• Published 2nd Jan 2018
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The Maretian - Kris Overstreet



Mark Watney is stranded- the only human on Mars. But he's not alone- five astronauts from a magical kingdom are shipwrecked with him.

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Sol 188

AMICITAS FLIGHT THREE – MISSION DAY 189
ARES III SOL 188

TRANSCRIPT – WATER TELEGRAPH EXCHANGE, ESA BALTIMARE and ESA SHIP AMICITAS

AMICITAS: Amicitas calling Baltimare, use main life support for response, over.

ESA: Baltimare calling Amicitas, over.

AMICITAS: SG - All in cave, ready to cast sealing spell. Standing by for your order to begin, over.

ESA: TS - Tracer spell active. Go for sealing spell, over.

AMICITAS: Casting now, over.

AMICITAS: Spell complete, you didn’t mention the rumbling. At least none of the crystals fell down, over.

ESA: Can you please recast the spell, over?

ESA: Baltimare calling Amicitas, can you recast the spell, over?

AMICITAS: DF - Mare down, Baltimare, stand by, over.

ESA: Who? What cause, over?

AMICITAS: DF - SG, spell exhaustion, again, waiting on SF, stand by. Over.

ESA: Copy. Tell us when you can recast that spell, over.

AMICITAS: CB - We have nine batteries all down to less than ten percent. We have one unicorn flat on her face, SF attending. We have zero caves remaining that need sealing. Cast on what, with what, with who, over?

ESA: We picked up the spell, but it was weak and ended before we could complete the trace. Need bigger spell that lasts longer to pinpoint your position, over.

AMICITAS: DF – Not happening this week, Baltimare. SF says no more magic today. We need to recharge the batteries, we need to recharge SG, and we need more batteries. Over.

ESA: Sh

AMICITAS: Amicitas calling Baltimare, comms check, over?

ESA: Baltimare copies, Amicitas. I guess Chrysalis gets Angel 8 after all, over.

AMICITAS: Didn’t copy that last, what is Angel 8, over?

ESA: Interdimensional probe. Ask Mark’s people to pick a frequency, preferably between 110 and 130 megaHortz, for beacon signals receivable up to ten million kilometers away all around their world. Simple tone will do. If our probe picks up the signal, we’ve found you, over.

AMICITAS: Amicitas copies. How close are you to finding us, over?

ESA: Not very. The probe probably won’t work, but until you can send another spell up it’s what we have. Tell us when you have beacons, on what frequency. Over.

AMICITAS: Wilco. Going back to base now. Out.


MISSION LOG – SOL 188

The cave is sealed.

It took all of Starlight’s magic batteries, the old ones and the new ones she’s built, to do it, but apparently it’s done.

The spell is a neat example of magical logic at work. Apparently the ponies were knocking their heads against a wall trying to expand the crystals or turn them into some continuous substance, and that took too much power. But magic can just take the holes away, apparently. That’s right- just pick up holes as if they were things instead of an absence of things, and throw them away.

Question: when you throw away a hole, what do you throw it into?

Anyway, according to Starlight she used a subterranean topological tracing spell to outline the exact boundaries of the giant geode. She then cast the spell so that it would reach about six inches above and below that boundary and eliminate all the empty space within that zone. Below the boundary it would create a single continuous layer of solid, pure silicon dioxide. Above, it’d create a mixed layer of whatever materials are on top of the geode- mostly basaltic regolith, which makes for possibly the strongest concrete you can get without rebar or tension reinforcement.

What the rest of us saw began as a light show that might have come out of TRON- not the remake or the sequel, but the original crappy-CGI cheeseball movie. You know, the classic. The entire farm chamber of the cave, and a lot more I guess, lit up in this sort of grid that erupted from Starlight’s horn and penetrated into the crystal walls, giving us one hell of a laser show for a moment. Then we saw Starlight’s magic surge from her horn, and the whole cave… well, rumble isn’t the right word. It didn’t sound like an avalanche, though we were all spooked for a second. It sounded more like thunder from a way off, like what we get in Houston sometimes when thunderstorms are rolling in off the Gulf. You know, the sound your uncle makes about four hours after the enchiladas. But the echoes took a hell of a long time to die out.

Cherry Berry and Spitfire stood outside the cave and told me there was a slight dust slide off the slope of Site Epsilon (why haven’t we come up with a better name for the thing already?) when Starlight cast her spell, but that’s all. When the spell ended Starlight did her usual Captain Cavepony collapse, and we all had an impatient few minutes waiting on Cherry and Spitfire to cycle through the airlock to make sure she was okay. She is, but she’s going to spend tomorrow in bed. Again.

Tired unicorn aside, we’re all breathing a sigh of relief here. The more NASA worried about that cave blowing out, the more we worried about it, too. The ponies didn’t want to mess with it at first, but after the Sleipnir screw-ups they got on the ball and worked the problem.

And now, well, here we are. If it wouldn’t be such a gigantic pain in the ass to shift everything, we could move into the cave, because it’s the absolute safest place on Mars now.

We called it an early day to celebrate. The ponies told me the story of the Royal Canterlot Wedding (with Dragonfly giving interesting commentary from the other side of the Battle of Canterlot, without shame or regret, adorable little war criminal that she is). We read three chapters of Order of the Phoenix- getting to the really good stuff now. And all that was before supper, which means we have all night for bad 70s TV! Starsky and Hutch, Barney Miller, and Three’s Company is on the schedule…

… and, just before bed, we’re going to try out Kolchak the Night Stalker.

It’s not as scary as a glue factory, but I think we need a bit of horror to keep up the quota, now that “breach cave all die during harvest” is off the menu.

MISSION LOG – SOL 188 (2)

Just got this on the chat from Hermes right before the communications window closed for the night:

[19:41] HERMES: Be advised: Rich Purnell is a steely eyed missile man.

I wonder what the hell that’s all about?


He sat at his computer, “unsere kinder” on his screen once more.

Crunch time was technically tomorrow, but he didn’t think things were going to change by then.

JPL was having problems with the maneuvering thrusters required for course correction on Sleipnir 4’s long cruise to Mars. Certain welds had failed during testing, which meant the faulty thrusters had to be disassembled almost completely and rebuilt, setting the probe back several days. Word from Deva Plastics on production of new hab canvas for the tumbler landing system’s airbags continued to be discouraging. The schedule continued to slide, pushing closer and closer to the date, now eighty-four days away, when the probe had to launch to be of any use to Watney and his friends.

Of course, getting a booster to launch Sleipnir 4 wasn’t looking good either. In fact, refueling Sleipnir 3 for its Mars injection burn looked iffy. Congress was digging in its heels, with Teddy’s play on a sympathetic electorate countered by anti-NASA Congressmen waving letters from voters furious with SpaceX for putting the cute, adorable aliens in danger of their lives. Two of the majority members on the House subcommittee had defected to the minority side, and the chairman was trying to get them back on the team, but in the interim SpaceX was shut down waiting for the ranking minority member to accept eleven names from the list of notables offered by the chairman.

He called up his email client, opened the spoofed email he’d saved, and attached the file.

And still he hesitated. These were only setbacks, not disasters. Watney didn’t have a margin, but by the time Sleipnir 2 arrived he might well have one. His report today that they’d successfully sealed and strengthened the cave roof and walls was the only good news all week. And JPL would probably solve its problems in time to launch, and the minority leader couldn’t keep SpaceX shut down once the committee actually sat and took over the investigation. Sleipnir 4 was far from doomed, though the timing would be very tight.

But, he decided, the events of the past few days showed that the unexpected, the impossible, even the totally stupid could happen at any moment and wreck all your plans. The sooner Watney and his friends were on Earth, the sooner Murphy would be limited to non-lethal things to throw at them.

Was it worth his career, and possibly the careers of the five people currently aboard Hermes? Yes it w-

His phone rang.

Before he picked up the phone, he reached down, put in the earbud he used to listen to the live feed direct from Mission Control, and turned the volume back up.

“… and somebody find out who the hell Rich Purnell is!!”

That was Brendan Hutch’s voice, the graveyard shift flight leader. What the hell?

He picked up the phone. “Henderson,” he said.

“Sir, we have a problem with Hermes. It’s off course and accelerating. We don’t know why, but we think it’s deliberate. We’re trying to institute a computer override now.”

“Any idea what’s causing it?” he asked. “Any contact with the crew?”

“Only one text message,” the voice at the other end said. “Something about Rich Purnell being a steely-eyed missile man. No clue what it means.”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes,” he said, and hung up.

The email, unsent, glowed at him from his monitor.

He deleted it. He deleted “unsere kinder” too. He emptied the recycle bin on his desktop.

As he shut down the computer, he thought: I didn’t send it. I didn’t send it!! But how? How??

Who???

Author's Note:

Today's writing time got eaten by a late start from home, an unexpected long stop for lunch while addressing issues with a stock delivery for this weekend's con in Amarillo, and supply shopping. What I had left I used on roughly doubling the length of this chapter instead of writing a new one.

But I should have some time on my hands tomorrow.

Twilight's tracing spell is complex. It's not quite true triangulation, since the trace has to thread through the magical singularity/wormhole/whatever that runs the life support system for Amicitas. It uses a combination of varying signal strength and estimate of the ground zero power of the spell itself to guesstimate the distance through "signal" decay. A score on the first try with such a system isn't to be expected, but a stronger signal from Mars plus refinement of the spell and its measurements mean each future attempt will get closer to a lock. The problem, of course, is casting a spell big enough, for long enough, to get that lock-on.

It could take a while.

And in the meantime, back on Earth, I've completely jumped the rails on a plot point from the book. My reasons may or may not be explained later on, dot dot dot.

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