Chapter Text
As fast as the Hermes’s emergency systems are, at the moment they were not fast enough for Beck’s liking. He had about had a heart attack when Watney’s com had gone silent during the rescue. When Vogel had cranked their wayward crewmate back to the relative safety of the airlock the discovered the reason was because the idiot had muted his com signal.
It was relatively easy for Lewis to override and restore communication with him once we knew what the problem was. Watney ragged sobs were the first thing the crew could hear when the channel crackled to life. Vogel and Lewis to flitch at the sound, this caused the Mark to glare at them and try to even out the rhythm of his breath.
“You really did a number on your ribs didn’t you?” Beck asked trying to coax an answer from his patient.
“Told you that broke a couple of them, being hauled back on board made them sing like a son of a bitch.” Watney wheezed. “
You could have mentioned something.” Vogel muttered a bit stunned by the realization.
“And what would that have changed?” Mark spat. “The tether was the only way I could possible get back on ship.” He breathed in a bit too sharply and let out a strangled sob. “God I wish I had some Vicodin.”
“That is something I can fix.” Beck placed a hand on Watney’s shoulder. “What do you say we blow this Popsicle stand and get you to sickbay?”
“That sounds wonderful.” Watney actually managed to sag in zero gravity, as Beck started dragging him into the ship. There weren’t any barriers with most of the ship in a hard vacuum they didn’t need to even bother cycling the airlock. As the left the doctor commented good naturally over his shoulder. “Well, while Watney are busy getting to sickbay why don’t you all work on getting the ship sealed back up so that we can pressure back?”
“Point taken.” Lewis said good natured lilt that had been missing from her voice for months. With a few well-placed kicks she had propelled herself towards the vehicle port. Watney on the hand seem to flounder like a beached child caught in a wave. He flopped around clearly trying to reorient himself to zero gravity and from the hissing sound that he was making as he moved he was clearly hurting himself further in the process.
“Watney, stop fighting.” Beck was pretty shocked that Mark actually listened to his order and stilled, but he was going to take advantage of the situation. “Stay limp, and let guide you. That is right, just the way they made us practice emergency procedures in the pool in Houston.” The mention of past training seemed to help the botanist relax into the situation and training kicked in. In less than 15 minutes Beck had managed manhandle Watney into the medical bay and got him strapped into the one of the three medical cots. Now all they had to do was wait for Hermes emergency systems to kick in. Systems that were taking far longer to do their job than Beck would have preferred.
It took an hour for sound to start to blossom around them. Another 30 minutes before Commander Lewis gave the announcement that ships internal pressure was within a breathable range. As soon the announcement was made Mark made a movement to undo his helmet but Beck stopped him. If there was a problem with the air, Beck trusted his own reaction times over his patients.
The doctor released clip and took in a deep breath a cold, chemical smelling, but perfectly breathable air. After a few deep Beck moved to assist Watney to remove his own helmet. Chris only managed to lift the helmet a fraction of an inch before his eyes started to water and he had to swallow hard to keep bile from coming up.
“What’s wrong?” Mark asked alarmed.
“You haven’t taken a shower in a long time have you?” Beck gasped managed to get the helmet the rest of the way off.
“I didn’t have the water to spare.”
“Well, your personal perfume agrees with that statement.” Beck swallowed hard again and tried to breathe through his mouth. “Shall we take a look at the damage today’s stunt did?”
“Just a couple of broken ribs.”
“There is no such thing as a just braking a rib in space.”
“Well I would rather have smashed up ribs and make it to the ship than perfect ones and miss my ride. It is a long walk home to earth.” Watney arched an eyebrow.
“I see you haven’t lost your sense of humor.” Beck razzed.
“Just apparently your sense of smell.” Lewis joked good naturally as she stripped out of pieces of her own space suit in order to better help Watney maneuver out of his, but it was clear that her words had a bit of bite to them as her eyes watered at the strong smell.
“Do you think that you can raise your hands above your head?” Beck got nothing but a blank glassy stare in return, he swore internally. It looked like his patient was going into shock. He tapped on the man’s cheek trying to get him to focus.
“Watney, stay with me buddy.”
“What?” His fellow astronaut slurred.
“Mark, I need to know if you can raise your hands above your head.”
“I don’t think so…” The botanist gave a one shoulder half shrug. “My chest F-ing hurts.”
“I know it does. That is why we need to get you out of your suit. Do you think that you could help me with that?”
“I don’t know…”
“Tell you what. I am going to give you some pain medication. When it kicks in and you can raise your arms you are going to take a shower and hopefully get cleaned up enough that none of the crew passes out from your fumes when you walk into the room.” Becks little speech was interrupted when Watney gave a harsh laugh that abruptly ended with him curling protectively around his ribs. When the room had quieted again Beck continued. “Once you are cleaned up we will take an x-ray or your ribs and take a look are your injuries. We will have a better idea what to do going forward when everything is cataloged.”
The entire crew had found a couple moments to swing by sick bay and at least say hello between medical tests, but after seeing just how drained Mark Watney was Beck had ushered them out of the room. As much as the crew of Ares III needed physical contact with Mark to prove to themselves that he wasn’t dead, that they really had rescued him, it was much more important to let the man sleep. That is exactly what Chris forced Mark to do after he consumed 25 ml of clear broth.
Asleep Beck finally had an opportunity to mentally run through the facts. Looking at the preliminary blood work it looked like they could credit the humble potatoes with his survival. Those potatoes had managed to glean just enough nutrients out of the soil to keep grow, and just enough calories to keep Watney moving. His meager crops of potatoes were not enough to prevent the man from slowly starving to death, from his body cannibalizing its tissues, and the Hermes didn’t have the correct equipment to determine if permanent damage had been done to his vital organs.
Staring at the walking skeleton bundled in heating blankets and sleeping bags to protect him from the chill of the still warming ship, Beck ran through the laundry list of issues his patient faced. His lungs and eyes had been scarred by exposure to dry Martian soil. His skin was a patchwork of sores and bruises that were struggling to heal. There were two broken ribs, and a third that looked like it had crack that was trying to heal running through it. There were compression fractures of the L3 and L4 vertebra. He was anemic, and his calcium levels were a mess. Beck suspected Osteomalacia may have set in, but the doctor was going to have to do a bone biopsy to confirm. As the only doctor for light minutes in all directions, it was terrifying to admit to himself that they may have rescued Watney too late. The crew of Ares III may be forced to watch as one of their crewmates and friends body shut down completely. Or they might lose him at the very end of their journey because even with seven months of nursing Beck doubted that Watney’s exhausted body could survive the forces of reentry, let alone life on earth.