They held the press conference at 9:00 a.m. It was pushing the boundaries of the legal requirements. By law, they should have released the information within 24 hours of receiving it, but the work of informing the Watneys and the Ares III crew, getting the journalists coordinated, and preparing a statement had taken the whole day and most of the night.

NASA was facing something unprecedented and wanted to get it right, especially in the face of their abject failure years earlier to realize that they'd left Mark behind on Mars.

They were going to be facing enough questions about that.

They'd wanted to make sure they had their ducks in a row this time.

Melissa understood that.

As a military officer and having commanded the Ares III mission, she understood that better than most.

But she couldn't help but feel the wear of the information.

Now that she knew, she needed the world to know too.

Part of that was for her own absolution.

She hadn't completely failed as a mission commander. She hadn't gotten a crew member killed. There was still a chance that all of her crew could come home to Earth safely. She wanted — needed — the world to know that.

It had been hours now since Henderson uttered those words.

Mark Watney is still alive.

Melissa could still feel the weight of them, settling like stone in her bones, filling that empty space that had existed inside her since she'd given the order to leave Mars without Mark. The weight of responsibility was a comfortable thing and she ached now that that hole has been filled.

She let herself dwell on it, on Mark's miraculous survival, because if she didn't, she'd have to think about the fact that she left Mark behind.

That he was alive and she'd left him, stranded and alone, on an alien planet millions of miles from home.

So she understood NASA's hesitation is revealing his survival. She understood the stressed looks on the faces of Sanders, Henderson, Montrose, Kapoor, and all the personnel that her crew had dealt with in the last 12 hours.

She understood because she felt it too.

Even if she couldn't let it show.

But the time for delays was over. Just through the door in front of her, only a few feet away, sat press from around the world, waiting for the announcement, only a few minutes away, that would again reshape how the world saw NASA's space program.

Melissa waited just to the left of that door with the rest of her crew, standing stiff and upright in her pressed and polished military uniform. They were all in their best with their faces marshalled into professional masks.

Only Melissa, who knew them so well and knew intimately and personally how hard this news had hit them all, could see the lingering shock in their eyes, the tiredness they refused to show, having spent the night awake preparing themselves to wade back into the media storm.

And, somehow, in all of that, trying to deal with the news that their lost crewmember wasn't so lost after all.

Mark is alive, she reminded herself, because every time she said it, every time she thought, she felt a surge of strength. Felt more prepared, more settled, more able to take on what was coming.

"Mark is alive," she said and watched her crew straighten, watched the guilt and sadness beaten back again for a little while.

"Mark is alive," they echoed back, sharing smiles and drawing strength from the simple words.

Behind them, Annie Montrose entered the room followed by Kapoor and Henderson.

"Are we ready?" she asked.

Melissa didn't have to look at her crew to know they felt the same as she did, but she looked anyway. In their faces she saw strength and family and a stubborn will to do whatever it took to bring Mark home.

Mark Watney is alive, she thought.

"We're ready," she said.