• 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 511

AMICITAS FLIGHT THREE – MISSION DAY 521
ARES III SOL 511

“Tell me again why we can’t just magic these bolts out?”

Dragonfly, hanging off the side of the flight couch, ratcheted away at one of the bolts holding it to the deck. “Oh, we could do it easy. And then tonight I’d come to you in your sleep, stick a straw in your ear, and slurp out your will to live. Again. Now I don’t think that’s such a good plan, but I could be persuaded.”

“Okay, okay,” Mark muttered. “Can’t a guy complain anymore?”

“Mark?” Dragonfly scrabbled around the couch, turning from upside down to rightside up so she could look Mark in the eyes. “Let me show you something.” She took the ratchet in her right fetlock, held it over one of the holes in her left foreleg, and dropped it in. She rocked her left foreleg back and forth a few times. The wrench rattled, bumped, slid, and slipped through the hole, hitting the deck with a loud clang. “Still wanna complain?”

“No,” Mark said, face a little green. “And by the way, could you never do that again so long as we both live?”

“No promises.” Dragonfly returned to her prior position.

Mark grunted and returned to working on the bolts on his side. There wasn’t a lot of room to work in. There wasn’t a lot of room, period. Six seats and consoles had been crammed into a space less than half that of the Amicitas bridge. In a couple of places astronauts boarding had to climb over someone else’s couch to reach their own, as things currently stood. Thus, the first step to all the other modifications on the inside of the MAV was to remove all but one of the existing flight couches. Then two of the Amicitas flight couches that had been rebuilt using the bases from the seats in Mark’s MDV would be installed, so that Cherry Berry, Starlight and Dragonfly could spend the afternoons running flight sims.

After that work would be divided. Mark and Starlight would perform the outside modifications. The sooner those were done, the more time they’d have for the magic batteries to regenerate. Meanwhile, Dragonfly and Fireball would work on the inside, using detailed pictures and diagrams sent beforehand by NASA to guide them through the process of stripping all the equipment- and only that equipment- on the weight-shedding list.

But that would be later. This was now, and right now the benches were taking a lot longer to remove than expected. Dragonfly didn’t want to admit it, but she was tempted to steal a battery so she could shapeshift into something that could actually reach into the small gaps, get the socket on the bolt head, and work the ratchet. A mechanically inclined tree octopus, maybe? A baby hydra? Sadly, taking on the appearance of Pinkie Pie didn’t give a changeling her abilities; otherwise that would have been Dragonfly’s choice.

“There,” Mark said. “That’s the last one on my side. How long on your side?”

“This one and one more,” Dragonfly said. “And then we have one more couch to remove. And then we have to get two couches in here.”

“Fireball, how long has it been?”

The dragon, fully suited except for his helmet, lounged in the MAV’s lower deck, leaning in the open inner airlock door. He checked the clock on his nav display, did a bit of mental math, and called up the ladder, “Two hours and forty-five minutes.”

“So, it hasn’t been a year and a half,” Mark said. “Just seems like it.”

“That sounds like complaining,” Dragonfly said. She really didn’t want to hear it. She was having far too much trouble with these bolts as it was. She felt like she’d just flown from Appleoosa to Horseton and back, and all she’d done was turn a wrench. Mark and Fireball had done the heavy lifting, which wasn’t all that heavy in Martian gravity.

Ugh. She had a problem, didn’t she?

She started removing the last bolt, ratcheting away at the far too secure fastener. She’d have to ask Mark or Fireball to finish torquing all the bolts she began, once they started installing the replacement couches. She wasn’t at all sure she was up to doing it properly, at least not after breaking loose all the bolts that had apparently been tightened by a yak.

She didn’t complain. But she did think. A lot.


“Okay, what did you want to talk to me about?” Cherry asked, once the two were alone in Rover 2, the one place they could be guaranteed privacy.

“I can’t be your sysop,” Dragonfly sighed. “You’ll have to get Spitfire to do it.”

Cherry Berry looked at the exhausted changeling. “Okay,” she said quietly. “I’ve worked with you for five years now. You speak English better than any of us- I think even better than Mark, these days. You know the systems. Spitfire hasn’t studied the systems, her English is barely tolerable, and she’s still in recovering health.” She looked Dragonfly in the eyes and said, “Are you really in that bad shape?”

“Yes.” Dragonfly didn’t hesitate. “A half-day of turning wrenches wrecked me, boss. We need me to keep doing it, or at least to tell Fireball what to do. But I just don’t have the energy to do that and put in the kind of hours I know you’ll want on simulations. And if I'm this weak now, how bad will it be in forty days when we launch? Spitfire's healing. I'm going the other way.”

Cherry Berry didn’t smell angry at the statement, nor particularly disappointed. There was a lot of pity (blech), but there was something else in there that Dragonfly couldn’t place the taste of, something she seldom encountered. “I remember,” the pink mare said quietly, “when you would limp in on three hooves, beat up and bleeding, and insist you were good to go.”

“Yeah. When it was only me,” Dragonfly said. “Changeling warriors don’t show weakness to anybody, not even their friends. Especially not their friends. But this is different. This time me lying could mean everyling dies. We’re going to pull eight G’s at maximum thrust. Healthy pegasi black out under those conditions, sometimes. Spitfire’s trained, and she’s a strong flyer, so she won’t. Me… better not take the chance.”

That strange emotional taste grew a bit stronger. “Okay,” Cherry said quietly. “I’ll talk with Spitfire. Will you be all right to continue work on the MAV?”

“I think so,” Dragonfly said quietly. “If I get too tired I can shuffle more work onto Fireball. He won’t even know I’m doing it.” She considered this, and added, “Well, that’s not quite right. He’ll think I’m doing it all the time, even when I’m not.”

“If that condition changes, talk to me or Mark,” Cherry said quietly. “Somehow, I don’t know how, we all got this far alive. I want us all to get the rest of the way alive and well. That includes you, okay?”

“Thanks,” Dragonfly said.

“Right,” Cherry said. “Let’s go get lunch. And then you get to help me coach Spitfire through control familiarization drills.”

Author's Note:

Film and interview stuff will be my writing meat for the trip to Anime Weekend Atlanta. (I leave just after 5 AM Thursday morning.)

My brain still has a bit of a problem wrapping itself around the idea of an internal boarding ladder for the MAV. The notion of a ladder that extends down through the ascent stages seems too ludicrous for words to me. Therefore, I am assuming that the MAV capsule has an upper and lower deck. The lower deck is for storing rock samples and similar and also includes the airlock, which would take up close to half the diameter of the ship by itself.

And don't get me started on the very idea of the MAV having a full shower and lavatory. That is just too stupid for words. Complete suspension-of-disbelief-breaker in the movie, at least for me.

Yanking the existing flight couches gives room to work for the mods. Replacing them with the repaired pony flight couches is necessary to give the aliens proper support for their bodies during liftoff, which human flight couches likely wouldn't give them.

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