But all things considered, it was good news. The critical components are working fine, and both vehicles are back on their wheels.
The hoses that connected the rover and trailer were designed well, and released without breaking. I simply snapped them back into place and the vehicles were sharing life support again.
The one remaining thing to fix was the tow hook. It was absolutely ruined. It took the full force of the crash. But as I suspected, the trailer’s tow hook was unscathed. So I transferred it to the rover and reconnected the two vehicles for travel.
All told, that little fender bender cost me four sols. But now I’m back in action!
Sort of.
What if I run into another powder pit? I got lucky this time. Next time I might not get off so easy. I need a way to know if the ground in front of me is safe. At least for the duration of my time on the Ramp. Once I’m in the Schiaparelli Basin proper, I can count on the normal sandy terrain I’m used to.
If I could have anything, it would be a radio to ask NASA the safe path down the Ramp. Well, if I could have anything, it would be for the green-skinned yet beautiful Queen of Mars to rescue me so she can learn more about this Earth thing called “lovemaking.”
It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a woman. Just sayin’.
Anyway, to ensure I don’t crash again, I’ll— Seriously… no women in like, years. I don’t ask for much. Believe me, even back on Earth a botanist/mechanical engineer doesn’t exactly have ladies lined up at the door. But still, c’mon.
Anyway. I’ll drive slower. Like… a crawl. That should give me enough time to react if one wheel starts to sink. Also, the lower speed will give me more torque, making it less likely I’ll lose traction.
Up till now I’ve been driving 25 kph, so I’m going to cut that to 5 kph. I’m still toward the top of the Ramp, but the whole thing is only 45 kilometers. I can take my time and get safely to the bottom in about eight hours.
I’ll do it tomorrow. I’m already out of daylight again today. That’s another bonus: Once I clear the ramp, I can start beelining toward the MAV, which will take me away from the crater wall. I’ll be back to enjoying the entire day’s sunlight instead of just half of it.
If I get back to Earth, I’ll be famous, right? A fearless astronaut who beat all the odds, right? I bet women like that.
More motivation to stay alive.
“SO, IT looks like he’s fixed everything,” Mindy explained. “And his message today was ‘ALL BETTER NOW,’ so I guess he’s got everything working.”
She surveyed the smiling faces in the meeting room.
“Awesome,” Mitch said.
“Great news.” Bruce’s voice came in through the speakerphone.
Venkat leaned forward to the phone. “How are the MAV modification plans coming, Bruce? Is JPL going to have that procedure soon?”
“We’re working around the clock on it,” Bruce said. “We’re past most of the big hurdles. Working out the details now.”
“Good, good,” Venkat said. “Any surprises I should know about?”
“Um…,” Bruce said. “Yeah, a few. This might not be the best venue for it. I’ll be back in Houston with the procedure in a day or two. We can go through it then.”
“Ominous,” Venkat said. “But okay, we’ll pick it up later.”
“Can I spread the word?” Annie asked. “It’d be nice to see something other than the rover crash site on the news tonight.”
“Definitely,” Venkat said. “It’ll be nice to have some good news for a change. Mindy, how long until he gets to the MAV?”
“At his usual rate of 90 kilometers per sol,” Mindy said, “he should get there on Sol 504. Sol 505 if he takes his time. He always drives in the early morning, finishing around noon.” She checked an application on her laptop. “Noon on Sol 504 will be 11:41 a.m. this Wednesday here in Houston. Noon on Sol 505 will be 12:21 p.m. on Thursday.”
“Mitch, who’s handling Ares 4 MAV communications?”
“The Ares 3 Mission Control team,” Mitch replied. “It’ll be in Control Room 2.”
“I assume you’ll be there?”
“Bet your ass I’ll be there.”
“So will I.”
Every Thanksgiving, my family used to drive from Chicago to Sandusky, an eight-hour drive. It’s where Mom’s sister lived. Dad always drove, and he was the slowest, most cautious driver who ever took the wheel.
Seriously. He drove like he was taking a driver’s test. Never exceeded the speed limit, always had his hands at ten and two, adjusted mirrors before each outing, you name it.
It was infuriating. We’d be on the freeway, cars blowing by left and right. Some of them would blare their horns because, honestly, driving the speed limit makes you a road hazard. I wanted to get out and push.
I felt that way all damn day today. Five kph is literally a walking pace. And I drove that speed for eight hours.
But the slow speed ensured that I wouldn’t fall into any more powder pits along the way. And of course I didn’t encounter any. I could have driven full speed and had no problems. But better safe than sorry.
The good news is I’m off the Ramp. I camped out as soon as the terrain flattened out. I’ve already overdone my driving time for the day. I could go further, I still have 15 percent battery power or so, but I want to get as much daylight on my solar cells as I can.
I’m in the Schiaparelli Basin at last! Far from the crater wall, too. I get a full day of sunlight every day from now on.
I decided it was time for a very special occasion. I ate the meal pack labeled “Survived Something That Should Have Killed Me.” Oh my god, I forgot how good real food tastes.
With luck, I’ll get to eat “Arrival” in a few sols.
I didn’t get as much recharge as I usually would yesterday. Because of my extended driving time, I only got up to 70 percent before night fell. So today’s driving was abbreviated.
I got 63 kilometers before I had to camp out again. But I don’t even mind. Because I’m only 148 kilometers from the MAV. That means I’ll get there the sol after tomorrow.
Holy hell, I’m really going to make it!
Holy shit, this is awesome! Holy shit! Holy shit!
Okay calm. Calm.
I made 90 kilometers today. By my estimate, I’m 50 kilometers from the MAV. I should get there sometime tomorrow. I’m excited about that, but here’s what I’m really stoked about: I caught a blip from the MAV!
NASA has the MAV broadcasting the Ares 3 Hab homing signal. Why wouldn’t they? It makes perfect sense. The MAV is a sleek, perfectly functional machine, ready to do what it’s told. And they have it pretending to be the Ares 3 Hab, so my rover will see the signal and tell me where it is.
That is an exceptionally good idea! I won’t have to wander around looking for the thing. I’m going straight to it.
I only caught a blip. I’ll get more as I get closer. It’s strange to think that a sand dune will stop me from hearing what the MAV has to say when it can talk to Earth no problem. The MAV has three redundant methods of communicating with Earth, but they’re all extremely directed and are designed for line-of-sight communication. And there aren’t any sand dunes between it and Earth when they talk.
Somehow they messed with things to make a radial signal, however weak it may be. And I heard it!
My message for the day was “GOT BEACON SIGNAL.” If I’d had enough rocks, I would have added, “AWESOME IDEA!!!” But it’s a really sandy area.
THE MAV waited in southwestern Schiaparelli. It stood an impressive twenty-seven meters tall, its conical body gleaming in the midday sun.