AMICITAS FLIGHT THREE – MISSION DAY 167
ARES III SOL 167
A year before, if anyone had told Fireball that he’d be digging in the dirt like a common diamond dog, and further that he would be digging not for gems but for pony vegetables, he’d have said they were crazy. Adding the details on a barren planet in another universe under the direction of a mostly hairless monkey would have been superfluous.
But here he was, delicately removing tubers from a rather unpleasant plant, then gently placing the plant’s roots back in the upturned earth so it could produce more of the stupid tubers.
The strangest thing was, he wasn’t even mad. It was a thing he could do. Not even he fell below whatever doofus event horizon made you incompetent to dig up potatoes.
There were certainly a heck of a lot to dig up. It seemed like there were three or four layers of potatoes, their roots tangled together, with barely any dirt separating tuber from tuber. Hundreds, many hundreds, already lay piled up near the cave’s airlock. And, of course, they’d need every single one of them, and a lot more besides.
He’d had potatoes before- before Mars, before Amicitas. Pony-made food packs, even with gem garnishes, had all sorts of vegetable matter, and on several occasions he’d had mashed or baked potatoes with little magnetite sprinkles. They kind of tasted like really mushy quartz… which, all things considered, was ironic.
But that was his only experience with potatoes before now. He’d never seen where they came from. He’d never cared. Growing plants was a stupid pony thing. And even now, after the last couple months of working with the plants for the sake of his crewmates’ survival, he had zero interest in growing anything once they all got home.
But even so, the process of plants growing and eventually becoming food fascinated Fireball, in a way he’d never have believed before.
“Hey, boss.”
Cherry Berry looked up at Fireball’s inquiry. She dropped the potato she had in her teeth into the plastic bin and said, “What’s up?”
“What’s it like, growing things?” Fireball asked.
Cherry Berry blinked. “How should I know?” she asked. “I only have the same earth pony magic as any other earth pony. I’m not like Carrot Top or Applejack. They can make seeds sprout the instant they plant them. Even back home I can only give them a little encouragement.”
“Yeah, yeah, you’ve told us a million times,” Fireball said, waving the disclaimer away. “But you did farm work all the time before the space race, right?”
“Well, yeah,” Cherry shrugged. “I did a lot of things. And when I get back home I’m going to cash my back pay and spend a year doing nothing but balloon flying.”
“So, what’s it like?” Fireball asked.
Cherry shrugged. “It’s a job,” she said. “You plant seeds. You pull up weeds. You wrangle the local critters to eat the pests, the beetles and weevils and what-not. You make sure the soil’s irrigated. And then you harvest.”
“Yeah, but…” Fireball didn’t have the words in Equestrian, never mind English. “But what’s it like growing stuff?”
Cherry blinked. “It’s… it’s just a thing you do,” she finally said. “I don’t think I understand what you’re asking. Maybe you could try Mark?” She waved her head over at the alien, who was deftly and delicately parting one tuber after another from its parent plant on the other side of the row. “Isn’t he, like, a doctor of growing things?”
“Aw, c’mon, boss,” Fireball moaned, “if I ask him I gotta do it in English.”
“We all need the practice,” Cherry said. “Speaking of, how did you do the last time you tried the MAV sim?”
Fireball had managed to get himself inverted, plowing the ship into the simulated Martian surface in the last sim. Apparently Dragonfly hadn’t spread the word. “I learned something,” he said, not inviting further investigation. “I’ll go try Mark.”
Having successfully separated himself from embarrassment by his commanding officer, he walked over to the strange monkey, concentrated on his words, and said, very slowly, “Mark? What is it like, grow plants?”
Mark grinned. “What’s it like?” he repeated. “It’s a power trip, that’s what it’s like.”
Fireball blinked. Why did there have to be all sorts of weird phrases in English? “What means, power trip?” he asked.
“I mean it’s a big feeling of power,” Mark said. “You take a little seed, or a cutting, or something. You give it fertilizer and water. You keep bugs and other pests out. You find other plants crowding in on its territory, and you weed ‘em out. And then one day you’ve got this beautiful living thing, and you say to yourself, ‘I did that.’ It’s fucking amazing.”
“Really?” Fireball asked.
“No shit,” Mark said. “It’s a great feeling. Food or flower or whatever, it’s always a trip.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
Fireball returned to his work, thinking carefully as he used an improvised trowel to turn the soil and unearth more potatoes. He could just about see it, yeah. It was kind of like building a hoard, except instead of digging or stealing it, you took care of it and watched it grow bigger, more valuable, or more delicious.
This farm, this farm was… well… kind of like a shared hoard, in that way. The whole crew contributed their time, their effort, their skills. And here there was life, there was beauty, there was the food that would keep them all alive until rescue came. And yeah, they had made it happen.
When he got home and back to his own personal cave, Fireball decided, he would get a plant. Something easy to work with, something that liked the desert. He had a little skylight above a ledge that caught the sun every morning. It would be perfect.
And no other dragon better give him any crap over it, not unless they spent a year or more stranded on Mars first.
MISSION LOG – SOL 168
Ho-lee shit.
Almost 5100 potatoes, all about twenty percent larger than the first crop.
Fifty-one hundred potatoes.
Or, put it another way, roughly one metric ton of potato, combining the cave and the Hab harvests.
Airlock 1, aka the Tater Shed, is full to bursting. Fireball had to take scrap metal and wire from the alien ship to slap together a second shed. Considering the extreme conditions, this can’t be called anything other than a bumper crop. If I weren’t already so sick of potatoes I could puke, I’d make like Uncle Scrooge and swim in ‘em.
Doing the math, we now have potatoes through Sol 680 (for me only) and hay through Sol 360 (the ponies), with a little fudge factor for cross-munching. I can give the ponies 180 days (for me) of potatoes, which would be 60 days for them, making the balance more like Sol 500 for me, Sol 420 for them.
We’re doing this. We’re really doing this. One more harvest might be enough to see us through to the Sol 768 rescue. Two harvests definitely will. Of course that’s not counting for spoilage, but Mars is the ultimate deep freeze. The potatoes will keep perfectly fine in the sheds, and the hay keeps for a very long time if you keep it dry- not exactly difficult here.
So naturally I’m worried as fuck, because Mars is going to pull some new shit to try to get us all killed. It’s been too damn long since something blew up on us. We’re overdue.
I wonder what it will be? Rover 2 have a wheel lock up? The alien ship breach in one of its two remaining airtight compartments? (A breach in the bridge would be worse, since that’s the only remaining airlock that ship has.) Or maybe a crystal will fall from the ceiling directly onto the cave life support box and smash it flat?
Crap, that last one could actually happen, couldn’t it? I need to talk to the ponies about that- building a roll cage or shield or something to protect the magic life support from a cave-in. That box is just too damn useful to risk losing- especially since if we lose that, we lose our best chance at not starving before Hermes returns.
come one give them there one more good farming go! mars plz just show them just this once and let them live!
also dragonfly is an 80s computer geek at this point building and fixing system
Yep, they are due some bad luck. *cue explosion of rocket* FOUND IT!
But at least they have a backup rocket. And enough food to keep them alive, if not exactly healthy. So all in all, the crotchety old man Mars is still screaming about getting off the lawn, and the six are just ignoring him. Wonder what his next trick will be.
Once again, an engaging chapter, and well worth the wait of a day. Keep on writing. (Would have said trucking, but bet you have had enough travel lately to make that saying cause PTSD flashbacks.)
Well, good news is that he didn't taunt Murphy.
That's an important first step to surviving fiction.
Yeah, come to think of it, there hasn't been any huge problems since the Hab breached, and that was months ago. Thankfully for the plot, those engineers have already destroyed one probe. (Unless that was a red herring.) Slice of life on Mars has been fun, and I definitely want more of it. But I'd be happy to see them work through some more disasters.
Yeah okay I lol'd
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and hope have stuff to have a mini farm for toehr foods to grow
Ah, tomorrow is the day the 8 legged horse goes kablooey. A very ironic Easter for all involved.
It was Sleipnir 2's rocket that had the discoloration, right? I don't suppose JPL has managed to throw together an emergency backup probe that could launch on the Delta IX or Taiyang Shen to replace the one that will undoubtedly be lost to the faulty Red Falcon?
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I mean, he still taunted Murphy. He just apologized for it afterwards, and I'm not sure Murphy accepts apologies.
I'm a little bit surprised Mark hasn't taken to mixing his once a day food pack with the potatoes just to cut a little flavor into them.
I'm sure Fireball can find a nice Equestrian plant to grow in his desert cave. Maybe some cactii species could fit his tastes?
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she doesnt...trust me...i KNOW....
People keep thinking it's Mars that's going to throw the next curveball. Even discounting the Red
HerringFalcon you've still got Dragonfly's mental health crisis looming.We're quick to discount him feeling objects having emotion as magic... But what if it isn't? (I hope this isn't the case because it would take her observations about all the objects and take them from being kind of adorable to kind of terrifying, even if it would be interesting.)
Assigning sentience or feelings to inanimate objects can be a warning sign of mental health troubles. The Equestrians have never had the long term space missions, the changelings in particular are never isolated to a small group (well except maybe Occupant pre space program)
Dragonfly herself has pointed out she thinks she's having problems.
This is my favorite Fireball section so far. I like the idea of him keeping a little potted plant in his cave.
Huh, I wonder how dragon magic works in this verse and if he'll actually start gaining power from conceiving of the farm that way. Mark, you've doomed them all!
I'm trying to think of worst-case scenarios, and one that I came up with involves Sleipnir and Twilight's dimension hopping probe.
Basically, I imagine the probe appearing directly in Sleipnir's path. It would be too sudden for NASA to prevent a collision, and if Twilight's probe got destroyed in the process before it could take whatever readings it needed, they could essentially "skip" the universe they're trying to find. A probe failing to return to the ESA isn't an unknown phenomenon to them, after all. And that's not even considering the collision would also ruin the supply run.
If the comments are right, and it's Sleipnir II that has the discoloration, and that launch fails, they'll abort Slepnir III pending inspections, and if the above scenario occurs, it'll be even longer for them to get the supplies they need, between orbital mechanics, launch windows, and the length of time to inspect the rocket, and for Sleipnir I to travel to Mars.
It's a lot of what-ifs, but it's not entirely implausible.
Fifty years later, Fireball is the foremost botanist, xenoagricultural specialist and terraforming engineer of three worlds, and living in the citadel he personally built on a newly greening Mars as he oversees its transformation into a living planet. It's his revenge against the planet that repeatedly tried to murder him and his friends. Calling it now.
The character studies lately have been really well done. Fireball growing like a cactus or something in his cave is somehow goddamn adorable.
Mark should know the story behind the boll weevil statue in Enterprise Alabama. Peanuts love terrible soil.
Snrk. I would be terribly amused by an epilogue featuring Peanut Mogul Fireball.
8833374 No, it was a couple weeks ago at this point, sorry. The playlist is here: https://redneckgaijin.dreamwidth.org/1128776.html
8833397 Mark had half a dozen seeds, but they were all ferns and grasses of the hardy, fast-growing, not particularly digestible kind. The potatoes were a freak thing due to non-scientific NASA psych stuff (Thanksgiving).
8833408 "My hoard? Oh, it's a planet. A *big* planet that I wrestled into submission, ripped the gems out of its skin, and I'm working on covering the whole thing in green plants and stuff now."
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Mark was supplied with a variety of seeds along with a small amount (window box or so) of earth soil in which to germinate them for study.
Thing is, none of the plants (grasses and ferns) are edible. After all, if you’re only going to be there for a month, why bother with food crops?
Fortunately, he was able to scavenge viable taters and alfalfa from the rations.
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Well, since part of what's gnawing at Dragonfly is the whole Mars-actively-hates-them thing, technically if she utterly loses it it's still Mars's fault.
The scariest possibility is that DF going nuts could trigger other things if there's any sort of physical or magical confrontation around such an event: damage to/loss of the cave, the ship, the Hab, or any of their crucial equipment... Also, while DF's sanity isn't critical to their survival, she's already noted that if she loses control she could suck the motivation right outta someone who is, and we don't know what the recovery scenario and timeline is for a really bad case like that.
Dragonfly sensing the emotions of objects in a magic-less environment is pretty frigging cool. All the thousands of human hands and the explorative nature of the whole human race has gone into the equipment keeping them alive- it all ought to have soul. The Japanese have a really cool concept of old tools gaining spirits and sentience after 100 years of use and care- if you've ever gotten to use your own great-grandfather's tools then it's easy to see how the Japanese came up with that one.
this is almost at good as Fireballs message from home: "You are hereby ordered not to die (nor let anyone else die)"
---
as to the potatoes why don't they just try mashing them or something or maybe having fireball use his flame to roast a few.
its like the week after thanksgiving where its near constant leftover turkey- just done a half dozen or so diff ways so you don't get as sick of it.
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"You see all this? Half a century ago we came here by accident. There were six of us then: the Missile Mare, the scholar, the fool, the medic, the alien. And me. We shouldn't have survived the crash, but we lived. This planet was dead, with no magic, no life, no AIR, and yet we lived. It hated us, it wanted us dead and gone, and it tried to murder us all over and over in a thousand different ways, and STILL we lived. We dug out a home in our enemy's skin itself, with claw and hoof and hand, and we held it just to spite this place with our sweat and blood and pain and shit. We were KINGS, and we made the Pale Horse herself our bitch. And we learned, and we triumphed, and then we came back. And now, we tear out the platinum, the diamond, and opals and gemstones, the gold, the good, sweet iron and cobalt and nickel, the richest food in the universe, ripped right from this place's beating heart. And every sol, the seas get deeper, the dead land greener, the air richer and sweeter. I never want this world to forget that i--that WE--defeated it. This is how I punish it. That's why my castle doesn't have a hoard, daughter. This world IS my hoard. And one day, it will be yours. Don't get any ideas, though, I'm not quite done with it yet."
i could see fireball getting an aloe vera plant.
8833539
It's spiky!
8833543
On the outside and soft on the inside, just like he secretly is.
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however, they did technically invoke Melody's Law, Murphy's sibling.
...it's also known as Sod's Law ..as in 'you poor sod'
...and Finagles Law
"Anything that can go wrong, will—at the worst possible moment."
On April 1st. Is that deliberate?
This is why I like Mark. He manages to take incredibly nerdy concepts and makes them cool. Reminds me of those old Bill Nye or Beakman's World shows where they'd walk you through a science experiment and then say at the end "Isn't that awesome!" and you go "Yeah! That IS awesome!"
Another reason I like Mark. He's well aware that Murphy's law is a rule of nature. On this world or any other.
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That would be a good thing though. It gives them absolutel confirmation they found the right universe since NASA would tell them it happened. At which point they can send a few thousand charged magic batteries and get a rescue going in a matter of days.
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You should write that as a sequel for this story once it's done. I'm a sucker for 'in the name of SPITE!" stories.
Huh. Fireball the farmer. I like it.
Also, 5100 potatoes. That's a lot of potatoes. Hope they're not all sick of potatoes. Have I said potatoes enough? Potatoes.
Everything can be a power-trip. I mean, every time i boot up my pc, i get to grin and say "I built this thing." You try to tell me that's not a trip in and of itself. And with a dragon, how long could they live? Can you imagine a garden cared for over the course of centuries? it would be beautiful.
Ahh, cactuses. The classic minimal-maintenance plants for people without green thumbs.
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That's the secret. Mars does hate them. This isn't just the Martian/Changeling Space Program... it's Martian/Changeling Space Program/DOOM.
Mark is Doomguy. And they're going to find out that demons are a plant-based life-form.
Sorry for spoiling the plot, Kris!
potatoes. boil them, mash them, stick them in a stew.
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Relevant.
8833643
plus get the right type and they get BIIIIIIG
You became my favorite author for deciding to forego April Fools chapter and maintaining canon chapters and schedule. Unless timezone shenanigans mean it didn't happen yet
Hm. Interesting. I somewhat suspect that a farming-marked earth pony would have given a somewhat different answer than Mark's, one more focused on working with than on the plants being grown, but, on the other hand, Mark's answer seems by a happy coincidence(?) much more like the sort of thing a dragon would like. :)
Mark confirmed for honorary dragon of plants. He would totally grow a hoard.
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How big would saguaros grow under Martian gravity, do you think?
If they decide to armor teh primary lifesupport, get Starlight to layer it with crystal slices? the combination of scales and metal and foam fix would make it closer to dragon scales and more survivable while saving on resources?
Of course, then you have to watch out for Moondust, where te water draining into the depths of the geode causes a sinkhole.
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huh, That's a good question.
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On that vein, it would be entirely too smart of ESA to notify NASA of their campaign to find the right universe. Which they may have already done but it occurred off-camera as it were.
Ten days later.
"Why is fireball twenty feet tall and sitting on the pile of potatoes?"
"Because he's stuck."
"Excuse me?"
"He's sitting on the potatoes because he can't fit through the airlock anymore."
Which means that, barring unforeseen complications they're past this being a problem. They can grow food many times faster than they consume it. Even if the cave farm blew up tomorrow they could spend a month finding or constructing a new cave or converting the Amicitas, plant fresh and bring to harvest all with over a year of room to spare.
So long as they're not complete idiots, and spread out their food storage to a couple places in the event of an airlock breach, it looks to me like they can afford to focus on things besides food.