The Martian

by Энди Вейр

  “Why are the solar cells clean?” Mindy said, tears forming. “There was a huge sandstorm. Why isn’t there sand all over them?”

  “A good wind could have done it?” Venkat said, unsure.

  “Did I mention I never found Watney’s body?” She said, sniffling.

  Venkat’s eyes widened as he stared at the picture. “Oh…” he said quietly. “Oh god…”

  Mindy put her hands over her face and sobbed quietly.

  “Fuck!” Director of Media Relations Annie Montrose said. “You have got to be fucking kidding me!”

  Teddy rubbed his forehead. “How sure are we of this?”

  “Nearly 100%,” Venkat said.

  “Fuck!” Annie said.

  “Not helping, Annie,” Teddy said.

  “Do you have any idea the magnitude of shitstorm this is gonna’ be?” She retorted.

  “One thing at a time,” Teddy said. “Venk, what makes you sure he’s alive?”

  “For starters, no body.” Venkat explained. “Also, the pop-tents are set up. And the solar cells are clean. You can thank Mindy Park in SatCon for noticing all that, by the way.

  “But,” Venkat continued, “his body could have been buried in the Sol 6 storm. The pop tents might have autodeployed and wind could have blown them around. A 30km/h windstorm some time later would be strong enough to clean the solar cells but not strong enough to carry sand. It’s not likely, but it’s possible.

  “So I spent the last few hours checking everything I could. Commander Lewis had two outings in Rover 2. The second was on Sol 5. According to the logs, after returning, she plugged it in to the Hab for recharging. It wasn’t used again, and 13 hours later they evac’d.”

  He slid a picture across the table to Teddy.

  “That’s one of the images from last night. As you can see, Rover 2 is facing away from the Hab. The charging port is in the nose, and the cable isn’t long enough to reach.”

  Teddy frowned. “She must have parked it facing the Hab or she wouldn’t have been able to plug it in,” he said. “It’s been moved since Sol 5.”

  “Yeah,” Venkat said, sliding another picture to Teddy. “But here’s the real evidence. In the lower right of the image you can see the MDV. It’s been taken apart. I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t have done that without telling us.

  “And the clincher is on the right of the image,” Venkat pointed. “The landing struts of the MAV. Looks like the fuel plant has been completely removed, with considerable damage to the struts in the process. There’s just no way that could have happened before liftoff. It would endanger the MAV way too much for Lewis to allow it.”

  “Hey,” Annie interrupted. “Why not talk to Lewis? Let’s go to CAPCOM and ask her this shit directly.”

  Venkat looked to Teddy knowingly. After a few moments, Teddy sighed.

  “Because,” he said. “If Watney really is alive, we don’t want the Ares 3 crew to know.”

  “What!?” Annie said. “How can you not tell them?”

  “They have another ten months on their trip home,” Teddy explained. “Space travel is dangerous. They need to be alert and undistracted. They’re sad that they lost a crewmate, but they’d be devastated if they found out they’d abandoned him alive.”

  Annie looked to Venkat. “You’re on board with this?”

  “It’s a no-brainer,” Venkat said. “Let ‘em deal with that emotional trauma when they’re not flying a spaceship around.”

  “This’ll be the most talked-about event since Apollo 11,” Annie said. “How will you keep it from them?”

  Teddy shrugged. “Easy. We control all communication with them.”

  “Fuck,” Annie said, opening her laptop. “When do you want to go public?”

  “What’s your take,” he asked.

  “Mmm,” Annie said, “We can hold the pics for 24 hours before we’re required to make them public. We’ll need to release a statement along with them. We don’t want people working it out on their own. We’d look like assholes.”

  “Ok,” Teddy agreed, “put together a statement.”

  “This is so fucked up,” she said.

  “Where do we go from here?” Teddy asked Venkat.

  “Step one is communication,” Venkat said. “From the pics, it’s clear the comm array is ruined. We need another way to talk. Once we can talk, we can assess and make plans.”

  “All right,” Teddy said. “Get on it. Take anyone you want for any department. Use as much overtime as you want. Find a way to talk to him. That’s your only job right now.”

  “Got it.”

  “Annie, make sure nobody gets wind of this till we announce.”

  “Right,” Annie said. “Who else knows?”

  “Just the three of us and Mindy Park in SatCon,” Venkat said.

  “I’ll have a word with her,” Annie said.

  Teddy stood and opened his cell phone. “I’m going to Chicago. I’ll be back later today.”

  “Why?” Annie asked.

  “That’s where Watney’s parents live,” Teddy said. “I owe them a personal explanation before it breaks on the news.”

  “They’ll be happy to hear their son’s alive,” Annie said.

  “Yeah, he’s alive,” Teddy said. “But if my math is right, he’s doomed to starve to death before we can possibly help him. I’m not looking forward to the conversation.”

  “Fuck,” Annie said, thoughtfully.

  “Nothing? Nothing at all?” Venkat groaned. “Are you kidding me? You had 20 experts working for 12 hours on this. We have a multi-billion dollar communication network. You can’t figure out any way to talk to him?”

  The two men in Venkat’s office fidgeted in their chairs.

  “He’s got no radio,” said Chuck.

  “Actually,” said Morris, “He’s got a radio, but he doesn’t have a dish.”

  “Thing is,” Chuck continued, “without the dish, a signal would have to be really strong-“

  “Like, melting-the-pigeons strong-“ Morris supplied.

  “-for him to get it.” Chuck finished.

  “We considered Martian satellites,” Morris said. “They’re way closer. But the math doesn’t work out. Even SuperSurveyor 3, which has the strongest transmitter, would need to be 14 times more powerful-“

  “17 times,” Chuck said.

  “14 times,” Morris asserted.

  “No it’s 17. You forgot the amperage minimum for the heaters to keep the-“

  “Guys,” Venkat interrupted. “I get the idea.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Sorry if I’m grumpy,” Venkat said. “I got like 2 hours sleep last night.”

  “No problem,” Morris said.

  “Totally understandable,” Chuck said.

  “Ok,” Venkat said. “Explain to me how a single windstorm removed our ability to talk to Ares 3.”

  “Failure of imagination,” Chuck said.

  “Totally didn’t see it coming,” Morris agreed.

  “How many back-up communication systems does an Ares mission have?” Venkat asked.

  “Four,” Chuck said.

  “Three,” Morris said.

  “No, it’s four,” Chuck corrected.

  “He said back-up systems,” Morris insisted. “That means not including the primary system.”

  “Oh right. Three.”

  “So four systems total, then,” Venkat said. “Explain how we lost all four.”

  “Well,” Chuck said, “The primary ran through the big satellite dish. It blew away in the storm. The rest of the backups were the MAV.”

  “Yup,” Morris agreed. “The MAV is, like, a communicating machine. It can talk to Earth, Hermes, even satellites around Mars if it has to. And it has three independent systems to make sure nothing short of a meteor strike can stop communication.”

  “Problem is,” Chuck said. “Commander Lewis and the rest of them took the MAV when they left.”

  “So four
independent communication systems became one. And that one broke,” Morris finished.

  Venkat pinched the bridge of his nose. “How could we overlook this?”

  Chuck shrugged. “Never occurred to us. We never thought someone would be on Mars without an MAV.”

  “I mean, come on!” Morris said. “What are the odds?”

  Chuck turned to him. “One in three, based on empirical data. That’s pretty bad if you think about it.”

  “Thank you all for coming on such short notice,” Annie said. “We have an important announcement to make. If you could all take your seats,”

  “What this about, Annie?” A reporter asked. “Something happen with Hermes?”

  “Please take your seats,” Annie repeated.

  The reporters mingled a bit, argued over seats for a short time, then finally settled down.

  “This is a short, but very important announcement,” Annie said. “I won’t be taking any questions at this time, but we will have a full press conference with Q&A in about an hour. We have recently reviewed satellite imagery from Mars, and have confirmed that astronaut Mark Watney is, currently, still alive.”

  After one full second of utter silence, the room exploded with noise.

  “I’m getting sick of daily press conferences,” Venkat said.

  “I’m getting sick of hourly press conferences,” Annie countered.

  “Sorry I’m late,” Teddy said, entering the crowded press room. Managers from every department stood shoulder to shoulder in the back, while reporters crammed the pit.

  Teddy pulled some flash cards from his pocket, then cleared his throat.

  “In the nine days since announcing Mark Watney’s survival, we’re received a massive show of support from all sectors. We’re using this shamelessly every way we can.”

  A small chuckle cascaded through the room.

  “Yesterday, at our request, the entire SETI network focused on Mars. Just in case Watney was sending a weak radio signal. Turns out he wasn’t, but it shows the level of commitment everyone has toward helping us.

  “The public is engaged, and we will do our best to keep everyone informed. I’ve recently learned CNN will be dedicating a half-hour segment every weekday to reporting on just this issue. We will assign several members of our Media Relations team to that program, so the public can get the latest information as fast as possible.

  “We have adjusted the orbits of three satellites to get more view time on the Ares 3 site, and hope to catch an image of him outside soon. If we can see him outside, we will be able to draw conclusions on his physical health based on stance and activities.

  “The questions are many: How long can he last? How much food does he have? Can Ares 4 rescue him? How will we talk to him? The answers to these questions are not what we want to hear.

  “I can’t promise we’ll succeed in rescuing him, but I can promise this: The entire focus of NASA will be to bring Mark Watney home. This will be our overriding and singular obsession until he is either back on Earth, or confirmed dead on Mars.”

  “Nice speech,” Venkat said as he entered Teddy’s office.

  “Meant every word of it,” Teddy said.

  “Oh, I know.”

  “What can I do for you, Venk?”

  “I’ve got an idea. Well, JPL has an idea. I’m the messenger.”

  “I like ideas,” Teddy said, gesturing to a seat.

  Venkat sat down.

  “We can rescue him with Ares 4. It’s very risky. We ran the idea by the Ares 4 crew. Not only are they willing to do it, but now they’re really pushing hard for it.”

  “Naturally,” Teddy said. “Astronauts are inherently insane. And really noble. What’s the idea?”

  “Well,” Venkat began, “It’s in the rough stages, but JPL thinks the MDV can be misused to save him.”

  “Ares 4 hasn’t even launched yet. Why misuse an MDV. Why not make something better?”

  “We don’t have time to make a custom craft. Actually, he can’t even survive till Ares 4 gets there, but that’s a different problem.”

  “So tell me about the MDV.”

  “JPL strips it down, loses some weight, and adds some fuel tanks. Ares 4’s crew lands at the Ares 3 site, very efficiently. Then, with a full burn, and I mean a full burn, they can lift off again. It can’t get back to orbit, but it can go to the Ares 4 site on a lateral trajectory that’s, well, really scary. Then they have an MAV. This would require a massive design and construction effort, but JPL says they can make it happen.”

  “How are they losing weight?” Teddy asked. “Don’t they already have it as light as it can be?”

  “By removing safety and emergency equipment.”

  “Wonderful,” Teddy said, “So we’d be risking the lives of six more people in a very dangerous landing, re-liftoff, re-landing process.”

  “Yup,” Venkat said. “It would be safer to leave the Ares 4 crew in Hermes, and only send the pilot down with the MDV. But that would mean giving up the mission and they’d rather risk death.”

  “They’re astronauts,” Teddy said.

  “They’re astronauts,” Venkat confirmed.

  “Well. That’s a ludicrous idea and I’ll never ok it.”

  “We’ll work on it some more,” Venkat said. “Try to make it safer.”

  “Do that. Any idea how to keep him alive for four years?”

  “Nope.”

  “Work on that, too.”

  “Will do,” Venkat said.

  Teddy swiveled his chair and looked out the window to the sky beyond. Night was edging in. “What must it be like?” He pondered. “He’s stuck out there. He thinks he’s totally alone and that we all gave up on him. What kind of effect does that have on a man’s psychology?”

  He turned back to Venkat. “I wonder what he’s thinking right now.”

  LOG ENTRY: SOL 61

  How come Aquaman can control whales? They’re mammals! Makes no sense.

  Chapter 7

  LOG ENTRY: SOL 63

  I finished making water some time ago. I’m no longer in danger of blowing myself up. The potatoes are growing nicely. Nothing has conspired to kill me in weeks. And ‘70’s TV keeps me disturbingly more entertained than it should. Things are stable here on Mars.

  It’s time to start thinking long term.

  Even if I find a way to tell NASA I’m alive, there’s no guarantee they’ll be able to save me. I need to be proactive. I need to figure out how to get to Ares 4.

  Won’t be easy.

  Ares 4 will be landing at the Schiaparelli Crater, 3,200km away. In fact, their MAV is already there. I know because I watched Martinez land it.

  It takes 18 months for the MAV to make its fuel, so it’s the first thing NASA sends along. Sending it 48 months early gives it plenty of extra time in case fuel reactions go slower than expected. But much more importantly, it means a precision soft-landing can be done remotely by a pilot in orbit. Direct remote operation from Houston isn’t an option; they’re anywhere from 4 to 20 light-minutes away.

  Ares 4’s MAV spent 11 months getting to Mars. Using less fuel and taking a longer route, it got there around the same time as us. As expected, Martinez landed it beautifully. It was one of the last things we did before piling in to our MDV and heading to the surface. Ahh, the good old days, when I had a crew with me.

  I’m lucky. 3,200km isn’t that bad. It could have been up to 10,000km away. And because I’m on the flattest part of Mars, the first 650km is nice, smooth terrain (Yay Acidalia Planitia!) but the rest of it is nasty, rugged, crater-pocked hell.

  Obviously, I’ll have to use a rover. And guess what? They weren’t designed for massive overland journeys.

  This is going to be a research effort, with a bunch of experimentation. I’ll have to become my own little NASA, figuring out how to explore far from the Hab. The good news is I have lots of time to figure it out. Almost 4 years.

  Some stuff is obvious. I’ll need to use a rover. It’ll t
ake a long time, so I’ll need to bring supplies. I’ll need to recharge en-route, and rovers don’t have solar cells. I’ll need to steal some from the Hab’s solar farm. During the trip I’ll need to breathe, eat, and drink.

  Lucky for me, the tech specs for everything are right here in the computer.

  I’ll need to trick out a rover. Basically it’ll have to be a mobile Hab. I’ll pick Rover 2 as my target. We have a certain bond, after I spent two days in it during the “Great Hydrogen Scare of Sol 37.”

  There’s too much shit to think about all at once. So for now, I’ll just think about power.

  Our mission had a 10km operational radius. Knowing we wouldn’t take straight-line paths, NASA designed the rovers to go 35km on a full charge. That presumes flat, reasonable terrain. Each rover has a 9000Wh battery.

  Step one is to loot Rover 1’s battery and install it in Rover 2. Ta-daa! I just doubled my full-charge range.

  There’s just one complication. Heating.

  Part of the battery power goes to heating the rover. Mars is really cold. Normally, we were expected to do all EVAs in under 5 hours. But I’ll be living in it 24½ hours a day. According to the specs, the heating equipment soaks up 400W. Keeping it on would eat up 9800Wh per day. Over half my power supply, every day!

  But I do have a free source of heat: Me. A couple million years of evolution gave me “warm blooded” technology. I can wear layers. The rover has good insulation, too. It’ll have to be enough; I need every bit of power.

  And because I need to bundle up anyway, I can deactivate the heater outright and use all the power for motion (minus a negligible amount for computer, life support, etc.)

  According to my boring math, moving the rover eats 200Wh of juice to go 1km, so using the full 18,000Wh gets me 90km of travel. Now we’re talkin’.

  I’ll never actually get 90km on a single charge. I’ll have hills to deal with, and rough terrain, sand, etc. But it’s a good ballpark. It tells me that it would take at least 35 days of travel to get to Ares 4. It’ll probably be more like 50. But that’s plausible, at least.

  At the rover’s blazing 25kph top speed, it’ll take me 3½ hours before I run the battery down. I’d like to charge the battery up during the rest of the day. I can drive in twilight, and save the sunny part of the day for charging. This time of year I get about 13 hours of light. How many solar cells will I have to pilfer from the Hab’s farm?