The Martian (22 page)

Mitch looked forward to the main screen. It was black now, with large white letters reading “LOS”.

“Flight,” came a voice over the radio, “US Destroyer Stockton reports debris falling from the sky. Source matches last known location of Iris.”

Mitch put his head in his hands. “Roger,” he said.

Then he uttered the words every Flight Director hopes never to say: “GC, Flight. Lock the doors.”

It was the signal to start post-failure procedures.

From the VIP observation room, Teddy watched the despondent Mission Control Center. He took a deep breath, then let it out. He looked forlornly at the blue folder, which contained the cheerful speech praising a perfect launch. Placing it in his briefcase, he then extracted the red folder with the
other
speech in it.

Venkat sat in his darkened office. He never
decided
to be in the dark. He'd just been lost in thought so long it got dark around him.

His mobile rang. His wife again. No doubt worried about him. He let it go to voice mail. He just couldn't face her. Or anyone.

A brief chime came from his computer. Glancing over, he saw an email from JPL. A relayed message from Pathfinder:

[16:03]WATNEY: How'd the launch go?

Martinez:

Dr. Shields says I need to write personal messages to each of the crew. She says it'll keep me tethered to humanity. I think it's bullshit. But hey, it's an order.

With you, I can be blunt:

If I die, I need you to check on my parents. They'll want to hear about our time on Mars first-hand. I'll need you to do that.

It won't be easy talking to a couple about their dead son. It's a lot to ask; that's why I'm asking you. I'd tell you you're my best friend and stuff, but it would be gay.

I'm not giving up. Just planning for every outcome. It's what I do.

Guo Ming, Director of the
China National Space Administration, examined the expansive paperwork at his desk. In the old days, when China wanted to launch a rocket, they just launched it. Now, they were compelled by international agreements to warn other nations first.
 

It was a requirement, Guo Ming noted to himself, that did not apply to the United States. To be fair, the Americans publicly announced their launch schedules well in advance, so it amounted to the same.

He walked a fine line filling out the form: Making the launch date and flight path clear, while doing everything possible to “conceal state secrets.”

He snorted at the last requirement. “Ridiculous,” he mumbled. The
Taiyang Shen
had no strategic or military value. It was an unmanned probe that would be in Earth orbit less than two days. After that, it would travel to a solar orbit between Mercury and Venus. It would be China's first heliology probe to orbit the sun.
 

  Yet, the State Council insisted all launches be shrouded in secrecy. Even launches with nothing to hide. This way, other nations could not infer from lack of openness which launches contained classified payloads.

A knock at the door interrupted his paperwork.

“Come,” Guo Ming said, happy for the interruption.

“Good evening, Sir,” said Under-Director Zhu Tao.

“Tao, welcome back.”

“Thank you, Sir. It's good to be back in Beijing.”

“How were things at Jiuquan?” asked  Guo Ming. “Not too cold, I hope? I'll never understand why our launch complex is in the middle of the Gobi Desert.”

“It was cold, yet manageable,” Zhu Tao said.

“And how are launch preparations coming along?”

“I am happy to report they are all on-schedule.”

“Excellent,” Guo Ming smiled.

Zhu Tao sat quietly, staring at his boss.

Guo Ming looked expectantly back at him, but Zhu Tao neither stood to leave nor said anything further.

“Something else, Tao?” Guo Ming asked.

“Mmm,” Zhu Tao said, “Of course, you've heard about the Iris probe?”

“Yes, I did,” Guo frowned. “Terrible situation. That poor man's going to starve.”

“Possibly,” Zhu Tao said. “Possibly not.”

Guo Ming leaned back in his chair. “What are you saying?”

“It's the
Taiyang Shen
's booster, Sir. Our engineers have run the numbers, and it has enough fuel for a Mars injection orbit. It could get there in 419 days.”
 

“Are you kidding?”

“Have you ever known me to 'kid,' Sir?”

Guo Ming stood and pinched his chin. Pacing, he said “We can really send a probe to Mars?”

“It's hardly notable, Sir,” Zhu Tao said. “We've sent several in the past.”

“Yes, I know, but we could really send the
Taiyang Shen
?”
 

“No, Sir,” said Zhu Tao. “It's far too heavy. The massive heat shielding makes it the heaviest unmanned probe we've ever built. That's why the booster had to be so powerful. But a lighter payload could be sent all the way to Mars.”

“How much mass could we send?” Guo Ming asked.

“941 kilograms, Sir.”

“Hmm,” Guo Ming said, “I bet NASA could work with that limitation. Why haven't they approached us?”

“Because they don't know.” Zhu Tao said. “All our booster technology is classified information. The Ministry of State Security even spreads disinformation about our capabilities. This is for obvious reasons.”

“So they don't
know
we can help them,” Guo Ming said, “If we decide not to help, no one will know we could have.”
 

“Correct, Sir.”

“For the sake of argument, let's say we decided to help. What then?”

“Time would be the enemy, Sir,” Zhu Tao answered. “Based on travel duration and the supplies their astronaut has remaining, any such probe would have to be launched within a month. Even then he would starve a little.”

“That's right around when we planned to launch
Taiyang Shen
.”
 

“Yes, Sir. But it took them two months to build Iris, and it was so rushed it failed.”

“That's their problem,” Guo Ming said. “Our end would be providing the booster. We'd launch from Jiuquan; we can't ship an 800-ton rocket to Florida.”

“Any agreement would hinge on the Americans reimbursing us for the booster,” Zhu Tao said, “and the State Council would likely want political favors from the US Government.”

“Reimbursement would be pointless,” Guo Ming said. “This was an expensive project, and the State Council grumbled about it all along. If they had a bulk payout for it's value, they'd just keep it. We'd never get to build another one.”

He clasped his hands behind his back. “And the American people may be sentimental, but their government is not. The US State Department won't trade anything major for one man's life.”

“So it's hopeless?” asked Zhu Tao.

“Not hopeless,” Guo Ming corrected. “Just hard. If this becomes a negotiation by diplomats, it will never resolve. We need to keep this among scientists. Space agency to space agency. I'll get a translator and call NASA's Director. We'll work out an agreement, then present it to our governments as a fait accompli.”

“But what can they do for us?” Zhu Tao asked. “We'd be giving up a booster and  effectively canceling
Taiyang Shen.
”
 

Guo Ming smiled. “They'll give us something we can't get without them.”

“And that is?”

“They'll put a Chinese astronaut on Mars.”

Zhu Tao stood. “Of course,” he smiled. “The Ares 5 crew hasn't even been selected yet. We'll insist on a crewman. One we get to pick and train. NASA and the US State Department would surely accept that. But will our State Council?”

Guo Ming smiled wryly. “Publicly rescue the Americans? Put a Chinese astronaut on Mars? Have the world see China as equal to the US in space? The State Council would sell their own
mothers
for that.”
 

Teddy listened to the phone at his ear. The voice on the other end finished what it had to say, then fell silent as it awaited an answer.

He stared at nothing in particular as he processed what he'd just heard.

After a few seconds, he replied “Yes.”

Johanssen:

Your poster outsold the rest of ours
combined.
You're a hot chick who went to Mars. You're on dorm-room walls all over the world.

Looking like that, why are you such a nerd? And you are, you know. A serious nerd. I had to do some computer shit to get Pathfinder talking to the rover and
oh my God
. And I had NASA telling me what to do every step of the way.

You should try to be more cool. Wear dark glasses and a leather jacket. Carry a switchblade. Aspire to a level of coolness known only as... “Botanist Cool.”

Did you know Commander Lewis had a chat with us men? If anyone hit on you, we'd be off the mission. I guess after a lifetime of commanding sailors she's got an unfairly jaded view.

Anyway. Try not to think about all those guys wanking to your poster.

“Ok, here we are again,” said Bruce to the assembled heads of JPL. “You've all heard about the
Taiyang Shen,
so you know our friends in China have given us one more chance. But this time, it's going to be harder.
 

“
Taiyang Shen
will be ready to launch in 28 days. If it launches on time, our payload will get to Mars on Sol 624, six weeks after Watney's expected to run out of food. NASA's already working on ways to stretch his supply.
 

“We made history when we finished Iris in sixty three days. Now we have to do it in
twenty eight.
”
 

He looked across the table to the incredulous faces.

“Folks,” he said, “This is going to be the most 'ghetto' spacecraft ever built. There's only one way to finish that fast: No landing system.”

“Sorry, what?” Jack Trevor stammered.

Bruce nodded. “You heard me. No landing system. We'll need guidance for in-flight course adjustments. But once it gets to Mars, it's going to crash.”

“That's crazy!” Jack said. “It'll be going an
insane
velocity when it hits!”
 

“Yep,” Bruce said. “With ideal atmospheric drag, it'll impact at 300 meters per second.”

“What good will a pulverized probe do Watney?” Jack asked.

“As long as the food doesn't burn up on the way in, Watney can eat it.” Bruce commented.

Turning to the whiteboard, he began drawing a basic organizational chart
.
“I want two teams,” He began.
 

“Team One will make the outer shell, guidance system, and thrusters. All we need is for it to get to Mars. I want the safest possible system. Aerosol propellant would be best. High-gain radio so we can talk to it, and standard satellite navigational software.

“Team Two will deal with the payload. They need to find a way to contain the food during impact. If protein bars hit sand at 300m/s, they'll make protein-scented sand. We need them
edible
after impact.

“We can weigh 941kg. At least 300 of that needs to be food. Get crackin'.”

“Uh, Dr. Kapoor?” Rich said, peeking his head in to Venkat's office. “Do you have a minute?”

Venkat gestured him in. “You are...?”

“Rich, Rich Purnell,” he said, shuffling in to the office, his arms wrapped around a sheaf disorganized papers. “From astrodynamics.”

“Nice to meet you,” Venkat said. “What can I do for you, Rich?”

“I came up with something a while ago. Spent a lot of time on it.” He dumped the papers on Venkat's desk. “Lemme find the summary...”

Venkat stared forlornly at his once clean desk, now strewn with scores of printouts.

“Here we go!” Rich said triumphantly, grabbing a paper. Then, his expression saddened. “No, this isn't it.”

“Rich,” Venkat said. “Maybe you should just tell me what this is about?”

Rich looked at the mess of papers and sighed. “But I had such a cool summary...”

“A summary for what?”

“How to save Watney.”

“That's already in progress,” Venkat said. “It's a last-ditch effort, but-”

“The
Taiyang Shen
?” Rich snorted. “That won't work. You can't make a Mars probe in a month.”

“We're sure as hell going to try,” Venkat said, a note of annoyance in his voice.

“Oh sorry, am I being difficult?” Rich asked. “I'm not good with people. Sometimes I'm difficult. I wish people would just tell me. Anyway, the
Taiyang Shen
is critical. In fact, my idea won't work without it. But a Mars probe? Pfft. C'mon.”

“All right,” Venkat said. “What's your idea?”

Rich snatched a paper from the desk. “Here it is!” He handed it to Venkat with a child-like smile.

Venkat took the summary and skimmed it. The more he read, the wider his eyes got. “Are you sure about this?”

“Absolutely!” Rich beamed.

“Have you told anyone else?”

“Who would I tell?”

“I don't know, Venkat said. “Friends?”

“I don't have any of those.”

“Ok, keep it under your hat.” Venkat said.

“I don't wear a hat.”

“It's just an expression.”

“Really?” Rich said. “It's a stupid expression.”

“Rich, you're being difficult.”

“Ah. Thanks.”

Vogel:

Being your backup has backfired.

I guess NASA figured botany and chemistry are similar because they both end in “Y”. One way or another, I ended up being your back-up chemist.

Remember when they made you spend a day explaining your experiments to me? It was in the middle of intense mission prep. You may have forgotten.

You started my training by buying me a beer. For breakfast. Germans are awesome.

Anyway, now that I have time to kill, NASA gave me a pile of work. And all your chemistry crap is on the list. So now I have to do boring-ass experiments with test tubes and soil and pH levels and Zzzzzzzzzz....