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Six days ago, astronaut Mark Watney became one of the first people to walk on Mars.
Now, he's sure he'll be the first person to die there.
After a dust storm nearly kills him and forces his crew to evacuate while thinking him dead, Mark finds himself stranded and completely alone with no way to even signal Earth that he’s alive—and even if he could get word out, his supplies would be gone long before a rescue could arrive.
Chances are, though, he won't have time to starve to death. The damaged machinery, unforgiving environment, or plain-old "human error" are much more likely to kill him first.
But Mark isn't ready to give up yet. Drawing on his ingenuity, his engineering skills—and a relentless, dogged refusal to quit—he steadfastly confronts one seemingly insurmountable obstacle after the next. Will his resourcefulness be enough to overcome the impossible odds against him?
VIPs in the observation booth. Through the glass, he saw Mitch throw his hands up in frustration. “The launch missed badly,” Venkat said, looking past Mitch to the screens beyond. “The intercept distance was going to be way too big. So they’re using the attitude adjusters to close the gap.” “What do attitude adjusters usually do?” “They rotate the ship. They’re not made for thrusting it. Hermes doesn’t have quick-reaction engines. Just the slow, steady ion engines.” “So…problem solved?” Annie.
One cage.” “Copy, Beck,” said Martinez. “I’ll move them to the reactor room.” “Are you back in yet, Vogel?” Lewis asked. “I am just reentering now, Commander.” “Beck,” Lewis said to her headset. “I’ll need you back in, too. But don’t take your suit off.” “Okay,” Beck said. “Why?” “We’re going to have to literally blow up one of the doors,” Lewis explained. “I’d rather we kill the inner one. I want the outer door unharmed, so we keep our smooth aerobraking shape.” “Makes sense,” Beck.
Carefully. He poured it into the strongest container he could find, a thick glass beaker. The strength of the container was as important as the explosive. A weak container would simply cause a fireball without much concussive force. A strong container, however, would contain the pressure until it reached true destructive potential. He quickly drilled a hole in the beaker’s stopper, then stripped a section of wire. He ran the wire through the hole. “Sehr gefährlich,” he mumbled as he poured.
Cleaned out the tubing and put it all back together. It completely solved the problem. I’ll have to do it again someday, but not for a hundred sols or so. No big deal. I told NASA what I did. Our (paraphrased) conversation was: Me: “I took it apart, found the problem, and fixed it.” NASA: “Dick.” AL102 shuddered in the brutal storm. Withstanding forces far greater than it was designed for, it rippled violently against the airlock seal-strip. Other sections of canvas undulated along their.
Let’s start with you.” “The mission team’s ready,” Venkat said, looking at spreadsheets on his laptop. “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, because while Watney’s on Mars, Ares 3 is still in progress. The Ares 4 team points out it’s their coopted probe in the first place. I ended up going with Ares 3.” “Did that upset Ares 4?” Teddy asked. “Yes, but they’ll get over it. They have thirteen other presupply.