“Venk, the site got hit by a 175 kph sandstorm. It’ll be in really bad shape.”
“That’s why I want imagery,” Venkat said. “I just need a couple of shots of the site. We could learn a lot.”
“Like what? You think we’d send people to Mars without being sure everything was in perfect working order?”
“Everything doesn’t have to be perfect,” Venkat said quickly. “Whatever’s broken, we’d send replacements for.”
“How will we know from imagery what’s broken?”
“It’s just a first step. They evac’d because the wind was a threat to the MAV, but the Hab can withstand a lot more punishment. It might still be in one piece.
“And it’ll be really obvious. If it popped, it’d completely blow out and collapse. If it’s still standing, then everything inside will be fine. And the rovers are solid. They can take any sandstorm Mars has to offer. Just let me take a look, Teddy, that’s all I want.”
Teddy paced to the windows and stared out at the vast expanse of buildings. “You’re not the only guy who wants satellite time, you know. We have Ares 4 supply missions coming up. We need to concentrate on Schiaparelli crater.”
“I don’t get it, Teddy. What’s the problem here?” Venkat asked. “I’m talking about securing us another mission. We have twelve satellites in orbit around Mars; I’m sure you can spare one or two for a couple of hours. I can give you the windows for each one when they’ll be at the right angle for Ares 3 shots—”
“It’s not about satellite time, Venk,” Teddy interrupted.
Venkat froze. “Then… but… what…”
Teddy turned to face him. “We’re a public domain organization. There’s no such thing as secret or secure information here.”
“So?”
“Any imagery we take goes directly to the public.”
“Again, so?”
“Mark Watney’s body will be within twenty meters of the Hab. Maybe partially buried in sand, but still very visible, and with a comm antenna sticking out of his chest. Any images we take will show that.”
Venkat stared. Then glared. “This is why you denied my imagery requests for two months?”
“Venk, come on—”
“Really, Teddy?” he said. “You’re afraid of a PR problem?”
“The media’s obsession with Watney’s death is finally starting to taper off,” Teddy said evenly. “It’s been bad press after bad press for two months. Today’s memorial gives people closure, and the media can move on to some other story. The last thing we want is to dredge everything back up.”
“So what do we do, then? He’s not going to decompose. He’ll be there forever.”
“Not forever,” Teddy said. “Within a year, he’ll be covered in sand from normal weather activity.”
“A year?” Venkat said, rising to his feet. “That’s ludicrous. We can’t wait a year for this.”
“Why not? Ares 4 won’t even launch for another five years. Plenty of time.”
Venkat took a deep breath and thought for a moment.
“Okay, consider this: Sympathy for Watney’s family is really high. Ares 6 could bring the body back. We don’t say that’s the purpose of the mission, but we make it clear that would be part of it. If we framed it that way, we’d get more support in Congress. But not if we wait a year. In a year, people won’t care anymore.”
Teddy rubbed his chin. “Hmm…”
MINDY PARK stared at the ceiling. She had little else to do. The three a.m. shift was pretty dull. Only a constant stream of coffee kept her awake.
Monitoring the status of satellites around Mars had sounded like an exciting proposition when she took the transfer. But the satellites tended to take care of themselves. Her job turned out to be sending e-mails as imagery became available.
“Master’s degree in mechanical engineering,” she muttered. “And I’m working in an all-night photo booth.”
She sipped her coffee.
A flicker on her screen announced that another set of images was ready for dispatch. She checked the name on the work order. Venkat Kapoor.
She posted the data directly to internal servers and composed an e-mail to Dr. Kapoor. As she entered the latitude and longitude of the image, she recognized the numbers.
“31.2°N, 28.5°W… Acidalia Planitia… Ares 3?”
Out of curiosity, she brought up the first of the seventeen images.
As she’d suspected, it was the Ares 3 site. She’d heard they were going to image it. Slightly ashamed of herself, she scoured the image for any sign of Mark Watney’s dead body. After a minute of fruitless searching, she was simultaneously relieved and disappointed.
She moved on to perusing the rest of the image. The Hab was intact; Dr. Kapoor would be happy to see that.
She brought the coffee mug to her lips, then froze.
“Um…,” she mumbled to herself. “Uhhh…”
She brought up the NASA intranet and navigated through the site to the specifics of the Ares missions. After some quick research, she picked up her phone.
“Hey, this is Mindy Park at SatCon. I need the mission logs for Ares 3, where can I get ’em?… Uh huh… uh-huh… Okay… Thanks.”
After some more time on the intranet, she leaned back in her seat. She no longer needed the coffee to keep awake.
Picking up the phone again, she said, “Hello, Security? This is Mindy Park in SatCon. I need the emergency contact number for Dr. Venkat Kapoor…. Yes it’s an emergency.”
MINDY FIDGETED in her seat as Venkat trudged in. To have the director of Mars operations visiting SatCon was unusual. Seeing him in jeans and a T-shirt was even more unusual.
“You Mindy Park?” he asked with the scowl of a man operating on two hours of sleep.
“Yes,” she quavered. “Sorry to drag you in.”
“I’m assuming you had a good reason. So?”
“Um,” she said, looking down. “Um, it’s. Well. The imagery you ordered. Um. Come here and look.”
He pulled another chair to her station and seated himself. “Is this about Watney’s body? Is that why you’re shook up?”
“Um, no,” she said. “Um. Well… uh.” She winced at her own awkwardness and pointed to the screen.
Venkat inspected the image. “Looks like the Hab’s in one piece. That’s good news. Solar array looks good. The rovers are okay, too. Main dish isn’t around. No surprise there. What’s the big emergency?”
“Um,” she said, touching her finger to the screen. “That.”
Venkat leaned in and looked closer. Just below the Hab, beside the rovers, two white circles sat in the sand. “Hmm. Looks like Hab canvas. Maybe the Hab didn’t do well after all? I guess pieces got torn off and—”
“Um,” she interrupted. “They look like rover pop-tents.”
Venkat looked again. “Hmm. Probably right.”
“How’d they get set up?” Mindy asked.
Venkat shrugged. “Commander Lewis probably ordered them deployed during the evac. Not a bad idea. Have the emergency shelters ready in case the MAV didn’t work and the Hab breached.”
“Yeah, um,” Mindy said, opening a document on her computer, “this is the entire mission log for Sols 1 through 6. From MDV touchdown to MAV emergency liftoff.”
“Okay, and?”
“I read through it. Several times. They never threw out the pop-tents.” Her voice cracked at the last word.
“Well, uh…,” Venkat said, furrowing his brow. “They obviously did, but it didn’t make it into the log.”