Project Iris
[08:12]WATNEY: Test.
[08:25]JPL: Received! You gave us quite a scare
there. Thanks for the “A-OK” message. Our analysis
of satellite imagery shows a complete detachment
of Airlock 1. Is that correct? What’s your status?
Include your personal health and Hab equipment.
[08:39]WATNEY: If by “detachment” you mean
“shot me out like a cannon” then yeah. Minor cut
on my forehead. Had some issues with my EVA suit
(I’ll explain later). I patched up the Hab and
repressurized it (main air tanks were intact). I
just got power back online. Primary air and water
tanks were unharmed. The rover, solar array, and
Pathfinder were out of blast range. I’ll run
diagnostics on the Hab’s systems while I wait for
your next reply. By the way, who am I talking to?
[08:52]JPL: Venkat Kapoor, in Houston. Pasadena
relays my messages. I'm going to handle all direct
communication with you from now on. Check the
Oxygenator and Water Reclaimer first. They’re the
most important.
[09:05]WATNEY: Duh. Oxygenator functioning
perfectly. Water Reclaimer is completely offline.
Best guess is water froze up inside and burst some
tubing. I’m sure I can fix it. Hab’s main computer
also functioning without any problems. Any idea
what caused the Hab to blow up?[09:18]JPL: Best guess is fatigue on the canvas
near Airlock 1. The pressurization cycle stressed
it until it failed. From now on, alternate Airlock
2 and 3 for all EVAs. Also, we’ll be getting you a
checklist and procedures for a full canvas exam.
[09:31]WATNEY: Yay, I get to stare at a wall
for several hours! By the way, the farm is dead.
I’ve recovered as many potatoes as I could and
stored them outside. I count 1841. That will last
me 184 days. Including the remaining mission
rations, I’ll start starving on Sol 584.
[09:44]JPL: Yeah, we figured. Working on it.
“It’s Sol 122,” Bruce said. “We have until Sol 584 to get a probe to
Mars. That’s 462 sols, which is 475 days.”
The assembled department heads of JPL furrowed their brows and
rubbed their eyes.
“First they needed a presupply way ahead of schedule,” Bruce
continued. “Now they need it even more ahead of schedule.”
He stood from his chair. “The positions of Earth and Mars aren’t
ideal. The trip will take 414 days. Mounting the probe to the booster and
dealing with inspections will take 13 days. That leaves us with just 48
days to make this probe.”
Sounds of whispered exasperation filled the room. “Jesus,” someone
said.
“It's a whole new ballgame,” Bruce continued. “Our focus is food.
Anything else is a luxury. We don't have time to make a powered-descent
lander. It'll have to be a tumbler. So we can't put anything delicate inside.
Say goodbye to the all the other crap we'd planned to send.”
“Where's the booster coming from?”asked Norm Toshi, who was in
charge of the reentry process.
“The EagleEye 3 Saturn probe,” Bruce said. “It was scheduled to
launch next month. NASA put it on hold so we can have the booster.”“I bet the EagleEye team was pissed about that,” Norm said.
“I'm sure they were,” Bruce said. “But it's the only booster we have
that's big enough. Which brings me to my next point: We only get one
shot at this. If we fuck it up, Mark Watney dies.”
He looked around the room and let that sink in.
“We do have some things going for us,” he finally said. “We have
some of the parts built for the Ares 4 presupply missions. We can steal
from them, and that'll save us some time. Also, we're sending food, which
is pretty robust. Even if there's a reentry problem and the probe impacts
at high velocity, food is still food.
“And we don't need a precision landing. Watney can travel hundreds
of kilometers if necessary. We just need to land close enough for him to
reach it. This ends up being a standard tumble-land presupply. All we
have to do is make it quickly. So let's get to it.”
[08:02]JPL: We've spun up a project to get you
food. It's been in progress for a week or so. We
can get it to you before you starve, but it'll be
tight. It'll just be food and a radio. We can't
send an Oxygenator, Water Reclaimer, or any of
that other stuff without powered descent.
[08:16]WATNEY: No complaints here! You get me
the food, I'll be a happy camper. I've got all Hab
systems up and running again. The Water Reclaimer
is working fine now that I replaced the burst
hoses. As for water supply, I have 620L remaining.
I started with 900L (300 to start with, 600 more
from reducing hydrazine). So I lost almost 300L to
sublimation. Still, with the Water Reclaimer
operational again, it's plenty.
[08:31]JPL: Good, keep us posted on any
mechanical or electronic problems. By the way, the
name of the probe we're sending is “Iris”. Namedafter the Greek goddess who traveled the heavens
with the speed of wind. She's also the goddess of
rainbows.
[08:47]WATNEY: Gay probe coming to save me. Got
it.
Rich Purnell sipped coffee in the silent building. Only his cubicle
illuminated the otherwise dark room. Continuing with his computations,
he ran a final test on the software he'd written. It passed.
With a relieved sigh, he sank back in his chair. Checking the clock on
his computer, he shook his head. 3:42am.
Being an astrodynamicist, Rich rarely had to work late. His job was to
find the exact orbits and course corrections needed for any given mission.
Usually, it was one of the first parts of a project; all the other steps being
based on the orbit.
But this time, things were reversed. Iris needed an orbital path, and
nobody knew when it would launch. A non-Hoffman Mars-transfer isn't
challenging, but it does require the exact locations of Earth and Mars.
Planets move as time goes by. A course calculated for a specific
launch date will work only for that date. Even a single day's difference
would result in missing Mars entirely.
So Rich had to calculate many courses. He had a range of 25 days
during which Iris might launch. He calculated one course for each.
He began an email to his boss.
Mike, he typed, Attached are the courses for Iris, in 1-day increments.
We should start peer-review and vetting so they can be officially
accepted. And you were right, I was here almost all night.
It wasn't that bad. Nowhere near the pain of calculating orbits for
Hermes. I know you get bored when I go in to the math, so I'll summarize:
The small, constant thrust of Hermes's ion drives is much harder to deal
with than the large point-thrusts of presupply probes.
All 25 of the courses take 414 days, and vary only slightly in thrust
duration and angle. The fuel requirement is nearly identical for theorbits and is well within the capacity of EagleEye's booster.
It's too bad. Earth and Mars are really badly positioned. Heck, it's
almost easier to-
He stopped typing.
Furrowing his brow, he stared in to the distance.
“Hmm.” he said.
Grabbing his coffee cup, he went to the break room for a refill.
“I know you're all busy,” Teddy said, “so let's make this fast. I need
status on Project Iris from all departments. Venkat, let's start with you.”
“The mission team's ready,” Venkat said. “There was a minor turf war
between the Ares-3 and Ares-4 presupply control teams. The Ares-3 guys
said they should run it, cause while Watney's on Mars, Ares-3 is still in
progress. The Ares-4 team points out it's their co-opted probe in the first
place. I ended up going with Ares-3.”
“Did that upset Ares-4?” Teddy asked.
“Yeah, but they'll get over it. They have 13 presupply missions
coming up. They won't have time to be pissy.”
“Mitch,” Teddy said to the flight controller, “What about the launch?”
“We've got a control room ready,” Mitch replied. “I'll oversee the
launch, then hand cruise and landing over to Venkat's guys.”
“Media?” Teddy said, turning to Annie Montrose.
“I'm giving daily updates to the press,” she said. “Everyone knows
Watney's fucked if this doesn't work. The public hasn't been this engaged
in ship construction since Apollo 11. CNN's 'The Watney Report' has
been the #1 show in its time-slot for the past two weeks.”
“The attention is good,” Teddy said. “It'll help get us emergency
funding from Congress. Maurice, how's the booster?”
“It's all right for now,” said Maurice Stein, Director of Pad
Operations. “But it's not ideal. EagleEye 3 was set to launch. Boosters
aren't designed to stand upright and bear the stress of gravity for long
periods. We're adding external supports that we'll remove before launch.
It's easier than disassembly. Also the fuel is corrosive to the internaltanks, so we had to drain it. In the mean time, we're performing
inspections on all systems every three days.”
“Good, good,” Teddy nodded. “Now for the big question: Bruce?
How's Iris coming along?”
“We're behind,” Bruce said with a tired shake of his head. “We're
going as fast as we can, but it's just not fast enough.”
“I can find money for overtime,” Teddy offered.
“We're already working around the clock.”
“How far behind are we walking about?” Teddy asked.
“We've been at it 29 days; so we only have 19 left,” Bruce explained.
“After that, the Pad needs 13 days to mount it on the booster. We're at
least two weeks behind.”
“Is that as far behind as you're going to get?” Teddy asked. “Or will
you slip more?”
Bruce shrugged. “If we don't have any more problems, it'll be two
weeks late. But we always have problems.”
“Give me a number,” Teddy said.
“15 days,” Bruce responded. “If I had another 15 days, I'm sure we
could get it done in time.”
“All right,” Teddy said. “Let's create 15 days.”
Turning his attention to the Ares-3 Flight Surgeon, Teddy asked “Dr.
Keller, can we reduce Watney's food intake to make the rations last
longer?”
“Sorry, but no,” Keller said. “he's already at a minimal calorie count.
In fact, considering the amount of physical labor he does, he's eating far
less than he should. And it's only going to get worse. Soon his entire diet
will be potatoes and vitamin supplements. He's been saving protein-rich
rations for later use, but he'll still be malnourished.”
“Once he runs out of food, how long until he starves to death?” Teddy
asked.
“Presuming an ample water supply, he might last three weeks. Shorter
than a typical hunger strike but remember he'll be malnourished and thin
to begin with.”
“Remember,” Venkat interjected, “Iris is a tumbler; he might have todrive a few days to get it. And I'm guessing it's hard to control a rover
when you're literally starving to death.”
“He's right,” Dr. Keller confirmed. “Within 4 days of running out of
food, he'll barely be able to stand up, let alone control a rover. Plus, his
mental faculties will rapidly decline. He'd have a hard time even staying
awake.”
“So the landing date's firm,” Teddy said. “Maurice, can you get it on
the booster in less than 13 days?”
Maurice pondered. “Well... It only takes 3 days to actually mount it.
The following 10 are for testing and inspections.”
“How much can you reduce those?”
“With enough overtime, I could get the mounting down to 2 days.
That includes transport from Pasadena to Cape Canaveral. But the
inspections can't be shortened. They're time-based. We do checks and re-
checks with set intervals between them to see if something deforms or
warps. If you shorten the intervals, you invalidate the inspections.”
“How often do those inspections reveal a problem?” Teddy asked.
A silence fell over the room.
“Uh,” Maurice stammered. “Are you suggesting we don't do the
inspections?”
“No,” said Teddy. “Right now I'm asking how often they reveal a
problem.”
“About one in twenty launches.”
“And how often is the problem they reveal a would-be mission-
failure?”
“I'm, uh, not sure. Maybe half the time?”
“So if we skip the inspections and testing, we have a 1 in 40 chance of
mission failure?” Teddy asked.
“That's 2.5%,” Venkat said, steeping in. “Normally, that's grounds for
a countdown halt. We can't take a chance like that.”
“ 'Normally' was a long time ago,” Teddy said calmly. “97.5% is
better than zero. Can anyone think of a safer way to get more time?”
He looked around the table. Blank faces stared back.
“All right, then. Speeding up the mounting process and skippinginspections buys us 11 days. If Bruce can pull a rabbit out of a hat and get
done sooner, Maurice can do some inspections.”
“What about the other 4 days?” Venkat asked, still frowning at
skipping inspections.
“I'm sure Watney can stretch the food to last 4 extra days,
malnutrition notwithstanding,” Teddy said, looking to Dr. Keller.
“I-” Keller started. “I can't recommend-”
“Folks,” Teddy interrupted. “I understand your positions. We have
procedures. Skipping those procedures means risk. Risk means trouble
for your department. But now isn't the time to cover our asses. We have
to take risks or Mark Watney dies.”
Turning to Keller, he said “Make the food last another 4 days.”
Keller nodded silently.
“Rich,” said Mike.
Rich Purnell concentrated on his computer screen. His cubicle was a
landfill of printouts, charts, and reference books. Empty coffee cups
rested on every surface; take-out packaging littered the ground.
“Rich,” Mike said, more forcefully.
Rich looked up. “Yeah?”
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Just a little side project. Something I wanted to check up on.”
“Well... that's fine, I guess,” Mike said, “but you need to do your
assigned work first. I asked for those satellite adjustments two weeks ago
and you still haven't done them.”
“I need some supercomputer time.” Rich said.
“You need supercomputer time to calculate routine satellite
adjustments?”
“No, it's for this other thing I'm working on,” Rich said.
“Rich, seriously. You have to do your job.”
Rich thought for a moment. “Would now be a good time for a
vacation?” He asked.
Mike sighed. “You know what, Rich? I think now would be an idealtime for you to take a vacation.”
“Great!” Rich smiled. “I'll start right now.”
“Sure,” Mike said. “Go on home. Get some rest.”
“Oh, I'm not going home,” said Rich, returning to his calculations.
Mike rubbed his eyes. “Ok, whatever. About those satellite orbits...?”
“I'm on vacation,” Rich said without looking up.
Mike shrugged and walked away.
[08:01]WATNEY: How's my care package coming
along?
[08:16]JPL: A little behind schedule, but we'll
get it done. In the mean time, we want you to get
back to work. We're satisfied the Hab's is in good
condition. Maintenance only takes you 12 hours per
week. We're going to pack the rest of your time
with research and experiments.
[08:31]WATNEY: Great! I'm sick of sitting on my
ass. I'm going to be here for years. You may as
well make use of me.
[08:47]JPL: That's what we're thinking. We'll
get you a schedule as soon as the science team
puts it together. It'll be mostly of EVAs,
geological samples, soil tests, and weekly self-
administered medical tests. Honestly, this is the
best “bonus Mars time” we've had since the
Opportunity lander.
[09:02]WATNEY: Opportunity never went back to
Earth.
[09:17]JPL: Sorry. Bad analogy.
The Whiteroom was abuzz with activity as technicians sealed Iris in
to the specially-designed shipping container.The other two shifts watched from the observation deck. They had
rarely seen their own homes in two months; a makeshift bunkroom had
been set up in the cafeteria. Fully a third of them would normally be
asleep at this hour, but they did not want to miss this moment.
The shift leader tightened the final bolt. As he retracted the wrench,
the engineers broke in to applause. Many of them were in tears.
After 62 days of grueling work, Iris was complete.
“The launch preparations are complete,” Annie Montrose said to the
press room. “Iris is ready to go. The scheduled launch is 9:14am.
“Once launched, it will stay in orbit for at least three hours. During
that time, mission control will gather exact telemetry in preparation for
the trans-Mars injection burn. Once that's complete the mission will be
handed off to the Ares-3 presupply team, who will monitor its progress
over the following months. It will take 414 days to reach Mars. ”
“About the payload,” a reporter asked, “I hear there's more than just
food?”
“That's true,”Annie smiled. “We allocated 100 grams for luxury
items. There are some handwritten letters from Mark's family, a note
from the President, and a USB drive filled with music from all ages.”
“Any disco?” someone asked.
“No disco,” Annie said, as chuckles cascaded through the room.
CNN's Cathy Warner spoke up “If this launch fails, is there any
recourse for Watney?”
“There are risks to any launch,” Annie said, “but we don't anticipate
problems. The weather at the Cape is clear with warm temperatures.
Conditions couldn't be better.”
“Is there any spending limit to this rescue operation?” another
reporter asked. “Some people are beginning to ask how much is too
much.”
“It's not about the bottom line,” Annie said, prepared for the question.
“It's about a human life in immediate danger. But if you want to look at it
financially, consider the value of Mark Watney's extended mission. Hisprolonged mission and fight for survival is giving us more knowledge
about Mars than the rest of the Ares program combined.”
“Do you believe in God, Venkat?” Mitch asked.
“Sure, lots of 'em,” Venkat said. “I'm Hindu.”
“Ask 'em all for help with this launch.”
“Will do.”
Mitch stepped forward to his station in the large control room. He
glanced at the many screens on the far wall, and the dozens of people at
their stations.
He put his headset on and said. “This is the Flight Director. Begin
Launch Status Check.”
“Roger that, Houston,” came the reply from the Launch Control
Director in Florida. “CLCDR checking all stations are manned and
systems ready,” he broadcast, “Give me a go/no-go for launch. Talker?”
“Go.” came the response.
“Timer.”
“Go,” Came another voice.
“QAM1.”
“Go.”
Resting his chin on his hands, Mitch stared at the center screen. It
showed the Pad video feed. The booster, amid cloudy water vapor from
the cooling process, still had EagleEye3 stenciled on the side.
“QAM2.”
“Go.”
“QAM3.”
“Go.”
Venkat leaned against the back wall. An administrator, his job was
done. He could only watch and hope. His gaze fixated on the far wall's
displays. In his mind he saw the numbers, the shift juggling, the outright
lies and borderline crimes he'd committed to put this mission together. It
would all be worthwhile if it worked.
“FSC.”“Go.”
“Prop 1.”
“Go.”
Teddy sat in the VIP observation room behind mission control. His
authority afforded him the very best seat: front-row center. His briefcase
lay at his feet and he held a blue folder in his hands.
“Prop 2.”
“Go.”
“PTO.”
“Go.”
Annie Montrose paced in her private office next to the press room.
Nine televisions mounted to the wall were each tuned to a different
network; each network showed the launch pad. A glance at her computer
showed foreign networks doing the same. The world was holding its
breath.
“ACC.”
“Go.”
“LWO.”
“Go.”
Bruce Ng sat in the JPL cafeteria along with hundreds of engineers
who had given everything they had to Iris. They watched the large TV
with rapt attention. It was 6:13am in Pasadena, yet every single employee
was present.
“AFLC.”
“Go.”
“Guidance.”
“Go.”
Millions of kilometers away, the crew of Hermes listened as they
crowded around Johanssen's station. The 2-minute transmission time
didn't matter. They had no way to help; there was no need to interact.
Johanssen stared intently at her screen, which displayed only the audio
signal strength. Beck wrung his hands. Vogel stood motionless, his eyes
fixed on the floor. Martinez prayed silently at first, then saw no reason to
hide it. Commander Lewis stood apart, her arms folded across her chest.“PTC.”
“Go.”
“Launch Vehicle Director.”
“Go.”
“Houston, this is Launch Control, we are go for launch.”
“Roger,” Mitch said checking the countdown. “This is Flight, we are
go for launch on schedule.”
“Roger that Houston,” Launch Control said, “Launch on schedule.”
Once the clock reached -00:00:15, the television networks got what
they were waiting for. The Timer Controller began the verbal countdown.
“15,” She said. “14... 13... 12... 11...”
Thousands had gathered at Cape Canaveral; the largest crowd ever to
watch an unmanned launch. They listened to the Timer Controller's voice
as it echoed across the grandstands.
“10... 9... 8... 7...”
Rich Purnell, entrenched in his orbital calculations, had lost track of
time. He didn't notice when his coworkers migrated to the large meeting
room where a TV had been set up. In the back of his mind, he thought the
office was unusually quiet, but he gave it no further thought.
“6... 5... 4...”
“Ignition sequence start.”
“3... 2... 1...”
Clamps released; the booster rose amid a plume of smoke and fire,
slowly at first, then racing ever faster. The assembled crowd cheered it on
its way.
“...and liftoff of the Iris Supply Probe,” the Timer Controller said.
As the booster soared, Mitch had no time to watch the spectacle on
the main screen. “Trim?” He called out.
“Trim's good, Flight.” came the immediate response.
“Course?” He asked.
“On course.”
“Altitude 1000 meters,” someone said.
“We've reached safe-abort,” another person called out, indicating that
the ship could crash harmlessly into the Atlantic Ocean if necessary.“Altitude 1500 meters.”
“Pitch and roll maneuver commencing.”
“Getting a little shimmy, flight.”
Mitch looked over to the Ascent Flight Director. “Say again?”
“A slight shimmy. On-board guidance is handling it.”
“Keep an eye on it,” Mitch said.
“Altitude 2500 meters.”
“Pitch and roll complete, 22 seconds till staging.”
The quick yet thorough design of Iris accounted for catastrophic
landing failure. Rather than normal meal kits, most of the food was cubed
protein bar material. Even if Iris failed to deploy its tumble balloons and
impacted at hundreds of kph, the protein cubes would still be edible.
An unmanned mission, there was no cap on acceleration. The contents
of the probe endured forces no human could survive. While NASA had
tested the effects of extreme G-forces on protein cubes, they had not done
so with a simultaneous lateral vibration. Had they been given more time,
they would have.
The harmless shimmy, caused by a minor fuel mixture imbalance,
rattled the payload. Mounted by strong bolts, Iris held firm. The protein
cubes inside did not.
The thrust compressed the food while the shimmy rattled it. An effect
similar to liquefaction during an earthquake transformed the protein
cubes into a thick sludge. Stored in a compartment that originally had no
left-over space, the now-compressed substance had room to slosh.
The shimmy also caused an imbalanced load, forcing the sludge
toward the edge of its compartment. The shift in weight only aggravated
the problem and the shimmy grew stronger.
“Shimmy's getting violent,” reported the Ascent Flight Director.
“How violent?” Mitch said.
“More than we like,” he said. “But the accelerometers caught it and
calculated the new center of mass. The guidance computer is adjusting
the engines' thrusts to counteract. We're still good.”“Keep me posted,” Mitch said.
“13 seconds till staging.”
The unexpected weight shift had not spelled disaster. All systems
were designed for worst-case scenarios; each did their job admirably. The
ship continued toward orbit with only a minor course adjustment,
implemented automatically by sophisticated software.
The first stage depleted its fuel, and the booster coasted for a fraction
of a second as it jettisoned stage-clamps via explosive bolts. The now-
empty stage fell away from the craft as the second-stage engines prepared
to ignite.
The brutal forces had disappeared. The protein sludge floated free in
the container. Given two seconds, it would have re-expanded and
solidified. But it was given only a quarter-second.
As the second stage fired, the craft experienced a sudden jolt of
immense force. No longer contending with the dead-weight of the first
stage, the acceleration was profound. The 300kg of sludge slammed in to
the back of its container. The point of impact was at the edge of Iris,
nowhere near where the mass was expected to be.
Though Iris was held in place by five large bolts, the force was
directed entirely to a single one. The bolt was designed to withstand
immense forces; if necessary to carry the entire weight of the payload.
But it was not designed to sustain a sudden impact from a loose 300kg
mass.
The bolt sheared. The burden was then shifted to the remaining four
bolts. The forceful impact having passed, their work was considerably
easier than that of their fallen comrade.
Had the pad crew been given time to do normal inspections, they
would have noticed the minor defect in one of the bolts. A defect that
slightly weakened it, though would not cause failure on a normal mission.
Still, they would have swapped it out with a perfect replacement.
The off-center load presented unequal force to the four remaining
bolts, the defective one bearing the brunt of it. Soon, it failed as well.
From there, the other three failed in rapid succession.Iris slipped from its supports in the payload bulb, slamming in to the
hull.
“Woah!” exclaimed the Ascent Flight Director. “Flight, we're getting
a large precession!”
“What?” Mitch said as alerts beeped and lights flashed across all the
consoles.
“Force on Iris is at 7 G's,” someone said.
“Intermittent signal loss,” came another voice.
“Ascent, What's happening here?” Mitch demanded.
“All hell broke loose. It's spinning on the long axis with a 17 degree
precession.”
“How bad?”
“At least 5 rps, and falling off course.”
“Can you get it to orbit?”
“I can't talk to it at all; signal failures left and right.”
“Comm!” Mitch shot to the Communications Director.
“Workin' on it, Flight,” came the response. “There's a problem with
the onboard system.”
“Getting some major G's inside, Flight.”
“Ground telemetry shows it 200 meters low of target path.”
“We've lost readings on the probe, Flight.”
Mitch zeroed in on that last comment. “Entirely lost the probe?”
Mitch asked.
“Affirm, Flight. Intermittent signal from the ship, but no probe.”
“Shit,” Mitch said. “It shook loose in the bay.”
“It's dradeling, Flight.”
“Can it limp to orbit?” Mitch said. “Even super-low EO? We might be
able to-”
“Loss of signal, Flight.”
“LOS here, too.”
“Same here.”
Other than the alarms, the room fell silent.
After a moment, Mitch said “Reestablish?”“No luck,” said Comm.
“Ground?” Mitch asked.
“GC,” same the reply, “Vehicle had already left visual range.”
“SatCon?” Mitch asked.
“No satellite acquisition of signal.”
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?