Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Good Afternoon."

Sanders had on his usual solemn expression as he addressed the media. However, unlike so many other times he spoke, today his voice lacked the dry humor he always seemed to have, Kapoor noted. Teddy collected his notes given to him minutes earlier by Annie Montrose, he looked in the general direction of the cameras and began the dreaded press conference.

It was not a good afternoon.

Even as the press leaned closer to absorb the information that Teddy will give them, they all know why they are here. All they want is more details.

Vincent sighed and looked at the floor studying the patterns of the tile, willing the press conference to be over.

The actual blow came hours earlier when an already dangerous situation spun wildly out of control.

An emergency evacuation. Total mission scrub. It was unheard of. No precedent was for just an unlikely situation in the mission book, that's all.

But the MAV was tipping over. They'd had no choice. Or if they did, there is no changing what happened. Commander Lewis had taken her best guess, she did what she had to in order to keep her crew safe.

History won't care about how strong the storm was, or the science behind anything we wished to accomplish on the Ares missions, the reasoning behind the evacuation, or that Lewis had made the best choice of action with the information she had. Window dressing.

There was no doubt in Vincent's mind that the Ares III, the entire mission, and maybe the entire program as a whole would now be forever tainted by the fact that they left their crewmate behind.

Dead.

The first astronaut to die on the surface of Mars.

History would remember that the 16th person to walk on the surface of Mars had also died there.

The news had swept through Johnson Space Center like a different type of storm.

Kapoor sighed and shifted from one foot to the other as Teddy, at the podium, described the series of events that brought them here.

To this. NASA's first causality in 30 years. It didn't seem real.

News had leaked out almost instantly, they were a public organization after all. But no one had the full story except for the people briefed by Lewis after they made it to the Hermes.

They can't have secrets. Not legally. This was a dangerous business.

They had a whole campus of grieving souls. What would have been the point of a gag-order? It wouldn't have stemmed the tide, or changed any facts.

"And so at 6:15 Central Time," Teddy was concluding, "After the storm had escalated, the decision was made to conduct an emergency evacuation." For a brief moment Sanders closed his eyes, and Kapoor could see the tightening of his jaw and understand the true weight he bore on his shoulders. But he continued, impassively, "Astronauts Lewis, Martinez, Beck, Vogal, and Watney made it safely to the MAV and were able to rendezvous with The Hermes, and are coming home."

Kapoor held his breath, he didn't like to hear the words any more than Sanders liked to say them.

"Unfortunately during the evacuation Astronaut Beth Johanssen was struck by debris and killed."

Gasps could be heard throughout the crowd and the reporters quickly ate up the new information.

The crew couldn't find her body, carried away, the gods only knew how far by the storm, which had caused visibility to become near zero. Commander Lewis had attempted a brief search, but Johanssen's EVA suit had immediately lost it's uplink that should have remained strong for several kilometers.

Maybe the debris had destroyed the sensors in her suit when the loose satellite dish had hit her, taking her life in an instant.

When he stopped to consider this for a moment he was glad the crew was spared from seeing their fallen crewmate. They just didn't have time to look, the 90 seconds hadn't made much of a difference, and for that Vincent was grateful.

Sanders didn't stop to take any questions despite the many requests from reporters, even as Monstrose had primed them, but didn't stop them from asking. He took his notes and abruptly left the podium, head bowed, with slumped shoulders, and empty eyes. He brushed by several department heads who knew better than to try and stop him.

He was taking this personally. They all were. But none more so than Mitch Henderson, who stood at the back of the room with dried tears. He felt as if it was his fault, that he should have done something for her, the crew was his responsibility.

Everyone in one way or another had contributed to this mission. Whether it be large or small. They had all put the crew in harm's way, and now the worst had happened.

The very worst.

There is no going back for this, Kapoor thought. The repercussions from Johanssen's death would be felt for years to come, no doubt.

Maybe one day they could learn what had happened and fix the problem to help protect their people. One day it would be truly safe for astronauts to travel the stars with no complications.

Today was not that day.

All they really knew was that 5 of the crew had survived; But Johanssen who was so gifted, strong willed, and bright; With so many ideas that could help so many, was gone.

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Beep. Beep. Beep.

That irritating beeping was what woke me up. Everything hurt so much. I was trapped in this thick blackness. Slowly I shifted and a pang of pain went through me. I was breathing hard, my torso felt shattered.

What happened I thought. The last thing I remember was the storm.

The storm. The one Mark tired fighting Commander Lewis over which action to take. I remember walking, the dish coming for Mark, moving in front of him, being hit, then nothing.

I groaned as I shifted in the sand again. I opened my eyes and blinked against the harsh sunlight. I could see the HAB, still standing as if nothing bad had happened. I couldn't see the MAV anywhere.

They thought I was dead, they left without me.

That realization was what forced me into action. No one was coming to help. No Beck and his stupidly cute, I'm-The-Only-Doctor-So-Listen-To-Me voice, or his concerned eyes I always seem to get lost in. No Commander Lewis with her ability to go full on mom for anyone on the crew. No Martinez with his big brother like hugs. No Vogal with stories about his family that never failed to cheer everyone up. No Watney with his badly timed jokes and smartass comments that may have rubbed off on me more than I cared to admit. Nobody. I was alone.

Get to air first, realized how fucked you are later seemed like a reasonable goal so I pushed myself up slowly and checked my suit to stop the beeping. I was dangerously low on oxygen, I needed to make it to the HAB. I started forward only to be stopped by an excruciatingly painful tug back. I looked down and stared in horror as I saw a piece of metal sticking out of my side, I looked over to see what was holding me back only to be horrified squared to see the communication satellite I had set up with Martinez.

I frantically grabbed the knife on my belt and cut the wire attached to it. After I was free I quickly got back up and limped toward the HAB as fast as possible while trying to get my breathing under control. I had to stop several times to catch my breath, but I made it with only a few minutes to spare. Which was okay given my situation.

I pulled the lever and opened the door and closed it behind me. Distinctly I heard the familiar sound of our basic AI say "Pressure Stable." as I moved to open the other door.

Once inside I took off my helmet, gloves, chestplate, and head sock. I looked down at my injury, medical stuff was not my forte, but it looked really bad. You don't need a professional to tell you that much, but I knew enough first aid from my training and being around Beck to make this work for me.

This is going to hurt, My brain added unhelpfully.

I took a few quick deep breaths before ripping the small rod out of my torso. I let out a scream of pain, very appropriate at the time but I had to focus, so I put my hand over the wound as I made my way over to Beck's workstation, I ripped my EVA suit off as fast as I could without making the injury worse than it was. Which was hard. Not easy. Would not recommend. I was left in the skin tight blue layer we wear underneath.

I took a pair of scissors and cut myself free of the top part of the blue spandex leaving me in only my sports bra and a gapping hole in my stomach. It continued to bleed badly and had to resist throwing up as my brain in it's state of shock compared my injury to horror movie wounds. It was not helping. I may have been a top student at MIT, but sometimes I just hate my brain. I grabbed a piece of med gauze to stop it. I took a tray of med tools and sat down with a small mirror aimed at the hole in my torso.

I picked up the thingy that helps isolate the area of damage and lifted the gauze to punch it into my skin. Then I grabbed the pair of retractors and opened the deep cut a little more so I could use the pair of forceps that are not supposed to be used for medical purposes to reach in and grab the piece of metal that was still inside me.

I let out a few gasps and groans, I'm sure, but I managed to get it out. I call it a victory since I had no real experience with emergency self surgery. And I was not dead yet and didn't seem to make the problem worse. I let out a deep exhale and put the gauze back to stem the blood flow as I held the metal piece I just removed up to the small rod it used to be attached to.

I let out a deep breath and dropped the small piece of metal into a nearby cup. I took the staple gun and slowly closed up my wound. Which also sucked and I let my head fall back and hit the table behind me with a thump. The pain grounding me and bringing me back to my next set of issues now that my life was not in immediate danger. I was covered in sweat, had at least a mild concussion, nearly going into shock from blood loss, and I was alone with no communication or back up on a barren planet.

"Fuck."

Chapter Text

I walked up to the computer in the lodging area where we can record our journal entries before we went to sleep each night. They were supposed to be used as propaganda for Congress, now it gets to listen to my dark thoughts as I slowly die , I thought grimly as I entered my password to start the stupid thing.

I didn’t know why I was doing this, maybe it was to inform people of what a clusterfuck of a situation I found myself in or to do something to keep me from going crazy. Or more crazy than signing up to be strapped to one of the biggest rockets ever made and go to a planet 50 million miles away from home with no proper atmosphere to study dirt.

I looked at the monitor seeing my defeated expression, wearing a clean sports bra, wrapped in a trauma blanket I stole from the first-aid station, and started to talk. I didn’t write out a script but I needed to say something rather than look at the screen like a moron if this would be my last words anyone would hear.

“Okay… Okay. Hello everyone, this is Beth Johanssen, astronaut. I’m entering this log for the record in case I don’t make it. It is currently 06:53 or 54 now on SOL 19… and I’m alive.”

God this sounded pathetic, but I kept going trying to get all the thoughts out without crying. This sucks so much. I thought as I forced myself to continue.

“Well, obviously. But I will make a quick hypothesis that this news will come as a surprise to my crewmates… and to NASA… and the whole world really.”

There was no doubt that the PR teams for NASA were already planning her funeral. The age of the internet, nothing stays secret for long. I allowed a small smile of dark amusement to cross my face when that plan backfired spectacularly.

“So to all of you… Surprise.” I muttered, fiddling with the Communication Antenna that had been speared into me by Mrs. Mars-Mother-Nature.

“I did not die on SOL 18. Best I can figure is that this length of our primary Communication Antenna broke off when I was hit with the dish and tore through my biomonitor…and ripped a hole in me as well.”

For the few seconds I was conscious after I was hit, were definitely the most painful I have ever experienced. 0/10, do not recommend.

“But the antenna and the blood really managed to seal the breach in my suit…which kept me alive. Even though the rest of the crew must have thought I was dead.”

I couldn’t even blame them. The storm would have destroyed the MAV and stranded everyone here. Vogel and Martinez had families that needed them. Commander Lewis was planning on starting her own family when she got home. All those people were more important than looking around a barren wasteland through a sandstorm with category 3 hurricane winds.

“I have no way to contact NASA. And even if I could it’s going to be at least 4 years until a manned mission could reach me. I’m sitting in a HAB designed to last 31 days. If the oxygenator breaks I will suffocate, if the water-reclaimer breaks I’ll die of thirst. If the HAB breaches I’m just gonna… implode. And if by some miracle none of that happens, eventually I’m gonna run out of food.”

There was no point in sugarcoating anything. I looked down as the full weight of my situation fell on me. I teared up a little after I said everything, because it was real now. There was no fantasy I could possibly escape into. I was alone, injured, in a temporary habitat that had the vital systems that I needed to survive that could malfunction at any second, with a limited amount of food, and a rescue that was 4 years away at best, not to mention that even if I did make it, how I would fair in space travel.

“Yeah…Yeah that’s really everything isn’t it.” I said to the camera before leaning back into the blanket and chair contemplating what I could have done in a past life that warranted this.

I shut the camera off and walked around noting that everything was in complete disarray with the rush to leave. Sweatshirts, pictures, and Martinez’s personal items were strung out. I walked over to Commander Lewis’s section. It was fancy, with a desk and everything, and seeing a picture of the whole crew from a few days before on her personal laptop. I slowly closed it seeing her computer labeled, probably because Mark wouldn’t stop stealing it claiming that it was his during the trip to Mars and how crazy it drove the woman.

Seeing as there was nothing else to do I put on my favorite worn hoodie and started picking up everything and sorting it into each of our personal bins we had to keep our stuff. I wondered for a second if this was what Vogel felt with all his kids after every play session. I let out a small snort when I remembered we were sent on a $750,000,000 mission with all the equipment, and they had us send all our stuff in glorified tubaware.

I put all the bins back, one-by-one, onto one of the low shelves being careful of my injury. Cleaning kept my mind in check, for the short time that it took. Now I just stood, facing the main room and thought. All my life people have seen me as a little girl, and yes I was small, but I was smart. 

I thought about my mom and dad, and how they now thought their only child was dead. I fought to graduate high school early and get my scholarship to MIT. I fought to start that software company to help my parents after everything they sacrificed for me to succeed. They were so excited when they found out their little girl was going to be an American hero. 

I thought about the rest of the crew. All the memories we made going through training together. Lifting each other up, the bonds we all shared. All the times we sat together and gained strength knowing that we would never give up on one another. 

I thought about Beck and how much I liked him, how on the trip to Mars we almost graduated to awkward flirting. How he didn’t know that I was going to ask him out when we got home.

I thought about everything I did and didn’t do and I knew then that I couldn’t stop fighting.

“I’m not gonna die here.” I whispered to myself, turning around with conviction.

“I refuse to die here.”

Chapter Text

I needed to think. I knew I just made a promise to myself and everyone I ever cared about, but unlike literally every action movie person to ever grace the silver screen I knew I needed a plan.

Another storm had picked up outside, and while not as bad as the hell from a few days…or SOLs ago it was enough to cause one of the airlocks to lose pressure after the beating it took. I just sat there watching the diagnostics run its course in real time. The alarm was annoying though, and I couldn’t get any proper sleep, but I did doze a little.

It was enough for me to start moving around a little more freely. I walked into the common room and tried not to think of how empty it was with everyone gone. It was too quiet for me, no lighthearted jabs, no surprise noogies, and no exasperated glares. I sighed to myself and grabbed a random food pack and started to make myself a late breakfast to avoid feeling any more sorry for myself.

I looked over at the cabinets as my food heated up. No time like the present I thought.

I opened up every door I could find. Looking behind me I saw a pad of paper and a sharpie. I grinned a little when I remembered the story of NASA spending millions of dollars during the space race with the Soviets to make a pen that works in 0G, when the Soviet Union Space Program just used a pencil.

The reheater beeped and I got to work on inventory as I ate.

“32…33…34…35…36 Sweet and Sour Chicken.” I wrote it down alongside every other food item that was left behind. From meatloaf to seafood. There were also a few snacks and flavored water that I abused before I could think better of it. Sue me I’ve had a rough week.

I put the chicken back and closed the cabinets before leaving the room to use the bathroom. Now, I know that I’m in a desperate situation, but when I hit vac flush I had a stroke of genius listening to it going into the rest of our bio waste storage.

I washed my hands with sanitizer because I’m not an animal, then all but spirited back to the food stores. I quickly double checked my inventory list then ripped open the cabinet that was between me and my ticket to surviving on this wasteland.

The Thanksgiving tub, as it was appropriately named, was supposed to be for a propaganda message back home to our families for the holidays. Quickly scanning I counted around 40-50 potatoes in the air tight wrapping. For the first time since I got stuck here, I smiled genuinely.

I put the potatoes down and flipped to a new page in the notebook next to me. Aw yeah…it’s mathy time.

5 hours later with a manic grin and an incredibly insane idea born from desperation, as most ones that work are, I turned on the camera for a new log entry.

“Okay people let's do the math. The surface portion of our mission was supposed to last 31 SOLs, as a backup plan they sent 68 SOLs worth of food, for 6 people. So for just me that will last 350 SOLs which I could maybe stretch to 450 if I ration correctly.”

I was the smallest person on the Ares III mission. I made a joke to my dad that if something went wrong and the crew had to resort to cannibalism to survive I would be the one to make it back because I needed the least amount of calories in order to survive. It was a joke to make him feel better with our cynical sense of humor, even though my small stature had been one of the main sources of middle and high school torment for me. I used to hate it, but now it might as well be my salvation.

“The issue is, I need to figure out a way to grow 3 years worth of food here. On a planet where nothing grows in order to make it to Ares IV. Luckily, one of our crewmates was the botanist.” I said coyly, holding up Mark’s packet with his notes. We transferred what we could over CAPCOM before the storm hit so the trip wouldn’t have been for nothing, but everyone had their notes from their section of the mission lying around their desks. While the math to guess how long the food stores would last for me didn't take very long, trying to learn a whole new section of science from the scribbles of a fellow crazy person did.

“Now like most cool people, I don’t dabble in planting unless it’s to help mom with making the house look nice. But now it’s time for an emergency crash course that will leave Mars fearing my botany powers.” I finished with a whisper right into the camera. Time to get to work.

The next few SOL’s were spent getting everything sorted. Fix and clean the solar panels, like that game Subnautica I used to play on PS5, use the plastic wrap so I don’t put the dirt on the floor of my new farm space, reorganize the lab equipment to my own unique style even though if any of my crewmates were here they would be pale with shock at what I turned their workspace into.

It’s official, “Pressure Stable” has been ingrained into my nightmares.

I had also overexerted myself when shoveling and had to come in when I felt blood running down my side. “Staple came out.” I said to the camera above, capturing my slightly irritated expression masked with false cheer.

After restapling the wound, I went out to finish gathering the soil I needed for this crazy plan. But if it works, is it really crazy? Plus I would have bragging rights over Mark which is a bonus.

I leaned on my shovel looking out at the horizon, noticing the destroyed rover Martinez used to check the MAV and what was left of the main engines sitting out there. I frowned and mentally vowed to come back to it, before dropping my shovel and taking my cart full of boxes of dirt into HAB’s makeshift farmspace.

I poured the dirt as evenly as I could then took off my helmet taking the last gulps of grape juice I had left. Then let out a hefty sigh, “Ahhh… Fuck you, Mars.” Then I changed out of my suit and cut the potatoes in half, because I was trying to stave off the next part of this idea for as long as I could.

The next part was the worst, because according to Mark’s notes in order for crops to be grown correctly you needed fertilizer. The issue was that the only fertilizer up here was what me and my crewmates shit out. It was disgusting, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I tried really hard not to look at mine, because of how bad it looked compared to everyone else's. This is my life now, comparing how my shit looks to other people’s shit. God I’m glad no one can see this.

Setting up the rest of the potato farm was rather quick, I just followed the charts Mark has to the letter. It was fairly straight forward, just had to measure them out properly and plant the potatoes. Put fertilizer in the dirt, cover with dirt, place potato in the dirt, cover with dirt, water dirt, repeat.

After I planted all the potatoes, I read through all of Mark’s notes again. I was not a Mary Sue, but I was a quick study, so after reviewing everything until it hurt to read I took a break, listening to the episodes of Happy Days that Vogel brought, because it was his favorite American program and liked to nerd to us about it. It was also one of the few sources of entertainment that I had.

“The issue is water.” I mutter to the camera. “I have created 126 square meters of soil. According to Mark’s data and notes every cubic meter of soil requires 40 liters of water to be farmable. So I need to make a lot more water, without using the water reclaimer at risk of it breaking. The good news is I know the formula. You take hydrogen, you add oxygen, then burn. Quick history lesson nothing bad has ever happened by lighting hydrogen on fire.” I called out sarcastically with a small giggle as I continued to chisel away at Martinez’s crucifix.

“This is really gonna work, because I have hundreds of liters of unused hydrazine at the MDV. If I run it over an iridium catalyst it will separate into N2 and H2, and if I just redirect the hydrogen into a small area and burn it. But NASA hates fire, because like every science fiction movie ever has the same formula. Fire + Space = Everyone dies horribly, something that I’m like 80% sure the Mythbusters proved once by accident. So everything NASA sent up with us is flame-retardant with the exception of Martinez’s personal items!” 

I held up his cross to the camera showing how I have been chipping away at the wood during the whole one-sided conversation. Then I went back to chiseling.

“I’m sorry Rick, but if you didn’t want me touching your stuff you shouldn’t have left me for dead on a desolate planet. Also I’m pretty sure that you’re going to be fine with this given my present situation. Counting on it.” I mumbled looking at the carving of Jesus.

As I set up the catalyst I talked again, something to keep my mind occupied while I did the most stupid thing I have ever done to date. For safety I put on my helmet and a sheet of heat wrap, because I’m not lighting hydrogen on fire without a small sense of safety.

“Fun Fact this is how the JPL was founded. 3 guys at Cal Tech were trying to make rocket fuel and nearly burned down their entire dorm building. Instead of expelling them they were banished to a nearby barn and told to keep working. Now we have a space program.” Those words gave me a little comfort, before I squeezed my eyes shut and pulled the lever and put the small dish of fire in place. I looked up with one eye open, and a spark caused me to flinch back, but it didn’t explode. “Okay.” I breathed with a small smile.

I backed away and took off my helmet. It was working fast, after a few minutes dew was forming on the plastic sheets, and was slowly dampening the soil. It was working !

With the farm set up and not much else to do I spent the next dozen SOL’s chilling out. I pulled out Leather Goddesses of Phobos, and explained without shame the premise of the story and where I was with my character.

It was around SOL 42 that it happened. I had fixed a small snack and was carrying it to the lounge area, when I took a small peak through a hole I cut in the plastic when I saw some green. It didn’t register at first what I saw, but after a few seconds I stopped in my tracks. I turned around, put my food on the counter, and looked again. Then I ripped open the sheets and walked through slowly, afraid that this was a dream and there was still just a room full of damp soil. But it wasn’t a dream because when I kneeled down and softly touched the green leaf that had come though, I felt hope.

“Hey there little guy.”

Chapter Text

Vincent was, at the moment, not a happy man. Considering the circumstances it was remarkable he had been holding onto his composure so well these last few weeks. Earlier today was Beth’s funeral. He stood there while Teddy gave his speech that sounded like it belonged in a business meeting. Annie was the one who finalized it and when he looked over at her it seemed that she hated herself more after every word that left Teddy’s mouth.

All of them hated it, it was not the funeral she deserved, They shouldn’t have needed to have one.

Her crewmates were not even there. Listening to them as they gave the news, had broken his heart to pieces. Commander Lewis was taking it the hardest, she appeared strong as she gave her report as the former military leader she was before leaving as soon as she was dismissed with tears in her eyes.

Beth’s parents were there, Mitch shielding them from the media as best he could. Annie had told them somberly that they needed to make a statement to the media, which got her a slap to the face from Beth’s mother she didn’t fight. Annie had cried as well, they had all pretended they couldn’t hear her sobs of anguish and no one mentioned the missing bottle of whiskey. Annie and Beth liked to get drinks every Friday… Had liked, and Annie was toasting her the only way she could now.

They all hated it, they were all miserable. And Vincent knew he was about to hate himself a whole lot more with what he was about to ask. But despite everything that happened he was the director for Mars missions, and he had to focus on his job.

He heard the TV in Teddy’s office as he came up the stairs and one of the secretaries pointed him in without his having to ask with a look of slight disgust. He winced slightly as he walked in. So word spread about wanting satellite time. Yikes.

Teddy didn’t bother to look at him, which he understood and winced again. “I thought you gave a lovely speech by the way.” Teddy turned it off the second he said that. Multiple politicians had used their authority to sneak in what they wanted, and they couldn’t do anything to stop them.

“I need you to authorize my satellite time.” He said ripping it off like a band-aid. Low and behold he now hated himself again.

“Not gonna happen.” Teddy said in a flat tone that clearly stated that he was going to lose his shit if he kept talking but he needed to get this out. He had an ace in the hole that was the whole reason he was willing to look like a jackass in front of NASA.

“We are funded for 5 Ares missions, I think I can get Congress to fund a 6th.” He said, throwing his jacket on one of the chairs as he walked behind Teddy to his desk.

“Nope.” Teddy said nonchalantly plopping down in his fancy spin chair and finally looking at him with an expression that was so done with everyone else's nonsense.

Vincent felt bad again but he kept pushing. It’s that trait that got him his job in the first place and kept him there for years. “Ares III evacuated after 18 SOLs there’s half a mission’s worth of supplies up there! I can sell it at the fraction of the cost of a normal mission, and I just need to know what is left.” He tried to explain himself, Teddy didn’t look amused at all.

“You’re not the only person who needs satellite time, we have the Ares IV supply missions coming up. We should be focusing on the Schiaparelli Crater.” Vincent knew this was how Teddy worked, when something bad came up he pushed through, he didn’t look because he didn’t want to be reminded. He wanted to push it all away until he had no choice but to look.

He tried one more time but Teddy didn’t let him start another argument. “It’s not about satellite time Vince. We are a public domain organization, the second we point the satellites at the HAB I broadcast Beth Johanssen’s dead body to the world.”

“You’re afraid of a PR problem?” He whispered, eyes wide.

“Of COURSE I’m afraid of a PR problem! Another mission?! Congress won't endorse us for a paper clip if I put a dead astronaut on the front page of the Washington Post.”

“She’s not going anywhere Teddy. She’s not going to decompose. She’s going to be up there forever!”

“Meteorology estimates that she’ll be covered in sand from normal weather activity within a year.” He said with flippancy.

“We can’t wait a year, we have work to do.” Vince snapped back leaning on a chair across from his boss.

“Ares V won’t launch for 5 years, we have plenty of time.”

There he went again, anything to avoid looking at the source of the issue. He took a long deep breath before sitting down and pulling out his ace.

“Okay… Okay, okay consider this. Right now, the world’s on our side, sympathy for the Johanssen’s. Ares VI can bring her body home. Now that won’t be the full purpose of the mission but we make it clear that that would be a major part of it. More support from Congress, but not if we wait a year. We wait, then no one gives a shit.”

It was the way the world worked, how people worked, everyone in the past few days knew how it worked. But his ace paid off. In Teddy’s eye he saw a desire for redemption, it was something they both felt.

With the go ahead he wasted no time. Like a band-aid was his mantra and it's been working for him so far. The paperwork took a while in order to get through the bureaucracy, but once everything was finalized, at 1AM god dammit, he got the work email of the current person in SATCOM, someone named Mindy Park, who got stuck with the graveyard shift. He gave her the coordinates to check before turning in for the night. He deserved a good rest.

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If there was one thing she was not expecting during her overnight shift, it was actual work. The past month had sucked for everybody with the death of Beth Johanssen, the backlash hitting everyone in every department hard.

But now things had slowed down, and nobody wanted to stay up late and look at the satellite view of Mars now that the Ares III mission was done. But unlike everyone else, she had bills to pay, and living in Texas was expensive, so the overtime worked out well for her.

So there she was, Mindy Park, year 2 into her job at SATCON, with years of debt from college, a crappy apartment, enjoying her coffee and the donut she found in the break room when she got a message.

Now most people hate work, but those same people hate being stuck in their thoughts even more so this was a welcome distraction. The message was simple, Vincent Kapoor, as in one of the executives at NASA, the director of Mars missions was asking her to check something on the satellites. The message was clearly rushed, because it was freaking 1 in the morning so she put her donut down and typed in the coordinates he wanted her to look at. Now before we continue if she knew what was about to hit her tonight she would have brought a change of clothes and finished her delicious pastry before hitting enter.

But she didn’t do either of those things. Instead she zoomed in on what appeared to be the HAB, which she didn’t get, but it wasn’t her job to know. So she zoomed, and zoomed, and zoomed until she got the picture for SOL 18 a few hours before the storm hit.

Then she clicked the button to show the new picture taken earlier today, SOL 54, as the satellite passed and stood up in disbelief.

She switched between the 2 pictures several times before she comprehended what she saw. Eyes wide and hands shaking she picked up her work phone and frantically dialed security. She refused to take her eyes off the screen in front of her as the phone rang, and some guy in security who clearly got stuck for this shift instead of choosing it voluntarily answered her.

“Hi security? This is Mindy Park in SATCON. I need the emergency contact for Vincent Kapoor now.” The guard asked for confirmation, which made sense considering who she was asking for, but she was frantic with the need to tell someone about what she just found.

“Yes, him… Yes it’s an emergency!” She yelled at the poor guy, but she didn’t know what else to do. The guard clearly didn’t want to deal with her so he gave the number without much of a fight and when her boss of her boss of her boss answered with irritation tempered with grogginess she knew she was not getting home anytime soon when she practically yelled into the phone about what she was looking at. He told her to stay there, which she did, and he turned up 15 minutes later, took one look at the 2 pictures she flipped through and went pale with shock and horror.

“Don’t move!” He yelled pointing at her as if she had anywhere else to be. But she kept her mouth shut and took her seat again as he raced out of the room for privacy. Not that it did much to deter her from hearing Vincent Kapoor on the verge of a mental breakdown as he made several phone calls. Then he walked brisky back into the room and she awkwardly moved her eyes around, but he didn’t seem to notice.

He spent the next 40ish minutes switching between the 2 snapshots of Mars before 2 more people walked in.

One she recognized as Teddy Sanders, who was the boss of so many of her bosses, from TV when he gave a speech at Beth Johanssen’s funeral earlier today.

(But apparently Beth Johanssen, 15th person to set foot on Mars, who was killed on SOL 18 by flying debris during a storm, was ALIVE)

The other person she didn’t recognize, but looked vaguely familiar and had the whole corporation ‘I do literally everything but don’t have the face for it’ vibe.

“Hi I’m Mindy.” She muttered, because she had no social skills whatsoever.

Both pairs of eyes looked her over then turned to Vincent, who didn’t even bother to glance at them. He simply pointed at the screen and they lifted their gazes to it and Mindy had the privilege of having a front row seat to the souls draining out of the higher ups.

“How sure?” Director Sanders demanded.

“100%.” Vincent said without a second of hesitation.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” The woman muttered.

“Prove it to me.” Sanders shot back, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“For a start; Solar Panels have been cleaned.”

“Could have been cleaned by wind.”

“Alright look at Rover 2. According to the logs Commander Lewis took it out SOL 17…Plugged into the HAB to recharge. It’s been moved.” He shot back as she flipped between both pictures.

“She could have forgotten to log the move.” Sanders countered flippantly.

There was clearly a lot of context to this conversation that she was missing even with her poor social skills, but what that man just suggested in an attempt to disprove the facts in front of him was completely and utterly ridiculous.

“No, not likely.” Putting in her 2 cents seemed to remind everyone that she existed, and she subconsciously shrunk back into her chair.

“Why don’t we just ask Lewis? Get on CAPCOM and ask her directly right now.” The woman said, who Mindy learned was named Annie, who was the director for PR.

“No!” Sanders shut the idea down immediately. “No if Johanssen is really alive, we don’t want the Ares III crew to know.”

Annie froze in disbelief at what Sanders just said. “How could you not tell them?” She whispered.

Sanders answered with some reasonable but still complete bullshit about safe space travel when having a problem of this magnitude. Now she was not in charge, far from it, but only holding out on telling the crew, that their friend who they thought was dead is alive, was going to cause some real shit.

Annie seemed to think along the same lines, but was brave enough to voice it, only for Vincent to agree with Sanders.

His statement that the crew would be horrified and devastated to find out they left her there alive caused her to lose a little of her faith in humanity, because yeah no shit they would be devastated and she was pretty sure the look on her face showed it but all 3 seemed to have forgotten that she existed.

Seemingly done with the bullshit that was going on around her, Annie finally cracked. “I’m sorry, but you have not thought this through. What are we going to say? “Dear America, remember that astronaut that we killed and had a really nice funeral for? Turns out she’s still alive and we abandoned her on Mars. Our bad. Sincerely, NASA.”

Mindy had seen grief in her eyes, she didn’t know any of these people but it was clear they knew the crew well. She also tried not to think about how the Johanssen family would take the news that their only daughter survived the storm, but is now trapped on a desolate wasteland of a planet.

“Do you understand the shitstorm that is about to hit us!?” Annie finished.

“How are we going to handle the public?” Sanders asked, pulling the woman back on track.

If there is one thing Mindy could respect about the first meeting with the guy who directs NASA is that he doesn’t beat around the bush.

“Legally we have 24 hours to release these pictures.” She said in a defeated tone.

“We release a statement with them, we don’t want people figuring it out on her own.” His order drew a small ‘Yes sir’ from Annie before he ripped the rug out from under them again.

“But if my math is right, she’s going to starve to death long before we can help her.”

Yep, he doesn’t beat around the bush at all.

They all looked at him before turning back to the screens.

“Can you imagine what she’s going through right now up there? I mean she’s 50 million miles away from home. She thinks she’s totally alone. She thinks we gave up on her. What does that do to someone psychologically? What the hell is she thinking right now?” Vincent ranted as he continued to look at the screen. His little speech drove an already somber room further down into despair.

Annie and Sanders left to prepare for the coming headaches, while Vincent stayed.

“Annie is gonna tell Mitch so he can tell her family. Go home, and get some rest.” He ordered her quietly. She did what he asked, and was glad she did. Why? Because every single news station had heard that Beth Johanssen had lived and rushed to the NASA press room to get any details they could.

Beth Johanssen was the biggest story in the world. It all felt so wrong.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lord take me now if this goes on any longer Teddy thought to himself.

The amount of news people who stood in front of him with their cameras, laptops, and notebooks all of them screaming before he even said a word was outrageous. They managed to shut up when he started speaking then the second he stopped he was bombarded.

“Director Sanders!” “Director Sanders!” “Director Sanders!” They all screamed over each other and he just chose to give up and let them ask because there was no way he was going to finish the statement Annie made for him until they were at least a little satisfied.

He pointed to a woman near the front. “What attempts have been made to make contact with Beth Johanssen?”

“We’re working on it.” Keep it short, keep it simple.

He pointed to another woman behind her. “Does she have enough supplies to survive?”

“We’ll be looking into that.” Keep it short, keep it simple.

He pointed to a man this time and immediately regretted it. “What does this say about the agency? Are you going to resign?” Keep it short, keep it simple.

“No.”

Maybe this was his comeuppance for how he treated the whole thing this past month. But either way he soldiered through because this was nothing compared to what poor Beth was going through.

NASA still felt the ripples of shock. The 2 photos of the surface of Mars and the statement NASA gave was now the #1 most viewed anything on the internet. Annie was right, it was a shitstorm. He had no doubt she would be smirking at him if she wasn’t nursing a large bruise from where Beth’s mother slapped her again.

Neither of them could blame her.

Bruce had his team flying into brainstorm mode the second his horrified shock ended and Mitch was being Mitch, as in brooding in the corner trying his best to protect the Johanssen’s as they both grieved for the situation their daughter had been thrust into.

As the horde of his personal hell continued to descend he was brought back to the question Vince asked what felt like a lifetime ago.

What the hell are you thinking about now?

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

MARS

I finished my poor excuse for a shower, as ‘Turn the Beat Around’ continued to play.

I walked up to the camera, in a robe that I’m pretty sure used to belong to Mark, with the look of a woman who was barely holding onto her will to live.

“I’m definitely going to die up here if I have to listen to anymore God awful disco music!” She moaned out as the song continued.

“My God Commander Lewis, couldn't you pack anything from this century?!” She yelled out again, sitting down by Commander Lewis’s laptop and drying my face as the chorus came on.

“WOAH Turn the beat around!”

“No I will not turn the beat around, I refuse too!” I raged.

“Love to hear the percussion! Turn it upside do-”

I stopped the music and rested my head on my hand. I know I’m limited on entertainment, and it’s important to do other things than work in order to keep my stress manageable. But my God there is only so much disco a person can take.

Never would have taken the ex-Navy commander as a disco lover.

Chapter Text

MARS (SOL 70)

“Time to start thinking long term.” I said to the camera. After 45 minutes of digging deep into my sub par cartographic skills I have worked out the final plan to get off this rock.

Okay half a plan… fine…12% of a plan. Love you Guardians of the Galaxy. But space is not as fun as you made it seem.

Ignoring my inner monologue I continue with my latest journal entry. “The next ARES mission is ARES IV and it’s supposed to land at the Schiaparelli Crater… 3200 Kilometers away.” And yeah…that was fun to learn.

“In four years, when the next Ares crew arrives, I'll have to be there. Which means I have to get to the crater. So the facts are number 1:  I have one working rover designed to go a max of 35 kilometers before its battery needs to be recharged at the HAB. Number 2: This journey across what is the Sahara Desert on steroids is going to take me about 50 days with all factors accounted for, including bathroom breaks.” This current word vomit I’m spewing is a bit therapeutic to me, especially after scavenging the batteries  and waiting for them to recharge followed by tons of math, but I’m low on resources. Also the whole bathroom break thing, it’s going to suck.

I face the camera head on and in my most steadfast voice end my thoughts for the evening. “So in the face of insurmountable odds, I am left with but one option. I’m going to have to science the shit out of this.”

The next day I loaded everything for my planned test drive of sciencing the shit out of the rover. Everything was going great, camera was rolling, no disco music, then the orbital rotations decided to do orbital rotation stuff which led to my current situation. Night had fallen and I only had so much battery so I suffered in the cold because my dumbass had forgotten about this.

“Okay so good news, success! I have managed to double my battery life by scavenging Rover 1. However the drawback is if I use the heater I will burn through half of my battery everyday.” I managed to stutter out. She was from California, she’s not built for this cold weather. “If I do not use the heater, I will be slowly killed by the Laws of Thermodynamics.” Stupid science being science when it’s inconvenient to my narrative.

I breathe out my frustration and giggle out to the camera what has been bothering me for the last 10 minutes, “I would love to solve this problem right now but unfortunately… My pussy is frozen!” I hold out for 5 more seconds before giving in. “Alright I’m calling it! I’m calling it!” I drive back to the HAB, and I have never loved those plain white walls so much.

It takes me 2 days to think of a plan to fix this little bump in the road, and by golly is it a bad one.

“So I have found a solution to my heating problem. Great, right? But it involved digging up the Radioisotope Thermoelectric Generator.” See bad plan.

“If I remember my training correctly, one of the lessons was labeled "Don't Touch the Giant Tube of Plutonium or You Will Die! I get it this stuff is great for space travel but it ruptures around people, bye bye people, which like all highly qualified people do, we buried that problem and planted that flag to keep us from going near it again. By the way, can you believe that flag stayed upright during the storm that stranded me here because I couldn’t. Small mercies.” I had to be losing my mind because from where I was driving the rover the camera almost looked scared.

“But…as long as I don’t break it-” I cut myself off before that noncense went any further. I agreed with the camera, this is terrifying as I choked back a laugh. “Can you believe I almost said everything would be fine out loud? Look, the point is I’m not cold anymore, and yes I can choose to think that is the case because of the decaying radioactive isotope right behind me that is only secured by a glorified seatbelt, but I actually have bigger problems.” I did actually have bigger problems. My deteriorating mental state from isolation and stress, the constant fear that my life is in the hope the HAB holds until I leave, and the fact that the potatoes haven’t matured yet, according to the notes Mark left, leaving me uncertain if I would even have a food supply to make it.

But for the ones I do have control over, “I have scoured every last data file on Commander Lewis’s personal drive. This is officially the least disco song she owns.” I lean over and hit play and make sure to let the camera see my look of utter exasperation as I straighten up.

Lookin' for some hot stuff, baby, this evenin'

I need some hot stuff, baby, tonight

I want some hot stuff, baby, this evenin'

Gotta have some hot stuff

Gotta have some love tonight

Hot stuff

Baby, baby

Baby, baby (tonight)

I need hot stuff

Baby, baby

Baby, baby (tonight)

I want some hot stuff

After the first verse I get into it. You got to work with what you have. I gave the RTG a glance before the home stretch back to the HAB.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

EARTH

Mindy watched the press conference from the meeting room. This is unbelievable, she finds Johanssen and now she’s a big shot for big meetings. Well I think At least I’m not doing that. She is completely incapable of public speaking. Worst Gen-Ed ever.

Watching Mr. Sanders from the corner of her eye and how he groaned when Mr. Kapoor said “...bring her home alive.” She saw the press go crazy and Ms. Montrose basically force Mr. Kapoor off stage. They came into the room a few minutes later and Mr. Sanders didn’t even bother to sugar coat anything. “Don’t say “bring her home alive” Vincent.”

“You know these interviews aren't easy,” By the Almighty above did Mindy agree with that. “God forbid I try to say something proactive and positive.” He snapped back.

“Anne?” “No more Vincent on TV. Copy that.”

What she wouldn’t give to have the courage to be that relaxed around everyone. Must be a position thing.

Mr. Sanders looked at the briefing packet she was given 15 minutes to prepare for everyone. She finds Johanssen and suddenly she’s the expert.

“76 Kilometers? Am I reading that right?” He stated in what she thought was surprise, then he looked at her when she didn’t say anything. Actually everyone was looking at her.

“Are you asking me?” She was not built for these kinds of things. “I am.” That flat tone, oh God am I going to get fired?

I shot out of my seat and managed to keep my voice fairly level, “Yes, sir. Beth drove two hours straightaway from the Hab...did a short EVA and then drove for another two. We think the EVA was to change batteries.” That was okay right?

“She didn’t load up the oxygenator or the water reclaimer?” Was she supposed to just know everything?! “Uh, every 41 hours there’s a 17 minute gap. It's just the way the orbits work…so it’s possible we missed something,” That was a safe answer right? It’s fine.

“I want that gap down to 4 minutes. I'm giving you total authority over satellite trajectories and orbital adjustments. Make it happen.” I was silent for a second. He was just so calm, like he didn’t just give a grad student who has a mini panic attack every time she hears the word dissertation the power that should only go to a senior executive with 15 years experience.

“Okay.” I managed to choke out and sat down when the eyes on her became unbearable.

He moved on quite fast after that. “Let's assume Miss Park didn't miss anything. So Beth's not going to Ares 4. Yet. But she's smart enough to figure out that's her only chance. Bruce, what's the earliest we can get a pre-supply there?” Everyone turn to loom at the screen as Mr. Ng came back with what she assumed was the planet's orbital reports.

“With the positions of Earth and Mars right now, it'll take nine months. It'll take six months to build it in the first place.”

“Three months.” Mr. Sanders shot back, and even she knew that was next to impossible. Mr. Ng shared the same thoughts, “Three?!”

“You're going to say it's impossible and then I'm gonna make a speech...about the blinding capabilities of the JPL team...and then you're going to do the math in your head and say something like..."The overtime alone will be a nightmare."” Wow.

“The overtime alone will be a nightmare.” Mr. Ng muttered, choosing his battles. “Get started. I’ll find you the money.” Ah yes there is, budgets!

Mr. Henderson piped up then, “We need to tell the crew.” Mr. Sanders looked annoyed as if this was a debate he wished to avoid. “Mitch, we talked about this.”

“No you talked and I listened. I'm the one who decides what's best for the crew. They deserve to know.” Mr. Henderson glared and Mr. Sanders closed the packet with a sigh. “Once there is a real rescue plan we will tell them. Otherwise, it's moot. Bruce has three months to get the payload done. That's all that matters right now.”

Mr. Ng nodded his head, “We’ll do our best.” Mr. Sanders gave him a look.

“Beth dies if you don’t.”

What a way to bring down the room.

Chapter Text

MARS SOL 79

She looked at the plants around her with tears in her eyes. In all honesty, she didn’t think this was going to work. But when she saw that little speck of green SOLs ago a spark of hope flickered. Now standing in the middle of her makeshift greenhouse that spark was a steady fire.

She knew better than to be overly cocky in her situation. But she will be smug.

“It’s been 48 SOLs since I planted the potatoes, so it’s harvesting time. They grew better than I thought imaginable. I now have 400 healthy, all natural, Martian grown potatoes. You don’t hear that every day do you?” I turned to the camera I had set up in the greenhouse with a smirk. The jury may be out for my sanity, but by golly they better let me be smug.

“The smaller ones will be replanted for more yum yums, the larger ones are my food supply.” I mutter out loud as I continue with my work. I heave up a bucket full of glorious Irish plants that had the potential to create food that same way Eevee has evolutions when I finally voice my next problem.

“However, none of this will matter if I don’t make contact with NASA.” If by some happenstance they haven’t figured out that I was still alive yet, she needs a way to let them know she is stuck here. She may be smart, but she doesn’t know everything. Hell the only way she was even able to pull this crop business off is because for all his goofiness, Mark takes thorough notes. She is no expert on a lot of different systems. She needs people in her corner.

Plus… The crew. She needs to talk to them. Sometimes the only thing that can get her to sleep is knowing that they made it off this dustball in one piece. They were her second family. They had lived with each other for months in preparation for the Ares III mission in order to… Well learn if we liked each other enough to be trusted unsupervised in space for over a year. They had struck gold for her with everyone. She felt safe, warm, and happy with everyone there.

How butterflies filled her stomach whenever Beck walked into the room.

She shook her head to dispel her thoughts. Now was not the time to be thinking about them. The communication array had been ripped off by the winds during the initial storm that stranded her here in the first place by, you know, smashing into her like a wrecking ball. She couldn’t repair it because she had to rip the main antenna from her stomach.

She slumped down in defeat at her desk chair. She had looked through everything that could possibly be used as a replacement. Nothing.

Nothing that they brought with them could be a replacement. NASA was great, but it also had a budget. Everything was made with the idea of tax dollars in the back of everyone’s minds. Minimalist to the core.

She looked at her screen that still had the maps she used to plot her route to the Ares IV mission sight when she saw it. Chryse Planitia.

She frowned in thought for a moment. Nothing they brought with them. But the Ares missions were not the first missions to Mars.

But… After so long…

It never hurts to check. Her hands moved swiftly over the keyboard. She prayed that this would work. Then the red dot appeared on her screen, and she allowed herself to smile.

Time to pack, we got a weekend getaway on Mars to look forward to.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

EARTH

Vicent had been sitting on this couch for hours. The poor girl, Mindy, was doing a very good job of ignoring his brooding nature. He’s only been getting 3 hours of sleep per night since Beth was discovered. He was also pointedly avoiding Mitch and his judgmental frown.

They had no way to speak to Beth, the communications array had been destroyed, so all they could do was wait until something happened. It was basically torture.

But then the rover was seen moving along the desert. Everyone thought she was starting her journey to the Ares IV. Now? Everyone was scratching their heads in confusion. She was heading in the opposite direction of any possible routes to the Schiaparelli Crater. Color him frustrated.

“She’s moving again.” Mindy called out to him and he let his temper boil over.

“Where the hell is she going?! She hasn’t changed course in 13 days. She’s nowhere near the Ares IV route.” He sounded whiney even to himself. He blamed his lack of sleep and stress.

Mindy took his question in stride as she flipped through the satellite feed. “Well she might not be taking a direct route. She could be avoiding some kind of obstacle…” She stopped when he gave her a flat look. They were grasping at straws at what Beth could be doing but there was nothing out there to avoid.

“What obstacle? It’s Acidalia Planitia. There’s nothing out there except for the-” He stopped short. There’s no way.

Mindy looked at him like he had grown a second head. “What? What’s out there?”

He looked back at the satellite feed hyper focused on Johanssen. “I need a map.” He didn’t wait for her reply. He rushed out of his seat and made a beeline for… Well he didn’t know. But there had to be a map of Mars somewhere in the building that he could use. Mindy grabbed his arm and pulled him in the direction of the café that people used for lunch. He made a mental note to give the poor kid a raise.

He scanned the picture frames in front of him that had satellite images of Mars’s surface and grabbed the one that had the Acidalia Planitia off the wall. He ignored the sad sap behind him cleaning a table who protested him essentially stealing a picture. He was right to call him out, but this was important. He grabbed another person's sharpie and ruler who didn’t even get a chance to stop him before he was at work.

“Where’s the HAB?” He asked Mindy. She took the order in stride. “31.2 degrees north, 28.5 degrees west.” She said pointing to the general location on the picture frame. He marked it quickly. “Okay, where’s Johanssen?” Mindy pointed her finger at another location. He marked it down and connected the dots with his borrowed, stolen , ruler. The trajectory led right where he thought.

Oh, you clever bitch.

“Okay. I know where she’s going.” He stated dropping his tools with a slightly manic tone. He marched past Mindy already mentally going through what he will need for his now unplanned trip to Pasadena. “I need to get on an airplane.” He called over his shoulder.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

MARS

She looked down at her GPS as she came over the hill. She brought the rover to a stop when she reached the area where the signal was coming from. With her helmet on she got out of her rover and looked around.

It made sense in a way, it’s been decades, of course what she was looking for would be buried under the sand. She grabbed a mini shovel and began to walk around. It had to be here somewhere.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

EARTH

He marched into the Jet Propulsion Lab approximately 2 days after he realized what Beth was planning. He explained to Teddy, Mitch, and Annie what was going on then rushed to the airport. Then abandoned them to the PR storm that would be coming. 

He met Bruce at the entrance. They shook hands, then they were off in a glorified golf cart.

“It’s in storage. Right around the corner.”

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

MARS

She had been walking for hours when she felt it. Her foot slipped on something, and looking down saw that her foot was on a piece of thick kevlar. She slowly pulled it up to her face to make sure it was real. Then she came to the cables that led into the sands. She smirked and placed her shovel in the sand to mark where she needed to be; then raced back to the rover.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

EARTH

Both him and Bruce entered the storage room. He gave his old friend a glance. “What are the odds Beth can get it working?”

Bruce muttered, “Hard to tell. We lost all contact in 97’. We think it was battery failure. But I would like to point out that it lasted 3 times longer than we predicted.”

He gave a frustrated sigh and cut Bruce off from his rant. “No one is criticizing JPL’s work Bruce. I just need to talk to everyone who was here in 97’.” He felt more then saw Bruce nod as he was pulled back to the matter at hand.

“They’re all here. Everyone, this is Vincent Kapoor. Head of Mars missions. This is our current team and original project members.” He pointed them out and he shook their hands because despite everything he was still a civilized human being.

“Is this the replica?” At the yes that he got he put his bag down and capped his hands together. “Let’s see it.” The sheet was pulled back giving him a perfect view of Beth’s next tool.

“Pathfinder.”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

MARS

She had been digging for a while, her arms burned but she ignored it. Her rationing was starting to affect her muscle mass, but she pushed through. The cables were deep in the Martian sands. A few more shovel fulls later she saw it. A glimpse of metal. She used her hands to dig up her key to talking with everyone back home and the crew, not wanting to damage anything.

She gave a huge smile at her next step toward home.

“Pathfinder.”