The final step was to take the airlock's holding tank to the MAV and transfer the contents to the MAV's hydrogen tanks. I've said this many times before but: Hurray for standardized valve systems!
Once I fed it the hydrogen, I fired up the fuel plant and it got to work making the additional fuel I'd need.
I'll need to go through this process several more times as the launch date approaches. I could have done this all at once, but NASA doesn't want me to run low on water until we're close to launch. They'd rather I electrolyze urine over time because I've already “used” that water.
If I survive this, I'll tell people I pissed my way in to orbit.
[19:22]JOHANSSEN: Hello, Mark.
[19:23]MAV: Johanssen!? Holy crap! They finally letting you talk to me directly?
[19:24]JOHANSSEN: Yes, NASA gave the OK for direct communication an hour ago. We're only 35 light-seconds apart, so we can talk in near-realtime. I just set up the system and I'm testing it out.
[19:24]MAV: What took them so long to let us talk?
[19:25]JOHANSSEN: The psych team was worried about personality conflicts.
[19:25]MAV: What? Just cause you guys abandoned me on a godforsaken planet with no chance of survival?
[19:26]JOHANSSEN: Funny. Don't make that kind of joke with Lewis.
[19:27]MAV: Roger. So uh... thanks for coming back to get me.
[19:27]JOHANSSEN: It's the least we could do. How is the MAV retrofit going?
[19:28]MAV: So far, so good. NASA put a lot of thought into the procedures. They work. That's not to say they're easy. I spent the last 3 days removing Hull Panel 19 and the front window. Even in Mars-G they're heavy motherfuckers.
[19:29]JOHANSSEN: When we pick you up, I will make wild, passionate love to you. Prepare your body.
[19:29]JOHANSSEN: I didn't type that! That was Martinez! I stepped away from the console for like 10 seconds!
[19:29]MAV: I've really missed you guys.
LOG ENTRY: SOL 543
I'm... done?
I think I'm done.
I did everything on the list. The MAV is ready to fly. And in 6 sols, that's just what it'll do. I hope.
It might not launch at all. I did remove an engine, after all. I could have fucked up all sorts of things during that process. And there's no way to test the ascent stage. Once you light it, it's lit.
Everything else, however, will go through tests from now until launch. Some done by me, some done remotely by NASA. They're not telling me the failure odds, but I'm guessing they're the highest in history. Yuri Gagarin had a much more reliable and safe ship than I do.
And Soviet ships were fucking deathtraps.
“All right,” Lewis said, “tomorrow's the big day.”
The crew floated in the Rec. They had halted the rotation of the ship in preparation for the upcoming operation.
“I'm ready,” Martinez said. “Johanssen threw everything she could at me. I got all scenarios to orbit.”
“Everything other than catastrophic failures,” Johanssen corrected.
“Well yeah,” Martinez said. “Kind of pointless to simulate an ascent explosion. Nothing we can do.”
“Vogel,” Lewis said, “How's our course.”
“It is perfect,” Vogel said. “We are within one meter of projected path and two centimeters per second of projected velocity.”
“Good,” she said. “Beck, how about you?”
“Everything's all set up, Commander,” Beck said. “I linked all the tethers I could find and spooled them up in Airlock 2. My suit and MMU are prepped and ready.”
“Ok,” Lewis said. “The battle plan is pretty obvious. Martinez will fly the MAV, Johanssen will sysop the ascent. Beck and Vogel, I want you in Airlock 2 with the outer door open before the MAV even launches. You'll have to wait 52 minutes, but I don't want to risk any technical glitches with the airlock or your suits. Once we reach intercept, it'll be Beck's job to get Watney.”
“He might be in bad shape when I get him,” Beck said. “The stripped-down MAV will get up to 12 g's during the launch. He could be unconscious and may even have internal bleeding.”
“Just as well you're our doctor,” Lewis said. “Vogel, if all goes according to plan, you're pulling Beck and Watney back aboard with the tether. If things go wrong, you're Beck's backup.”
“Ja,” Vogel said.
“I wish there was more we could do right now,” Lewis said. “But all we have left is the wait. Your work schedules are cleared. All scientific experiments are suspended. Sleep if you can, run diagnostics on your equipment if you can't.”
“We'll get him, Commander,” Martinez said. “24 hours from now, Mark Watney will be right here in this room.”
“Let's hope so, Major.” Lewis said. “Dismissed.”
“Final checks for this shift are complete,” Mitch said in to his headset. “Timekeeper.”
“Go, flight,” said the Timekeeper.
“Time until MAV launch?”
“16 hours, 9 minutes, 40 seconds... mark.”
“Copy that. All stations: Flight Director shift change.” He took his headset off and rubbed his eyes.
Brendan Hutch took the headset from him and put it on. “All stations, Flight Director is now Brendan Hutch.”
“Call me if anything happens,” Mitch said. “If not, I'll see you tomorrow.”
“Get some sleep, boss,” Brendan said.
Venkat watched from the observation booth. “Why ask the Timekeeper?” he mumbled. “It's on the huge mission clock in the center screen.”
“He's nervous,” Annie said. “You don't often see it, but that's what Mitch Henderson looks like when he's nervous. He double and triple checks everything.”
“Fair enough,” Venkat said.
“They're camping out on the lawn, by the way,” Annie said. “Reporters from all over the world. Our press rooms just don't have enough space.”
“The media loves a drama,” he sighed. “It'll be over tomorrow, one way or another.”
“What's our role in all this?” Annie said. “If something goes wrong, what can Mission Control do?”
“Nothing,” Venkat said. “Not a damned thing.”
“Nothing?”
“It's all happening 12 light-minutes away. That means it takes 24 minutes for them to get the answer to any question they ask. The whole launch is 12 minutes long. They're on their own.”
“Oh,” Annie said. “So we're just observers in all this?”
“Yes,” Venkat said. “Sucks, doesn't it?”
LOG ENTRY: SOL 549
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't shitting myself. In 4 hours, I'm going to ride a giant explosion into orbit. This is something I've done a few times before, but never with a jury-rigged mess like this.
Right now, I'm sitting in the MAV. I'm suited up because there's a big hole in the front of the ship where the window and part of the hull used to be. I'm “awaiting launch instructions.” Really, I'm just awaiting launch. I don't have any part in this. I'm just going to sit in the acceleration couch and hope for the best.
Last night, I ate my final meal pack. It's the first good meal I've had in weeks. I'm leaving 41 potatoes behind. That's how close I came to starvation.
I carefully collected samples from my entire journey. But I can't bring any of them with me. So I put them in a container a few hundred meters from here. Maybe some day they'll send a probe to collect them. May as well make them easy to pick up.
This is it. There's nothing after this. There isn't even an abort procedure. Why make one? We can't delay the launch. Hermes can't stop and wait. No matter what, we're launching on schedule.
I face the very real possibility that I'll die today. Can't say I like it. It wouldn't be so bad if the MAV blew up. I wouldn't know what hit me.
If I miss the intercept I'll just float around in space until I run out of air. I have a contingency plan for that. I'll drop the oxygen mixture to zero and breathe pure nitrogen until I suffocate. It wouldn't feel bad. The lungs don't have the ability to sense lack of oxygen. I'd just get tired, fall asleep, then die.
I've had my last Martian potato. I've slept in the rover for the last time. I've had my last EVA on the surface. I'm leaving Mars today, one way or another.
About fucking time.
Chapter 26
They gathered.
Everywhere on Earth, they gathered.
From Trafalgar Square to Tienanmen Square to Times Square, they watched on giant screens. In offices they huddled around computer monitors. In bars, they stared silently at the TV in the corner. In homes they sat breathlessly on their couches, their eyes glued to the story playing out.
In Chicago, a couple clutched each other's hands as they watched. The man held his wife gently as she rocked back and forth out of sheer terror. The NASA representative knew not to disturb them, but stood ready to answer any questions should they ask.
“Fuel Pressure green,” Johanssen's voice said from a billion televisions. “Engine alignment perfect. Communications 5 by 5. We are ready for preflight checklist, Commander.”
“Copy,” came Lewis's voice. “CAPCOM”
“Go,” Johanssen responded.
“Guidance.”
“Go,” Johanssen said again.
“Remote Command.”
“Go,” said Martinez.
“Pilot.”
“Go,” said Watney from the MAV.
A mild cheer coruscated through the crowds worldwide.
Mitch sat at his station in mission control. They monitored everything and were ready to help in any way the could. The communication latency between Hermes and Earth made any such need highly unlikely.
“Telemetry,” Lewis's voice said over the speakers.
“Go,” Johanssen responded.
“Recovery,” she continued.
“Go,” said Beck from the airlock.
“Secondary Recovery.”
“Go,” said Vogel from beside Beck.
“Mission control, this is Hermes Actual,” Lewis reported. “We are go for launch and will proceed on schedule. We are T minus four minutes, 10 seconds to launch... mark.”
“Did you get that, Timekeeper?” Mitch said.
“Affirmative, flight,” came the response. “Our clocks are synched with theirs.”
“Not that we can do anything,” Mitch mumbled, “But at least we'll know what's supposedly happening.”
“About four minutes, Mark,” Lewis said into her mic. “How you doing down there?”
“Eager to get up there, Commander,” Watney responded.
“We're going to make that happen,” Lewis said. “Remember, you'll be pulling some pretty heavy G's. It's ok to pass out. You're in Martinez's hands.”
“Tell that asshole no barrel-rolls.”
“Copy that, MAV,” Lewis said.
“Four more minutes,” Martinez said, cracking his knuckles. “You ready for some flying, Beth?”
“Yeah,” Johanssen said. “It'll be strange to sysop a launch and stay in zero-g the whole time.”
“I hadn't thought of it that way,” Martinez said, “but yeah. I'm not going to be squashed against the back my seat. Weird.”
Beck floated in the airlock, tethered to a wall-mounted spool. Vogel stood beside him, his boots clamped to the floor. Both stared through the open outer door to the red planet below.
“Didn't think I'd be back here again,” Beck said.
“Yes,” Vogel said. “We are the first.”
“First what?”
“We are the first to visit Mars twice.”
“Oh yeah. Even Watney can't say that.”
“He cannot.”
They looked at Mars in silence for a while.
“Vogel,” Beck said.
“Ja.”
“If I can't reach Mark, I want you to release my tether.”
“Doctor Beck,” Vogel said, “The Commander has said no to this.”
“I know what the Commander said, but if I need a few more meters, I want you to cut me loose. I have an MMU, I can get back without a tether.”
“I will not do this, Doctor Beck.”
“It's my own life at risk, and I say it's ok.”
“You are not the Commander.”
Beck scowled at Vogel, but with their reflective visors down, the effect was lost.
“Fine,” Beck said. “But I bet you'll change your mind if push comes to shove.”
Vogel did not respond.
“T-minus 10,” said Johanssen, “9...8...”
“Main engines start,” said Martinez.
“7...6...5...mooring clamps released...”
“About 5 seconds, Watney,” Lewis said to her headset. “Hang on.”
“See you in a few, Commander,” Watney radioed back.
“4...3...2...”
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 MAV launched with incredible force. More than any manned ship had accelerated in the history of space travel. Watney was shoved in to his couch so hard he couldn't even grunt.
Having anticipated this, he had placed a folded up shirt behind his head in the helmet. As his head pressed firmly in to the makeshift cushion, the edges of his vision became blurry. He could neither breathe nor move.
Directly in his field of view, the Hab canvas patch flapped violently as the ship exponentially gained speed. Concentration became difficult, but something in the back of his mind told him that was bad.
“Velocity 741 meters per second,” Johanssen quickly called out. “Altitude 1350 meters.”
“Copy,” Martinez said.
“That's low,” Lewis said. “Too low.”
“I know,” Martinez said. “It's sluggish; fighting me. What the fuck is going on?”
“Velocity 850, altitude 1843,” Johanssen said.
“I'm not getting the power I need!” Martinez said.
“Engine power at 100%,” Johanssen said.
“I'm telling you it's sluggish,” Martinez insisted.
“Watney,” Lewis said to her headset. “Watney, do you read? Can you report?”
Watney heard Lewis's voice in the distance. Like someone talking to him through a long tunnel. He vaguely wondered what she wanted. His attention was briefly drawn to the fluttering canvas ahead of him. A rip had appeared and was rapidly widening.
But then he was distracted by a bolt in one of the bulkheads. It only had five sides. He wondered why NASA decided that bolt needed five sides instead of six. It would require a special wrench to tighten or loosen.
The canvas tore even further, the tattered material flapping wildly. Through the opening, Watney saw red sky stretching out infinitely ahead. “That's nice,” he thought.
As the MAV flew higher, the atmosphere grew thinner. Soon, the canvas stopped fluttering and simply stretched toward Mark. The sky shifted from red to black.
“That's nice, too,” Mark thought.
As consciousness slipped away, he wondered where he could get a cool 5-sided bolt like that.
“I'm getting more response now,” Martinez said.
“Back on track with full acceleration,” Johanssen said. “Must have been drag. MAV's out of the atmosphere now.”