargon (andanuclear reactor to power

things) let us accelerateconstantly the whole waythere. You’d be amazed athow fast you can get goingwithatinyaccelerationoveralongtime.I could regale you with

talesofhowwehadgreatfunon the trip, but I won’t. Idon’tfeellikerelivingitrightnow.Suffice it tosaywegotto Mars 124 days laterwithoutstranglingeachother.

From there, we took theMDV (Mars descent vehicle)to the surface. The MDV isbasicallyabigcanwithsomelight thrusters andparachutesattached.Itssolepurposeistoget six humans from Marsorbit to the surface withoutkillinganyofthem.And now we come to the

realtrickofMarsexploration:havingallofourshitthereinadvance.

A total of fourteenunmannedmissionsdepositedeverythingwewouldneedforsurfaceoperations.Theytriedtheir best to land all thesupply vessels in the samegeneral area, and did areasonablygoodjob.Suppliesaren’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. Infact, 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 balloonbounce-festtheothersupplieshad). Of course, it was inconstant communicationwithHouston, and if there hadbeenanyproblemswithit,we

would have passed by Marsand gone home without everlanding.The MAV is pretty cool.

Turns out, through a neat setofchemicalreactionswiththeMartian atmosphere, forevery kilogram of hydrogenyou bring to Mars, you canmake thirteen kilograms offuel. It’s a slow process,though. It takes twenty-fourmonthstofillthetank.That’s

why 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 mealmost 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.It

has a lot of delicate parts. Itcan put up with storms to acertainextent,butitcan’tjust

getsandblastedforever.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 the

storm toget from theHab totheMAV.Thatwasgoing to

be 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 crashedthroughthereceptionantennaarray.Thenoneofthoselongthin antennae slammed into

me 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 remember

was seeing Johanssenhopelessly reaching out

towardme.

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 groggilycame to, I wondered why Iwasn’tmoredead.

The antenna had enoughforce 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, whichforced the antenna to astrongly oblique angle that

putalotoftorqueontheholein 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. Moreblood 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 totrickle 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 theoxygen back. But the space

suits 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 separateout theCO2,the suit deliberately ventedairtotheMartianatmosphere,

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 ofoxygenthreatenedtoburnupmy 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 practicingemergencyspacesuitdrills. I

knewwhattodo.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 interferewiththeresinmakingagood

seal. 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 the

missing 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,Isawsomethingthatmade me very happy and

somethingthatmademeverysad: 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, I

doffed 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 to

relay 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 the

trip safer and shorter theearlieryouleft,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-signs

going flat. Add to thatwatching 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 behindreducesweight 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. Everyone

thinksI’mdead.I’minaHabdesigned to last thirty-onedays.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 external

equipment. Here’s mysituation:The surface mission was

supposed to be thirty-onedays. For redundancy, thesupply 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. Andthat’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 themuchbulkierandmorerobust

EVAsuittowearwhendoingsurface operations.My flightspacesuithasaholeinit,andof course the crew waswearing the other five whenthey 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 blown

kilometersaway.The MAV is gone, of

course.Mycrewmatestookitup to Hermes. Though thebottom half (the landingstage) 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.

TheMDVisonitssideandthere’s a breach in the hull.Looks like the storm rippedthe cowling off the reservechute (which we didn’t haveto 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 it

mighthavebeenvaluable forparts.Mightstillbe.Bothroversarehalf-buried

in sand, but they’re in goodshape otherwise. Theirpressure seals are intact.Makes sense. Operatingprocedure when a storm hitsistostopmotionandwaitforthe storm to pass. They’remade to stand up topunishment.I’llbeabletodigthemoutwith adayor soof

work.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 it

useless (hint:solarcellsneedsunlight to make electricity).ButonceIsweptthecellsoff,they returned to fullefficiency.WhateverIendupdoing, 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 goeswrongwithit,there’sashort-termspare Icanuse.But it’ssolely for emergency usewhilerepairingthemainone.The spare doesn’t actuallypull CO2 apart and recapturetheoxygen.Itjustabsorbsthe

CO2 the sameway the spacesuits do. It’s intended to lastfive days before it saturatesthefilters,whichmeansthirtydays forme (just one personbreathing, instead of six). Sothere’ssomeinsurancethere.The water reclaimer is

working fine, too. The badnews is there’snobackup. Ifit stops working, I’ll bedrinkingreservewaterwhileIrigupaprimitivedistilleryto

boilpiss.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 food

right now. Meals are prettyminimalalready,butIthinkIcaneatathree-fourthsportionpermealandstillbeallright.That should turn my threehundred days of food intofour hundred. Foragingaround the medical area, Ifound the main bottle ofvitamins. There’s enoughmultivitamins there to lastyears. So I won’t have anynutritional problems (though

I’ll still starve todeathwhenI’m out of food, no matterhowmanyvitaminsItake).The medical area has

morphine for emergencies.And there’s enough there foralethaldose.I’mnotgoingtoslowlystarvetodeath,I’lltellyouthat.IfIgettothatpoint,I’lltakeaneasierwayout.Everyone on the mission

had two specialties. I’m abotanist and mechanical

engineer; basically, themission’s fix-it man whoplayed with plants. Themechanical engineeringmight save my life ifsomethingbreaks.I’ve been thinking about

how to survive this. It’s notcompletelyhopeless.There’llbe humans back on Mars inaboutfouryearswhenAres4arrives (assuming they didn’tcancel the program in the

wakeofmy“death”).Ares 4 will be landing at

theSchiaparelli crater,whichis about 3200 kilometersaway from my location herein Acidalia Planitia. No wayfor 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 yearswiththeAres4crew.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 CO2filtersarenotcleanable.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 four

years here if I’m going tohaveanyhopeofrescue,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 famous

for not having anythinggrowing there.Well, the ideawas 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’t

have, 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 bagsof 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.

Ifoundabigcontainerandput 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 bacteria atwork!Once I get some Martian

soil inhere, I canmix in theshitandspread itout.ThenIcansprinkletheEarthsoilontop.Youmightnotthinkthat

would 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 ideal

waytogrowcrops,becauseitspreads 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 and

spread some of the live soilover 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. People

have speculated on how tomakecropsoiloutofMartiandirt 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.Witha

nearly infinite supply ofvitamins, 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’ll

have to transport 9.2 cubicmeters 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 fillingsmallcontainersandbringingthem 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 for

taking samples, not heavydigging. 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 up

there? Just send enough foranemergency.”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’s

thelong-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 I

sacrificed 20 liters ofprecious 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 on

you. That smell’s going tostickaround 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 got

donewithmyfuneral.I wonder if they’ll ever

find 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.

Allthatworkwasgreatformy 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 a

reasonable 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 per

day. With my height andweight, if I’m willing tostarve 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 calories

of potatoes, which will tidemeover for another15days.After that, it’s kind ofpointless 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 be

empty?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 ofmultivitamins; over doublewhatIneed.Andthere’sfivetimestheminimumproteinineach food pack, so carefulrationing of portions takescare ofmy protein needs forat least four years. Mygeneralnutritionistakencareof.Ijustneedcalories.I need 1500 calories every

day. Ihave400daysof foodto start off with. So how

many 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 planted

anythingyet.Withmy 62 squaremeters

of farmland, I’ll be able tocreate about 288 calories perday. So I need almost fourtimes 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 Ireallymake?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 10square 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 consider

is how efficient I can be ingrowingpotatoes.Ibasedmycrop yield estimates on thepotatoindustrybackonEarth.Butpotatofarmersaren’tina

desperate 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 notinterfering with each other.Also, as their floweringbodies breach the surface, Icanreplantthemdeeper,thenplant younger plants abovethem. For normal potato

farmers, it’s notworth doingbecausethey’reworkingwithliterally millions of potatoplants.Also, this sort of farming

annihilates the soil. Anyfarmer doing it would turntheir 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’d

still be in danger ofstarvation, but it gets me intherangeofsurvival.Imightbe able tomake it by nearlystarvingbutnotquitedying.I

could reduce my caloric usebyminimizingmanual labor.Icouldsetthetemperatureofthe Hab higher than normal,meaning my body wouldexpend less energy keepingits temperature. I could cutoffanarmandeatit,gainingme 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’llneedover250litersofwater.The 50 liters I have is for

me to drink if the waterreclaimerbreaks.So I’m250liters short of my 250-liter

goal.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 the

Hab, even if it is dry anduselessrightnow.I got a cubic meter in

beforegettingexhausted.Then, a minor dust storm

dropped 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 physically

demanding.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’ddoubledthesoilenoughthatI

could 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 was

going to happen while wewere doing surfaceoperations, and NASA’sshrinks thought it would begood for us to make a mealtogether.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 they

sproutfrom.Iletthemsitfora few hours to harden a bit,then planted them, wellspaced apart, in the corner.Godspeed, little taters. Mylifedependsonyou.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’llmakesuretheyget 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 yield

healthy, sproutable tuberswithinfortydays.I figured that was enough

being Farmer Mark for oneday.A fullmeal for dinner. I’d

earned it. Plus, I’d burned aton of calories, and Iwantedthemback.

I rifled through CommanderLewis’sstuffuntilIfoundherpersonaldata-stick.Everyone

got to bring whatever digitalentertainment they wanted,andIwastiredoflisteningtoJohanssen’s Beatles albumsfor now. Time to see whatLewishad.Crappy TV shows. That’s

what 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 guessedthis 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 aproblemfortomorrow.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 idioticallydangerousplanforgettingthe

water 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’ll

havetomakeitfromscratch.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 oneendof theHabaremyentiresupply (plus the air in the

Hab of course). They eachcontain25litersofliquidO2.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 litersofwater (50 liters of O2makes

100 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 solepurpose is liberating oxygen

fromCO2.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 thatenters when I use an airlock

islaughable.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 ownfuel with help from the

Martian atmosphere? Stepone of that is to collect CO2andstoreitinahigh-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 ofH2 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 terrifyingtwenty-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 until

wehittheatmosphere.Ifyouthinkturbulenceisroughinajetliner 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 trained

for this for years, and he didhis 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 unused

hydrazine. Each molecule ofhydrazine 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 fromhydrazine 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 asWorld

War II for rocket-assistedfighter 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 ten

molecules 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 ishow 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 the

same after this fiasco. Timewilltell.

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 easilyenough.IttakestwentyhoursfortheMAVfuelplanttofillits 10-liter tank with CO2.The oxygenator can turn itintoO2, then theatmosphericregulator will see the O2content in the Hab is high,and pull it out of the air,storing it in the main O2tanks. They’ll fill up, so I’llhavetotransferO2overtothe

rovers’ tanks and even thespacesuittanksasnecessary.But I can’t create it very

quickly.AthalfaliterofCO2per hour, itwill take twenty-fivedaystomaketheoxygenIneed.That’slongerthanI’dlike.Also, there’s the problem

of storing the hydrogen. Theair tanks of the Hab, therovers,andallthespacesuits

adduptoexactly374litersofstorage. To hold all thematerials for water, I wouldneedawhopping900litersofstorage.I considered using one of

the rovers as a “tank.” Itwould certainly be bigenough, but it just isn’tdesignedtoholdinthatmuchpressure. It’s made to hold(you guessed it) oneatmosphere. I need vessels

that 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 thanks

to 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,toturnit

intoN2andH2.I’lldirectthehydrogen 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 anymistakes, there’ll be nothingleft but the “Mark WatneyMemorial Crater” where the

Haboncestood.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 Habwas, they’dallanswer“fire.”If you asked them what theresult would be, they’d

answer“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 plant

CO2 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, collectingCO2forme.

Half-rationfordinner.AllIaccomplished 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 6there 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 haveplenty of tools. Even in aspace suit, I was able to pry

the 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 the

reaction chamber. It took

someworkand 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 onetankofhydrazineinatatimeto reduce risk. But someback-of-the-napkin math told

meevenonetankwasenoughtoblowthewholeHabup.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 manyquality checks done duringconstruction and before

fueling.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 reactionchamber(moreofa“reactionbowl”now).

Meanwhile, theMAV fuelplant 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’mcopying this logover toboth

rovers,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 an

oxygen mask from themedical supplies and somelab goggles from Vogel’schem kit. Almost all of mybodywasprotectedandIwasbreathingcannedair.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 atrickleofhydrazinecameout.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 different

from kitchen trash bags,though I’m sure they cost$50,000becauseofNASA.In addition to being our

commander, Lewis was alsothe geologist. Shewas goingto collect rock and soilsamples from all over theoperational area (10-kilometer radius). Weightlimits restricted how muchshecouldactuallybringbacktoEarth,soshewasgoingto

collect 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 leafbag.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-sizedbagsandtapedthemtogethertomakeasortoftent.Reallyit was more of a supersizedbag. I was able to cover thewhole table where myhydrazinemadscientistsetupwas.Iputafewknickknackson the table to keep theplastic out of the iridiumbowl. Thankfully, the bagsare clear, so I can still seewhat’sgoingon.

Next, I sacrificed a spacesuit to thecause.Ineededanair hose. I have a surplus ofspace suits, after all. A totalof six; one for each crewmember. So I don’t mindmurderingoneofthem.Icutaholeinthetopofthe

plastic and duct-taped thehose in place. Nice seal, Ithink.With some more string

from Johannsen’s clothing, I

hung 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 onecentimeterwide.Hopefully agoodaperture.The hydrogen will be hot

after the reaction, and it’llwanttogoup.SoI’llletitgoup the chimney, then burn it

asitcomesout.ThenIhadtoinventfire.NASA put a lot of effort

intomakingsurenothingherecanburn.Everythingismadeof metal or flame-retardantplastic and the uniforms aresynthetic.Ineededsomethingthatcouldholdaflame,somekind of pilot light. I don’thavetheskillstokeepenoughH2 flowing to feed a flame

without 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 myanswer.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 ifthere’s a God, He won’tmind, considering thesituationI’min.Ifruiningtheonlyreligious

icon I have leaves me

vulnerable 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 localpalm 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 offlame sputtering from thechimney.The main thing I had to

watch was the temperature.Hydrazine breaking down is

extremely exothermic. So Idid it a bit at a time,constantly watching thereadoutofathermocoupleI’dattached to the iridiumchamber.Point is, the process

worked!Each hydrazine tank holds

a little over 50 liters, whichwouldbeenoughtomake100litersofwater.I’mlimitedbymy oxygen production, but

I’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 finishedfaster,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-conditioningin the Hab. Mars is cold.Getting rid of excess heatisn’t something we expectedtodealwith.

I’ve now grownaccustomed to hearing thealarmsblareatall times.Thefirealarmhasfinallystopped,nowthatthere’snomorefire.Thelowoxygenalarmshouldstopsoon.Thehighhumidityalarmwilltakealittlelonger.The water reclaimer has itsworkcutoutforittoday.For a moment, there was

yet another alarm.Thewaterreclaimer’s main tank was

full.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 fewbucketsofwater.ManI’mtired.Beenupall

night, and it’s time to sleep.ButI’lldriftofftodreamland

inthebestmoodI’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 explain

what 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’mmaking water even fasternow.Aftermyinitialburstof50

liters,Idecidedtosettledownand justmake it at the rate I

getO2. I’mnotwilling togobelow 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 extremely

dryandgreedily 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 Isouped up the pump. I’vedone this process four times.My math tells me that,including my initial 50-liter

burst, 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 ofcondensationonthewallsanddomed roof, and the soil iscertainly absorbing its fairshare. But that doesn’t

account 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 decidewhichonetousewheneveritwants. Turns out it’s beentopping off the atmosphere

fromTank1.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.Whichmeans 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’vebeendoing the hydrazine reactionwith the assumption that I

wasusingallofit.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, sothere’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, thensealedit.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 staticdischarge would have led to

myownprivateHindenburg.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 air

and balances it. That’s howthe excess O2 I’ve beenimporting ends up in thetanks.Problemis,it’sjustnotbuilt to pull hydrogen out oftheair.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 turn

to 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 dangerousbecauseitcanblowup.Butitcan only blow up if there’soxygen around. Hydrogenwithout oxygen is harmless.Andtheregulatorisallaboutpullingoxygenoutoftheair.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 spark

with a couple ofwires and abattery. It’ll set thehydrogenon fire, but only until thesmall bit of oxygen is usedup.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.CommanderLewiswasthe

lastonetousethisrover.ShewasscheduledtouseitagainonSol7,but shewenthome

instead. 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 goodcommanderbroughtalongformusic.

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.Theycansurvive

a couple of days thisway. Ifyou’re wondering howbacteria on Earth survivelonger 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 little

in the air for the bacteria tobreathe, but not enough tomaintain a fire. So thehydrogenwon’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, so

it’snotliketheyneedlight.It was surprisingly

annoying to find a way tomake 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 Hab

temperature 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.(Whatdid

Iexpect?Martianslootingmystuff?)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’taccountedforwashowtobringthemfromtheHabto

therovers.The answer was pretty

easy. 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 to

5°C already. Shivering andwatchingmybreathcondensein 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.Iclimbedintomybunk

andunderthecoversformorewarmth.Once the temperature got

to1°C,Iwaitedanotherhour,justtomakesurethebacteriain thedirt got thememo thatitwastimetotakeitslow.ThenextproblemIraninto

wastheregulator.Despitemyswaggering confidence, Iwasn’t able to outwit it. Itreally does not want to pull

too much O2 out of the air.The lowest I could get it towas 15 percent.After that, itflatlyrefusedtogolower,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 NASA

thought, “Hey, let’s allow afatal lackofoxygen thatwillmakeeveryonedropdead!”So I had to use a more

primitiveplan.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 from

nine small vents that pipeback to the main unit. Thatwayitgetsagoodaverageofthe 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 and

taped it over the remainingintake.Then I inflated the bag

with pureO2 from the suit’stanks. “Holy shit!” theregulator thought, “I betterpullO2outrightaway!”Workedgreat!I decided not to wear a

space suit after all. Theatmospheric pressure wasgoingtobefine.AllIneeded

wasoxygen.SoIgrabbedanO2canisterandbreathermaskfrom the medical bay. Thatway,Ihadahellofalotmorefreedom of motion. It evenhad a rubber band to keep itonmyface!Though Ididneeda space

suittomonitortheactualHaboxygen level, now that theHab’s main computer wasconvinced itwas100percent

O2. Let’s see…Martinez’sspace suit was in the rover.Johanssen’s was outwittingthe regulator. Lewis’s wasserving as a water tank. Ididn’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 oxygen

dropped to 12 percent, I putthe breather mask on. Iwatched it fall further andfurther. When it reached 1percent, I cut power to theregulator.I may not be able to

reprogramtheregulator,butIcan turn the bastard offcompletely.The Hab has emergency

flashlights in many locationsin case of critical power

failure. 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 very

slow trickle of O2; smallenough that it couldn’toverpowerthecrimp.Standing on the tablewith

asparkerinonehandandmyoxygen line in the other, Ireachedupandgaveitatry.And holy hell, it worked!

Blowing the O2 over thesparker, I flicked the switchon the flashlight and awonderful jet of flame fired

outofthetube.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 takemytime.Iwas elated!Thiswas the

bestplanever!NotonlywasIclearing out the hydrogen, Iwasmakingmorewater!

Everythingwentgreatrightuptotheexplosion.

One minute I was happilyburning hydrogen; the next Iwas on the other side of theHab, and a lot of stuff wasknocked over. I stumbled tomy 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 injunk from all over the Hab.No hope of finding themedicalO2 tank.Nohopeoffindinganything in thismessbeforeIpassedout.Then I saw Lewis’s suit

hanging right where itbelonged. It hadn’tmoved intheblast.Itwasheavytostartwith and had 70 liters ofwaterinit.

I rushed over, quicklycrankedon 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 never

removed 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-oxygenalarm blared throughout theHab as the regulator dumpedpure oxygen into theatmosphereasfastasitsafelycould. Separating oxygenfrom the atmosphere isdifficultandtime-consuming,butadding it is as simple asopeningavalve.I clambered over debris

back to Lewis’s space suitand putmy head back in for

more 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 damagewasonmysleeves.Theouterlayer was gone. The middlelayer was singed and burnedclean through in places. The

innerlayer,myownuniform,was in reasonably goodshape.LookslikeIluckedoutagain.Also,glancingattheHab’s

main computer, I saw thetemperature had gone up to15°C. Something very hotand very explodey hadhappened, and I wasn’t surewhat.Orhow.And that’s where I am

now. Wondering what the

hellhappened.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 forno

reason. 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 ingoodshape,becauseI’dspenta few hours asleep in therover before returning to theHab, and the pressure wasstill good. The computerreported no change in

pressureover that time,otherthan a minor fluctuationbasedontemperature.Then I checked the

oxygenator. If that stopsworkingandIcan’tfixit,I’madeadman.Noproblems.Then the atmospheric

regulator.Again,noproblem.Heating unit, primary

battery array, O2 and N2storage tanks, water

reclaimer, 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 aroundwhenmakingthisstuff.Then came the critical

part…checking the dirt. Itook a few samples from allover theHab (remember, it’s

all dirt flooring now) andmadeslides.Withshakinghands,Iputa

slideintothemicroscopeandbrought the image up on-screen. There they were!Healthy,activebacteriadoingtheir thing! Looks like Iwon’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,theinternalpressurespikedto1.4 atmospheres, and thetemperature rose to 15°C inunder a second. But thepressure quickly subsidedback to 1 atm. This would

makesenseiftheatmosphericregulatorwereon,butI’dcutpowertoit.The temperature remained

at 15°C for some timeafterward, so any heatexpansion should still havebeenpresent.Butthepressuredropped down again, sowhere did that extra pressurego? Raising the temperatureandkeepingthesamenumberof atoms inside should

permanently raise thepressure.Butitdidn’t.I quickly realized the

answer. The hydrogen (theonly available thing to burn)combinedwithoxygen(hencecombustion) and becamewater. Water is a thousandtimes as dense as a gas. Sothe heat added to thepressure, and thetransformation of hydrogenand oxygen into water

broughtitbackdownagain.Themilliondollarquestion

is, where the hell did theoxygen come from? Thewhole plan was to limitoxygen and keep anexplosion from happening.And itwasworkingforquiteawhilebeforeblowingup.I think I have my answer.

And it comes down to mebrain-farting. RememberwhenIdecidednot toweara

space suit? That decisionalmostkilledme.ThemedicalO2tankmixes

pureoxygenwithsurroundingair, then feeds it to youthrough a mask. The maskstaysonyourfacewithalittlerubberband thatgoesaroundthebackofyourneck.Notanairtightseal.I know what you’re

thinking. The mask leaked

oxygen. But no. I wasbreathingtheoxygen.WhenIwasinhaling,Imadeanearlyairtightsealwiththemaskbysuckingittomyface.Theproblemwasexhaling.

Do you know how muchoxygenyouabsorboutoftheair when you take a normalbreath? 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-litershortfallinwater production. Betweendeliberate burn-off and a bitofunexpectedexplosion, I’mback on track. The water

reclaimerdiditsjoblastnightand 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 labor

today.I’veearnedafullmeal.And to celebrate my first

night 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, explosion

dynamics, or any other shitI’vebeendoinglately.Thisisbotany.I’msureIcanatleastgrow some plants withoutscrewingup.Right?You know what really

sucks? I’ve only made 130litersofwater.Ihaveanother470 liters to go.You’d thinkafter almost killing myselftwice, I’d be able to stopscrewing around with

hydrazine. 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’llburnoffgraduallyinsteadofbuildinguptokill-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’tRosco just go to the Dukefarm and arrest them whenthey’renotinthecar?

CHAPTER6

VENKAT KAPOOR returned tohis office, dropped hisbriefcase on the floor, andcollapsed into his leatherchair. He took a moment tolook out the windows. Hisoffice in Building 1 affordedhim a commanding view of

thelargeparkinthecenterofthe Johnson Space Centercomplex.Beyondthat,dozensof 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 was

the 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 deep

space. They had another tenmonths of travel yet toendure.The administrator had

given a speech as well,reminding everyone thatspace flight is incrediblydangerous, and that we willnotbackdown in the faceofadversity.They’daskedVenkat ifhe

waswillingtomakeaspeech.He’ddeclined.Whatwas the

point? Watney was dead.Nicewords from thedirectorof Mars operations wouldn’tbringhimback.“Youokay,Venk?”camea

familiar voice from thedoorway.Venkat swiveled around.

“Guessso,”hesaid.Teddy Sanders swept a

roguethreadoffhisotherwiseimmaculate blazer. “You

couldhavegivenaspeech.”“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 the

wall 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 fractionof

anormalmission.Itnormallytakes fourteen presupplyprobes to prep a site. Wemightbe able to sendwhat’smissing in three. Maybetwo.”“Venk,thesitegothitbya

175kphsandstorm.It’llbeinreallybadshape.”“That’s why I want

imagery,”Venkatsaid.“Ijustneedacoupleof shotsof thesite.Wecouldlearnalot.”

“Like what? You thinkwe’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’dcompletely blow out andcollapse. If it’s still standing,theneverythinginsidewillbefine.Andtheroversaresolid.Theycan takeanysandstormMarshastooffer.Justletme

takealook,Teddy,that’sallIwant.”Teddy paced to the

windowsandstaredoutatthevast expanse of buildings.“You’renottheonlyguywhowants satellite time, youknow.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 thewindows 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 memorialgives people closure, and themedia can move on to someotherstory.Thelastthingwewant is to dredge everything

backup.”“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’teven 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 thepurpose of the mission, butwe make it clear that wouldbe part of it. Ifwe framed it

that 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 to

do. 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 asimagerybecameavailable.

“Master’s degree inmechanical 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 heardthey 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 coffeemugtoherlips,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 Iget ’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 the

emergency contact numberfor Dr. Venkat Kapoor.…Yesit’sanemergency.”

•••

MINDYFIDGETEDinherseatasVenkat trudged in. To havethe director of Marsoperations visiting SatConwas unusual. Seeing him injeans and aT-shirtwas even

moreunusual.“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 seatedhimself. “Is this aboutWatney’s body? Is that whyyou’reshookup?”“Um, no,” she said. “Um.

Well…uh.”Shewincedatherown awkwardness andpointedtothescreen.Venkat inspected the

image.“LooksliketheHab’s

in one piece. That’s goodnews.Solararraylooksgood.The rovers are okay, too.Main dish isn’t around. Nosurprisethere.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’tworkandtheHabbreached.”“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’tmakea lotofsense,no.Maybe thestormmessedwiththeroversandthetentsautodeployed.”“So after autodeploying,

they detached themselvesfrom the rovers and lined upnext to each other twentymetersaway?”Venkat looked back to the

image. “Well obviously theyactivatedsomehow.”

“Why are the solar cellsclean?” Mindy said, fightingbacktears.“Therewasahugesandstorm. Why isn’t theresandalloverthem?”“A good wind could have

doneit?”Venkatsaid,unsure.“Did I mention I never

found 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!”AnnieMontrosesaid.“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 right

so 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 haveautodeployedandwindcouldhave blown them around. A

30kphwindstormsometimelaterwould 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 into

the 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 thecable isn’t long enough toreach.”

Teddy absently rotated thepicturetobeparallelwiththeedgesofhisdesk. “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 realevidence. In the lower rightof the imageyoucan see the

MDV. 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 thestruts in the process. There’sjust no way that could have

happened 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, “if

Watney 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, butthey’d be devastated if they

found 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’re

required 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 iscommunication,” Venkatsaid.“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 job

rightnow.”“Gotit.”“Annie,make surenobody

gets 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 openedhis cell phone. “I’mgoing toChicago. I’ll be backtomorrow.”“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,” Teddysaid.“Butifmymathisright,he’s doomed to starve todeathbeforewecanpossiblyhelp 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 amultibillion-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 fourteentimesmorepowerful—”“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. “Explain

howwelostallfour.”“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 tomake

surenothingshortofameteorstrike can stopcommunication.”“Problem is,” Chuck said,

“Commander Lewis and therest of them took the MAVwhentheyleft.”“So four independent

communications systemsbecame one. And that onebroke,”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’sprettybadifyouthinkaboutit.”

•••

THIS WAS going to be roughandAnnie knew it.Not onlydid she have to deliver thebiggestmeaculpainNASA’shistory, every second of itwould be rememberedforever. Every movement ofher arms, intonation of hervoice, and expression on herface would be seen by

millions 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 forcoming

on such short notice,” she

said 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 about

and 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 fromMarsandhaveconfirmed that astronaut

Mark 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 theorbitsofthreesatellitestogetmoreviewtimeontheAres3site 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?Can

Ares4rescuehim?Howwillwe 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 inherently

insane. 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’t

getbacktoorbit,butitcangototheAres4siteonalateraltrajectory 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 chairandlookedoutthewindowtothe sky beyond. Night wasedging in. “What must it belike?” he pondered. “He’sstuck 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 me

disturbinglymore entertainedthan it should. Things arestablehereonMars.It’s time to start thinking

long-term.EvenifIfindawaytotell

NASA I’m alive, there’s noguarantee they’ll be able tosave me. I need to beproactive.IneedtofigureouthowtogettoAres4.Won’tbeeasy.

Ares 4 will be landing atthe Schiaparelli crater, 3200kilometersaway.Infact,theirMAVisalreadythere.Iknowbecause I watched Martinezlandit.It takes eighteen months

fortheMAVtomakeitsfuel,so it’s the first thing NASAsendsalong.Sendingitforty-eight months early gives itplenty of extra time in casefuel reactions go slower than

expected. But much moreimportantly, it means aprecision soft landing can bedone remotely by a pilot inorbit.DirectremoteoperationfromHoustonisn’tanoption;they’re anywhere from fourtotwentylight-minutesaway.Ares 4’s MAV spent

eleven months getting toMars.Itleftbeforeusandgotherearoundthesametimewedid. As expected, Martinez

landed 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 (Yay

AcidaliaPlanitia!)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 a

research effort, with a bunchof experimentation. I’ll haveto become my own littleNASA, figuring out how toexplorefarfromtheHab.The

good 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 torechargeen 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 techspecsforeverythingarerighthereinthecomputer.I’ll need to trick out a

rover. Basically it’ll have tobe a mobile Hab. I’ll pickRover 2 as my target. Wehave a certain bond, after Ispent two days in it duringtheGreatHydrogen Scare ofSol37.There’s too much shit to

thinkaboutallatonce.Sofor

now, 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 35kilometers on a full charge.That presumes flat,reasonableterrain.Eachroverhasa9000-watt-hourbattery.Step one is to loot Rover

1’s battery and install it in

Rover 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, the

heating equipment soaks up400 watts. Keeping it onwouldeatup9800watthoursperday.Overhalfmypowersupply,everyday!ButIdohaveafreesource

ofheat:me.Acouplemillionyears 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 need

everybitofpower.According to my boring

math, moving the rover eats200watthoursof juice togo1kilometer, sousing the full18,000watthours formotion(minus a negligible amountfor 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 25

kph top speed, it’ll take methreeandahalfhoursbeforeIrun the battery down. I candriveintwilight,andsavethesunny part of the day for

charging.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 haveover100squaremetersofthemostexpensivesolarpanelingever made. It has anastounding 10.2 percentefficiency, which is goodbecause Mars doesn’t get as

muchsunlightasEarth.Only500 to 700 watts per squaremeter (compared to the 1400Earthgets).Longstoryshort:Ineedto

bring twenty-eight squaremeters of solar cell. That’sfourteenpanels.I can put two stacks of

seven on the roof. They’llstick out over the edges, butaslongasthey’resecure,I’mhappy. Every day, after

driving, 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.Iremoved

two 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 was

barely able to drag it. Andthat’sinMarsgravity.It’sjusttoobig.There’sno

roomintheundercarriagefor

a 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 Hab

canvas 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 runtotheairlocks.ProcedurewastolettheHabpopratherthandietryingtopreventit.Then,we’d suit up and assess thedamage. Once we found the

breach, 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-widestrips, then used them tomakeasortofharness.I used the resin and straps

to make two 10-metercircumference loops. Then I

put 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 strongerifyouwaitanhour.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 the

airlock 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, I

wondered how to splice thesecond battery’s leads intothe main power supply. My

conclusionwas“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 whenI’m recharging them, butagain,sowhat?I spent the rest of the day

sweeping off the solar cell

farm.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 justme. Vogel and I workedtogether on it. And boy didwe drill on it. We spentalmostanentireweekdrillingonthesolararrayalone.Thenwe drilled more wheneverthey figured we had sparetime.Thearraywasmission-critical. Ifwe broke the cellsor rendered themuseless, theHabwouldn’tbeabletomakepower,andthemissionwould

end.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’sa

14-degree angle. Somethingabout maximizing solarenergy. Anyway, removingthe cellswas simple, and theHabcansparethem.Withthereduced load of onlysupportingonehumaninsteadof six, a 14 percent energyproductionlossisirrelevant.Then it was time to stack

themontherover.I considered removing the

rock sample container. It’s

nothing more than a largecanvas bag attached to theroof. Way too small to holdthesolarcells.ButaftersomethoughtIleftitthere,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’t

begoingthroughanytunnels,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. It

wasn’t even noon and I wasdone.I came back to the Hab,

had some lunch, andworkedonmycropsfortherestofthesol. It’s been thirty-nine solssince I planted the potatoes(which is about forty Earthdays),anditwastimetoreapandresow.Theygrewevenbetterthan

I had expected.Mars has noinsects,parasites,orblightsto

deal with, and the Habmaintains perfect growingtemperature and moisture atalltimes.Theyweresmallcompared

tothetatersyou’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 eye

each and reseeded them intonew dirt. If they keepgrowingthiswell,I’llbeabletolastagoodlongtimehere.After all that physical

labor, I deserved a break. Irifled through Johanssen’scomputertodayandfoundanendless supply of digitalbooks.Lookslikeshe’sabigfan of Agatha Christie. TheBeatles, Christie…I guessshe’s an Anglophile or

something.I remember likingHercule

PoirotTVspecialsbackwhenIwasakid.I’llstartwithTheMysterious 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’mnotdriving 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. Iestimate three and a halfhours of driving, so I’ll needto bring fresh CO2 filters.And, with the heater off, I’ll

wearthreelayersofclothes.

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, then

started 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, things

started 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.Myown body heat plus threelayers of clothing kept mewarm, and the rover’sinsulation 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 atleastaquarter.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 nuclear

bombs. No, no. Thisplutonium 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 the

radiation 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;theywork

day or night; they’re entirelyinternal, 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 abunch 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 be

replaced or worked around.It’s the only component thatcauses 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 needs

power,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. Itcanturnthatinto100wattsof

electricity.TheMAVrunsonthatuntilthecrewarrive.One hundred watts isn’t

enough 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 the

joyofdisposingof theRTG.She detached it from theMAV, 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 thingsworkingfor me. First, I wasassembling 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 rover

EVAlateron.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 do

strappedtotheroof.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 hit

me: 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 a

desert.It’sadesertsooldit’sliterallyrusting.TheHabismyonlyhintof

civilization, and seeing itdisappearmademewaymoreuncomfortable than I like toadmit.Iputthosethoughtsbehind

mebyconcentratingonwhatwas in front of me. I foundthe RTG right where it wassupposed to be, fourkilometers due south of the

Hab.It wasn’t hard to find.

Commander Lewis hadburieditatopasmallhill.Sheprobablywantedtomakesureeveryone 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. I

couldfeelthewarmthitgaveoff even through my suit’sgloves. That’s reallydisconcerting. Especiallywhen 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.TheRTGwoulddefinitelybeabletokeepmewarm.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 pressurecompartment 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 someinsulation, 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 had

enough 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 of

themintoasquare.Ifigureifthings ever get really cold, Ican tape that to a bare patchintherover,andtheRTGwillbewinningthe“heatfight.”Tomorrow,Sirius3(which

is just Sirius 1 again, butwithoutfreezing).

LOGENTRY:SOL70

Today, I write to you fromthe rover. I’m halfway

through 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 saidand done, I had driven 81kilometers in 3 hours and 27minutes.

That’s very good! Mindyou, 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 waybefore I stop; remember, Ineed life support whilerecharging. The CO2 gets

absorbed 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. Aftersetting up half of them, IfiguredoutIcoulddragthemrather than carry them, and

thatspedthingsup.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 you

straight.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 under

their 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 easierthan 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. Istarted this grand adventurewith 1500 hours of CO2filters, plus another 720 foremergency 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 canholdenoughtolastmesevendays.Notenough.Mars has almost no

atmospheric pressure. Theinside of the rover has oneatmosphere. So the oxygentanks are on the inside (lesspressure differential to deal

with).Whydoes thatmatter?It means I can bring alongother oxygen tanks, andequalize them with therover’s tanks without havingtodoanEVA.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.CompressedliquidO2 is

about1000 timesasdenseasgaseousO2 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 forty

days. This is a good scalemodel.While I’m away, the Hab

cantakecareofitself,butthepotatoes are an issue. I’llsaturatethegroundwithmostofthewaterIhave.Then,I’lldeactivate the atmosphericregulator, so it doesn’t pullwater out of the air. It’ll behumidashell,andwaterwillcondense on every surface.That’llkeepthepotatoeswell

wateredwhileI’maway.A bigger problem is CO2.

Thepotatoesneedtobreathe.Iknowwhatyou’re thinking.“Mark, old chap! Youproduce carbon dioxide! It’sall part of themajestic circleofnature!”Theproblemis:Wherewill

I put it? Sure, I exhale CO2witheverybreath,butIdon’thave any way to store it. I

couldturnoff theoxygenatorand atmospheric regulatorand just fill theHabwithmybreathover time.ButCO2 isdeadly to me. I need torelease a bunch at once andrunaway.Remember the MAV fuel

plant? It collects CO2 fromthe Martian atmosphere. A10-liter tank of compressedliquid CO2, vented into the

Hab, 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 thecrops,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 rescue

option? 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 solar

system,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 latest

EVAs.”“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, he

detached 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,“most

analysts think Mark’s onlyhopeofrescueistogettotheAres4site.Doyouthinkhe’scome to the sameconclusion?”“Probably,” Venkat said.

“He doesn’t know we’rewatching. From his point of

view, Ares 4 is his onlyhope.”“Do you think he’s

planning to go soon? Heseems 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 theHab

behind.”“Whywouldheriskit?”“Communication,” Venkat

said. “Once he reaches theMAV,hecouldcontactus.”“So that would be a good

thing,wouldn’tit?”“Communicationwouldbe

a great thing. But traversingthirty-twohundredkilometersto Ares 4 is incrediblydangerous. We’d rather he

stayedput.Ifwecouldtalktohim, we’d certainly tell himthat.”“Hecan’t stayput forever,

right? Eventually he’ll needtogettotheMAV.”“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.”“Withonlythreeandahalf

years 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 ofmanagementaboveher,sattoherleft.NexttohimwasBruceNg,

the director of JPL. He’dflownall thewaytoHoustonfrom Pasadena just for thismeeting. Never one to let

precioustimegotowaste,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 he

waskeptapprisedatalltimes.Annie Montrose entered

the conference room, textingas she walked. Never takingher eyes off her phone, shedeftly navigated around theedge 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 Teddy

comingorwhat?”“Quit bitching, Bruce,”

Anniesaid.“Noneofuswanttobehere.”Mitch turned the volume

down on his earpiece andfacedMindy. “Who are you,again?”“Um,” Mindy said, “I’m

Mindy 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 deal

with than justMars.Mindy’shandling all the Martian

satellites, 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 ’cause

she 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 severalfolders 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 plans

comingalong?”“Wecameupwithaplana

long 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 the

MDV. We have an idea forthat.“The MDV can be its

normal 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 thebigleagues.”“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 orbital

adjustments. 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. “Theythink 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 canconcentrate 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 ofsilence, 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.”Teddyletafewsecondsof

quietpassbeforemovingon.“Okay,JPL’sontherescue

option,” he said with a nodtoward Bruce. “But it wouldbe part ofAres 4.How does

he 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’ll

start 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 toget 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 hisfood, he’s got enough to lastthree hundred and fiftymoredays.Thatmeansweneed tobuild a presupply in threemonths. JPL hasn’t even

startedyet.”“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 the

EagleEye 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 thepayloaddoneintime.”Bruce rubbed his eyes.

“We’lldoourbest.”

“He’ll starve to death ifyoudon’t,”Teddysaid.

•••

VENKATSIPPED his coffee andfrowned at his computer. Amonthagoitwouldhavebeenunthinkabletodrinkcoffeeatnine 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 togethertosaveMarkWatney,withnointerdepartmental

squabbling. 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 youcan sway the committee

toward 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 the

EVA was to changebatteries.”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,” Venkatsaid. “Damn it. We’ve hadteams 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 wasgoingtosneakhomeforsome

sleepifthat’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

to the camera. “We’rechatting with MarcusWashington, from the USPostal Service. So, Mr.Washington, Iunderstand theAres 3 mission caused apostal service first. Can youexplainthattoourviewers?”“Uh yeah,” said Marcus.

“Everyone thought MarkWatney was dead for overtwomonths. In that time, thepostalservice issueda runof

commemorative stampshonoring his memory.Twenty thousand wereprinted and sent to postofficesaroundthecountry.”“And then it turnedouthe

wasalive,”Cathysaid.“Yeah,” saidMarcus. “We

don’t print stamps of livingpeople.Sowestoppedtherunimmediately and recalled thestamps, but thousands werealreadysold.”

“Has this ever happenedbefore?”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 Ares

missions. 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. Usually

cheerful,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 noexception, 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.Marknotonlyfitswellin 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’sdead, right? The Ares 3crew?”“Yes, they do,

unfortunately,” Ireneconfirmed. “The higher-upsdecidedtokeepitfromthem,at least for now. I’m sure itwasn’taneasydecision.”Cathy paused for a

moment,thensaid,“Allright.You know I have to ask:What’s going through his

head 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 uphope.Ifhedecidesthere’snochance to survive, he’ll stoptrying.”“Thenwe’reokayfornow,

right?”Cathysaid.“Heseems

to 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 might

just 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. Themedical 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 voicecame 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 thinking

about 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 only

designed 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 hecangogetit.”“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’reworkingonareleasemechanismnow.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 fornothing. 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. Therewasan e-mail from Mindy Park

waiting for him. “Watney’sonthemoveagain.”

•••

“STILL GOING in a straightline,”Mindysaid,pointingtohermonitor.“Isee,”Venkatsaid.“He’s

sureashellnotgoingtoAres4. Unless he’s going aroundsomenaturalobstacle.”

“There’snothingforhimtogoaround,”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 degrees

west.”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 stillhavethatmapofMarsonthewall?”“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,hepointedtothe

Marsmaponthewall.“Icandrawonthat.”Thebreakroomwasempty

save 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’s

theHab,”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’s

notebook.“Hey!” the technician

protested.Using the notebook as a

straight-edge, Venkat drew aline from the Hab toMark’slocation and beyond. Thentookastepback.“Yup! That’s where he’s

going!” Venkat saidexcitedly.“Oh!”Mindysaid.

Thelinepassedthroughtheexact 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 andSojourner rover back withhim,”Mindyadded.Venkat pulled out his cell

phone. “We lost contactwithPathfinder 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 likethe first time in weeks, heheld thephone tohisearandawaited a response. “Bruce?It’s Venkat. Everything justchanged. 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 anelectricrazor.Theroverhasnotoilet.We

were expected to use oursuits’reclamationsystemsforthat.Buttheyaren’tdesignedtoholdtwentydays’worthofoutput.Mymorningpissgoesina

resealableplasticbox.WhenIopenit,theroverreekslikeatruck-stop men’s room. Icouldtakeitoutsideandletitboiloff.ButIworkedhardtomake 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 thesmellafterIdropanchor.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 darkness

isn’t fun. I learned that thehardway.After securing the cells, I

come back in, turn on someshitty seventies music, andstartdriving.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 the

hull.When itgets toocold, Itapeitbackup.I can go almost two hours

before the first battery runsout. I do a quick EVA toswapcables,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.Ipullthesolarcellsoffthe 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 sit

around for twelvehourswithnothing to do. And I’mgettingsickofthisrover.Theinside’s the size of a van.Thatmayseemlikeplentyofroom,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 timethinkingaboutgettingtoAres4. I’llhave todo it someday.How the hell am I going tosurvive a 3200-kilometer tripin this thing? It’ll probablytake fifty days. I’ll need thewater reclaimer and theoxygenator, maybe some oftheHab’smainbatteries,thena bunch more solar cells to

charge everything.… Wherewill I put it all? Thesethoughts pester methroughout the long, boringdays.Eventually,itgetsdarkand

I get tired. I lie among thefoodpacks,watertanks,extraO2 tank, piles ofCO2 filters,box of pee, bags of shit, andpersonal items. I have abunch of crew jumpsuits toserve as bedding, alongwith

my 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 due

respect 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’dbeanissuewhenIwas

planning 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’tnavigateby landmarks ifyoucan’t find any god damnedlandmarks.Our landing site is at the

delta of a long-gone river.NASA chose it because if

there are any microscopicfossils to be had, it’s a goodplacetolook.Also,thewaterwouldhavedraggedrockandsoil samples from thousandsof kilometers away. Withsomedigging,wecouldgetabroadgeologicalhistory.That’s great for science,

but it means the Hab’s in afeaturelesswasteland.I considered making a

compass. The rover has

plenty of electricity, and themed kit has a needle. Onlyone problem: Mars doesn’thaveamagneticfield.SoInavigatebyPhobos.It

whips aroundMars so fast itactuallyrisesandsetstwiceaday, 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 flat

groundforeasydriving,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 of

fear,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,asamatteroffact.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’mwell 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 more

plentiful.Ihavetogoaroundsomeof 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 should

be able to get back to LewisValley 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 thefirst. 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 befirst 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 it

would hurt. Here’s a womanwho had survived thecentrifuge, 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 be

aloneonanentireplanet.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 Twin

Peaks 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 Sojournerrover. 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 deflated

balloons 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 acontingencymodeandstartedcircling 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 mymechanicalengineerhat.The probe was on the

central panel of the unfoldedtetrahedron. The other three

sides 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.

WhenItriedtoliftthecentral

panel 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’s

just 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 beingstrong.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, Icutitoff.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 easilyenough, 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. On

thewayback,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’salready broken; they lostcontact in 1997. But I don’t

wanttobreakitmore.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 denselayerofMarscrapallover itprotected it from long-term

solardamage.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.Buthowwould they talk to me? The

only 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’llbemuch easier to communicate

with 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 madesure 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 downwaseasierthanputtingitup.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.The

hills to my left made itimpossibletogetlost,andtheterrainwassmooth.Butallgoodthingscometo

an end. I’m back inAcidaliaPlanitia 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 rocks

every time I camped. Theland is so flat they’d bevisibleforkilometers.On second thought,

thinking back tomaking thatdamnramp…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. Forthe first time, I think Imightgetoffthisplanetalive.Withthat in mind, I’m taking soilandrocksampleseverytimeIdoanEVA.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 whatastronautsdo.Imissedit.

LOGENTRY:SOL92

I got two seconds of signalfrom the Hab beacon today,then lost it. But it’s a goodsign. I’ve been traveling

vaguely 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 episodewhere Steve Austin fights aRussian Venus probe thatlanded on Earth by mistake.Asanexpertininterplanetarytravel,Icantellyouthereareno scientific inaccuracies inthe story. It’s quite commonfor 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 ofbeinginthisrover.I’vespentsomuch timeseatedor lyingdown,mybackisallscrewedup.Ofallmycrewmates, the

one 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’dwelcome

ahealthlecture.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 itin to pick us up. Then we’dget the hell out of therebefore Hermes caught too

muchdrag.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 in

that cramped capsule withthoseguysagain.

Man, I hope I getPathfinderworkingagain.

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, butthat’saproblemforlater.After a few celebratory

laps around the Hab, it wastimetogettowork.First, I fired up the

oxygenator and atmosphericregulator. Checking the airlevels, everything looked

good.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. I

dumped my box o’ pee intothewaterreclaimer.I’d been gone over three

weeks and had left the Habveryhumidforthesakeofthecrops.Thatmuchwaterintheair can cause any amount ofelectricalproblems,soIspentthenext fewhoursdoingfullsystems checks oneverything.Then I kind of lounged

around for awhile. Iwanted

to spend the rest of the dayrelaxing, but I had more todo.Aftersuitingup,Iwentout

to the rover and dragged thesolar cells off the roof.Overthenextfewhours,Iputthemback where they belonged,wiring them into the Hab’spowergrid.Getting the lander off the

roofwasahellofaloteasierthan getting it up there. I

detached a strut from theMAVplatformanddraggeditover to the rover.By leaningitagainstthehullanddiggingtheotherend into thegroundforstability,Ihadaramp.I should have brought that

strut with me to thePathfinder site. Live andlearn.There’s no way to get the

lander in theairlock. It’s justtoo big. I could probably

dismantle it and bring it in apiece at a time, but there’s apretty compelling reason notto.With no magnetic field,

Mars has no defense againstharsh solar radiation. If Iwereexposedtoit,I’dgetsomuch cancer, the cancerwould have cancer. So theHab canvas shields fromelectromagnetic waves. Thismeans the Hab itself would

blockanytransmissionsifthelanderwereinside.Speaking of cancer, itwas

timetogetridoftheRTG.Itpainedmetoclimbback

intotherover,butithadtobedone. If theRTG ever brokeopen, it would kill me todeath.NASA decided four

kilometers was the safedistance, and I wasn’t about

tosecond-guessthem.Idroveback to where CommanderLewishadoriginallydumpedit,ditcheditinthesamehole,anddrovebacktotheHab.I’llstartworkonthelander

tomorrow.Nowtoenjoyagood,long

sleep 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:SOL0BOOTSEQUENCEINITIATEDTIME00:00:00LOSSOFPOWERDETECTED,

TIME/DATEUNRELIABLELOADINGOS…

VXWARE OPERATINGSYSTEM (C) WIND RIVERSYSTEMS PERFORMINGHARDWARECHECK:INT.TEMPERATURE:−34°CEXT. TEMPERATURE:NONFUNCTIONALBATTERY:FULLHIGAIN:OKLOGAIN:OK

WIND SENSOR:NONFUNCTIONALMETEOROLOGY:NONFUNCTIONALASI:NONFUNCTIONALIMAGER:OKROVER RAMP:NONFUNCTIONALSOLARA:NONFUNCTIONALSOLARB:NONFUNCTIONALSOLARC:NONFUNCTIONALHARDWARE CHECKCOMPLETE

BROADCASTINGSTATUSLISTENING FORTELEMETRYSIGNAL…LISTENING FORTELEMETRYSIGNAL…LISTENING FORTELEMETRYSIGNALSIGNALACQUIRED…

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 Pathfindercontrol 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 themodernDeepSpace

Network.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 against

the back wall, trying—andfailing—to stay out ofeveryone’s way whilerecording 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! Good

work!”“I’m just the director,”

Bruce saidmodestly. “Thanktheguyswhogotallthisstuffworking.”“Oh I will!” Venkat

beamed. “But first I have totalktomynewbestfriend!”Turning to the headsetted

man at the communicationsconsole, Venkat asked,“What’syourname,newbest

friend?”“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 we

hearfromitagain.”“Venkat’s got a doctorate

inphysics,Tim,”Bruce said.“You don’t need to explaintransmissiontimetohim.”Tim shrugged. “You can

nevertellwithmanagers.”“What was in the

transmissionwegot?”Venkatasked.“Just the bare bones. A

hardware self-check. It’s got

a lot of ‘nonfunctional’systems, ’cause theywereonthepanelsWatneyremoved.”“Whataboutthecamera?”“It says the imager’s

working.We’llhaveittakeapanoramaassoonaswecan.”

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 to

say. Thiswas an insane planandsomehow itworked! I’mgoing to be talking to

someone 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 momentwould be like. I figured I’djump up and down a bit,cheer, maybe flip off theground (because this whole

damn 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 logging

embarrassing moments. Howdo I delete log entries?There’s no obvious way.…I’ll get to it later. I’ve gotmoreimportantthingstodo.I’vegotpeopletotalkto!

•••

VENKAT GRINNED as he tookthe podium in the JPL press

room.“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.

“Becauseallwehaveisthecamera 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. The

panorama is due back in afewminutes.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. “Butwe’re staring at this blackscreenbecauseit’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 thepanoramic.”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!” Bruce

said,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 you

receiving?’”“Okay…?”saidBruce.“That’s what it says,”

Venkatshrugged.“Another note,” said Tim,

pointingtothescreenasmoreoftheimagecamethrough.Venkat leaned in again.

“Thisonesays‘Pointhereforyes.’”He folded his arms. “All

right. We have

communication 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-usethembyscratchingouttheoldquestion.TheSharpieI’musingwill

last much longer than thecards,so ink isn’taproblem.But I have to do all my

writing 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 thecards up. There’s a certainironyinthat.We’ll need to talk faster

than yes/no questions everyhalf hour. The camera can

rotate360degrees,andIhaveplentyofantennaparts.Timeto make an alphabet. But Ican’t just use the letters AthroughZ.Twenty-six lettersplusmyquestion cardwouldbetwenty-sevencardsaroundthe lander. Each one wouldonly 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.Bygivingme 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 degrees

each. Much easier to dealwith.Timetogettowork!Spell with ASCII. 0–F at

21-degree increments. Willwatch camera starting 11:00mytime.Whenmessagedone,return to this position. Wait20 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 by

decompression. 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 m2farmland growing potatoes.Will extend food supply, butnot enough to last until Ares

4landing.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. Anyideas?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.

•••

VENKAT BLINKED his bleary

eyesseveral timesashetriedtoorganize thepapersonhisdesk. 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 they

used to find a problem thatalmost killed the originalmission. 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 we

want.”“Howdoesthishelpus?”“Pathfinder has two

communications 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 therover 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, “youcan getPathfinder to talk tothe rover, but you can’t getthe 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 ifwe

can’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,” said

Venkat.“Here’s the clever part,”

Jack said, conspiratorially.“The rover currently parsesthe signal into bytes, thenidentifies the specificsequencetheHabsends.Thatway, natural radio waves

won’t throw off the homing.If the bytes aren’t right, theroverignoresthem.”“Okay,sowhat?”“Itmeans there’s a spot in

the 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 soundspromising…,”Venkatsaid.“Itis!”Jacksaidexcitedly.

“First, we update Pathfindersoitknowshowtotalktotherover. Then, we tell Watneyexactlyhowtohacktheroversoftware to add those twentyinstructions. Then we havePathfinder broadcast newsoftware to the rover. Therover logs thebytes toa file.Finally,Watney launches the

file 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 thefiles.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. “The

original trilogy only, ofcourse.”“Ofcourse,”Venkatsaid.As Jack walked away, a

woman approached Venkat’stable.“Yes?”Venkatsaid.“I can’t find any Diet

Coke,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 of

Watney.”“Hi, Annie. Nice to hear

fromyou,too.Howarethings

backinHouston?”“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 aroundwhen 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 biggeststory since Apollo 13. Givemeafuckingpicture!”

Venkat sighed. “I’ll try togetittomorrow.”“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 dirttakes 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 Habequipment, and read somePoirot.Finallythetimecame!CNHAKRVR2TLK2PTHFDRPRP4LONGMSGYeah. Took me a minute.

“Can hack rover to talk toPathfinder. Prepare for longmessage.”

That took some mentalgymnastics 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 of

dirt. 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 sequenceNASA will send in the nextmessage.Fairenough.Also,forsomereason,they

want me to hang around forthe next pic. Not sure why.Youcan’tseeanypartofme

whenI’minthesuit.Eventhefaceplate would reflect toomuch light. Still, it’s whattheywant.I went back in and copied

down the message for futurereference. Then I wrote ashortnoteandcamebackout.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.

•••

“IASK forapicture,andIgetthe 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 face

ASAP.”“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,” Venkatsaid. “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 thingsdonefaster 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. Beth

Johanssen 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 theirown 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.Turns

out the “L” in “LCD” standsfor“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 the

Hab.It’snightnow,sonomore

messages. Tomorrow, I’llenter this into the rover andthe geeks at JPL can take itfromthere.

•••

ANOTABLE smell hung in theair of the makeshift

Pathfindercontrol room.Theventilation system was notdesignedforsomanypeople,and everyone had beenworking every wakingmoment without much timeforpersonalhygiene.“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 patch

and reboots the rover, weshouldgetaconnection.”“Jesus,whatacomplicated

process,”Venkatsaid.“Try updating a Linux

serversometime,”Jacksaid.Afteramomentofsilence,

Timsaid,“Youknowhewastellingajoke,right?Thatwassupposedtobefunny.”“Oh,” said Venkat. “I’m a

physics guy, not a computer

guy.”“He’s not funny to

computerguys,either.”“You’re a very unpleasant

man,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,thentakeyouwiththemto

Schiaparelli.We’reputtingtogetherasupplymissiontokeepyoufedtillAres4arrives.[11:29]WATNEY:Gladto

hearit.Reallylookingforwardtonotdying.Iwanttomakeitclearitwasn’tthecrew’sfault.Sidequestion:WhatdidtheysaywhentheyfoundoutIwasalive?Also,“Hi,Mom!”[11:41]JPL:Tellusabout

your“crops.”WeestimatedyourfoodpackswouldlastuntilSol

400at3/4rationpermeal.Willyourcropsaffectthatnumber?Astoyourquestion:Wehaven’ttoldthecrewyou’realiveyet.Wewantedthemtoconcentrateontheirownmission.[11:52]WATNEY:Thecrops

arepotatoes,grownfromtheonesweweresupposedtoprepareonThanksgiving.They’redoinggreat,buttheavailablefarmlandisn’tenoughforsustainability.I’llrunoutof

foodaroundSol900.Also:TellthecrewI’malive!Whatthefuckiswrongwithyou?[12:04]JPL:We’llget

botanistsintoaskdetailedquestionsanddouble-checkyourwork.Yourlifeisatstake,sowewanttobesure.Sol900isgreatnews.It’llgiveusalotmoretimetogetthesupplymissiontogether.Also,pleasewatchyourlanguage.Everythingyoutypeisbeingbroadcastlivealloverthe

world.[12:15]WATNEY:Look!A

pairofboobs!->(.Y.)

•••

“THANK YOU, Mr. President,”Teddysaidintothephone.“Iappreciate the call, and I’llpass your congratulations ontothewholeorganization.”He terminated the call and

puthisphoneonthecornerofhis desk, flush with thedesktop’sedges.Mitchknockedontheopen

doortotheoffice.“Thisagoodtime?”Mitch

asked.“Come in, Mitch,” Teddy

said.“Haveaseat.”“Thanks,” Mitch said,

sittinginafineleathercouch.Hereacheduptohisearpiece

andloweredthevolume.“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 back

alive.”“Yeah, about that,” said

Mitch. “You probably knowwhyI’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 clearthis with you or Venkat oranyone else. I’m the flightdirector. It should have beenmy 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 enough

timetogethimsupplies.”“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,”hesaidasheleftthe

office.Teddyswiveledinhischair

and looked out his windowstothenightsky.Heponderedthe faint, red dot among thestars. “Hang in there,Watney,” he said. “We’recoming.”

CHAPTER12

WATNEY SLEPT peacefully inhis bunk. He shifted slightlyassomepleasantdreamputasmile on his face.He’d donethreeEVAsthepreviousday,all filledwith labor-intensiveHabmaintenance.Sohesleptdeeperandbetterthanhehad

inalongtime.“Good morning, crew!”

Lewis called out. “It’s abrand-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,” hesaidcrisply.Johanssensatup,butmade

no further move toward theharsh world outside herblankets. A career softwareengineer, mornings wereneverherforte.Vogel slowly lumbered

from his bunk, checking his

watch. He wordlessly pulledon his jumpsuit, smoothingout what wrinkles he could.He sighed inwardly at thegrimy 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 outof their bunks. Want to seewhatIcandoin0.4g?”“No, not really,” Watney

said,sittingup.Having rousted the troops,

Lewissatatthecommstationto check overnight messages

fromHouston.Watney shuffled to the

ration cupboard and grabbedabreakfastatrandom.“Hand me an ‘eggs,’ will

ya,”Martinezsaid.“You can tell the

difference?” 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,” Vogel

responded.“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 trudgedtotherationcupboardandgot

acoffeepacket.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’llbe with me outside.Johanssen, you’re stucktracking weather reports.Watney, your soil

experiments 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 wasneedlesslydangerous,”Lewissaid.“What’syourpoint?”Beck shrugged. “Just be

careful.”

•••

THREE FIGURES lookedeastward. Their bulky EVAsuits rendered them nearly

identical. 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 iscloser than Houstonreported.”

“We’ve got time,” Lewissaid. “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. Veryimportantisthirtycentimetersdown.”“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, bendingover, and bagging samples

weretrivialtasks.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.

•••

THEHAB 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’sgonnagetworsebeforeitgetsbetter.”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 too

high,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 theMAV, 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 know

whereheis!”“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 andbootedthesystem.Grabbing the emergency

launch checklist with onehand, he flicked switchesrapidlywiththeother.Onebyone, the systems reported

flight-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 just

says‘BadPacket.’”“I have it, too,” Johanssen

said. “It didn’t finishtransmitting. Some data’smissing, and there’s nochecksum.Gimmeasec.”“Commander,” Martinez

said. “Message fromHouston. 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’s

plaintext: 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,” Martinez

replied. “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.Shehad

added the one-meter bits toher 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, the

endless wind pushed her offcourse. 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 cameradoanygood?”“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 theproximity

radar?”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’sdead.”“Copy,” Lewis said.

“Martinez,trytheradar.”“Roger,”Martinezradioed.Hebroughttheradaronline

andwaited for it tocompleteaself-check.GlaringatBeck,he said, “What’s the matter

withyou?”“My friend just died,”

Beckanswered.“AndIdon’twant my commander to die,too.”Martinez gave him a stern

look. 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 it

tiltedfasterandfaster.“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 orbital

maneuvering system online,hefiredasustainedburnfromthe nose cone array. Thesmall thrusters foughtagainst

the lumbering mass of theslowlytiltingspacecraft.“YouarefiringtheOMS?”

Vogelasked.“Idon’tknowifit’llwork.

We’re not tipping very fast,”Martinez said. “I think it’sslowingdown…”“The aerodynamic caps

will have automaticallyejected,” Vogel said. “It willbeabumpyascentwiththree

holesinthesideoftheship.”“Thanks for the tip,”

Martinez said, maintainingtheburnandwatchingthetiltreadout.“C’mon…““Still thirteen degrees,”

Johanssenreported.“What’s going on up

there?” Lewis radioed. “Youwentquiet.Respond.”“Stand by,” Martinez

replied.

“Twelve point ninedegrees,”Johanssensaid.“Itisworking,”Vogelsaid.“For now,” Martinez said.

“Idon’tknowifmaneuveringfuelwilllast.”“Twelve point eight now,”

Johanssensupplied.“OMS fuel at sixty

percent,” Beck said. “Howmuch do you need to dockwithHermes?”

“TenpercentifIdon’tfuckanything 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,” Vogelcautioned. “The OMS was

not 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 crewmates

awaited their commander’sresponse.“Copy,”shefinallyreplied.

“Onmyway.”They lay in silence,

strapped to theircouchesandreadyforlaunch.BecklookedatWatney’semptycouchandsaw Vogel doing the same.Martinez ran a self-check on

thenoseconeOMSthrusters.Theywereno longersafe foruse.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 for

launch.”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 MAVlurchedupward.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 the

acceleration morepronounced. Rising at thisexponential rate, the craftquickly 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 the

ascent software kept it trim,though it was a constantbattle.Theturbulencetaperedoff 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 stage

began. Outside, the now-empty first stage fell away,eventually to crash on someunknown 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. Hefloatedpast 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 firstweek 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, theyusedthesystemonthereturn

tripaswell.Johanssensatatherstation.

Lewissatintheadjacentseatwhile 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 voicemessage addressed to thewholecrew.”She looked over her

shouldertoLewis.Lewisshrugged.“Playit.”Johanssen opened the

message,thensatback.

“Hermes, this is MitchHenderson,” the messagebegan.“Henderson?” Martinez

said, puzzled. “Talkingdirectly to us withoutCAPCOM?”Lewis held her handup to

signalforsilence.“I have some news,”

Mitch’s voice continued.“There’snosubtlewaytoput

this: Mark Watney’s stillalive.”Johanssengasped.“Wha—”Beckstammered.Vogel stood with his

mouth agape as a shockedexpression swept across hisface.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 monthsago and decided not to tellyou; we even censoredpersonal messages. I wasstrongly against all that.We’re telling you now

because 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 schedules

are 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,“weall

lefttogeth—”“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 the

fundingwaslimitless.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 as

arrogant 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 frommy

almamater, 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,staystrong, don’t die, your father

sayshello,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 to

schleptotheroverfivetimesa 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,anda

bunch 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-oldprobe isn’t ideal as a sole

meansofcommunication.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 it

won’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 till

Sol900.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 fivehundred sols of life withmypotato farm, so they havemoretimetoworkonit.They’ll launch next year

duringtheHohmannTransfer

Window,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’ttakinganychances,whatwithmy habit of being nearbywhenradiosbreak.Got my first e-mail from

Hermes today.NASA’s been

limiting 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 wishNASA 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 in

California.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 AssemblyFacility. Over the next fiveweeks, engineers in whitebodysuits assembledPresupply 309. It containedAL102aswellastwelveother

HabCanvaspackages.

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 to

the billions of dollars’ worthof life support equipmentaround me. I now have fourhundred 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 hear

thateveryday,doyou?You may be wondering

how I’ll store them. I can’tjust 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 bacteria

planningtorotmytaterswilldiescreaming.In other news, I got an e-

mailfromVenkatKapoor:

Mark,someanswerstoyourearlierquestions:No,wewillnottellourBotany

Teamto“Gofuckthemselves.”Iunderstandyou’vebeenonyourownforalongtime,butwe’reintheloopnow,andit’sbestifyoulistentowhatwehavetosay.

TheCubsfinishedtheseasonatthebottomoftheNLCentral.Thedatatransferratejustisn’t

goodenoughforthesizeofmusicfiles,evenincompressedformats.Soyourrequestfor“Anything,ohGod,ANYTHINGbutDisco”isdenied.Enjoyyourboogiefever.Also,anuncomfortableside

note…NASAisputtingtogetheracommittee.Theywanttoseeiftherewereanyavoidable

mistakesthatledyoutobeingstranded.Justaheads-up.Theymayhavequestionsforyoulateron.Keepuspostedonyour

activities.—Kapoor

Myreply:

Venkat,telltheinvestigationcommitteethey’llhavetodotheirwitchhuntwithoutme.And

whentheyinevitablyblameCommanderLewis,beadvisedI’llpubliclyrefuteit.I’msuretherestofthecrewwilldothesame.Also,pleasetellthemthateach

andeveryoneoftheirmothersisaprostitute.—WatneyPS:Theirsisters,too.

The presupply probes forAres 3 launched on fourteenconsecutive days during the

Hohmann Transfer Window.Presupply 309 was launchedthird. The 251-day trip toMarswasuneventful,needingonly two minor courseadjustments.After several aerobraking

maneuvers to slow down, itmadeitsfinaldescenttowardAcidalia Planitia. First, itendured reentry via a heatshield. Later, it released aparachute and detached the

now-expendedshield.Once its onboard radar

detected it was thirty metersfrom the ground, it cut loosethe parachute and inflatedballoonsallarounditshull.Itfell unceremoniously to thesurface, bouncing androlling,untilitfinallycametorest.Deflating its balloons, the

onboard computer reportedthesuccessfullandingbackto

Earth.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 ofwater per day? No, I’m nottheurinatingchampionofalltime. It’s the crops. Thehumidity inside the Hab is alot 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 shareofwater

andtherestwillcondenseonthe walls. I could makesomething to collect thecondensation,I’msure.Thingis, the water can’t goanywhere. 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 the

complex hydrocarbons thatare theplant itself.But it’s avery small loss and I madelike 600 liters of water fromMDVfuel.Icouldtakebathsandstillhaveplentyleftover.NASA, however, is

absolutely shitting itself.They see thewater reclaimerasacriticalsurvivalelement.There’s no backup, and theythinkI’lldieinstantlywithoutit.Tothem,equipmentfailure

is terrifying. To me, it’s“Tuesday.”Soinsteadofpreparingfor

my harvest, I have to makeextra trips to and from therover 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 meetingsbefore telling me to cover itwithducttape.

Lewis and Beck openedPresupply 309. Working asbest theycould in theirbulkyEVA suits, they removed thevarious portions of Hab

canvas and laid them on theground. Three entirepresupply probes werededicatedtotheHab.Following a procedure

they had practiced hundredsof times, they efficientlyassembledthepieces.Specialseal-strips between thepatches ensured airtightmating.After erecting the main

structure of the Hab, they

assembled the three airlocks.Sheet AL102 had a holeperfectly sized for Airlock 1.Beckstretchedthesheet tightto the seal-strips on theairlock’sexterior.Once all airlocks were in

place,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’ll

fuckitupanddie.”SoItookitapart.Yeah,Iknow.NASAhasa

lotofultra-smartpeopleandIshould really do what theysay. And I’m being tooadversarial, considering theyspendalldayworkingonhowtosavemylife.Ijustgetsickofbeingtold

how to wipe my ass.Independencewasoneof the

qualities they looked forwhen choosing Aresastronauts. 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. I

labeled 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 strain

humidity out of the air (youexhale almost asmuchwateras 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 big

deal.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 airlock

seal-strip. Other sections ofcanvas undulated along theirseal-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 the

carbonfiberstoseparate.AL102stretched.Not much. Only four

millimeters. But the carbonfibers, usually 500 micronsapart, now had a gap eighttimes that width in theirmidst.After thestormabated, the

lone remaining astronautperformedafullinspectionoftheHab.Buthedidn’tnotice

anything amiss. The weakpartofcanvaswasconcealedbyaseal-strip.Designed for a mission of

thirty-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 the

othertwo.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 sandstorm

damaged 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

comestheinevitableCleaning

of 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 tomy 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 PotatoMigration.

Anyway, all thatwill haveto wait. I’ve got a full daytoday. After cleaning thesolarcells,Ihavetocheckthewhole solar array to makesure the storm didn’t hurt it.ThenI’llneedtodothesamefortherover.Ibettergetstarted.

•••

AIRLOCK 1 SLOWLY

depressurized to 0.006atmospheres. Watney,wearing an EVA suit, stoodinsideitwaitingforthecycleto complete. He had done itliterally hundreds of times.Any apprehension he mayhave had on Sol 1 was longgone. Now it was merely aboringchorebeforeexitingtothesurface.As the depressurization

continued, the Hab’satmosphere compressed theairlock, 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 and

weakenedthehorizontalonesbeyonduse.ThefullforceoftheHab’s

atmosphere 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’satmosphere 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 another

ashehitthefrontdoor,face-first.His faceplate took the

brunt of the blow, the safetyglassshatteringintohundredsof small cubes. His headslammedagainsttheinsideofthe helmet, knocking himsenseless.Theairlocktumbledacross

the surface for a furtherfifteen meters. The heavypadding of Watney’s suit

savedhimfrommanybrokenbones.Hetriedtomakesenseof 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 hiswits, 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 smallbreachwaslettingairescape.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’ll

be 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 EVA

suit.Looks like the Hab is

completely 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’sdoingmeany

good.

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 myEVA suit, of course. Thesamekind that savedmy lifeback 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’regoingtobedead

way 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. Ithink it’s near my feet,judging by the sound. NowthatI’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,enclosedspaceisusuallyaterribleidea.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 EVAsuit is made entirely ofnonflammable materials. Sois theairlock.Myclothesarefireproof 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 havesomething flammable: myown hair. It’ll have to do.There’s a sharp knife in thetool 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.Ifigurebumpingitto

40percentwilldo.AllIneednowisaspark.The EVA suit has

electronics, but it runs onvery 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 itranonHab

power. 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 EVAsuit threw everything off.There’s a gentle flow of aircomingoutofthefaceplateasthe 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 the

suit turned off, held mybreath, and when the timecametolightthefire,Ididitvery slowly. Then I watchedas the little wisp of smokedriftedtowardtheflooroftheairlock, disappearing throughahairlinefracture.Ihaveyounow,littleleak!

Igaspedforairand turnedthe EVA suit back on. Thepressure had dropped to 0.9atmospheres 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, but

now 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. I

can’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

my N2 tank. I need to sealthat fracturenow, and Ineed

to do it without using thepatchkit.First idea: Little Dutch

Boy. I’m licking my palmandplacingitoverthecrack.Okay…I can’t quite make

a 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 duct

tapemadeagoodseal.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 of

water in the EVA suit’s“hamster-feeder.” I couldhave shut off the suit’sheating systems and let theairlockcooltofreezing.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 of

pressure against the size ofmybrokenfaceplate.The patch kit is too small,

but still useful. I can spreadthe 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 an

atmosphere is the EVA suititself. There’s plenty ofmaterial to work with, and Ican even cut it. Rememberwhen I was cutting Habcanvas into strips? Thosesame shears are right here inmytoolkit.Cuttingachunkoutofmy

EVA suit leaves it withanotherhole.ButaholeIcancontroltheshapeandlocationof.

Yeah…I think I see asolution 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 atmospheric

pressure?Check.Resin designed to seal a

breach against that pressure?Check.Andwhataboutthegaping

hole 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 resinpretty thin, but it’s literallythestrongestadhesiveknownto man. And it doesn’t havetobeaperfectseal.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 resinwasn’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 screwdriver

between the helmet and theresin. I freed my hand anddidn’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 the

readouts to see how airtightthingswere.Answer:Notvery.It absolutely pissed 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 ofO2capacity.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 0.2atmospheresto1cubicmeter.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 start

with.Alotofthatwasusedtomaintain pressure while theairlockwasleaking.Also,mybreathing turned someoxygen 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 by

285 milliliters lost perminute…Once I’m out of the

airlock, this EVA suit willonlylastfourminutes.Fuck.

AUDIOLOGTRANSCRIPT:SOL119(7)

Okay, I’ve been thinkingsomemore.What good is going to the

rover? I’d just be trapped

thereinstead.Theextraroomwouldbenice,butI’dstilldieeventually. No waterreclaimer, no oxygenator, nofood. Take your pick; all ofthoseproblemsarefatal.I need to fix the Hab. I

know what to do; wepracticed it in training. Butit’lltakealongtime.I’llhaveto scrounge around in thenow-collapsed canvas to getthe spare material for

patching.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 therover. 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’sfullofslowlysublimatingice.The mangled, glued-togethersuit I have with me is myoriginal one.That leaves justMartinez,Vogel,andBeck’s.

I left Martinez’s near mybunk, 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 as

hard as possible.And I havetobe in the air at the time. Ican’tpressagainstsomeotherpartoftheairlock.Theforceswould cancel each other outanditwouldn’tmoveatall.First I tried launching

myself off one wall andslamming into theother.Theairlock slid a little, but that’sit.Next,Itrieddoingasuper-

push-uptogetairborne(0.4g

yay!) 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,itgavemeenoughforceandleveragetotiptheairlockandrollitonefacetowardthe

Hab.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. It

workedonlyoneoutofeveryten tries, and it hurt a lot. Ihad to take breaks, stretchout, and generally convincemyself tobody-slamthewallagainandagain.Ittookalldamnnight,butI

madeit.I’m ten meters from the

Hab 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: Usethemanualvalvestoequalize

theairlock.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 tothe 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),Ipassedthroughthe

field of debris. The rupturehad 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 is

projected on the innerfaceplate. 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 knew

there had to be a pretty bighole 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 the

canvas, I had to usemy onegood 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 towhereI’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, Idetached 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 collapsed

andpantedforamoment.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 ithappens, 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, IsawthatPathfinderwasright

whereI left it,andthedebrisdidn’t reach that far out. Itshould 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,Ican

sealthearmwithmoreresin.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 to

spread 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 air

yesterday, 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 long

trips, 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 swapped

helmets. 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 myhandiwork, I wanted a two-armedsuit.I ventured back into the

Hab. This time, not being

rushed, 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 supportpoles maintaining the arch

and 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, but

surmountable. 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. Ihaveamuchbiggerproblem.

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 themconnecteddirectlytotheHabvia hoses to maintain air

supply 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!You

gaveusquiteascarethere.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.Icount1841.Thatwilllastme184days.Including

theremainingmissionrations,I’llstartstarvingonSol584.[08:52]JPL:Yeah,wefigured.

We’reworkingonsolutionstothefoodissue.What’sthestatusoftheHabsystems?[09:05]WATNEY:Primary

airandwatertankswereunharmed.Therover,solararray,andPathfinderwereoutoftheblastrange.I’llrundiagnosticsontheHab’ssystemswhileIwaitforyournextreply.Bytheway,

whoamItalkingto?[09:18]JPL:VenkatKapoorin

Houston.Pasadenarelaysmymessages.I’mgoingtohandlealldirectcommunicationwithyoufromnowon.Checktheoxygenatorandwaterreclaimerfirst.They’rethemostimportant.[09:31]WATNEY:Duh.

Oxygenatorfunctioningperfectly.Waterreclaimeriscompletelyoffline.Bestguessiswaterfrozeupinsideandburst

sometubing.I’msureIcanfixit.TheHab’smaincomputerisalsofunctioningwithoutanyproblems.AnyideawhatcausedtheHabtoblowup?[09:44]JPL:Bestguessis

fatigueonthecanvasnearAirlock1.Thepressurizationcyclestressedituntilitfailed.Fromnowon,alternateAirlock2and3forallEVAs.Also,we’llbegettingyouachecklistandproceduresforafullcanvas

exam.[09:57]WATNEY:Yay,Iget

tostareatawallforseveralhours!Letmeknowifyoucomeupwithawayformetonotstarve.[10:11]JPL:Willdo.

•••

“IT’S SOL 122,” Bruce said.“WehaveuntilSol584toget

a probe toMars. 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 andMars aren’t ideal. The tripwill take four hundred andfourteen days. Mounting theprobe to the booster and

dealing 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 to

beatumbler.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 teamwaspissedaboutthat,”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 thingsgoingforus,”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 theprobe 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:No

complaintshere!Yougetmethefood,I’llbeahappycamper.I’vegotallHabsystemsupand

runningagain.ThewaterreclaimerisworkingfinenowthatIreplacedthebursthoses.Asforwatersupply,Ihave620litersremaining.Istartedwith900liters(300tostartwith,600morefromreducinghydrazine).SoIlostalmost300literstosublimation.Still,withthewaterreclaimeroperationalagain,it’splenty.[08:31]JPL:Good,keepus

postedonanymechanicalor

electronicproblems.Bytheway,thenameoftheprobewe’resendingisIris.NamedaftertheGreekgoddesswhotraveledtheheavenswiththespeedofwind.She’salsothegoddessofrainbows.[08:47]WATNEY:Gayprobe

comingtosaveme.Gotit.

•••

RICHPURNELLsippedcoffeeinthe 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,alltheothersteps 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’sdifferencewould

result in missing Marsentirely.So Rich had to calculate

manycourses.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 officiallyaccepted.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 to

deal with than the largepoint-thrusts of presupplyprobes.All 25 of the courses take

414 days, and vary onlyslightlyinthrustdurationandangle.Thefuelrequirementisnearlyidenticalfortheorbitsand is well within thecapacity of EagleEye’sbooster.It’s too bad. Earth and

Mars are really badly

positioned. Heck, it’s almosteasierto—Hestoppedtyping.Furrowing his brow, he

staredintothedistance.“Hmm,”hesaid.He grabbed his coffee cup

and went to the break roomforarefill.

•••

TEDDY SCANNED the crowdedconference room. Itwas rareto see such an assembly ofNASA’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, lookingatspreadsheetsonhis 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 first

place. 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 earpiecefrom his ear. “We’ve got acontrol roomready,”hesaid.“I’ll oversee the launch, thenhand 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 thenumber 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 short

notice.”Mauricenodded.Teddygesturedtohimand

addressed the room. “Forthose 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 thebooster?”“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 adding

external supports that we’llremove before launch. It’seasierthandisassembly.Alsothe fuel is corrosive to theinternal tanks, so we had todrain 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 bloodshot

eyes.“Bruce, thank you for

flying out, too. How’s theweather in California thesedays?”“I wouldn’t know,” Bruce

said. “I rarely see theoutdoors.”Subduedlaughterfilledthe

roomforafewseconds.Teddy flipped another

page. “Time for the big

question, Bruce. How’s Iriscomingalong?”“We’re behind,” Bruce

saidwitha tiredshakeofhishead.“We’regoingasfastaswe can, but it’s just not fastenough.”“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 slip

more?”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 lastlonger?”“Sorry, but no,” Keller

said. “He’s already at aminimal calorie count. Infact, considering the amount

of 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’llstillbemalnourished.”“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. Kellerconfirmed.“Withinfourdaysof running out of food, he’llbarelybeabletostandup,letalone control a rover. Plus,his mental faculties willrapidly decline. He’d have ahard time even stayingawake.”“So the landing date’s

firm,” Teddy said. “Maurice,can you get Iris on thebooster in less than thirteen

days?”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 includes

transport 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 a

problem?”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 twenty

launches.”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, wehaveaoneinfortychanceofmission failure?” Teddyasked.

“That’s two point fivepercent,” 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 saferwaytogetmoretime?”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 canstretch 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 haveprocedures. Skipping those

procedures 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 youdoing?”“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 timeforavacation?”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 his

calculations.Mike rubbed his eyes.

“Okay, whatever. Aboutthosesatelliteorbits…?”“I’m on vacation,” Rich

saidwithoutlookingup.Mikeshruggedandwalked

away.

•••

[08:01]WATNEY:How’smycarepackagecomingalong?[08:16]JPL:Alittlebehind

schedule,butwe’llgetitdone.Inthemeantime,wewantyoutogetbacktowork.We’resatisfiedtheHabisingoodcondition.Maintenanceonlytakesyoutwelvehoursperweek.We’regoingtopacktherestofyourtimewithresearchandexperiments.[08:31]WATNEY:Great!I’m

sickofsittingonmyass.I’mgoingtobehereforyears.Youmayaswellmakeuseofme.[08:47]JPL:That’swhatwe’re

thinking.We’llgetyouascheduleassoonasthescienceteamputsittogether.It’llbemostlyEVAs,geologicalsampling,soiltests,andweeklyself-administeredmedicaltests.Honestly,thisisthebest“bonusMarstime”we’vehadsincetheOpportunitylander.

[09:02]WATNEY:OpportunityneverwentbacktoEarth.[09:17]JPL:Sorry.Bad

analogy.

•••

THE JPL Spacecraft AssemblyFacility,knownas the“cleanroom,” was the little-knownbirthplaceofthemostfamous

spacecraft in Marsexploration history. Mariner,Viking, Spirit, Opportunity,andCuriosity, just tonameafew,hadallbeenborninthisoneroom.Today,theroomwasabuzz

with activity as technicianssealed Iris into the speciallydesignedshippingcontainer.Theoff-dutytechswatched

the procedure from theobservation deck. They had

rarelyseentheirhomesinthelast twomonths; amakeshiftbunkroomhadbeensetupinthe cafeteria. Fully a third ofthem 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 ofgrueling 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 willstay inorbit forat least threehours. During that time,Mission Control will gatherexacttelemetryinpreparationfor 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 to

reachMars.”“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?” someoneasked.“Nodisco,”Annie said, as

chuckles cascaded throughtheroom.CNN’s Cathy Warner

spokeup.“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, prepared

forthequestion.“It’saboutahuman life in immediatedanger. But if you want tolookatitfinancially,considerthe value of Mark Watney’sextended mission. Hisprolonged 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 forhelpwith

thislaunch.”“Willdo.”Mitch stepped forward to

his station in MissionControl. The room bustled

withactivityasthedozensofcontrollers each made finalpreparationsforlaunch.He put his headset on and

glancedatthetimereadoutonthe giant center screen at thefront of the room.He turnedonhisheadsetandsaid,“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 the

center 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 an

administrator. His job wasdone. He could only watchand hope. His gaze wasfixated on the far wall’sdisplays. Inhismind,hesawthe numbers, the shiftjuggling,theoutrightliesandborderline crimes he’dcommittedtoputthismissiontogether. 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.Hisbriefcaselayathisfeetandheheldabluefolderinhishands.“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 computershowed 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. Somefidgeted, unable to findcomfortablepositions.Others

held 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 transmission

time 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 an

unmanned launch. Theylistened 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 his

mind, he thought the officewas 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 Irissupply probe,” the timercontrollersaid.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 calledout, 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 to

deploy its tumble balloonsand impacted at incrediblespeed.Because Iris was an

unmannedmission,therewasno cap on acceleration. Thecontentsoftheprobeenduredforces no human couldsurvive.ButwhileNASAhadtested the effects of extremeg-forces on protein cubes,they had not done so with asimultaneous lateral

vibration. Had they beengivenmore time, theywouldhave.The harmless shimmy,

caused by a minor fuelmixtureimbalance,rattledthepayload. Iris,mounted firmlywithin the aeroshell atop thebooster, held firm. Theprotein cubes inside Iris didnot.At the microscopic level,

the protein cubes were solid

food particles suspended inthick vegetable oil. The foodparticles compressed to lessthan half their original size,buttheoilwasbarelyaffectedat all. This changed thevolumeratioofsolidtoliquiddramatically, which in turnmade the aggregate act as aliquid. Known as“liquefaction,” this processtransformedtheproteincubesfrom a steady solid into a

flowingsludge.Stored in a compartment

thatoriginallyhadnoleftoverspace, the now-compressedsludgehadroomtoslosh.Theshimmyalsocausedan

imbalanced load, forcing thesludge 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,” he

said. “But the accelerometerscaught it and calculated thenew center of mass. Theguidance computer isadjusting the engines’ thrusts

to 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 orbit

with only a minor courseadjustment, implementedautomatically bysophisticatedsoftware.The first stage depleted its

fuel, and the booster coastedforafractionofasecondasitjettisoned stage clamps viaexplosive 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 asuddenjoltofimmenseforce.No longer contending withthe deadweight of the firststage, the acceleration wasprofound. The three hundred

kilogramsofsludgeslammedintothebackofitscontainer.The point of impact was attheedgeofIris,nowherenearwherethemasswasexpectedtobe.Though Iris was held in

place by five large bolts, theforcewasdirectedentirely toa single one. The bolt wasdesigned to withstandimmense forces; if necessaryto carry the entire weight of

the payload. But it was notdesigned to sustain a suddenimpact from a loose three-hundred-kilogrammass.The bolt sheared. The

burdenwasthenshiftedtotheremaining four bolts. Theforceful impact havingpassed, their work wasconsiderably easier than thatoftheirfallencomrade.Had the pad crew been

given time to do normal

inspections, 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 load

presentedunequalforcetothefour remaining bolts, thedefective one bearing thebrunt of it. Soon, it failed as

well. From there, the otherthree failed in rapidsuccession.Iris slipped from its

supports in the aeroshell,slammingintothehull.

•••

“WOAH!”EXCLAIMEDtheascentflight director. “Flight,we’re

gettingalargeprecession!”“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’s

spinningonthelongaxiswitha 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, theroomfellsilent.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 tothemainscreen.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 a

perfectlaunch.Heplaceditinhis briefcase and extractedthe red folder,with theotherspeechinit.

•••

VENKATSTAREDouthisofficewindows to the space centerbeyond. A space center thathoused mankind’s mostadvanced knowledge of

rocketryyethadstillfailedtoexecutetoday’slaunch.His mobile rang. His wife

again. 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,Ineedyoutocheckon

myparents.They’llwanttohearaboutourtimeonMarsfirsthand.I’llneedyoutodothat.Itwon’tbeeasytalkingtoa

coupleabouttheirdeadson.It’salottoask;that’swhyI’maskingyou.I’dtellyouyou’remybestfriendandstuff,butitwouldbelame.I’mnotgivingup.Just

planningforeveryoutcome.It’swhatIdo.

•••

GUO MING, director of theChina National SpaceAdministration,examinedthedauntingpileofpaperworkathis desk. In the old days,whenChinawantedtolauncharocket,theyjustlaunchedit.Nowtheywerecompelledbyinternational agreements towarnothernationsfirst.

It was a requirement, GuoMing 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: makingthe launch date and flightpath clear, while doing

everything 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 andVenus. It would be China’sfirst heliology probe to orbit

thesun.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, but

Zhu Tao neither stood toleave 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?”

“Haveyoueverknownmeto‘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 lighter

payload 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. “All

our booster technology isclassified information. TheMinistry of State Securityeven spreads disinformationaboutourcapabilities.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 Taoanswered. “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 wouldhinge on the Americansreimbursing us for thebooster,”ZhuTao said, “andthe State Council wouldlikely want political favorsfromtheUSgovernment.”“Reimbursement would be

pointless,” Guo Ming said.“This was an expensiveproject,andtheStateCouncilgrumbledaboutitallalong.Iftheyhadabulkpayoutforits

value, they’d just keep it.We’d never get to buildanotherone.”He clasped his hands

behind his back. “And theAmerican people may besentimental, but theirgovernment is not. The USStateDepartmentwon’t tradeanythingmajorforoneman’slife.”“So it’s hopeless?” asked

ZhuTao.

“Nothopeless,”GuoMingcorrected. “Just hard. If thisbecomes a negotiation bydiplomats, it will never beresolved. We need to keepthis among scientists. Spaceagency 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’tgetwithoutthem.”“Andthatis?”“They’ll put a Chinese

astronautonMars.”Zhu Tao stood. “Of

course.” He smiled. “The

Ares5crewhasn’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 State

Councilwould sell theirownmothersforthat.”

•••

TEDDY LISTENED to the phoneat his ear. The voice on theotherendfinishedwhatithadto say, then fell silent as itawaitedananswer.He stared at nothing in

particular as he processed

whathe’djustheard.After a few seconds, he

replied,“Yes.”

•••

Johanssen:Yourposteroutsoldtherestof

ourscombined.You’reahotchickwhowenttoMars.You’reondorm-roomwallsalloverthe

world.Lookinglikethat,whyareyou

suchanerd?Andyouare,youknow.Aseriousnerd.IhadtodosomecomputershittogetPathfindertalkingtotheroverandohmygod.AndIhadNASAtellingmewhattodoeverystepoftheway.Youshouldtrytobemore

cool.Weardarkglassesandaleatherjacket.Carryaswitchblade.Aspiretoalevelof

coolnessknownonlyas…“BotanistCool.”DidyouknowCommander

Lewishadachatwithusmen?Ifanyonehitonyou,we’dbeoffthemission.Iguessafteralifetimeofcommandingsailors,she’sgotanunfairlyjadedview.Anyway,thepointisyou’rea

nerd.RemindmetogiveyouawedgienexttimeIseeyou.

•••

“OKAY, HERE we are again,”said Bruce to the assembledheads of JPL. “You’ve allheard about the TaiyangShen, so you know ourfriends in China have givenusonemorechance.But thistime,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-threedays.Nowwehavetodoitintwenty-eight.”He looked across the table

totheincredulousfaces.

“Folks,” he said, “this isgoing tobe themost ‘ghetto’spacecraft ever built. There’sonly one way to finish thatfast:nolandingsystem.”“Sorry,what?”JackTrevor

stammered.Brucenodded. “Youheard

me.Nolandingsystem.We’llneed 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 doWatney?”Jackasked.“As long as the food

doesn’t burn up on the way

in,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 wantthe safest possible system.Aerosol propellant would bebest. High-gain radio so we

can 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 intoVenkat’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 the

papers 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!” Richbeamed.“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’sa

stupidexpression.”“Rich, you’re being

difficult.”“Ah.Thanks.”

•••

Vogel:Beingyourbackuphas

backfired.IguessNASAfiguredbotany

andchemistryaresimilarbecausetheybothendin“Y,”Onewayoranother,Iendedupbeingyourbackupchemist.Rememberwhentheymade

youspendadayexplainingyourexperimentstome?Itwasinthemiddleofintensemissionprep.Youmayhaveforgotten.Youstartedmytrainingby

buyingmeabeer.Forbreakfast.

Germansareawesome.Anyway,nowthatIhavetime

tokill,NASAgavemeapileofwork.Andallyourchemistrycrapisonthelist.SonowIhavetodoboring-assexperimentswithtesttubesandsoilandpHlevelsandZzzzzzzzzz.…Mylifeisnowadesperate

struggleforsurvival…withoccasionaltitration.Frankly,Isuspectyou’rea

super-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 everything

once 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.“The

CouncilofElrond.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 knowwhat 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 have

landedtillSol588.”“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, theyhavetodecelerateforthenextmonth just to slow down toEarth’sspeed.”Mitch rubbed the back of

hishead.“Wow…549.That’s

thirty-fivesolsbeforeWatneyrunsoutof food.Thatwouldsolveeverything.”Teddy leaned forward.

“Run us through it, Venkat.Whatwoulditentail?”“Well,” Venkat began, “if

they did this ‘Rich PurnellManeuver,’ they’d startaccelerating right away, topreserve their velocity andgain even more. Theywouldn’t intercept Earth at

all, but would come closeenoughtouseagravityassistto adjust course.Around thattime, they’d pick up aresupply probe withprovisions for the extendedtrip.“Afterthat,they’dbeonan

accelerating orbit towardMars, arriving on Sol 549.LikeIsaid,it’saMaryflyby.This isn’t anything like anormalAresmission.They’ll

be 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 getWatneyoffthesurface.”“Yeah…,” Venkat said.

“Nowfortheunpleasantpart:Watneywouldhave toget to

theAres4MAV.”“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 toPathfinder’s landing site andback. That’s over fifteenhundredkilometers.”

“Thatwasover flat, desertterrain,” 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 wouldbeMAVmodifications.”“What’s wrong with the

MAV?”Mitchasked.

“It’sdesignedtogettolowMars 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 getroomsfullofpeopleworkingon these problems, if wedecidetodothis.”

“Earlier,”Teddysaid,“youmentionedasupplyprobeforHermes. 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.“Sowe

havetwooptionsonthetable:SendWatneyenoughfood to

last 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.“Wouldtheyhave

a 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 CommanderLewis’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?

Thisseemslikesomethingforyounerdstodiscuss.”“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 startingthe 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“dire

situation,”Idon’thavetofollowsocialrulesanymore.Icanbehonestwitheveryone.Bearingthatinmind,Ihaveto

say…dude…youneedtotellJohanssenhowyoufeel.Ifyoudon’t,you’llregretitforever.

Iwon’tlie:Itcouldendbadly.Ihavenoideawhatshethinksofyou.Orofanything.She’sweird.Butwaittillthemission’s

over.You’reonashipwithherforanothertwomonths.Also,ifyouguysgotuptoanythingwhilethemissionwasinprogress,Lewiswouldkillyou.

•••

VENKAT,MITCH,Annie,Bruce,andTeddymetforthesecondtime in as many days.“ProjectElrond”hadtakenonadarkconnotationthroughoutthe Space Center, veiled insecrecy. Many people knewthe name, none knew itspurpose.Speculation ran rampant.

Some thought it was acompletely new program inthe works. Others worried it

might 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 on

thetable.“We’ll do all we can to

makeitwork,”Brucesaid.

“If it’s not too much toask,” 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’tthink 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 ofyour infantile attitude. Youcan throw all the tantrumsyou want, but the rest of us

havetobeadults.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 crewcanmakeuptheirownmindsaboutit.”“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 convincingyourself thecrash-landerwillwork so you don’t have totake a risk. You’re hanging

him 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’s

sake.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?”

“Iknowyoucareabouttheastronauts, but he’s right.Youareafuckingcoward.Ifyou had balls, we might beabletosaveWatney.”

•••

Lewis:Hi,Commander.Betweentrainingandourtrip

toMars,Ispenttwoyears

workingwithyou.IthinkIknowyouprettywell.SoI’mguessingyoustillblameyourselfformysituation,despitemyearliere-mailaskingyounotto.Youwerefacedwithan

impossiblescenarioandmadeatoughdecision.That’swhatcommandersdo.Andyourdecisionwasright.Ifyou’dwaitedanylonger,theMAVwouldhavetipped.I’msureyou’verunthrough

allthepossibleoutcomesinyourhead,soyouknowthere’snothingyoucouldhavedonedifferently(otherthan“bepsychic”).Youprobablythinklosinga

crewmanistheworstthingthatcanhappen.Nottrue.Losingthewholecrewisworse.Youkeptthatfromhappening.Butthere’ssomethingmore

importantweneedtodiscuss:Whatisitwithyouanddisco?I

canunderstandthe’70sTVbecauseeveryoneloveshairypeoplewithhugecollars.Butdisco?Disco!?

•••

VOGEL CHECKED the positionand orientation of Hermesagainst the projected path. Itmatched,asusual.Inaddition

to being the mission’schemist, he was also anaccomplished 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 position

of the sun and Earth, andknowing the exact time fromanon-boardatomicclock).Barring a complete

computer failure or othercritical event, Vogel’s vastknowledge of astrodynamicswouldnevercomeintoplay.After completing the

check,heranadiagnosticonthe engines. They werefunctioning at peak. He didall this fromhisquarters.All

onboard computers couldcontrol all ships’ functions.Gone were the days ofphysically 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 wife

caught his attention. Titled“unsere kinder” (“ourchildren”), it containednothing but an imageattachment. He raised aneyebrow.Severalthingsstoodout at once. First, “kinder”shouldhavebeencapitalized.Helena, a grammar school

teacher in Bremen, was veryunlikelytomakethatmistake.Also, to each other, theyaffectionately called theirkidsdieAffen.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 maximize

simulated 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. “Perhapstomorrow when you are onthedutyisbetter?”“Now’s fine,” she said.

“What’swrong?”“It isafile. It isan image,

but my computer cannotview.”

“Where’s the file?” sheasked, 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 mangled

inthedownload.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’tknowwhatit is. Looks like a bunch ofmathformulae.”Shegesturedto the screen. “Does any ofthismakesensetoyou?”Vogelleanedin,lookingat

thetext.“Ja,”hesaid.“Itisa

coursemaneuverforHermes.It says the name is ‘RichPurnellManeuver.’”“What’s that?” Johanssen

asked.“I have not heard of this

maneuver.”He looked at thetables. “It is complicated…verycomplicated.…”He froze. “Sol 549!?” he

exclaimed.“MeinGott!”

•••

THE HERMES crew enjoyedtheirscantpersonaltimeinanarea called “the Rec.”Consisting of a table andbarely room to seat six, itrankedlowingravitypriority.Itspositionamidshipsgranteditamere0.2g.Still,itwasenoughtokeep

everyone in a seat as they

pondered what Vogel toldthem.“…andthenmissionwould

concludewithEarth intercepttwohundredandelevendayslater,”hefinishedup.“Thankyou,Vogel,”Lewis

said. She’d heard theexplanation earlier whenVogel came to her, butJohanssen, Martinez, andBeck were hearing it for thefirst time. She gave them a

momenttodigest.“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’d

havetopickupasupplynearEarth,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 riskonWatney 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 thesupply 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 paced

slowly around the table.“We’ll only do it if we all

agree. 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 hundredand 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 wegot home. As for the rest ofyou,Iguaranteethey’llneversendyouupagain.”

Martinezleanedagainstthewall, 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 ifweall

die 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’scontrol 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’tshutdownthecomms; we’d lose telemetryand guidance.We can’t shut

downthecomputers;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 anemergency feature, not asecurity program. It isn’t

protected 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’llwait 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,theywerebacktotheirold selves. She knew right

then no one’s mind wouldchange.They were going back to

Mars.

•••

EVERYONE KNEW BrendanHutch would be runningmissionssoon.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.“Noreal 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,” Brendansaid.“Hermesisoffcourse.”“CAPCOM,adviseHermes

they’re drifting. Telemetry,get a correction vector ready—”“Negative, Flight,”

Telemetry interrupted. “It’snot drift. They adjustedcourse. Instrumentationuplink shows a deliberate

27.812-degreerotation.”“What the hell?” Brendan

stammered. “CAPCOM, askthemwhatthehell.”“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,”wasthereplyfromtheguidancecontroller.“Work out how long they

canstayonthiscoursebeforeit’sirreversible.AtwhatpointwilltheynolongerbeabletointerceptEarth?”“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 coffeetable and smiled at Teddy.“Youwantedtoseeme?”“Why’dyoudoit,Mitch?”

Teddydemanded.“Dowhat?”“You know damn well

whatI’mtalkingabout.”

“Oh,youmeantheHermesmutiny?” 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. Notyet,butwe’reworkingonit.”“Really?” Mitch said. “Is

thatreallythebestuseofourtime?Imean,wehaveanear-Earthresupplytoplan,nottomention figuring out how toget Watney to Schiaparelli.We’ve got a lot on ourplates.”“You’re damn right we

have a lot on our plates!”Teddy fumed. “After your

little stunt, we’re committedtothisthing.”“Alleged stunt,” Mitch

said, raising a finger. “Isuppose Annie will tell themedia we decided to try thisrisky maneuver? And she’llleaveoutthemutinypart?”“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,“only

passed 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,IguessI’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’s

MAV. Even NASA acceptsthat.AndwhenthenanniesatNASA recommend a 3200-kilometeroverlanddrive,youknowyou’reintrouble.Schiaparelli,hereIcome!

Well…not right away. Istill have to do theaforementioned shitload ofwork.MytriptoPathfinderwasa

quick jaunt compared to theepic 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 to

Pathfinder. 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?” I

hear you ask (in my feveredimagination). “Won’t it havesomesupplies?Airandwaterattheveryleast?”Nope.It’sgotdick-all.

It does have air tanks, butthey’re empty. An AresmissionneedslotsofO2,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.That

givesme 257 sols to getmyassingear.Seems like a long time,

doesn’tit?In that time, I need to

modify the rover tocarry the“BigThree”: theatmosphericregulator,theoxygenator,andthewaterreclaimer.All threeneed to be in the pressurizedarea, but the rover isn’t bigenough.All three need to berunning at all times, but the

rover’s batteries can’t handlethatloadforlong.Theroverwillalsoneedto

carryallmyfood,water,andsolar cells, my extra battery,my tools, some spare parts,and Pathfinder. As my solemeans of communicationwith NASA, Pathfinder getsto ride on the roof, GrannyClampettstyle.Ihavea lotofproblemsto

solve, but I have a lot of

smart people to solve them.PrettymuchthewholeplanetEarth.NASA is still working on

the details, but the idea is tousebothrovers.Onetodrivearound,theothertoactasmycargotrailer.I’llhavetomakestructural

changes to that trailer. Andby “structural changes” Imean “cut a big hole in thehull.” Then I can move the

Big 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 assistantVenkat Kapoor explainfurther:

[14:38]JPL:I’msureyou’rewonderinghowtocutaholeintherover.

Ourexperimentsshowarocksampledrillcangetthroughthehull.Wearandtearonthebitisminimal(rocksareharderthancarboncomposite).Youcancutholesinaline,thenchiselouttheremainingchunksbetweenthem.Ihopeyoulikedrilling.The

drillbitis1cmwide,theholeswillbe0.5cmapart,andthelengthofthetotalcutis11.4m.That’s760holes.Andeachonetakes160secondstodrill.

Problem:Thedrillsweren’tdesignedforconstructionprojects.Theywereintendedforquickrocksamples.Thebatteriesonlylast240seconds.Youdohavetwodrills,butyou’dstillonlyget3holesdonebeforeneedingtorecharge.Andrechargingtakes41minutes.That’s173hoursofwork,

limitedto8EVAhoursperday.That’s21daysofdrilling,andthat’sjusttoolong.Allourother

ideashingeonthiscutworking.Ifitdoesn’t,weneedtimetocomeupwithnewones.Sowewantyoutowireadrill

directlytoHabpower.Thedrillexpects28.8Vand

pulls9amps.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 hasinabundance.I had to make my own

nine-amp breaker. I strungthree three-amp breakers in

parallel. 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 my

airlocks,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 ameter tall, and shaped like ajackhammer.Wedidourrocksampling standing up, likeApolloastronauts.

Also,unlikemyPathfinderhatchet job, I had the fullschematics of the drill. Iremoved the battery andattachedapowerlinewhereitused to be. Then, taking thedrillanditsnewcordoutside,Iconnectedittothemodifiedroverchargerandfireditup.Worked like a charm!The

drillwhirledawaywithhappyabandon. Somehow, I hadmanaged to do everything

rightthefirsttry.Deepdown,I thought I’d fry the drill forsure.Itwasn’t evenmiddayyet.

I figuredwhynotgeta jumpondrilling?

[10:07]Watney:Powerlinemodificationscomplete.Hookedituptoadrill,anditworksgreat.Plentyofdaylightleft.Sendmeadescriptionofthatholeyouwantmetocut.

[10:25]JPL:Gladtohearit.Startingonthecutsoundsgreat.Justtobeclear,thesearemodificationstoRover1,whichwe’vebeencalling“thetrailer.”Rover2(theonewithyourmodificationsforthetriptoPathfinder)shouldremainasisfornow.You’llbetakingachunkoutof

theroof,justinfrontoftheairlockintherearofthevehicle.Theholeneedstobeatleast2.5

mlongandthefull2mwidthofthepressurevessel.Beforeanycuts,drawthe

shapeonthetrailer,andpositionthetrailerwherePathfinder’scameracanseeit.We’llletyouknowifyougotitright.[10:43]Watney:Roger.Takea

picat11:30,ifyouhaven’theardfrommebythen.

The rovers are made tointerlock so one can tow the

other. 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 noabilitytomoveunderitsownpower. So I hitched it up to

my 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 into

something 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. Ducttape is magic and should beworshiped.

I can see what NASA hasin mind. The rear of thetrailer has an airlock thatwe’renotgoingtomesswith.Thecutisjustaheadofitandwill leaveplentyofspacefortheBigThreetostand.Ihaveno ideahowNASA

planstopowertheBigThreefor twenty-four and a halfhours a day and still haveenergylefttodrive.Ibettheydon’t know, either. But

they’re smart; they’ll worksomethingout.

[11:49]JPL:Whatwecanseeofyourplannedcutlooksgood.We’reassumingtheothersideisidentical.You’reclearedtostartdrilling.[12:07]Watney:That’swhat

shesaid.[12:25]JPL:Seriously,Mark?

Seriously?

First, I depressurized thetrailer. Call me crazy, but Ididn’t want the drillexplosively 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. This

isn’t your dad’s Black &Decker we’re talking about.It’s a meter long and onlysafetoholdbythehandles.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 twoand 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 theworkbenchforafewminutes,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). A

pleasantsideeffectisthedrillcoolsevenfaster.ThoughI’llhave to clean it thoroughlyevery 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. For

that 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. Thatmeans 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 spendingall damn day drilling. Aftereighthoursofdull,physicallyintensework,Ihad137holestoshowforit.It turned out to be easy to

deal with places I couldn’treach.Ididn’tneedtomodifyalandingstrutafterall.I justhadtogetsomethingtostandon. I used a geologicalsamplecontainer(alsoknownas“abox”).

Before I was in contactwith 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 meoutlongerthanspec.With today’s work, I’m

about one-fourth of the waythrough the whole cut. Atleast, one-fourth of the way

throughthedrilling.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 itdone.Anyway, at this rate, it’ll

take four more sols of(boring-ass) work to finishthedrilling.

I’ve actually exhaustedLewis’s supply of shittyseventies TV. And I’ve readall of Johanssen’s mysterybooks.I’ve already rifled through

othercrewmates’stufftofindentertainment. But all ofVogel’s stuff is in German,Beck brought nothing butmedical journals, andMartinez didn’t bringanything.

I got really bored, so Idecidedtopickathemesong!Something appropriate.

And naturally, it should besomething from Lewis’sgodawful seventiescollection. It wouldn’t berightanyotherway.There are plenty of great

candidates: “Life on Mars?”by David Bowie, “RocketMan” by Elton John, “AloneAgain(Naturally)”byGilbert

O’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 from

Venkattocheermeon!

[17:12]Watney:145holestoday.357total.[17:31]JPL:Wethoughtyou’d

havemoredonebynow.

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 physical

labor is making me sleepwonderfully.Imisstendingthepotatoes.

The Hab isn’t the samewithoutthem.There’s still soil

everywhere. No point inlugging it back outside.Lackinganythingbettertodo,I ran some tests on it.Amazingly, some of thebacteria survived. Thepopulation is strong and

growing. 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 of

bacteria, 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 around08:45, 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 150

divots(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, Ienjoyedanice lunch and played somechessagainstthecomputer(itkicked my ass). Then backout for the day’s secondEVA.

At 13:30 my ruinationoccurred, though I didn’trealizeitatthetime.Theworstmoments in life

are heralded by smallobservations. The tiny lumponyoursidethatwasn’ttherebefore.Cominghometoyourwife 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. It

would 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.Sotherewerenosystemicpowerproblems. I checkedmy newbreakers,andsureenough,allthreehadtripped.

I guess the drill pulled alittle 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 finishedmydayat17:00

after drilling 131 holes. Notas good as yesterday, but Ilost some time to the drill

malfunction.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:Have

receivednoreply.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 executed

thefirstinstruction:

[18:09]Watney:system_command:STATUS[18:09]SYSTEM:Last

messagesent00h31mago.Lastmessagereceived26h17mago.Lastpingreplyfromprobereceived04h24mago.WARNING:52unansweredpings.

Pathfinder was no longer

talking 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’scommsoftwareontheotherrover’scomputer,tryfromthere.

5. Ifbothroversfail,

problemislikelywithPathfinder.Checkconnectionsveryclosely.CleanPathfinderofMartiandust.

6. SpellmessageinMorsecodewithrocks,includethingsattempted.ProblemmayberecoverablewithremoteupdateofPathfinder.

Ionlygotasfarasstep1.Ichecked Pathfinder’sconnections and the negativeleadwasnolongerattached.Iwaselated!Whatarelief!

With a smile on my face, Ifetchedmyelectronicskitandprepared to reattach the lead.Ipulleditoutoftheprobetogive it a good cleaning (asbest I could with the glovesofmyspacesuit)andnoticedsomething strange. The

insulationhadmelted.I pondered this

development. Meltedinsulation usually means ashort. More current than thewirecouldhandlehadpassedthrough.But thebareportionof the wire wasn’t black oreven singed, and thepositivelead’s insulation wasn’tmeltedatall.Then, one by one, the

horrible realities of Mars

came 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 breaker

trippedaroundthesametime.…Oh…shit…

TheinternalelectronicsforPathfinder 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.Theother

three 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—enoughto reach around PanelA andbe in contactwith the hull. Ishouldmention thatMylar isconductive.

At13:30,I leanedthedrillagainst 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 what

hadhappened.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 9000milliamps, which plowedthrough the delicateelectronics, frying everythingalong the way. The breakers

tripped,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’telectrocutePathfinder.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’t

want 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,andtheyhavetorun 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 atthis…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. (The

water reclaimer only needs3.6ofthat.)There’llbecutbacks.The easiest cutback is the

water reclaimer. I have 620liters of water (I had a lotmore 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 needthewaterreclaimeratall.I’lldrinkasneededanddumpmywaste outdoors. Yeah, that’sright, Mars, I’m gonna pissand shit on you. That’swhatyou 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 forsix.One-sixth thequantityof

CO2 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. TheCO2 needs tobe separated in order to beprocessed.The regulator analyzes the

air with spectroscopy, thenseparates the gasses bysupercooling them. Differentelements turn to liquid at

different temperatures. OnEarth,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. When

it’s warm, additionalrefrigerationisused,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,soit

turnstoliquidatmuchhighertemperatures. 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 enough

juicetodrive.Morethinkingisrequired.

LOGENTRY:SOL199

I’ve got it. I know how topower the oxygenator andatmosphericregulator.The problem with small

pressure vessels is CO2toxicity.Youcanhavealltheoxygenintheworld,butoncetheCO2getsabove1percent,

you’ll start togetdrowsy.At2 percent, it’s like beingdrunk.At5percent, it’shardto stay conscious. Eightpercent will eventually killyou.Stayingaliveisn’taboutoxygen, it’s about getting ridofCO2.That means I need the

regulator. But I don’t needtheoxygenatorall the time. Ijust need to get CO2 out of

the air and back-fill withoxygen. I have 50 liters ofliquid oxygen in two 25-litertankshere in theHab.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 on

oxygen, Icancampout foradayanduseallmy power torun the oxygenator on thestored CO2. That way, theoxygenator’s powerconsumption 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. SomethingNASA

wouldn’t consider on theirmosthomicidalday.TheRTG!Yes, the RTG. You may

rememberitfrommyexcitingtrip to Pathfinder. A lovelylump of plutonium soradioactive it gives off 1500wattsofheat,whichitusestoharvest 100 watts ofelectricity. So what happensto the other 1400 watts? Itgetsradiatedoutasheat.

OnthetriptoPathfinder,Ihad to actually removeinsulation from the rover tovent excess heat from thedamnthing.I’llbetapingthatback in place because I’llneedthatheattowarmupthereturnairfromtheregulator.I ran the numbers. The

regulator uses 790 watts toconstantly reheat air. TheRTG’s 1400 watts is morethanequaltothetask,aswell

as keeping the rover areasonabletemperature.To test, I shut down the

heaters in the regulator andnoteditspowerconsumption.Afterafewminutes,I turnedthem right back on again.Jesus Christ that return airwascold.ButIgotthedataIwanted.Withheating, theregulator

needs 21.5 pirate-ninjas.Without it…(drumroll) 1

pirate-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 pureradiation.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 towclamps.Easyenough.

The trailer has beendepressurized 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. Myfreeze-driedpotatoeswilladd

another 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 twohours of brutal labor, during

whichIwhineda 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 hasspectaculartorque.

Butphysicallawisapushylittle 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 64

daystogettoSchiaparelli.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.ItwasrightwhereIleftit, 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.)

Istoreditontheroofoftherover 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 sample

container.Sure enough, the water

heatedup.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. And

theRTGgeneratesaconstant,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 woreoff,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,makingapitinside

the cot, with extra canvasaround 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 tomyRTGwaterheaterandput

both the input and outputlinesintothetub.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 it

did, I shut off the pump andgotin.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 I

wasn’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 wasreducedtowatchingreruns.Igotalotofthinkingdone.I can make everything

better by having more solarpanels.The fourteenpanels Itook to Pathfinder provided

the18kilowatt-hoursthatthebatteries could store. Whentraveling,Istowedthepanelson the roof.The trailer givesme room to store anotherseven(halfofitsroofwillbemissing because of the holeI’mcuttinginit).This trip’s power needs

will be driven by theoxygenator. It all comesdown to how much power Ican give that greedy little

bastardinasinglesol.IwanttominimizehowoftenIhavedayswithnotravel.Themorejuice I can give theoxygenator, themoreoxygenit’ll liberate, and the longer Ican go between those “airsols.”Let’sgetgreedy.Let’s say

Icanfindahomeforfourteenmorepanelsinsteadofseven.Not sure how to do that, butlet’s say I can. That would

give 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 arrange

battery storage for the extrapower, I could drive 100kilometers per sol! Easiersaid than done, though. Thatextra 18 kilowatt-hours of

storage 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’repretty 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 solarfarmanddraggedthemtotherover. 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, theroverwouldtip.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 of

sevencells.Thatwouldworkfine; it’s just two rovers’worth of what I did for thetriptoPathfinder.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, but

whatwould 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 is

now the trailer), while theothersidewasfullofrocksascounterweight.I won’t need the bags this

time 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 andreinstalled 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, I

hadmysolution.I’ll make L-brackets that

stick out from theundercarriages, 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 and

two on the trailer. If thebrackets stick out far enoughtoaccommodatetwopanels,Icould 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.Ivowedtocompletethe

bracketstoday,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 the

HabtosavemyselfthehassleofworkinginanEVAsuit.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 thetrailer. Important note—the

undercarriage 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. Twostacksofsevensolarcellson

the roofof 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 oneextra!

After some well-earnedfist-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,themorespacethereisforme.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 therover(whichhasitsowncopyofeachof those),andit’llbecarrying the regulator andoxygenator.BetweentheHabcomponentsandtherover,I’llhave two redundant life

support systems. That’splenty.Then Iyanked thedriver’s

seat and control panel out ofthe trailer. The linkup withthe rover is physical. Thetrailer doesn’t do anythingbutgetdraggedalongandfedair.Itdoesn’tneedcontrolsorbrains. However, I didsalvage its computer. It’ssmallandlight,soI’llbringitwith me. If something goes

wrong 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 makes

them take less mass perkilowatt hour of storage.Yeah, it’s counterintuitive.But once NASA figured outtheycouldincreasevolumetodecrease mass, they were alloverit.Massistheexpensivepart about sending things toMars.Idetachedtwoofthem.As

long as I return them beforethe end of the day, thingsshould be fine. The Hab

mostly 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 togetthefirstbatteryoutofthewayenoughtolet 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 inthedamnEVAsuit).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 isbeinglaunchedfromChinain

two 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’tfindouthowthelaunchwenttillIgettoSchiaparelli.

Goodluck,guys.

CHAPTER19

“HEY, MELISSA…,” saidRobert. “Am I gettingthrough?Canyouseeme?”“Loud and clear, babe,”

saidCommanderLewis.“Thevideolinkissolid.”“They say I have five

minutes,”Robertsaid.

“Better than nothing,”Lewis said. Floating in herquarters, she gently touchedthebulkhead 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 selfishpointofview,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 theship? 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 our

collection!”“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 their

flight split off to go to asimpler point-of-entryprocess.AsVenkattookhisplacein

line, Teddy filed in behindhimandscannedtheterminalfor a convenience store.Anyform of caffeine would bewelcome.“Excuse me, gentlemen,”

came a voice from besidethem.

TheyturnedtoseeayoungChinese man wearing jeansandapoloshirt.“MynameisSu Bin Bao,” he said inperfect English. “I am anemployee of the ChinaNational SpaceAdministration.Iwillbeyourguide and translator duringyour stay in the People’sRepublicofChina.”“Nice to meet you, Mr.

Su,”Teddysaid. “I’mTeddy

Sanders, 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.Icantake

you to your hotelimmediately.”“Iloveyou,”Venkatsaid.“TellthePeople’sRepublic

of China we said thanks,”Teddyadded.“I’ll pass that along.” Su

Binsmiled.

•••

“HELENA, MY LOVE,” Vogelsaid to hiswife. “I trust youarewell?”“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 her

class, 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 forthemtobringmetoHouston.A freevacation to theUnitedStates.WhoamI to turnthatdown?”

“Well played. And how ismymother?”“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’thavetoworryaboutyoulikeIdo.”“Shehasn’tworsened?”he

asked.

“No, she’s about the sameaswhenyouleft.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,andafterreceiving

the Taiyang Shen, we willhaveallthesuppliesweneedfor the remainder of thejourney.”“Becareful.”“I will, my love,” Vogel

promised.

•••

“WELCOME TO JIUQUAN,” Guo

Mingsaid.“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.”

•••

“SOEXPLAIN it again,”Beck’s

sister Amy said. “Why doyouhavetodoanEVA?”“I probably don’t,” Beck

explained. “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 maneuveringcontrol.”“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 thesysop 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, you

lecheroushomewrecker.”“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 goodbooster.”“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,theycanburnmeineffigyforallIcare.”

•••

“WAVE TO DADDY!” Marissa

said,wavingDavid’shandatthe camera. “Wave toDaddy!”“He’s too young to know

what’s going on,” Martinezsaid.“Just think of the

playground cred he’ll havelater in life,” she said. “‘Mydad went to Mars. What’syourdaddo?’”“Yes, I’m pretty

awesome,”heagreed.

Marissacontinued towaveDavid’s hand at the camera.Davidwasmoreinterestedinhis other hand, which wasactively engaged in pickinghisnose.“So,” Martinez said,

“you’repissed.”“You can tell?” Marissa

asked.“Itriedtohideit.”“We’vebeentogethersince

wewerefifteen.Iknowwhen

you’repissed.”“Youvolunteeredtoextend

themission fivehundredandthirty-three days,” she said,“asshole.”“Yeah,” Martinez said. “I

figuredthat’dbethereason.”“Your son will be in

kindergarten when you getback. He won’t have anymemoriesofyou.”“Iknow,”Martinezsaid.

“Ihavetowaitanotherfivehundredand 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,” he

agreed.

•••

“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,thankyouforjoiningus.”“Happy to do it,” Venkat

said.

“So, Dr. Kapoor, tell usabouttheTaiyangShen.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 boostercapable 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 othersupplies. It has a standardsatellite thruster package formaneuvering,butthat’sit.”

“And that’s enough to flytoHermes?”“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 probewithhis hands anddrag it tothedockingport.”

“Sounds kind ofunscientific.”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 it

would 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 fidgetedin the chair, unsure what tosay. After a moment, he

pulled a handkerchief fromhispocketandmoppedsweatfromhisbaldinghead.“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’draised 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,” he

said.“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.Tell

MomI’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 her

brow.“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 controlyou. I’ve been really goodaboutthat,right?”“Yeah.”“So in exchange for a

lifetimeofstayingoutofyour

business, 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 alltakepills anddie.They’ll doit right away so they don’tuseupanyfood.CommanderLewis picked me to be the

survivor.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 wastheonlyone,itwouldlastsixmonths.WithareduceddietIcould stretch it to nine. Butit’ll be seventeen months

beforeIgetback.”“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.”

“Ispentfouryearsworkingon 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 a

beautiful probe. The largest,sturdiest unmanned probe inhistory. And now it’s sitting

inawarehouse.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 willhebringbackthatsomeotherastronautcouldn’thave?Thisoperation is a net loss formankind’sknowledge.”

“Well,” Venkat saidcautiously,“it’sanetgainforMarkWatney.”“Mmm,”ZhuTaosaid.

•••

“DISTANCE 61meters, velocity2.3 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.” Hestood 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, suitedup save his helmet. “Ja, inposition and ready,” hereplied. He was the

emergency 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,” Johanssen

said.“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 them

aboardandinspected.”“Roger, Jiuquan,” Lewis

said.Takingoffherheadset,she

turned to Martinez andJohanssen.“Unloadtheprobeand stow the supplies. I’mgoingtohelpBeckandVogelde-suit.”Martinez and Johanssen

floated down the hall towardDockingPortA.

“So,”hesaid,“whowouldyouhaveeatenfirst?”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 youlikedMexican!”“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 Ichiseled 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?Icutthebottomoutofoneandtheremainingcanvaswastheright size and shape. I usedseal-strips to attach it to theinside of the trailer. Afterpressurizing and sealing upleaksasIfoundthem,Ihadanice big balloon bulging outofthetrailer.Thepressurizedareaiseasilybigenoughtofitthe oxygenator andatmosphericregulator.

Onehitch:IneedtoputtheAREC outside. Theimaginatively named“atmospheric regulatorexternal component” is howthe regulator freeze-separatesair. Why sink a bunch ofenergy into freezing stuffwhen you have incrediblycold temperatures rightoutside?Theregulatorpumpsair to

theAREC to letMars freeze

it. It does this along a tubethat runs through a valve intheHab’swall.Thereturnaircomes back through anothertubejustlikeit.Getting the tubing through

theballooncanvaswasn’ttoohard. I have several sparevalve patches. Basicallythey’re ten-by-ten-centimeterpatchesofHabcanvaswithavalveinthemiddle.WhydoIhave these? Consider what

would happen on a normalmissionif theregulatorvalvebroke. They’d have to scrubthe whole mission. Easier tosendspares.TheARECisfairlysmall.I

madeashelf for it justunderthe solar panel shelves.Noweverything’sreadyforwhenIeventuallymovetheregulatorandARECover.There’sstillalottodo.

I’m not in any hurry; I’vebeentakingitslow.Onefour-hour EVA per day spent onwork, the rest of the time torelax in the Hab. Plus, I’lltakeadayoffeverynowandthen, 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 be

more 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 rigidsample container (or “plasticbox” to people who don’tworkatNASA). I rana tubethrough 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 the

regulator to pass through thewater as a bunch of littlebubbles. The increasedsurface areawill get theheatintotheairbetter.Then I got a medium

flexible 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 of

heatgoingtothewater,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 plopped

the RTG in the bag andclosed it. Perfect vacuumseal.Next came some testing. I

put the bagged RTG at thebottom 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 to

my contraption and watchedtheresults.It worked great! The air

bubbled through, just likeI’dhoped. Even better, thebubbles 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 surface

area. Not a problem. I’vealreadyestablishedit’splentytokeeptheroverwarm.I reattached the return air

line to the regulator andthingsgotbacktonormal.

LOGENTRY:SOL381

I’vebeenthinkingaboutlawsonMars.Yeah, Iknow, it’sastupid

thing to think about, but I

havealotoffreetime.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 “international

waters.”NASA is an American

nonmilitaryorganization,and

itownstheHab.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 Schiaparelliand commandeer the Ares 4lander. Nobody explicitlygave me permission to dothis, and they can’t until I’m

aboard Ares 4 and operatingthe comm system. After Iboard Ares 4, before talkingtoNASA, Iwill take controlof a craft in internationalwaterswithoutpermission.Thatmakesmeapirate!Aspacepirate!

LOGENTRY:SOL383

YoumaybewonderingwhatelseIdowithmyfreetime.I

spendalotofitsittingaroundonmylazyasswatchingTV.Butsodoyou,sodon’tjudge.Also,Iplanmytrip.Pathfinderwasacakerun.

Flat,levelgroundalltheway.The only problem wasnavigating. But the trip toSchiaparelli will mean goingover massive elevationchanges.Ihavearoughsatellitemap

ofthewholeplanet.Itdoesn’t

have 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 betweenthemitgoesupanddownby10 kilometers. There’s goingto be a lot of dangerousdriving.

Things will be smoothwhile 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 avalley 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 1350kilometers 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 cramped

environment 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 staywhereIcanstandupandtakea few steps without hittingthings.Andno,beingoutsidein a goddamn EVA suitdoesn’tcount.Ineedpersonalspace, not 50 kilograms ofclothing.So today, I startedmaking

atent.SomewhereIcanrelaxwhile the batteries recharge;somewhere I can lie downcomfortablywhilesleeping.

Irecentlysacrificedoneofmy 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 alifeboatfortherover.I could attach the pop-tent

to either vehicle’s airlock.I’m going with the roverinstead of the trailer. The

rover 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 the

whole 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 bigspacetorelaxin.For the floor, I’ll use the

original flooring materialfrom the two pop-tents. If Ididn’t, my bedroom would

become a big hamster ballbecause Hab canvas isflexible.Whenyoufillitwithpressure,itwantstobecomeasphere. That’s not a usefulshape.To combat this, the Hab

and pop-tents have specialflooring 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 meters

tall. 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 sealthem to the existing canvasandflooring.

Butthat’salotofcanvas.Istarted 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, Ihave an alternate supply ofHabcanvas:theHab.

Problem is (follow meclosely 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.Ineedtonotfuck this up, so I triple-checked everything. I even

madeamodeloutofpaper.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 the

wall with a Sharpie. Then I

spent 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,withmythree-quarterrationplan,Ishould still be eating food

packs. 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.Iget

to 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, butit’ll happen. The rover willbreak down, or I’ll come

downwithfatalhemorrhoids,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 losingatmospheric pressure. Of

course,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 thetanks.

Therestwasjustcollectingknickknacks 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 aredesigned to survive a

vacuum. 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. Thedome of the Hab is mostly

supportedbyairpressure,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.Itmaintainedpressure for its cargo of

randomcrap.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 ofMartiancoffee, 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 bedroomwaswayeasierthanresealingtheHab.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,Ididsomesurgeryon

the remaining pop-tent. Ineeded to keep the rover–airlock connector and

surrounding 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 mostof 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!”). Itdepletedmost of theN2 tankbut was finally able to bringupthepressure.

Then I sat around andwaited. 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 wasstill 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. MostlybecauseIdidn’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 andpressurize the bedroomwithout being inside therover.

It’s a little scary. The firsttimeItestthethingovernightwill 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:Roverandtrailer

combinedstorage:14litersliquidO2,14litersliquidN2.

LifeSupport:Oxygenatorandatmosphericregulator.418hoursofuse-and-discard

CO2filtersforemergencies.

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 grainysatellite map. And rack mybrains trying to think ofanythingimportantIforgot.

SinceSol6allI’vewantedto 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 tothelaunchpad,thenflytothemoon in a commandmodulesmaller thanmyRover.Man

thoseguyswerecool.

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 inplanning around that. But ifthe trailer breaches, I’ll befine.ThatmeansIshouldputeverything important in therover.Everythingthatgoesinthe

trailer has to be comfortablein near-vacuum and freezing

temperatures. Not that Ianticipatethat,butyouknow.Planfortheworst.The saddlebags Imade for

thePathfinder tripwill comein 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 this

planet. The trailer will bepackedpretty tight. It’llhavetwo bulky Hab batteries, theatmospheric regulator, theoxygenator, and myhomemade heat reservoir. Itwouldbemoreconvenient tohave the reservoir in therover,butithastobeneartheregulator’sreturnairfeed.The rover will be pretty

packed, too. When I’mdriving,I’llkeepthebedroom

folded up near the airlock,ready for emergency egress.Also, I’ll have the twofunctionalEVAsuits intherewith me and anything thatmight be needed foremergency 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 serveas a toilet. One with a goodlid.

•••

“HOW’S WATNEY doing?”Venkatasked.Mindy lookedup fromher

computer with a start. “Dr.Kapoor?”

“IhearyoucaughtapicofhimduringanEVA?”“Uh, yeah,” Mindy said,

typing on her keyboard. “Inoticed things would alwayschange around 9 a.m. localtime.Peopleusuallykeepthesamepatterns,soIfiguredhelikes to start work aroundthen. I did some minorrealignment to get seventeenpics between 9 and 9:10.Heshowedupinoneofthem.”

“Good thinking. Can I seethepic?”“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?” Venkatstammered.“TheNSA?”“Yeah, they called and

offered to help out. Samesoftware they use forenhancing spy satelliteimagery.”Venkat shrugged. “It’s

amazing how much red tapegets cut when everyone’srooting for one man tosurvive.” He pointed to thescreen. “What’s Watney

doinghere?”“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’s

busy. He works most of thedaylighthours,andarranging

rockstospellamessagetakestimeandenergy.”“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 nowon, instead of managing thesatellites around Mars, yoursole responsibility is

watchingMarkWatney.”“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 turning

me 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 so

important?”

“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 acoupleoftimes.”“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’tsupportlife.It’snotasriskyasitseems.

Asalways,thedangerouspart

about 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 wouldtake me over two days tobring the CO2 level up to 1

percent (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’reeasytodismantle.

Overseveraltrips,Imovedall 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 AC

unitmightonEarth.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 a

pressure 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 the

morning. 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 no

life 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 a

JamesBondmovie.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 theinside. 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 EVAsuit at the time; I’m not afuckingidiot.SoIgetto…LiveAnotherSol!(Starring

Mark Watney as…probablyQ.I’mnoJamesBond.)

I dragged the poppedbedroom 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,thenI

cut strips of spare canvas toplace over the seam. Now ithas double-thickness anddouble sealing resin all

around. 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’tknow why. Don’t care. Theimportant thing is I don’thavetosuffer.I tested out the bedroom

again.Isuitedupintherover

and 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/bedroomuniversewhile

thebedroomisattachedtotheairlock, 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’mstill running my test, but Idon’t have to wear the EVAsuit.I arbitrarily picked eight

hoursforthetestduration,so

I 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 thevalleyuntilitends.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 coursewhen 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,aswellasamanMitchhadneverseenbefore.“What’sup,Venk?”Mitch

asked. “Why the suddenmeeting?”

“We’ve got somedevelopments,” Venkat said.“Mindy,whydon’tyoubringthemuptodate?”“Uh, yeah,” Mindy said.

“Looks likeWatney finishedthe balloon addition to thetrailer. It mostly uses thedesignwesenthim.”“Any idea how stable it

is?”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’tknowwhatit’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 about

gettinglifesupportinthere?”“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 duststorm,” 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.“The

total 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 already

has 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,” Mindyinterrupted.“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 in

circles. Iwon’t everbemorethan 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 leftmostofmywatersupplyintheHab.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 weight

difference by loading 600kilogramsofrocksinwithmyothersupplies.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.

•••

THECREWofHermesgatheredintheRec.“Let’s get through status

quickly,”Lewis said. “We’reall behind in our scienceassignments. Vogel, youfirst.”“Irepairedthebadcableon

VASIMR4,”Vogelreported.“It was our last thick-gauge

cable. If another suchproblemoccurs,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 they

usedto.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 surface

area.Lesssurfaceareameansless 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 tomaintainenginepowerfortherestofthemission?”“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 offiltersthatwouldnormallybe

replaced each mission. Ifound a way to clean themwith a chemical bath Imadeinthe 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 396

daysto898.Thingsaregoingto break. We’ve got all ofNASA to help when thathappens.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’tget

atitbecauseit’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’stheonlyplaceIcanbewithoutpeopletrippingoverme.”“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,” Lewis

said. “But we’re way off-script now. Just keep it frominterfering with your duties,andI’mhappy.”“Million-mile-high club,”

Martinezsaid.“Nice!”Johanssen blushed deeper

and buried her face in herhands.

LOGENTRY:SOL444

I’m getting pretty good at

this. 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 uphills 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.Ijust

neededtogetitevenlyspreadout.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 therover and wire it in, but theenergy required to cook ten

potatoesadaywouldactuallycutintomydrivingdistance.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,IhavemyownlittleHab.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. Thisisolatesthebedroom,withmein it, from the rest of therover. Then I tell the airlockto depressurize. It thinks it’s

just pumping the air out of asmall area, but it’s actuallydeflatingthewholebedroom.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 entirefolded-up bedroom while itrepressurizes. Once I havepressure again, I open the

inner 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 allmy 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’sobviouslywrong.Then, back to the rover.

Once inside, I take off the

EVA 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.

Prettymuchthereverseofthesequence I use to stow it.Ultimately, it’s the airlockthat inflates it. In away, the

bedroom 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 wouldeventually rupture. I didn’tenjoy that time the Hablaunched me like a

cannonball. 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.”

AnAirDayturnsouttobeprettymuch the same as anyother day, but without thefour-hourdrive.OnceIsetupthesolarpanels,Ifireduptheoxygenator and let it workthrough the backlog of CO2that the regulator had storedup.Itconvertedall theCO2 to

oxygenanduseduptheday’spowergenerationtodoit.

Thetestwasasuccess.I’llbereadyontime.

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 themicrowavecanonlyholdfouratatime.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) precooked

potatoes. First off, they’lltaste a lot better. But moreimportant, they’ll be cooked.When you cook food, theproteins breakdown, and thefoodbecomeseasiertodigest.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 orelectronic 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’velooted 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 wouldcare. 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 combustible

oxygen next to the MAVwhenitlaunched.Iguess Idid the shutdown

as an homage to themissionAres 3 could have been. Asmall 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.Itwas

a creepy kind of quiet that’shard to describe. I’ve beenaway from the noises of theHab before, but always in aroveroranEVAsuit,bothofwhich 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 own

heartbeat.Anyway, enough waxing

philosophical.I’mintheroverrightnow.

(Thatshouldbeobvious,withthe 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 myghetto life support areworking admirably. At least,aswellascanbeexpectedforequipment being used tentimeslongerthanintended.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,checkallmyequipment (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 already

out from the day before.Everything’s ready to go.Then I chill out in thebedroomor rover. I have thewhole day to myself. Thebedroom gives me enoughspacethatIdon’tfeelcoopedup, and the computer hasplentyofshittyTVrerunsformetoenjoy.Technically, I entered

MawrthVallisyesterday.ButIonlyknewthatbylookingat

a 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 inAcidalia Planitia anymore. Ispent457solsthere,almostayearandahalf,andI’llnevergo back. I wonder if I’ll benostalgic about that later inlife.If there is a “later in life,”

I’llbehappytoendurealittlenostalgia.But fornow, I justwanttogohome.

•••

“WELCOME BACK to CNN’sMarkWatneyReport,”Cathysaid to the camera. “We’respeaking 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 a

realchallengeaheadofhim.”“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 justturnaroundatthatpoint?”“Unfortunately,

everything’s working againsthim,”Venkatsaid.“Theedgeof the storm isn’t a magic

line. 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 go

hundreds of kilometers,wondering why his solarpanel efficiency is goingdown, before he notices any

visibility 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 wondering

howInavigate.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-resolutionto be of any use. I can only

see 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 fixmypositiononMars.

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, aweight, and something with

degree 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 earliestway to work out longitude

required 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 arefour computers in my

immediate 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 around

while 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 sightDeneb. It’s not a very fast

system. 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.

•••

MINDYPARKzoomedinonthelatest 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 saw

it 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 who

wantedWatney’sdaily statusmessage.

“ONTRACKFORSOL494ARRIVAL.”

She frowned and added“Note: five sols until duststormentry.”

LOGENTRY:SOL466

MawrthValliswasfunwhileit lasted. I’m inArabiaTerra

now.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 wayup the back wall of MawrthVallis. It was a gentle rise,but a constant one. I’m at a

much 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 decided

Mars’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, inMawrth Vallis, it wasimpossibletoscrewup.Ijusthadtofollowthecanyon.

Now I’m in a rougherneighborhood. 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 todrive around. If I navigatepoorly,I’llendupattheedgeofone.Ican’tjustdrivedown

one 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’lleventuallyhaveto

drive down into Schiaparelli.Nowayaroundthat.I’llhave

tobereallycareful.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 to

pass between the cratersRutherford and Trouvelot. It

shouldn’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 myfourth Air Day of the trip.I’ve been on the road fortwentysols.So far, I’mrightonschedule.Accordingtomymaps, I’ve traveled 1440kilometers.Notquitehalfwaythere,butalmost.I’ve been gathering soil

and rock samples from eachplace I camp. I did the samething on my way toPathfinder. But this time, I

know NASA’s watching me.So I’m labeling each sampleby the current sol. They’llknowmy locationahellofalotmoreaccuratelythanIdo.They can correlate thesamples with their locationslater.Itmightbeawastedeffort.

TheMAVisn’tgoingtohavemuchweightallowancewhenI launch. To interceptHermes, it’ll have to reach

escape velocity, but it wasonlydesigned toget toorbit.Theonlyway to get it goingfastenoughistolosealotofweight.At least that jury-rigging

will be NASA’s job to workout, 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’ travel

should be easy. The nextmajor obstacle is MarthCrater. It’s right in mystraight-line path towardSchiaparelli. It’ll cost me a

hundred 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 the

microwave.“Yeah,” Martinez said,

sippinghisdrink.ShesatacrosstheRectable

from him and carefullyopenedthesteamingpackage.Shedecidedtoletitcoolabitbefore eating. “Mark enteredtheduststormyesterday.”“Yeah,Isawthat,”hesaid.“We need to face the

possibility that he won’t

make 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 another

ninety 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’mnot

talking about faith in God,I’m talking about faith in

MarkWatney.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?”Martinezsaidwithasmile.“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 things

are 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, and

Marth form the points of the

triangle,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 moreandmore).ThenIcanbeelinetoward Schiaparelli with

impunity. 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 1435

kilometerslefttogo.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 thelandmark I’ll be looking for.Tothesouthwestofthatlittle

crater 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 hellpast its expiration date. Forthepasttwosols,thebatteries

havetakenlongertorecharge.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 of

Marth 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 nocluewhichway I should go.And I don’twant to take thelong way around if I canavoid it. Originally I wantedtogoaroundtothesouth,but

northisjustaslikelytobethebest path now that I’m offcourse.I’llhavetowaitforanother

Phobos transit to get mylongitude, and I’ll need towait for nightfall to sightDenebformylatitude.SoI’mdone driving for the day.Luckily I’d made 70kilometers out of the 90kilometers I usually do, soit’s not too much wasted

progress.Marth isn’t too steep. I

could probably just drivedown one side and up theother.It’sbigenoughthatI’dendupcamping inside itonenight.ButIdon’twanttotakeunnecessary risks. Slopes arebadand 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 surethere 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.

Oneofthemwillprobablybebetter than theother,because

it’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 have

grandchildren. “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 maybework out the best way

around.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 lookedback toward the rover and

trailer.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 50kilometers west of here. It’s

just 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. AndI’ve learned to be suspicious

of everything. That’swhen abunchofstuffstartedtodawnonme:

1. Theonlyexplanationforasymmetricalvisibilityisaduststorm.

2. Duststormsreducetheeffectivenessofsolarcells.

3. Mysolarcellshave

beenslowlylosingeffectivenessforseveralsols.

From this, I concluded thefollowing:

1. I’vebeeninaduststormforseveralsols.

2. Shit.

Not only am I in a duststorm,but itgets thickeras I

approachSchiaparelli.A fewhours 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 this

time,I’lleatdustanddie.I don’t have satellite

imagery. 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 about

thestorm.AndIhavetodoitnow.And right this second

nothingcomestomind.

•••

MINDY TRUDGED to hercomputer. Today’s shiftbegan at 2:10 p.m. Herschedule matched Watney’s

everyday.Shesleptwhenheslept.Watney simply slept atnight 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 early

morning, as soon as it waslight enough to navigate.Then he capitalized on themidday 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 the

Morse 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.” Ichecked 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 percent

of 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. That

couldbemonths.ThemorepowerIgenerate,

the more I’ll have formovement.Withclearskies,Idedicate 80 percent of mytotal 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. I

have 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 to

today’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 ofpercentpowerloss.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 to

go. I’ll want to moveperpendicular to the storm’smovement, and in whateverdirectionhaslessstorm.Sohere’smyplan:Right now, I can go 86

kilometers (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 drive

another 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 thicker

north,I’llgosouth.I’m hoping to go south.

Schiaparelli is southeast ofme.Goingnorthwouldaddalotoftimetomytotaltrip.There’soneslightproblem

with 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 needsomethingIcandropoffand

leavebehind.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’llleavethe

solarcellsout. 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 be

droppedoffandleftfaraway.And the solution was theextra EVA suit I broughtalong.EVA suits have cameras

recording 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 shaky

home videos Dad used totake.My electronics kit has

several power meters. So Ifigured, 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 en

route.First, I harvested the

cameras frommyspareEVAsuit. I had to be careful; Ididn’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 I

sealed up the container, thecamera was properlyrecording the readout of thepowermeter.For testing, I used rover

power. 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 rechargeablebatteryinthecontainertotide

it 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 atiny 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, thenbrought them back in tocheck the results. Theyworkedgreat.It’sgettingtowardnightfall

now.Tomorrowmorning,I’llleave one power loggerbehindandheadsouth.WhileIwasworking,Ileft

the oxygenator going (why

not?). 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

inthisareaisdroppingby4.5

percent 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’shardto

telliftheambientlightislessormorethanitwasyesterday.The human brainworks hardtoabstractthatout.I left a power logger

behind when I started out.Then, after 40 kilometers’travelduesouth,IhadaquickEVA to set up another.NowI’ve gone the full 80kilometers, set up my solarcells for charging, and I’mloggingthewattage.

Tomorrow, I’ll have toreverse 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-ninesolsago when I left forSchiaparelli, but I totallyforgottoeatthesecondwhenIreachedthehalfwaypointafewsolsago.SoI’menjoying

mybelatedhalfwayfeast.It’sprobablymoreaccurate

to eat it today anyway.Whoknowshowlongit’lltakemetogoaroundthisstorm?AndifIendupstuckinthestormand doomed to die, I’mtotally eating the otherearmarkedmeals.

LOGENTRY:SOL479

Have you ever taken the

wrongfreewayentrance?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 leftbehind at the halfway point.JustnowIbroughtintheone

I’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,lettingitpassmetothenorth, 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’m

back at my campsite fromyesterday. Tomorrow, I’llfinally make real headwayagain.Iwasdonedrivingandhadthecampsetupbynoon.The efficiency loss here is15.6 percent. Compared tothe 17 percent loss atyesterday’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,Ishouldget better and betterefficiencyeverydayuntilI’mback to 100 percent. Once Ireach100percent,thatmeansI’m completely south of the

storm 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 asusual, but I only get 37kilometers closer toSchiaparelli becausePythagoras is a dick. I don’tknow when I’ll finally clear

the 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 veryshort 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 hell

I’llgetpastthisstorm.I’m still going due south

every 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 getting

awayfromthestormisprettyimportant. 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’s

probably a website likewww.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’s

powerregenwas100percent.Nomoredustintheair.Withthe storm movingperpendiculartomydirectionof travel, itmeans I’m southof the southernmost point ofthe cloud (presuming it’s acircularstorm.Ifit’snot,thenfuck).Startingtomorrow,Icango

directly toward Schiaparelli.Whichisgood,’causeIlostalot of time. I went 540

kilometers 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’vegotanother1030

kilometerstogetthere.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’sradioworking,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 I

gotPathfinderworking, Igotused 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 touseasamakeshiftradiowhen

I’ll have a brand-new, fullyfunctional 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 to

doanyhatchetjobsonit.Theairlockattachmentpointhasaflap 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.

Theideawasthatpeoplesealthemselves 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,missionrules 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 my

bedroom.Neat,eh?The trailer has tons of

space.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 has

valve 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 apowerlinethroughoneofthe

hoses.Theroverwillserveasstorage(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 oroxygenator 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 goeswrong, 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’snotthepoint.Of course, that won’t be

the end of the trip. It’ll take

anotherthreesolstogetfromtheentrancetotheMAV,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’monlyjustbarelyseeingit.Tomorrow, once I get to

Entrance Crater, I’ll turn

south 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-degreegrade.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.

•••

FORMILLIONSofyears,therimof the crater had been underconstant attack fromwind. Iteroded the rocky crest theway a river cuts through amountainrange.Aftereons,itfinallybreachedtheedge.The high-pressure zone

createdby thewindnowhadan 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. Theslope lengthened until a newbalance point was reached,one defined by the complexinteractions of countless tiny

particles 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. The

ramp compressed over time.But it did not compressevenly. Differing densities

shrunk 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 the

ramp was unexpected, but itlooked no worse than otherterrainheroutinelynavigated.Hewentaroundthesmaller

dunes and carefully crestedthe largerones.He tookcarewitheveryturn,everyriseorfall in elevation, and everyboulder in his path. Hethought througheverycourseand considered allalternatives.Butitwasn’tenough.

The rover, whiledescendingdownaseeminglyordinary 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 tothesuddenchange.Therover’sleftfrontwheel

sank.Thesudden tiltbroughtthe right rear wheel

completely off the ground.This in turnputmoreweighton the left rearwheel,whichslipped from its precariouspurchase into the powder aswell.Before the traveler could

react,theroverrolledontoitsside.Asitdid, thesolarcellsneatly 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 the

traveleraroundlikeclothesina 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 pressuredropandclosed.Thepressuresealwasnotbreached.The travelerwas alive, for

now.

CHAPTER24

THEDEPARTMENTheadsstaredat the satellite image on theprojectionscreen.“Jesus,”Mitchsaid.“What

thehellhappened?”“The rover’s on its side,”

Mindy said, pointing to thescreen. “The trailer’s upside

down. Those rectanglesscattered around are solarcells.”Venkat put a hand on his

chin. “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 crash

site?”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 thingswent

wrong.Judgingbywherethatditch is, I’d say the roverrolled and slid from there.Youcansee the trench it leftbehind. 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 likethat.”“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 is

probablyokay.”“Whenwasthistaken?”Mindy checked herwatch.

“Wegotitseventeenminutesago.We’ll get another pic innine 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. Probably

means the hosesdisconnected.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 areokay,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 balloon

roof it has isn’t exactlydurable. 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 me

breathing for forty days), butwithout 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 tolet 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 code

aloud. “ROLLED. FIXINGNOW.”“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.Ijustdecidedtoliefornoreason.”“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 youwereshy.”“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. Ihadtosleeponthewalloftherover. 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. Butafter a morning potato andVicodin, I was feeling muchbetter.

At first I figured my topprioritywasthetrailer.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 along

with 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 to

powerthedrillthatdestroyedPathfinder.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 electricalline would reach. I drove aone-meter bit half a meterinto a rock, unplugged the

powerline,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 itlaterally. The leverageadvantage on the rover washuge. I only hoped it

wouldn’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 ofsoft dust. It was a silentaffair.Iwasfarenoughawaythat the thin atmosphere had

nohopeofcarryingthesoundtome.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 workingcorrectly. JPL did a damngoodjobmakingtheserovers.If I get back to Earth, I’m

buying 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’minacrater.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 lightandcarry particles that reflectlight around corners. It’s

damn 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 figureit’ssurvivedawholedaylikethat. It’s probably stable for

now.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 biggerchallenge 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’d

hoped, 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’twaittogetoutof 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 the

evening enjoying a potato.And by “enjoying” I mean“hatingsomuchIwanttokill

people.”

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’s

prettycrampedinthere;Ihadto leavemyEVA suit in theairlock.The first thing I noticed

was 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 longerhad

my CO2 production to dealwith. The atmosphere in thetrailer was perfect—whychangeanything?With no regulation

necessary, 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 bledthroughthehullasfastastheRTG could add it. If you’recurious, that balance pointwasasweltering41°C.I did a full diagnostic on

the regulator and theoxygenator,andI’mhappytoreport both are working

perfectly.TheRTG’swatertankwas

empty, which is no surprise.It has an open top, notintended to be turned upsidedown.Thefloorofthetrailerhas a lot of puddled waterthat tookmequiteawhile tosop up with my jumpsuit. Itoppedthetankoffwithsomemore water from a sealedcontainerthatI’dstoredinthetrailer earlier. Remember, I

need 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 simply

snappedthembackintoplaceandthevehiclesweresharinglifesupportagain.Theoneremainingthingto

fixwas the towhook. Itwasabsolutely 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 thistime. Next time I might notgetoffsoeasy. Ineedawaytoknowifthegroundinfrontofmeissafe.Atleastfortheduration of my time on theRamp. Once I’m in theSchiaparelli Basin proper, Ican count on the normal

sandyterrainI’musedto.IfIcouldhaveanything,it

would be a radio to askNASAthesafepathdowntheRamp.Well, if I could haveanything, 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. Just

sayin’.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 shouldgivemeenoughtimetoreact

if 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 meawayfromthecraterwall.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?Ibetwomenlike

that.More motivation to stay

alive.

•••

“SO, IT looks like he’s fixedeverything,” Mindyexplained. “And hismessagetoday was ‘ALL BETTERNOW,’ so I guess he’s got

everythingworking.”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’reworkingaroundtheclock 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 tosee 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.Healwaysdrivesinthe early morning, finishingaround noon.” She checkedan application on her laptop.“Noon on Sol 504 will be11:41 a.m. this WednesdayhereinHouston.NoononSol

505 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 gettherethesolaftertomorrow.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 MAVbroadcasting 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 to

wander around looking forthe 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 extremely

directedandaredesigned forline-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!!!” Butit’sareallysandyarea.

•••

THE MAV waited insouthwestern Schiaparelli. Itstood an impressive twenty-seven meters tall, its conicalbodygleaminginthemiddaysun.Therovercrestedanearby

dunewiththetrailerintow.Itslowed 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 air

several 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, theastronaut stood with armsakimbo, 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 the

whole time because there’sno life support in there justyet.It’s going through a self-

check right now, and I’mfeeding it oxygen andnitrogenwith hoses from therover. This is all part of theMAV’s design. It doesn’tbring air along. Why wouldit? That’s a needless weightwhen you’ll have a Hab fullofairrightnextdoor.

I’m guessing folks atNASA are poppingchampagne right now andsendingme lotsofmessages.I’ll read them in a bit. Firstthings 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!No

healthorphysicalproblems.The

roverandtraileraregettingprettywornout,butstillfunctional.Oxygenatorandregulatorbothworkingfine.Ididn’tbringthewaterreclaimer.Justbroughtthewater.Plentyofpotatoesleft.I’mgoodtolasttill549.[13:36]HOUSTON:Gladto

hearit.HermesisstillontrackforaSol549flyby.Asyouknow,theMAVwillneedtolosesomeweighttomaketheintercept.We’regoingtogetyou

thoseprocedureswithintheday.Howmuchwaterdoyouhave?Whatdidyoudowithurine?[13:50]MAV:Ihave550liters

ofremainingwater.I’vebeendumpingurineoutsidealongtheway.[14:05]HOUSTON:Preserve

allwater.Don’tdoanymoreurinedumps.Storeitsomewhere.Turntherover’sradioonandleaveiton.WecancontactitthroughtheMAV.

•••

BRUCETRUDGEDintoVenkat’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?” Venkatasked.“Yes,it’sready.Butyou’re

notgoingtolikeit.”“Goon.”Bruce steeled himself and

stood, picking up hisbriefcase.Hepulledabookletfromit.“Bearinmind,thisistheendresultofthousandsofhours of work, testing, andlateralthinkingbyallthebest

guysatJPL.”“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.“Theproblemistheinterceptvelocity. The MAV isdesigned to get to lowMarsorbit,whichonlyrequires4.1kps. But the Hermes flyby

willbeat5.8kps.”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 tomake 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 deskand flipped a few pages,pointing to a diagram. “Thefuel plant can make sevenhundredandeightykilograms

offuelfromthat.”“If he electrolyzes his

water,what’llhedrink?”“He only needs fifty liters

forthetimehehasleft.Andahuman body only borrowswater. We’ll have himelectrolyzehisurine,too.Weneedallthehydrogenwecangetourhandson.”“I see. And what does

seven hundred and eighty

kilograms 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 ishow 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 ofsix. That saves five hundredkilogramswhenyouconsidertheir weight plus their suits

andgear.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 lifesupport. The tanks, pumps,heaters, air lines, CO2absorption system, even the

insulationontheinnersideofthe 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 remotelyfrom Hermes. It’s alreadydesigned for remote piloting.Itwas remotely landed, after

all.”“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’veneverhada manned ship controlledremotelybefore.Butokay,go

on.”“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 to

have 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. “Thenose 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?Foralaunchtoorbit!?”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 tospaceunderatarp.”“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 tosee 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 good

fuelsavings.”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 never

even 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’llsendyouproceduresforthat

shortly.[09:09]MAV:You’resending

meintospaceinaconvertible.[09:24]HOUSTON:There

willbeHabcanvascoveringtheholes.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’m

notdoingit.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 the

airlock 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 beforeHermesfliesby.Andlooking

attheprocedureNASAhasinmind 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’llhavealotofroominthereto

work.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 everythinginto the trailer. They hadme

do 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 prettyuncomfortablewithit,butwe

don’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 KILLEDWatney,” Lewissaid.“Yeah,” Martinez said,

scowling at hismonitor. Thewords “Collision withTerrain”blinkedaccusingly.“I pulled a nasty trick on

him,”Johanssensaid.“Igavehimamalfunctioningaltitudereadout and made Engine

Threecutouttooearly.It’sadeadlycombination.”“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 the

screen.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 act

as a satellite. It wasn’tmission-criticalsotheydidn’tdrillyou 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,” Martinezsaid.Lewisleftthecontrolroom

and 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 stay

attachedtotheslowlyturningroom.“All working within

tolerance,”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 toplannedtrajectorywithinfourmeters.”“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

wireinonehandandapairofwork gloves in the other.“Heya, Commander. What’sup?”“I’dliketoknowyourplan

forrecoveringMark.”“Easy enough if the

interceptisgood,”Becksaid.“I just finished attaching all

the tethers we have into onelong line. It’s two hundredandfourteenmeters long. I’llhave the MMU pack on, somovingaroundwillbeeasy.Ican 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?”

“IcangrabtheMAVeasilyatfivemeterspersecond.Tenmeters per second is kind oflike jumping onto a movingtrain. Anything more thanthatandImightmiss.”“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-twominutes 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 per

second 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 my

leash I could get way outthere—”“Not an option.” Lewis

said.“But we could double or

even triple our safe interceptrange—”“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. Then

came 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 Ishake it off and remember

I’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’scollection. Seriously, that

womanneedstoseesomeoneaboutherseventiesproblem.

LOGENTRY:SOL529

I’m turningwater into rocketfuel.It’seasierthanyou’dthink.Separating hydrogen and

oxygenonlyrequiresacoupleof electrodes and somecurrent. The problem iscollecting the hydrogen. I

don’thaveanyequipmentforpulling hydrogen out of theair. The atmosphericregulator doesn’t even knowhow. 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 gave

me a process. First, Idisconnected the rover andtrailerfromeachother.Then,whilewearingmyEVAsuit,Idepressurized 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 boil

immediately 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 know

how to yank oxygen out oftheair.Ibrokeallthesafetiesand set it topull100percentof the oxygen out. After itwasdone,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 it

was evacuating itself, but itwas actually evacuating thewhole trailer. The air wasstoredintheairlock’sholdingtank.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 fuelplant, and it got to workmakingtheadditionalfuelI’dneed.I’llneedtogothroughthis

processseveralmoretimesasthe 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-real

time.IjustsetupthesystemandI’mtestingitout.[19:24]MAV:Whattookthem

solongtoletustalk?[19:25]JOHANSSEN:The

psychteamwasworriedaboutpersonalityconflicts.[19:25]MAV:What?Just

’causeyouguysabandonedmeonagodforsakenplanetwithnochanceofsurvival?[19:26]JOHANSSEN:Funny.

Don’tmakethatkindofjoke

withLewis.[19:27]MAV:Roger.Souh…

thanksforcomingbacktogetme.[19:27]JOHANSSEN:It’sthe

leastwecoulddo.HowistheMAVretrofitgoing?[19:28]MAV:Sofar,sogood.

NASAputalotofthoughtintotheprocedures.Theywork.That’snottosaythey’reeasy.Ispentthelast3daysremovingHullPanel19andthefront

window.EveninMars-gthey’reheavymotherfuckers.[19:29]JOHANSSEN:When

wepickyouup,Iwillmakewild,passionatelovetoyou.Prepareyourbody.[19:29]JOHANSSEN:Ididn’t

typethat!ThatwasMartinez!Isteppedawayfromtheconsoleforlike10seconds![19:29]MAV:I’vereally

missedyouguys.

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 way

to test theascent stage.Onceyoulightit,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 than

catastrophic 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 ofprojectedvelocity.”“Good,” she said. “Beck,

howaboutyou?”“Everything’s all set up,

Commander,” Beck said.“The tethers are linked andspooledinAirlock2.Mysuit

and MMU are prepped andready.”“Okay, the battle plan is

pretty obvious,” Lewis said.She grabbed a handhold onthe wall to halt a slow driftshe had acquired. “Martinezwill fly theMAV, Johanssenwill sysop the ascent. Beckand Vogel, I want you inAirlock2withtheouterdooropen before the MAV evenlaunches.You’llhavetowait

fifty-twominutes,but Idon’twant to risk any technicalglitches with the airlock oryour suits. Once we reachintercept, it’ll be Beck’s jobtogetWatney.”“Hemightbeinbadshape

when I get him,” Beck said.“The stripped-down MAVwill get up to twelve g’sduring the launch. He couldbeunconsciousandmayevenhaveinternalbleeding.”

“Just as well you’re ourdoctor,” 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. All

scientific experiments aresuspended. Sleep if you can,run diagnostics on yourequipmentifyoucan’t.”“We’ll get him,

Commander,” Martinez saidas the others floated out.“Twenty-four hours fromnow, Mark Watney will berighthereinthisroom.”“Let’s hope so, Major,”

Lewissaid.

•••

“FINAL CHECKS for this shiftare complete,” Mitch saidinto his headset.“Timekeeper.”“Go, Flight,” said the

timekeeper.“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, Flightdirector 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,” Annie

said.“Youdon’toftensee it,but that’s what MitchHenderson looks like whenhe’snervous.Hedouble-and

triple-checkseverything.”“Fair enough,” Venkat

said.“They’re camping out on

thelawn,bytheway,”Anniesaid.“Reportersfromalloverthe world. Our press roomsjust don’t have enoughspace.”“The media loves a

drama.” He sighed. “It’ll beover tomorrow, one way or

another.”“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 the

answer 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 hullused to be. I’m “awaitinglaunch instructions.” Really,I’m just awaiting launch. I

don’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 collected

samples during my journey.ButIcan’tbringanyofthem

with 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 thelaunch. Hermes can’t stopand wait. No matter what,we’relaunchingonschedule.

I face the very realpossibility 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’lldrop the oxygen mixture tozero and breathe purenitrogen until I suffocate. It

wouldn’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 stayalivebecame

somehow 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 constructionworker, rebuilding a ship inways no one ever consideredbefore this. I’ve done a little

of 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 redsand.I’mleavingMarstoday,onewayoranother.Aboutfuckingtime.

CHAPTER26

THEYGATHERED.

EverywhereonEarth, theygathered.In Trafalgar Square and

TiananmenSquareandTimesSquare,theywatchedongiantscreens. In offices, theyhuddled around computer

monitors. Inbars, theystaredsilently at the TV in thecorner. In homes, they satbreathlesslyontheircouches,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 to

disturb 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,” Johanssenresponded.“Guidance.”“Go,” Johanssen said

again.“RemoteCommand.”“Go,”saidMartinez.“Pilot.”“Go,” said Watney from

theMAV.A mild cheer coruscated

through the crowds

worldwide.

•••

MITCH SAT at his station inMission Control. Thecontrollers monitoredeverythingandwereready tohelp in any way they could,but the communicationlatency betweenHermes andEarth rendered them

powerless 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 isHermes Actual,” Lewisreported. “We are go forlaunch and will proceed onschedule. We are T minusfour minutes, ten seconds tolaunch…mark.”“Did you get that,

Timekeeper?”Mitchsaid.“Affirmative, Flight” was

theresponse.“Ourclocksaresynchedwiththeirs.”

“Not that we can doanything,” Mitch mumbled,“but at least we’ll knowwhat’s supposedlyhappening.”

•••

“ABOUTFOURminutes,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’sokay 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 thewholetime.”“Ihadn’t thoughtof it that

way,” Martinez said, “butyeah. I’m not going to be

squashed against the back ofmyseat.Weird.”

•••

BECK FLOATED in the airlock,tethered to a wall-mountedspool. Vogel stood besidehim,hisbootsclampedtothefloor.Bothstaredthroughtheopen outer door at the redplanetbelow.

“Didn’t think I’d be backhereagain,”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,butifIneeda few more meters, I wantyoutocutmeloose.Ihavean

MMU,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 I

bet you’ll change your mindifpushcomestoshove.”Vogeldidnotrespond.

•••

“T-MINUSTEN,”saidJohanssen,“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…”

•••

WATNEY LAY in theacceleration couch as theMAVrumbledinanticipationofliftoff.“Hmm,”hesaidtonobody.

“I wonder how much longer—”The MAV launched with

incredible force. More thanany manned ship hadaccelerated in the history ofspace travel. Watney wasshovedbackintohiscouchso

hardhecouldn’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,butsomethinginthebackofhismindtoldhimthatflappingwasbad.

•••

“VELOCITYSEVENhundredandforty-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 ahundred percent,” Johanssensaid.“I’m telling you it’s

sluggish,”Martinezinsisted.“Watney,” Lewis said to

herheadset.“Watney,doyouread?Canyoureport?”

•••

WATNEYHEARDLewis’svoiceinthedistance.Likesomeonetalkingtohimthroughalongtunnel.Hevaguelywonderedwhat 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 why

NASA decided that boltneeded five sides instead ofsix.Itwouldrequireaspecialwrenchtotightenorloosen.The canvas tore even

further, 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,” Mark

thought.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,” Lewis

said.“Thenwe’llworryaboutintercept.”“Copy.Mainenginecutoff

infifteenseconds.”“Totally smooth now,”

Martinez said. “It’s notfightingmeatallanymore.”

“Well below targetaltitude,” 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 twelve

g’sontheascent.Givehimafewminutes.”“Copy,” Lewis said.

“Johanssen, got his orbityet?”“I have interval pings.

Working out our interceptrangeandvelocity…”Martinez and Lewis stared

at Johanssen as she broughtup the intercept calculationsoftware. Normally, orbits

would 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, she

continued. “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 in

thirty-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 thetriphome.”

“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,”ANNIEsaidtoVenkat.“A lot of shit just happenedreallyfast.Explain.”Venkatstrainedtohearthe

audio feed over the murmuroftheVIPsintheobservationbooth. Through the glass, hesawMitchthrowhishandsup

infrustration.“The launch missed

badly,” Venkat said, lookingpast 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 ionengines.”“So…problem solved?”

Anniesaidhopefully.“No,” Venkat said.

“They’ll get to him, butthey’ll be going forty-twometersper secondwhen theygetthere.”

“How fast is that?” Annieasked.“About ninety miles per

hour,” Venkat said. “There’sno hope of Beck grabbingWatneyatthatspeed.”“Can they use the attitude

adjusterstoslowdown?”“They needed a lot of

velocity to close the gap intime. They used all the fueltheycouldspare togetgoing

fast enough. But now theydon’t have enough fuel toslowdown.”Venkatfrowned.“Sowhatcantheydo?”“I don’t know,” he said.

“AndevenifIdid,Icouldn’ttellthemintime.”“Wellfuck,”Anniesaid.“Yeah,”Venkatagreed.

•••

“WATNEY,” LEWIS said “Doyou read?…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 rover

or 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’re

justgoingtoodamnfast.”“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 surface

stretched 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 thereply.“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 theascent.”“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, AT least he’s okay forthemoment,”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 get

twenty-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 something

sharpinhereandpokeahole

inthegloveofmyEVAsuit.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 on

ideas,”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 and

reactor 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 direct

thatthrust.”“Wedon’thaveto,”Lewis

said. “The VAL is in thenose. Escaping air wouldmake a thrust vector throughour center of mass. We justneedtopointtheshipdirectlyawayfromwherewewant togo.”“Okay, I have the

numbers,” Martinez said. “Abreach at the VAL, with thebridge and reactor room

sealed off, would accelerateus twenty-nine meters persecond.”“We’d have a relative

velocityofthirteenmeterspersecondafterward,”Johanssensupplied.“Beck,” Lewis radioed.

“Have you been hearing allthis?”“Affirmative,

Commander,”Becksaid.

“Can you do thirteenmeterspersecond?”“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 joltwillwefeelwiththatbreach?”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’SvoicerangthroughMissionControl.“Beadvised 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.

•••

“HOW WILL we open theairlock doors?” Martinezasked. “There’s no way toopen 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,” Lewis

confirmed. “You’re achemist. Can you make abomboutofstuffonboard?”“Ja,” Vogel said. “We

have flammables and pure

oxygen.”“Sounds good,” Lewis

said.“It is of course dangerous

tosetoffanexplosivedeviceon a spacecraft,” Vogelpointedout.“Somake it small,”Lewis

said. “It just needs to poke aholeintheinnerairlockdoor.Anyholewill do. If it blowsthe door off, that’s fine. If it

doesn’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 tothe 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,” Martinez

said,pausingattheexit,“youwantme to bring back some

spacesuits?”“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 micesomewhere safe? They’re inthe bio lab. It’s just onecage.”

“Copy, Beck,” saidMartinez. “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 yoursuitoff.”“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,” Lewis

said. “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 I

need 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 a

hurry.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.”

“Iknewthatguywasamadscientist!” 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 ifyou won’t let us then—Wait…wait a minute.… I’mlookingatmyshoulderpatchand it turns out I’m thecommander. Sit tight. We’recomingtogetyou.”“Smart-ass.”

•••

AS A chemist, Vogel knewhowtomakeabomb.Infact,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 sugarcarefully. He poured it intothe 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 destructive

potential.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.Grabbingahandrailonthe 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.Ifyoushortpowerthroughit,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.

•••

MARTINEZ FLOATED back intothe bridge. “I had a fewminutes, so I ran through theaerobrakelockdownchecklist

for the reactor room.Everything’s ready foracceleration and thecompartment’ssealedoff.”“Good thinking,” Lewis

said. “Prep the attitudecorrection.”“Roger, Commander,”

Martinez said, drifting to hisstation.“The VAL’s propped

open,”Beck’svoicesaidoverthe comm. “Starting my

traverseacrossthehull.”“Copy,”Lewissaid.“Thiscalculationistricky,”

Martinez said. “I need to doeverything backward. TheVAL’sinfront,sothesourceof thrust will be exactlyopposite to our engines. Oursoftwarewasn’t expecting ustohaveanenginethere.Ijustneed to tell it we plan tothrusttowardMark.”

“Takeyour timeandget itright,” Lewis said. “Anddon’t execute till I give youtheword.We’renotspinningtheshiparoundwhileBeck’soutonthehull.”“Roger,” he said. After a

moment,headded“Okay,theadjustment’s ready toexecute.”“Standby,”Lewissaid.

•••

VOGEL, BACKin his suit,depressurized Airlock 2 andopenedtheouterdoor.“’Bout time,” Beck said,

climbingin.“Sorry for the delay,”

Vogelsaid.“Iwasrequiredtomakeabomb.”“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 twomen pressed themselvesagainstthewall.

•••

“OKAY,MARTINEZ,”Lewissaid,“pointustherightdirection.”“Copy,” said Martinez,

executing the attitudeadjustment.Johanssen floated into the

bridge as the adjustmentwasperformed. The room rotatedaroundherasshereachedfora handhold. “The bomb’s

ready, 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,shepluggedtheentranceto the bridge. With a fewturnsofthecrank,thejobwasdone. She returned to her

station 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.

•••

TEDDY TOOKhis seat in theVIP room. “What’s thestatus?”“Fifteen seconds till they

blowtheVAL,”Venkatsaid.“Wherehaveyoubeen?”“On the phone with the

President,” Teddy said. “Doyouthinkthiswillwork?”“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, the

massive combustion pressureburst the container, and theresultingexplosionrippedtheairlockdoortoshreds.The internal airofHermes

rushed 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. It

was not a dangerous amountof force. In fact it was lessthan the force of Earth’ssurface gravity. But it wasinconsistentandjerky.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.“IhaveExternalCamera4 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, “it

worked.Beck’sonhisway.”“Score!” Watney

responded.“Beck,” Lewis said,

“you’re up. Twelve meters

persecond.”“Close enough!” Beck

replied.

•••

“I’MGOINGtojumpout,”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 tohisright 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 usedtobe.“Jesus,Mark,whatdidyou

dotothatthing?”

“YoushouldseewhatIdidtotherover,”Watneyradioedback.Beckthrustonanintercept

course.Hehadpracticed thismanytimes.Thepresumptioninthosepracticesessionswasthat he’d be rescuing acrewmate whose tether hadbroken,but theprinciplewasthesame.“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,” interrupted

Lewis. “No untethered

movement. 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.” Herotatedhimselfinpreparationforthenextburn.

“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’rethe 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 from

bouncing away. “ContactwithWatney!”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.Thetwomenfloatedacross

the 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, hehadbeenfeedingtetheroutofthe 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!”Johanssen

reportedexcitedly.“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 grabbedthem.BeckandWatneybothreached forhandholdson thewallasVogelworkedhiswayaround them and closed theouterdoor.“Aboard!”Becksaid.“Airlock 2 outer door

closed,”Vogelsaid.“Yes!”Martinezyelled.“Copy,”Lewissaid.

•••

LEWIS’S VOICE echoed acrossthe world: “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.“Anniewillbewantingmein

thepressroom.”“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. On

Hermes, 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 tellbecause 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 theyreallystartedscreamingwhenVogel pulled us into theairlockby the tether. I didn’twant to distract the people

whoweresavingmylife,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 wasstill in vacuo, so we didn’thavetocycletheairlock.

Beck told me to go limpand 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. Hermeshadenoughspareair to refillthe ship two more times if

needed.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 Ihad a major head wound orsomething, but it turns out it

wasthesmell.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 of

reunion 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. Mycrewmates sacrificed a year

oftheirlivestocomebackforme. 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.