• 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 294-295

AMICITAS FLIGHT THREE – MISSION DAY 298
ARES III SOL 294

Turning wrenches while wearing space suits was annoying, but there wasn’t any choice. Today Mark and the ponies were swapping out Amicitas’s old electrical battery in favor of two of the hydrogen cells from the Hab. That required a mana battery to allow Starlight Glimmer to levitate the battery down safely. It also required four of the pony ship’s five remaining crash benches to be dismounted and part of the floor pulled up to disconnect the long, skinny battery. And, of course, since the battery was far too long to fit in Amicitas’s airlock, that airlock had to be open for the whole procedure.

It had taken them all four hours the sol before to shift the stored hay back into the habitat deck so the bridge could be depressurized. Removing the seats and floor, and then disconnecting all the electrical cables from the old battery, had required another hour and a half today. And now that that was done, Mark, Fireball, and Dragonfly stood looking at the vaguely car-engine shaped battery.

“It’s gonna be a tight turn getting this into the Rover 1 shell,” Mark said. “How did you get this thing in here in the first place?”

“Teleported it into the cabin, then levitated it into place,” Dragonfly said. “Starlight probably has enough power for the teleport, with a fifty percent battery.”

“Could,” Starlight said over the pony comms. “Could, but won’t. The more magic we conserve, the sooner all the batteries are full, and the sooner we can enjoy more time per day in the field.”

“Do you think we can lift it by hand?” Mark asked. He got on his knees, reached down, and worked his gloved hands into the gap. “I can just barely fit my hands in here.”

“No way,” Fireball said, pointing to his own suit. Mark’s suit relied as much on its materials as on air pressure to keep Mark at one bar. The pony-made suits were more Apollo-era, which meant more puffy. “Gonna need the pony.”

“Starlight, could you-“

“On my way.” There followed some grunting and some cursing in Equestrian over the comms. Climbing Amicitas’s boarding ladder with a sixty-kilo metal-clad rock strapped to your back, on top of an already bulky spacesuit, would never be on top of anyone’s list of fun pastimes. Eventually Starlight heaved herself over the threshold of the open airlock, got all four hooves on the deck, and walked inside, battery on her back.

“Hold still a moment,” Dragonfly said, trotting over to have a look at Starlight’s right forearm. If anything happened to the new patch…

“It’s fine,” Starlight grumbled. “Moves a lot easier than before. Chafes a bit more, though.”

“Gotta check anyway,” Dragonfly said.

“Mind if I look?” Fireball was next to her, staring over Dragonfly’s head at the limb.

“Don’t DO that!” Starlight complained, flinching back. “How do you move that fast and quiet, anyway?”

“Stalking wild rocks,” Dragonfly muttered. “Gemstones are easily startled and will run away at the first sign of danger. But Fireball is a renowned hunter among dragons. No gem escapes him.”

Fireball didn’t answer. He just smiled. Dragonfly’s back was to him, so she couldn’t see it except for a distorted reflection in Starlight’s faceplate, but she could count the teeth based on the combined amusement and threat coming off the dragon.

“It’s holding up okay,” the changeling said hurriedly, deciding she’d made a mistake with her joke. “Let’s just get the battery out of its hole. We can maneuver it into the airlock so that you can see it to levitate it down to safety. Once it’s on the ground, we should be able to carry it.”

“We, huh?” Fireball asked. “Like ‘we’ carry airlock to cave?”

“Let’s just get this done,” Starlight grumbled.

“No, wait,” Mark said, holding up a suited finger, “I too wish to hear more of this ‘we’ thing Dragonfly speaks of. Because I don’t recall a bug-pony as part of the ‘we’ that day. Do you, Fireball?”

“No, sir,” Fireball replied, shaking his head solemnly.

“You know I can feel you both laughing inside,” Dragonfly muttered.

“So enjoy the snack,” Mark said. “And then get out of the way while the dragon and I each rupture an intervertebral disk.”

“A what disk?” Fireball asked.

“He says you’ll both throw out your backs,” Starlight muttered.

Fireball stood up straight, almost knocking his helmet on the ceiling of the bridge. “Will not,” he insisted. “Dragons are strong. Dragons are… are… mighty, yes, mighty! My scales are like shields! My teeth are like swords!”

“Your tail is a thunderbolt,” Mark said.

“Yes!”

“Your wings a hurricane.”

“Yes!”

“And your breath could really stand some mints. Maybe some chewing gum.”

“Yyyyyyywhat’s that again?”

“Just reminding you that for all his strength,” Mark said, “Smaug was a bit of an idiot.”

Fireball snorted, and for a moment his helmet bowl clouded up with smoke. “That’s not me,” he said. “But I still can carry battery by myself. I’m stronger than all others here put together.”

Dragonfly chose this moment to step back into the conversation. “But what happens if you do hurt yourself?” she said. “Not likely, but what if? Would it be permanent? How long would we have to go without that strength while you lay in a bunk recovering? Don’t show off. Be careful. Work together. Okay?”

Fireball thought about it. “Yeah,” he said, “you’re right. But I still could do it.”

Cherry Berry, who stood with Spitfire on the ground outside, called up over the comms, “Are you going to remove that battery today or not? We’re burning EVA time.”

“Sorry,” Mark replied, stepping back to the edge of the bridge, leaning against the pilot’s controls. Dragonfly and Fireball went to the opposite corner, near the sealed hatch and ramp leading to the habitat deck, giving Starlight plenty of room to lift the battery out.

Starlight doffed the mana battery from her back, set it down, and switched it on. Blue light surrounded her helmet, and a ray leaped out to grab the battery down in its well. After a second, she grunted. A couple of seconds later, she crouched forward on her hooves, grunting louder, as the light grew brighter. Under Dragonfly’s hooves, the deck began to tilt.

“Hold what you have, Starlight,” Cherry Berry said, gently but firmly. “I want you to very little bit lower the power you put into that lift, all right? Very slow. Bit by bit. Do NOT let go, just ease down. Okay?”

“O… kay?” Starlight’s response was both strained and confused, but the light lessened, and after a second or two the deck became level once more.

“All right, let go slow,” Cherry said. “All the way. Just back out of the spell.”

“Already done,” Starlight said, the magic light winking out around her helmet. “I didn’t realize that battery was so heavy.”

“It isn’t,” Cherry said flatly. “But it’s still bolted into the ship. You had the back end up off the rocks and were about to tip the ship onto its side.”

Dragonfly could vaguely see the shadow of Mark’s head behind his reflective faceplate, shaking in confusion. “But… but how could Starlight lift up the ship while she was standing in it?” he asked. “The rules of leverage ought to make that impossible!”

Dragonfly let the others talk about magic and its unexplainable effects while she contemplated the possibility of melting into the deck. She’d forgotten all about the bolts securing the battery into its hole. All eight of them. Which required a special socket extension that her toolkit didn’t include because removing the battery wasn’t a mission service item.

And she’d forgot them. Forgot the bucking obvious thing, because there had to be bolts there. Otherwise any slight change in momentum would send the massive battery rattling around its hole, bashing things up…and that fact had gone clean out of her-

“Dragonfly,” Mark asked, “how do we unfasten the battery?”

“Oh look!” Dragonfly said. “My suit battery’s about to hit zero! Time to go back in-“ She went silent, then used her forehooves to mime a dead radio. Yes, it only bought ten minutes before she had to admit to being stupid, but that was ten minutes in which she could think of some way to make herself feel a little less stupid.

She ignored the temptation to make it a ten minute head start back to the cave and the cocoon. No matter how nice it would feel, she’d still be the same idiot when she came back out.

MISSION LOG – SOL 295

Today we completed swapping out the old pony ship battery for two of the fourteen remaining Hab hydrogen cells. The hydrogen cells are hooked up to the ship’s power systems, and since they’re connected to Hab power, the Hab power regulators have access to them for drawing down or recharging as needed. Tomorrow I’ll finish linking the old battery into the cobbled-together rig I used to replace Rover 1’s power system when the pressure vessel was removed from its chassis.

Getting the battery out required a lot more of Starlight’s magical abilities than we expected. The tool required to undo the eight bolts that hold the battery to the bottom of the hole it sits in isn’t among Dragonfly’s kit, and I don’t have enough ratchet extensions to reach down even if any of my sockets fit. NASA only gave me the four sockets that the Ares mission specs call for, anyway.

But after yesterday’s strategy session in the Hab, we figured out that Starlight could cast a simple spell to make the bolts unscrew themselves. The only problem was, we had to temporarily repressurize the pony bridge for the spell to work, because, according to Starlight, it wouldn’t be “sonic enough” otherwise. I don’t know if that’s a joke or serious.

Anyway, once that was done we depressurized the bridge again, got the battery on the edge of the airlock, and let Starlight lower it to the ground. It’s lighter than the big airlock was, but not by too much, so I was glad of Fireball’s help to carry the thing over to the Rover 1 radio shack. Then Starlight levitated up the two hydrogen cells, and I spent the rest of the day wiring them in while Dragonfly rigged some makeshift clamps to hold them in place in the back of the cabin. They’re a little too wide to fit in the same trench as the old battery, but they weigh half as much even combined, and they provide one hell of a lot more power.

The weight is the main reason we decided to do this now. Moving the batteries took less magic than moving the whole ship would have… and by lightening the ship a little bit, we made it easier to move the ship to mount it on the Rover 1 chassis when we get that far.

Tomorrow we’re going to take the sole spare Hab lighting strip, plus one of the strips installed on the Hab, and use them to replace the two bulbs that still work on the pony ship. Then, while I do electrician things to get the pony ship battery back into the circuit, the others will plan strategy on the Big Lift.

Looking at the to-do list, I’m feeling very good. Despite the long bit of time off and all the delays, we’re now through sixteen of the twenty-nine action items for the Whinnybago project. Twenty-seven, really; I’ve decided that Pathfinder is not going with us on the trip. We can’t spare the power for its heater, and it weighs too much for its utility once we’re rolling. NASA won’t like it, but I’m pretty sure that about two weeks after I tell them I’m not doing it, they’ll think it was their idea.

And the best part is, once the mods are done, the Hab will still have its current power, we’ll still have our hay barn, and the only thing we’ll have to do when we leave is install the pony life support box from the cave.

I think we’re going to be at loose ends for things to do for about a hundred sols. I wonder how that will affect things.

Anyway, no D&D tonight; just 70’s reruns. Starlight says she has to rework the campaign after Dragonfly impaled the king. See, she figured out he was about to order his guards to kill us so he wouldn’t have to pay the reward for clearing out the bulette. Of course, none of us blame Starlight for not allowing Landgrave Cleftchin to claim the throne by right of conquest afterwards, though we do think having to fight our way out through two hundred royal guards and a level 5 wizard vizier was excessive.

Well, one hundred ninety-two guards. I charmed the vizier by reminding him that the king’s heir was likely to give him the pink-slip no matter what he did to us, and the last eight surviving guards failed their will checks and ran screaming into the night like little babies. Fortunately Fireball and Cherry put Dragonfly’s paladin to sleep long enough for us to carry him out, because none of us were on board with Cleftchin’s proposal to take on the other four battalions of the guard in the same way.

We now know why no Earth probe has found any Martians: murder hobos like us got to them first.

Author's Note:

Another long day. And more in the future, since the estimated repair time of that computer is six days. I could have swapped it out for a replacement with the receipt (and might still do so), but there's a chance of a similar problem with a replacement computer, whereas this guarantees (assuming they find and fix the problem) a computer absent this glitch.

And Dragonfly shouldn't be ashamed much; every other person with her is also an astronaut, and they forgot to check to see if the battery was tied down, too.

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