Project Haircut
(A story for anyone else sadistic enough to wish Mark’s rescue had a few extra complications.)
“T-minus ten,” said Johanssen, “nine… eight…”
“Main engines start,” said Martinez.
“… seven… six… five… Mooring clamps released…”
“About five seconds, Watney,” Lewis said to her headset. “Hang on.”
“See you in a few, Commander,” Watney radioed back.
“… four… three… two…”
Watney lay in the acceleration couch as the MAV rumbled in anticipation of liftoff.
“Hmm,” he said to nobody. “I wonder how much longer—”
The rumbling died out.
“Guys? What just happened?” asked Mark. “Hold that thought,” replied Martinez. Off com, he spoke to Johanssen.“So what did just happen?”
Johanssen tapped at her screen, not replying. Sounding distorted over the radio, Mark yelled in the background. “Let’s go already!”
“Shit,” said Johanssen, still tapping away. “Startup was ok but an automatic fail safe shut down the engines almost immediately. And I can’t override it from here.” She glanced at the mission clock. “Earth can’t get a software update back before the launch window is over. There is no way Mark can intercept with us now.”
The silence that followed was quickly broken by Martinez. “Fuuuck...”
Lewis spoke over the radio, an edge to her otherwise professional tone. “Mark, there was an issue at launch that caused the computer to automatically shut the MAV down. We are working on the why, but that doesn't matter for now. Initiate backup plan The Haircut. Every second is important.
“Copy that Commander,” Mark radioed back, “I do need a trim.”
*
Back on Earth, Mission control listened to the countdown, and lack of launch.
Bruce turned to Venkat. “Well shit. I never thought we’d actually have to use The Haircut.”
“What were the odds of success again?” Venkat asked.
“43%...”
Nobody said anything.
“It’s not like there is any other choice...”
AUDIO LOG TRANSCRIPT: SOL 549
Fuck you Mars. Fuuuuuuuuuuck you.
I should be floating around in Hermes right about now, regaling the crew with tales of my ingenuity and heroism.
But instead, I am probably going to die. As usual.
I’d really like whoever finds my frozen corpse to know how much of a badass I am, so I’ll keep recording this log while I work my arse off. Sorry if I ramble and swear a lot, but there's no editing here. Just raw unfiltered Mark Watney, trying to stay sane.
So first of all, the MAV didn’t launch. And it wasn’t even my fault. The boffins back on Earth think that all the modifications meant a weird resonance at startup had the computer worried about an overpressure situation, and it shut down the engines.
Unfortunately the time delay meant there was no way for Earth to sort the problem before Hermes was out of range. They did come up with a fix though - turn off the warnings and hope the MAV doesn’t oscilliate itself apart. That’s my kind of solution.
But right now, I am still stuck on Mars. Earth didn’t like to talk too much about what would happen if the MAV didn’t launch, or if it did launch but couldn’t reach Hermes. Probably because the outcome was always Mark dies a horrible death on Mars, or in space, or maybe in the middle of a big fat fireball.
No surprise, those amazing engineers at JPL put together a backup plan. A crazy, outrageous, only a fool would try it sort of backup plan. And it’s not like they are just making it up as they go along. Some of the best minds on Earth went over every last possibility. When the alternative is certain death, even NASA is willing to get off the wall creative.
They won’t tell me the estimated chance of success though. That’s not a good sign. But I’m fresh out of options.
Plan B for a no launch scenario is called The Haircut. After hearing the basics, I voted for calling it The Circumcision, but nobody listens to the guy stranded on Mars.
FOR FUCKS SAKE!
Sorry about that, the drill is being a little bitch.
So anyway, project Circumcision is a doozy. Hermes can’t stop to pick me up, which is why we had to lighten the MAV enough I could match its orbit. But now Hermes has gone screaming past Mars, and is on it’s way back to Earth. My only chance for survival is to catch up before it gets too far away. And the only way to catch up is drastically improve the performance of the MAV. And the only way to improve the performance is to lose more weight.
A lot of weight.
That's where the circumcision comes in. Not me. That wouldn’t help much at all. The ship.
NASA already had me remove everything possible with the tools on hand. That was going to be enough to match orbits with Hermes, so we didn’t have to get too brutal. But now the aborted startup means the MAV has even less fuel, yet has to travel much faster. So I am putting the MAV on one hell of a diet.
The other problem is that the new launch has to happen as quickly as possible, because every second that passes puts Hermes further away. Fortunately NASA was thinking ahead and had me make some preparations, just in case. You know, suitcase packed and ready, drill bits anchored into the ground, and some nice neat spools of cable.
So how does one lighten a MAV that’s already been stripped of everything removeable?
You attack it with an axe. I’m not even kidding. They had me build a DIY fire axe from propellant plant struts, spare bolts and a chunk of metal from the MAV airlock. Then I sharpened it by rubbing it with a Mars rock.
And the axe is no joke. I tested it out on a removed acceleration couch and almost took my foot off. Which you really don’t want to do when wearing a spacesuit.
They tell me it was actually a JPL intern that came up with the idea. I’m going to buy her a beer once I am back on Earth.
And just in case my engineer intuition wasn’t enough, NASA downloaded a step by step guide detailing exactly how to vandalise a MAV.
Speaking of, it’s time for me to be out of breath for a little while.
AUDIO LOG TRANSCRIPT: SOL 549 (2)
Whew, that’s sweaty work. I have to say though, I’m actually enjoying being the first lumberjack on Mars. There’s something weirdly primal about wearing a spacesuit in the middle of a red Martian desert, swinging an axe at a giant silver rocket.
And you know what, this thing can really carve through a MAV. Basically I’m in the middle of hacking out every last panel and support that isn’t mission critical. And a few that are.
And then it’s circumcision time.
Anyway, time's a wastin. Chop chop. Get it?
AUDIO LOG TRANSCRIPT: SOL 549 (3)
Almost there! Let me fill you in while I climb down.
The MAV is already built as light as possible, but has loads of redundancy and backups. Or I should say, had, because I hacked them all out. Gone. Finito. No second chances.
I’ve also already removed the nose, windows and some panels, but that isn’t enough either - the entire heavy pressure vessel of the crew compartment needs to come out. But to make the MAV lighter and stiffer, the pressurised crew cabin is built as part of the second stage structure, rather than as a separate capsule.
You see the dilemma. The crew cabin IS the top of the ship.
Yeah...
And that’s why I need to cut the top off. With an axe. Being careful not to hit anything vital.
Fortunately, 549 Sols of seat of the pants Martian survival has left me with a pretty good sense of how to ruin hundreds of millions of dollars of equipment in just the right way. Plus NASA’s guide for aspiring axe murders is extremely comprehensive.
So after many many hours of careful hacking, careful bending, careful wrenching and just a little bit of not so careful drilling, what used to be the MAVs crew compartment is no longer attached.
The tip is officially snipped.
Of course gravity being it’s usual cruel self means that it’s still sitting firmly in place on top of the MAV, and is way too heavy for me to move by hand.
Stay tuned. This next step is going to be a bit hairy.
AUDIO LOG TRANSCRIPT: SOL 549 (4)
Jesus it’s nice to take my helmet off. It is starting to get a bit ripe in there.
Since I am not currently gasping for air, you’ve probably figured out I am back in my trusty rover.
I’m getting ready to perform a maneuver NASA calls a little off the top. I’ve already anchored the other side of the MAV to the ground using my drill bits and cable. And run another cable from the rover to the now disconnected MAV crew compartment.
You can probably imagine what I am about to do now. I’m going to floor it, and try to yank a literal ton of metal off the top of the MAV. Which, if it doesn’t hit anything critical on the way down, is going to be aimed straight at me.
I really hope this works.
AUDIO LOG TRANSCRIPT: SOL 549 (5)
Fucking perfect!
Well, the crew cabin almost hit the MAV, one of my anchor cables broke, and I came awfully close to soiling my spacesuit.
I really wish I was in the first meeting when this whole crazy plan was proposed. Stuck on Mars? No worries, just hit the MAV with an axe for a while, rip some stuff off with the rover, and you’re good to go.
But it worked. The once shiny crew compartment is a crumpled mess on the ground. I kept my foot down till long after I felt it impact, just in case.
The rocket sure does look weird with a flat top though. The JPL engineers assured me the air is thin enough that the lack of a pointy nose won’t be an issue. They also helpfully pointed out that I’ll be strapped to the front, so that will improve the streamlining and protect the MAV should I run into anything.
Thanks guys, that’s a real load off my mind.
So anyway, the MAV. I’d already pulled out the backup communication gear, but it still has one radio and a big directional antenna on the nose used to talk to Earth and Hermes.
Sorry, had. Now it’s part of the big pile of wreckage on the ground. There was just no way for me to remove and remount the antenna system with my tools. Or axe.
So the good news is that the Circumcision was a success. The bad news is that now I am truly on my own. No more NASA in my ear.
This raises a few issues that will no doubt contribute to my death. I can’t talk to Earth anymore, so if I fuck something up, I am on my own. I can’t talk to Hermes either, so the launch is completely up to the pre-programmed course set by NASA.
The MAV isn’t completely mute though. If I can get close enough to Hermes they can connect to the short range antenna used to relay data to the Hab. That should allow them to talk to my suit, and remotely guide the MAV in.
All I have to do now is travel million of kilometres through deep space with pinpoint accuracy.
Walk in the park.
AUDIO LOG TRANSCRIPT: SOL 549 (6)
Almost done. Sorry about the heavy breathing. It sounds like a low budget porn flick in here.
With the top of the MAV gone, I’ve got a rocket with absolutely nothing to sustain the life of any astronaut foolish enough to climb on board. Fortunately I have a lot of equipment lying around that can help.
NASA had me pack up a critical selection of gear into a storage box, which I have lashed down onto the top of the MAV. Luckily for me, the JPL design team put all the avionics and thrusters into easily serviceable bays under the now removed crew cabin pressure vessel, so there isn’t too much for me to step on and break.
I’ve just finished hauling my acceleration couch back up, and bolting it into place. I’d end up as a spacesuit full of broken bones and leaking organs if I took off without it. The extra light MAV will accelerate so hard that NASA had to program the engine to throttle back to avoid killing me.
I also pried a big red button off the old control panel, and my final task is to wire into the MAV. I have to smack it quickly five times in a row, and the rocket launches.
How the fuck does that work, I hear you ask?
I am actually just connecting it into an old external light switch circuit, but the MAV computer has been reprogrammed to recognise it as the launch command. And to ignore all the missing parts of the ship. It’s also smart enough to adjust the launch trajectory, based on how long I’ve taken to finish finish the modifications.
Of course, if the poor brutalised MAV does manage to launch this time, some fun potential scenarios I can look forward to include being exploded into little bits, being burnt up in an uncontrolled reentry, or if I am really lucky, becoming a meat popsicle lost in deep space.
That still better than if it doesn’t launch, where I’ll be stuck on Mars with no backup plan for the backup plan, and only a big dose of morphine to look forward to once the last of the potatoes run out...
Anyway, now it’s time to say goodbye to Mars in private, then get the hell off this rock.
AUDIO LOG TRANSCRIPT: SOL 549 (7)
FUCK YOU MARS YOU PIECE OF SHIT, I LOVE YOU BUT I’M NEVER COMING BACK!
I hope we can still be friends. But I have to go. Try not to kill anyone in the future ok?
Wait, did I forget to turn off the log?
AUDIO LOG TRANSCRIPT: SOL 549 (8)
DICK NINJAS!
Huh, so the suit starts recording automatically if I yell. The things you learn. Or forget that you ever learnt in the first place.
But it’s time to blow this popsicle stand. I’ll give you a countdown as I smack the button so I don’t chicken out.
FIVE
FOUR
THREE
TWO
ONE
Wait, was it launch on 5, or...
HOLY FUCKBALLS, I AM OUTTA HERE!
AUDIO LOG TRANSCRIPT: SOL 449 (9)
Oh god, everything hurts. But I am in space. I can see Mars below me. Boyah!
After I launched, the bone shaking vibration of the engines was so intense I thought it had all gone wrong. But as usual, I continued not dying.
I did black out though.
Which meant rather than screaming incoherently at nothing, I slumbered peacefully as the MAV hauled me into space at 12+G’s. I was always good at sleeping on flights.
I think I broke a rib though.
Thankfully NASA’s big guide to not dying on Mars has me staying seated for now. The second stage of the MAV and I will coast around Mars until a second burn from the engine puts us on an intercept course with Hermes.
The view is stunning, but I’m so exhausted I can’t keep my eyes open. Maybe I’ll have just a quick power nap.
AUDIO LOG TRANSCRIPT: SOL 550
I slept through the thrusters settling the fuel, but the pressure of the main engine firing really highlighted how rough that launch was on my body. I definitely broke a rib.
But as far as I can tell, I am now on course for a Hermes intercept. In two weeks. Yeah, NASA didn’t tell me that part until right before I slammed the communications dish into the ground.
Two fucking weeks... And I forgot to ask if those are Mars weeks, or Earth weeks. I just really hope I am going in the right direction.
Still, I can’t just spend my days strapped to the front of the MAV in a spacesuit. NASA had me put together quite the little goody bag for this trip, so it’s time to get unpacked.
LOG ENTRY: SOL 550
Succes! I am writing this on my laptop, from inside my mini hab. It’s pretty ingenious really. The MAV’s original crew compartment was way too heavy to keep attached, but two weeks in a spacesuit wasn’t going to work either. So I brought along my rover bedroom.
It’s a simple enough concept - just the modified emergency pop tent lashed onto the top of the MAV. While it’s designed to work on Mars, the atmosphere is so thin that operating in a vacuum isn’t much different.
Of course, getting it set up was not so simple. The MAV is in freefall, so I am floating around all over the place out here. We spun Hermes on a tether to simulate gravity on the way to Mars, so I never got totally comfortable in zero-g.
I sure as hell wasn’t going to risk drifting off into space, so I tied a length of cable from my suit to the acceleration chair. Then a second one just to make sure. But that didn’t make it any easier to manhandling an old, stiff pop tent in zero-g, all while avoiding the spiky edges of an axe mutilated MAV.
I got there eventually though.
After it’s final burn, the MAV had used thrusters to aim it’s engine towards the sun, to help protect me from radiation. Fortunately my suit has lights, but the shadows are surprisingly dark out here. The MAV batteries won’t last two weeks, so I have set up some solar panels on a little strut sticking out into the sunlight. That should keep everything charged up till I make it to Hermes.
Once the Mini Hab 2.0 was in place, I stuffed all the equipment in, plus myself, and sealed it from the inside. Then it was just a matter of opening up some bottles of oxygen and nitrogen I had pilfered from the rover, until the mini hab was up to pressure. Well, up to pressure according to my suit readings, but it was still a puckering moment cracking my helmet seal.
With the suit open, it could take over the job of managing the atmosphere in the entire baby hab. Just like it did when I was stuck in the airlock back on Mars. I’d brought along enough CO2 scrubbers to last the trip, and could refill the suit oxygen and nitrogen from the rover tanks. I also salvaged a fan out of the MAV castoffs, to keep the air circulating.
All in all, from an engineering perspective, it’s a pretty sweet little setup.
Don’t go imagining it’s too cushy here though. I’m only separated from hard vacuum and a brutal death by a few millimeters of hab material. If the fan stops while I’m sleeping, I'll choke on a bubble of exhaled CO2. If there’s a solar flare I’ll be cooked by the radiation. If a UFO turns up... Well then who knows what will happen.
And I’m still living on potatoes. 41 left. And I left the smallest, mangiest ones till last.
Oh and one other thing. I am sharing my bedroom with the RTG.
Yeah that’s right. Just to spice things up, I brought a box of plutonium along for the ride.
Solar would have been lighter for power generation, but I need the heat from the RTG to keep my mini hab warm. It’s also powering my suit directly without having to run cables out to the solar panels. Apparently it will get a little steamy in here, but there wasn't an easy way to control the temperature.
Really though, I built a nuclear powered space sauna. I’m just racking up the firsts.
Don't worry too much. NASA even had me use the shiny new RTG from the Ares 4 MAV fuel plant. Something about the old one from Ares 3 having been bounced around in a rover for weeks on end.
No mutant superpowers for me then. I was kinda of looking forward to it. Oh well, I’d probably have become a super villain anyway.
Hmmm, but what would I be called? The Killer Man from Mars? The Red Death? Space Pirate of Doom?
Mark What-The-Fuck? The Bad Botanist?
Oh!
The Martian.
Perfect.
Anyway, it’s been a long few days, so I am going to take another amazing zero-g nap.
LOG ENTRY: SOL 551
Hab 2.0 is holding up well. There was a minor pressure drop when I woke up, but I traced it back to one of the seams and put a little dab of sealant on there.
NASA wants me to keep wearing the suit all the time, just with the helmet off. So that way if the mini hab fails, I have at least a fighting chance of getting the helmet on and surviving.
Yeah, I am not doing that.
The RTG is doing it’s thing, so it’s boiling hot in here. Plus I like being able to float around naked. It’s freeing.
Today I did stuff the RTG down into the short tunnel where the mini hab entrance is, in an effort to make it a bit cooler. Partly for comfort, and partly because I have a very limited around of water and don’t want to sweat it away.
NASA said leave it in the middle of the little hab to avoid creating any hot spots that could stress the hab seams. They assure me that the exterior surface of the mini hab will radiate the heat out and we’ll reach equilibrium at a tolerable 33 degrees celsius. But I would rather get sucked out into space than slow cooked in my own juices.
Counterpoint - I would probably be extremely delicious by the time I arrive at Hermes.
LOG ENTRY: SOL 552
Moving the RTG worked like a charm. My streak of not dying continues. Maybe I am unkillable?
It’s pretty toasty over in the entrance tunnel, but it’s created a nice temperature gradient across the mini hab. Even better, the water I sweat and breath out is condensing on the cool hab material on the other side.
So while I am reduced to licking the walls, at least I won’t have to ration my limited water quite so much. I am sure I could use the RTG to evaporate my urine for extra water, but it already smells bad enough in here.
To celebrate living another day, I’ve just eaten two potatoes in one go, and am going back to bed. Just for the mental image, that’s me naked, snoring, and a bit sweaty, floating in the middle of the hab.
Sweet dreams.
LOG ENTRY: SOL 554
I think my exhaustion from the 549 sols on Mars finally caught up with me. It’s a bit of a blur, but I slept most of yesterday. Floating warm in freefall might just be the most comfortable way to sleep, ever. I hooked up a bit of cabling to help stop me floating too close or too far from the RTG, and there was just nothing to wake me.
Even better, skipping lunch and dinner yesterday means I can have a potato feast today.
Five potatoes!
Sometimes you just have to enjoy the little things.
LOG ENTRY: SOL 555
It’s strange just floating along out here in deep space. My DIY bedroom doesn’t have any windows, so I am just stuck inside a warm little cave, laying next to a beheaded space suit. And it doesn’t like to spoon.
If I turn off all my lights and cover the suit indicators, I can just see the star glow through the hab material walls. It’s weird to think I have already travelled further than the Apollo astronauts did. At least they could see where they were going.
I wonder what the crew are doing in the Hermes? I still have over a week left until I catch up.
LOG ENTRY: SOL 556
More floating and sleeping in my warm, safe little cocoon. This must be what being a baby in the womb feels like.
Except I have a laptop full of shitty old TV shows.
I’m so bored. And I love it. I am taking full advantage of every last lazy relaxing second of it.
Even if I wanted to go outside, I can’t open up the mini hab without losing all my air. In theory I have enough spare to refill it in case of a breach, but that’s better kept for an emergency.
LOG ENTRY: SOL 558
Time starts to lose all meaning when you are floating through space in a little self contained bubble with no day or night.
But during whatever counts as last night, I was very unpleasantly awoken when I drifted free of my sleeping strap, and got a face full of cold water that had condensed on the wall.
At least it wasn’t the other side, where I’ve been storing bags of my shit and piss.
LOG ENTRY: SOL 559
Four days to go. I still have a very slow leak somewhere, but it is well within the capabilities of the suit to handle, and I have plenty of air reserves.
Time for another potato and nap I guess.
LOG ENTRY: SOL 560
I tried making a baked potato on the RTG. Turns out freeze dried potatoes don’t bake so well.
3/10 for flavour.
It would have been at least a 6/10 if I had some sour cream.
LOG ENTRY: SOL 561
I dreamt about aliens last night. And not the sexy kind.
Nothing to report otherwise.
LOG ENTRY: SOL 562
I really really hope I am going in the right direction.
LOG ENTRY: SOL 563
I’ll reach Hermes tomorrow. Which means today I have some preparation to do.
And I kind of resent that. Mostly because as always, it’s the ‘oh god I think I am going to die’ kind of preparation. It will be nice to see the stars again though.
Packing up is easy. I eat my last potatoes, drink plenty of water, put on my suit, then wildly hack my way out of the mini hab using the axe.
No, not really.
NASA has suggested a much more sensible approach that involves stowing all my equipment neatly, slowly releasing the air pressure through valves on the door and carefully climbing out.
I figure I will decide which method to use when the time comes.
AUDIO LOG TRANSCRIPT: SOL 564
I went the safe option. Damn you NASA.
But it’s actually nice to be out of the cocoon. Leaning out last the edge of the MAV I can see the sun, and if I squint just right, Mars. Though peering out at the stars, I can’t see Hermes. I am not even sure I am looking in the right direction.
But there’s no time for contemplating my mortality. I need to get started on the final phase of project Circumcision. NASA calls this part The Undercut, but I prefer The Bobbitt. And it might just be the craziest idea yet.
See, catching up with Hermes is only half the problem. Once I arrive, I’ll still be travelling way too fast to thumb a lift. Hermes has been modifying its orbit to make the rendezvous a little easier, but it can’t change course too much or it won’t make it back to Earth.
So I need to slow down. A lot.
The MAV was actually designed to coast through deep space, storing some fuel for landing on Mars. Unfortunately all the critical bits for doing so are all in the first stage and fueling station, which I left behind.
But what the MAV does have is powerful hypergolic thrusters for docking with the Hermes. They are oversize too, because the MAV is usually full of people and equipment and Mars rocks. And the Hermes isn’t very maneuverable. But even then, the thrusters can’t slow the entire ship down enough to match orbits.
So just like most of my issues these days, the solution is to hit it with an axe.
Actually this time, I’ve reconfigured it into more of a can opener. Which is a pity, because I was really warming to my new career as an interplanetary lumberjack.
Basically, I will use the back of the axe to open a hole in the skin of the MAV. It’s built to be lightweight, so the skin is also the tank wall. Then I use the Super Dooper Space Can Opener™ to cut the rocket in half.
Ok ok, not in half. I just know whoever eventually reads this log will be a pedantic pain in the arse about the little details.
The MAV sandwiches all the equipment such as thrusters between the top of the second stage fuel tank, and the underside of the crew compartment. Since I ripped the top off back on Mars, the MAV is little more than a ring of thrusters and avionics, with a big fuel tank and engine hanging underneath.
So I need to chop pretty much the entire rocket off the bottom. Or the thrusters off the top. Same same.
By ditching all that extra weight, NASA assures me that the thrusters should have just enough delta-v to match orbits with Hermes.
That’s the theory anyway. Wish me luck.
AUDIO LOG TRANSCRIPT: SOL 564 (2)
That was a nightmare. Some kind of living waking sweating zero-g nightmare from hell.
I mean, I didn't think hacking up a rocket while floating through space would be easy. NASA’s snip snip guide directed me to cut along the tanks just below the upper dome. Kind of like opening a bulgy can of baked beans, but less tasty.
But actually getting the required leverage while in zero-g is a pain in the arse. I ran a bunch of cables around the MAV to help brace against, but they kept coming loose. I also had to avoid any of the sharp edges on the aluminium walls, as they could easily damage my suit.
Not much fun. Especially after my recent relaxing vacation where I didn’t do anything more physical than gently waft myself around.
I prevailed of course, and now the bulk of the MAV is cut free. But it’s still in the same orbit, and just floating there, mocking me. The NASA instructions say to leave it alone, as the thrusters will carry the top of the MAV to a safe distance before performing any aggressive maneuvers. I really want to kick it though.
There's not much for me to do now. I have enough CO2 absorption canisters and air to last till I arrive at Hermes. The NASA guide did tell me to ditch the laptop, but I stuffed it into my spacesuit. I’ve been through too much with that damn laptop to just up and leave it behind.
Everything else got put into the mini hab and lashed onto the lower part of the MAV, before I cut it free.
For a while there I considered cracking the seals on the spare air tanks and seeing if the hab would pop a seam and fart itself off on a new trajectory. But that’s littering. Hundreds of years from now RTG shrapnel from my hab bomb would take out some spaceship. By tying it all together, it’s a nice big radar target to avoid.
I did keep the axe though. NASA claims it’s just in case I need it for percussive maintenance, but I know the truth.
Space Zombies.
AUDIO LOG TRANSCRIPT: SOL 564 (3)
Fuck yeah!
No I haven’t spotted the Hermes. It’s even better than that.
Apparently I didn’t pack the hab up very well, and one of my bags of now frozen crap is floating free. I can see it glinting brownly in the sunlight as it heads off on a new adventure.
Godspeed, little shitbag, you are the bravest of us all.
AUDIO LOG TRANSCRIPT: SOL 564 (4)
I’m bored. I have about 10 itches I am desperate to scratch. Where are you Hermes?
Once I am close enough, the crew can talk directly to my suit radio, as well as fine tune the MAVs orbit.
I’ve tied myself in place, so I suppose until then I could have another nap.
AUDIO LOG TRANSCRIPT: SOL 564 (5)
Whoops.
My suit radio was off to conserve power, and I forgot to turn it back on before falling asleep. I woke up when the MAV started jiggling underneath me. That was Martinez checking if I was still alive.
It was pretty great to talk to the crew again. They are tracking me on radar, and have confirmed the MAV has plenty of thruster fuel to match orbits.
Trying to record an audio log while being bombarded with questions is really annoying, so I will update this if anything exciting happens.
AUDIO LOG TRANSCRIPT: SOL 564 (6)
This rendezvous is appalling boring, considering I’ve just ridden millions of kilometers on a mangled MAV. I am sure rescues are meant to be more dramatic.
But no, the thruster burns went perfectly and I am floating near Hermes.
I offered to make my own way over but Lewis is insisting I wait for Beck to come and pick me up. I’d had all sorts of great ideas too. I could break the valve off an oxygen bottle and ride it like bucking bronco. Or maybe I could puncture hole in the palms of my suit and fly to safety, Iron Man style.
Something dashing and heroic. When they make a movie out of my story, I hope they jazz this bit up.
Oh well, Beck has come all this way now, so I suppose I shouldn’t disappoint him.
It’s been great, but this is Mark Watney, signing off.
AUDIO LOG TRANSCRIPT: SOL 564 (7)
What the fuck.
Beck arrived but he’s just staring at me and making all sorts of weird gestures.
Maybe he is overcome with happiness from seeing me in person. Or shit, maybe he contracted a weird space virus and is going to start frothing at the mouth.
Beck, are you ok? You have to press the button to talk on the the radio!
Ooh that got his attention. I think he’s trying to tell me something via emergency hand signals, but I’ve forgotten what they mean. I was marooned on Mars you know Beck. Not many people to talk to there.
Ahhh, now he’s trying to grab me. Beck, I get that you are happy to see me, but save the hugs for when we are back in the Hermes, you weirdo.
Arrrgh, now he’s trying to press his helmet against mine. He’s going for my brains. SPACE ZOMBIE!!
Mark you idiot, stop thrashing. You’ve jammed your radio transmit button on and we can hear everything. But it’s nice to have you back.
The End.
Notes
This is a rough first draft, so please excuse the errors.
I’d love to see just how creative those JPL engineers could get when the only other option is certain death. While possible in theory, hacking apart a MAV with an axe isn’t going to have much chance of success.
I didn’t simulate the intercept course for the extra modified MAV. I don’t know enough to do that. You get a lot of extra delta-v when you ditch large chunks of your ship though. So pending questions such as MAV second stage fuel boil off, engine relight ability, and thruster fuel volume, my back of the napkin math says playing catch up is possible.
I am sure Johansses could get the directional antenna on the Hermes talking to the MAV and Marks suit at long range. But that would not have changed the outcome of the story, and I preferred having him float along not knowing if he was even going in the right direction.
No doubt Mark’s suit can transmit and receive at the same time when Beck is trying to talk to him, but where is the fun in that.