Chapter 4: Watched

Katniss awoke to the shrill alarm on her cell phone. Her head ached and her eyelids felt like lead. This was getting harder every "morning". She groaned as she shut the alarm off. She sat up and stretched, then proceeded to get dressed in the near darkness of her room muttering a string of obscenities. "Fucking intergalactic babysitter," she shoved one leg in her black yoga pants. "Stupid astronaut can't stay with his group," she shoved her other leg in the yoga pants. "You learn that in fucking Kindergarten," she snapped on a bra. "What the hell kind of kid were you growing up?" she pulls on a soft green Henley and weaves her hair in a quick braid, her go-to hairstyle. Living on Mars time was an ass-kicker and fashion was out the window along with sleep and a social life. It was like having a newborn to take care of.

It wasn't like she had much of a social life anyway. But if she wanted to have one, she couldn't now.

She moved into the kitchen where the microwave clock glowed 12:13. Katniss knew it was "pm" because she had gone to bed in the wee hours of the morning and because the sun glared in the windows. She continued her tirade as she made coffee in the Keurig and got a Greek yogurt and banana for breakfast.

"How do you take your coffee Mr. Mellark?"

"Black"

"But it's so bitter."

"Like your soul."

"I wouldn't be bitter if it wasn't for being stuck on effing Mars time."

"Try being stuck on Mars."

"Oooh, burn. Still, Mars time plus Earth sun sucks."

"As Gramma Mellark used to say, 'This too shall pass.'"

"You're incorrigible."

"Do you even know what that means?"

"I think it means you want to be treated like a little boy."

Scoffs.

"Don't look at me that way. You're the one that needs a babysitter."

Katniss shook her head. The longest conversation she had had lately was with an astronaut that wasn't there.

She grabbed her purse and keys and left for Johnson Space Center for another day of watching over Peeta Fucking Mellark.

Suddenly, she burst back through her front door and ran to her room to retrieve her cell phone. "Fuck you!" she called to the astronaut who wasn't there, but who she imagined would chuckle at her if he was.

That cell phone was her lifeline.

Shortly after Haymitch assigned her to Mars and Peeta, Katniss realized he tended to follow the same routine every day. By 9 am local time at the Antares 3 site, stuff moved or changed so she knew he was up. Haymitch decided to make this work in their favor by having Katniss live on Mars time, like they did for the Mars rover missions: Sprit, Opportunity, and Curiosity. Haymitch had Nancy "Wiress" Ng, program Katniss's phone to keep Mars time. She'd wake up when Peeta did and go to bed when Peeta did. She probably took a crap when Peeta did too. Her life was tethered to the stranded astronaut until he was rescued or...she didn't allow herself to consider the alternative. Even if he was a thorn in her side.

Darius, her neighbor and landlord in their shared duplex was on the doorstep, returning home for lunch when he heard the expletive from his normally quiet and reserved neighbor. He paused wondering what caused the outburst, then went inside shaking his head, perplexed.

Haymitch was uncomfortable. He did not like public appearances, but the recording studio set up in the media room was torture: bright lights, make up, appearing on live TV, talking to a camera instead of a real person. He had done it plenty of times before, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

The countdown. Lights. Camera. And they were on.

"Good morning! Caesar Flickerman here with CNN's Mellark Monitor, where we keep you informed about astronaut Peeta Mellark, whose plight on Mars has captured the attention of the nation and the world. Several EVAs, what are they for? And what do they mean? And later, an update on plans to rescue him." He flashed a megawatt smile to the camera. "With me this morning is NASA's director of Mars operations, Haymitch Abernathy! Haymitch, welcome to the show."

"Thank you for having me," Haymitch answered stiffly, talking directly to the camera.

"Now, tell me, what is the status of the most watched man on Mars?"

"He's, uh, doing well, as far as we can tell. He's busy. He's healthy."

"So, Haymitch, the satellite images coming in lately show Peeta making a lot of EVAsss," he lingered on the "s" letting it out like a short hiss. It was Caesar's trademark. It grated on Haymitch's nerves.

Haymitch smoothed his tie, "Yes, we've observed him making alterations to Rover 2. He added the battery from Rover 1 by putting it in a homemade saddle bag of sorts. The next day he removed 14 solar cells from the solar farm and put them on the rover's roof. "

"What do you think he's up to?"

"Our analysis is that he's preparing to make a long journey. We have observed him doing incremental tests: driving aimlessly for an hour before heading back for the Hab and another time driving four kilometers and back."

"Anything else?"

"He's loading up supplies."

"Any idea of where he might go?" asked Flickerman.

"The only place for him to go is Antares 4. He doesn't know that we know he's alive and that we're watching him. From his perspective, the only hope of rescue is the Antares 4 mission."

"It appears he intends to leave soon. What do you think?"

"Well, he knows the MAV is already at Antares 4, so he might be trying to get to it. If he did, he'd be able to contact us."

"That would be a good thing right?"

Haymitch scoffed, "No, actually, it's not. There's nothing there, but the MAV. To drive 3200 kilometers one way, on short supplies, over dangerous terrain to use a radio? The risks far outweigh any benefit. It isn't worth it. He'd be leaving the safety of the Hab and all of his support systems behind."

"It sounds like you'd rather he stay put?"

"Absolutely. And that's what we'd tell him if we had any way to communicate."

Caesar's brows furrowed and he stated knowingly, "But he can't stay put forever, can he?"

"We're working on that. We have a plan to land the MDV from the Antares 4 mission at the Antares 3 site to pick him up."

"I thought that idea was scrapped. It was too dangerous," said Flickerman frowning.

"It was. We're working with JPL on making it safer. They are running the numbers on planned modifications now," Haymitch did not like the rescue plan being challenged by this talking head.

"Does JPL have enough time to make modifications and test them?" asked Caesar, "I mean, there's only three and a half years until Antares 3 launches..."

Haymitch was getting defensive, "The Lunar Lander was built from scratch in seven years."

Beaming, Caesar laughs, dispelling the mounting tension, "You're right about that! So, tell me Haymitch, just between you and me, what are Peeta Mellark's odds?"

Haymitch's weariness showed through in his slumped shoulders. He heaved a big sigh, "The odds are not in his favor, but we're going to do everything we can to bring him home alive."

"Well, he's had quite the piece of bad luck, but we wish him all the best of luck. We'll be sure to be paying attention. Thank you so much for taking time out of your busy schedule to talk to us."

"Thank you Caesar."

Haymitch got out of there as fast as he could, and settled at his desk. He had his flask out in record time and enjoyed a long tranquilizing drink. Dealing with talk show hosts was the worst. The Worst.

Katniss did not know what to expect when Haymitch asked her to come to the next directors' meeting. She was silently grateful that Prim wasn't in class when she called. Prim helped her pick out a charcoal grey pencil skirt and a light yellow blouse. At Prim's insistence she wore her hair down in waves rather than her usual braid. It made her look more mature, Prim said. She meant to shower, but the hot water went out. Again. She hoped Darius would fix it quickly.

She opened the door to the conference room and took in the sight before her. She was thoroughly outranked. Everyone in here was a director. Even Haymitch Abernathy was four levels of management above her. He sat on the other side of the table drinking coffee. On the near side of the large table was Plutarch Heavensbe the director of JPL typing furiously on his laptop. Next to Haymitch, Katniss recognized Johanna Mason, whom she met before, scrolling through messages on her phone. And there were others, some of whom she didn't recognize.

Katniss was still standing in the doorway when a tall man brushed past her. "Excuse me," came the deep voice. Then he narrowed his eyes and looked more closely at her, "Who are you?" he asked not even bothering to mask his surprise. Katniss looked up and noticed he had dark hair and grey eyes, like hers.

Overwhelmed by the room full of big wigs, Katniss blushed furiously and answered, "Katniss," so quietly that the man could barely hear her. His eyes went distant for a second and he turned his head, attentive to his earpiece. Then he gave a short nod and turned his attention back to Katniss and resumed the conversation.

"Catnip?" he asked with a frown, incredulous.

"Katniss. Katniss Everdeen," she said getting irritated with the brusque man.

"Why are you here?" he asked, sipping his hot coffee carefully.

"I'm from SatCon."

"You a director?"

"No. I just work there, I...I'm nobody..." Katniss was getting more embarrassed and more indignant the longer she talked with Tall Dark and Rude. And handsome...but mostly rude.

"Gale, leave her alone!" Haymitch called across the room and waved Katniss over to the seat next to him. "I put her in charge of tracking Mellark and of getting the imagery."

"Where's Robert Mitchell?" asked Gale making his way to his own chair.

"He's busy," said Haymitch. "Sweetheart here is handling all the Martian satellites and keeps them pointed at Mellark for us."

"Why her?"

"Well, for starters, she noticed he was alive when the first images came in."

"What? So she gets a promotion because she just happened to be in the right place at the right time?"

"No, she got a promotion because she figured out he was alive. Stop being a jackass, Gale. You're gonna hurt her feelings."

"Didn't think of that. Sorry Catnip."

"It's Katniss."

"Right. Katniss. Sorry."

"S'okay," Katniss shrugged. It wasn't okay, but she wasn't going to mouth off at a director.

Plutarch paused typing and looked up from his laptop. "Where's Seneca? I've got a plane to catch. I want to get this meeting started."

"Quit your bitching," said Johanna, "None of us wants to be here."

"He'll be here," assured Haymitch.

Gale Hawthorne swiveled his chair back and forth while he listened to the occasional message in his earpiece. He was the flight director and the earpiece allowed him to listen in on real time comm chatter from Mission Control.

Haymitch turned to Johanna, "So, how'd I do on Flickerman's show this morning?"

"Weeell, you shouldn't say things like 'bring him home alive'. It reminds people that he might die," Johanna answered.

"Like they're going to forget that," Haymitch scoffed.

"You asked for my opinion. Don't like it, go fuck yourself," Johanna retorted.

"You're such a delicate flower. How'd you end up in media relations?"

"Fuck me if I know."

"Your place or mine?"

At that moment Seneca breezed through the door. Despite the wear and tear that everyone was feeling since finding Peeta Mellark alive on Mars, Seneca hardly showed it. He was still perfectly put together; the only sign of weariness was the slight purple shading under his eyes.

"Sorry I'm late," he removed folders from his briefcase and stacked them neatly as he took his seat. He looked across the room. "Looks like we're all here," he stated, "Let's get started." Wasting no time he turned to Haymitch, "Haymitch, what's Mellark's status?"

"Alive and well. No change since the e-mail I sent this morning."

"What is the status of the RTG? Johanna, does the public know yet?"

"The public hasn't figured it out and we're not obligated to inform them of our analysis of the imagery. So, so far, so good."

Seneca turned his attention back to Haymitch, "Why would he want the RTG?"

"Heat. He wants to make a long journey in the rover, but the heaters take a lot of power. The RTG is hot. Using it for heat is a great idea, actually."

"But isn't it dangerous?" asked Seneca.

"Well, as long as it's intact, no. Even if the container cracks it would still be fine. If the pellets inside crack, he's a dead man."

"Let's hope that doesn't happen," said Seneca. His eyes darted to Plutarch, "How are plans for the MDV coming along?"

"We had plans for the MDV and you rejected them," Plutarch sulked.

"Come on Plutarch."

Plutarch took a deep breath, "We have an idea to lighten the MDV. It can be its usual weight for landing, then drop weight to make the lateral flight to Antares 4. So we're working on making a detachable hull and heat shield. They're running the numbers now."

"Good. Keep me posted." Seneca turned his sharp gaze to Katniss and smiled, "Welcome to the big leagues Miss Everdeen."

"Thank you, sir."

"How's our coverage of Mellark?"

"Generally we have excellent coverage, except every forty-one hours there's a seventeen minute gap. The orbits work out that way," she explained.

"Good. You had an immediate answer. I like when people are organized," he gave her an approving nod.

"Thank you," Katniss said quietly.

"I want that gap down to four minutes. I'm giving you total authority over satellite trajectories and orbital adjustments. Starting now. Make it happen."

"Yes sir," Katniss said. Though, she had no idea how she was going to do it.

"Gale, your last e-mail said you had something urgent to discuss?"

"Yeah, when are we going to tell the crew that Mellark is alive?"

Haymitch grunted, "Gale, we discussed this."

Gale pressed his lips in a fine line, "What's the problem? Do you think they can't handle it? They think they lost a crewmate. They're devastated."

"And telling them they abandoned a crewmate? You think that's going to make them feel better?"

"They deserve to know the truth. We can't keep them in the dark."

"It's best for them to focus on getting home!" insisted Haymitch.

"No! I'm the flight director. I decide what's best for them and I say we tell them!" Gale's steel eyes flashed hotly.

Everyone's eyes were wide watching the two men argue. Katniss was stunned by the intensity between them. Gale and Haymitch stared each other down across the room. All eyes shifted to Seneca.

Seneca's penetrating blue eyes flitted between the two men, then huffing he said, "I'm with Haymitch. We don't tell the crew until we have a solid plan. Some hope. There's no point to do otherwise."

"Bullshit." Gale leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "This is total bullshit." His voice cracked on the last word.

The room was silent. Seneca waited a few moments for the tension to pass. Then proceeded, nodding toward Plutarch. "Okay, you guys are on the rescue option." Then he turned to Haymitch. "But how does he stay alive until Antares 4?"

Haymitch glanced quickly at some of the paperwork before him. "Our problem isn't going to come from equipment failure. All of the systems should continue working as long as there's someone there to fix problems as they arise. The real difficulty is food. Peeta's going to starve to death once his food runs out in a year. We need to send him food supplies. Simple as that."

"Can we land an Antares 4 presupply at the Antares 3 site?" Seneca asked.

"That's what we were thinking," said Haymitch, "Only they weren't set to launch for another year. They aren't anywhere near ready. Beyond that, with the positions of Earth and Mars, we figure it will take nine months to get the probe there. Peeta should have three hundred and fifty more days of food. That means we need to get the probe ready in three months."

Plutarch nearly choked. "It takes six months to properly prepare a probe. We normally pipeline a bunch of them at once. We're not set up to make one in a hurry."

"I'm sure you can find a way, Plutarch," said Seneca.

"The overtime alone will be a nightmare."

"You work on getting us that probe; I'll work on getting you the funding."

"There's also the booster," Haymitch said, clearly uncomfortable with the information he had to relay. "The only way to get a probe to Mars with the current positions of the planets is to use a Super-heavy." He rubbed his face. "The only Super we currently have available is the Delta IX rocket that's at the Cape for the Saturn probe. We'll have to steal that. I talked to ULA, and they just can't make another booster in time."

Seneca stroked his beard thoughtfully. "The EagleEye 3 team will be ticked, but okay. We will delay their mission if JPL gets the payload done in time."

Plutarch rubbed his eyes. "We'll do our best."

"He'll starve to death if you don't," Seneca said.

After a few more exchanges, Seneca concluded the meeting and the directors all filed out. Katniss muttered under her breath, "Astronauts are crazy."

She didn't think anyone heard her until Johanna piped up, "What did you expect, Brainless. It takes a special person to strap a rocket to their ass and blast themselves into outer space."

The lights of the Johnson Space Center glowed outside Haymitch's office windows. It was late at night and normally, he'd be at home at this hour. Instead he was typing an e-mail to a congressman. He hated begging, but NASA was in desperate need of emergency funding to cover all the overtime, new projects, and everything else they were doing to rescue Peeta. Haymitch found himself doing a lot of things he normally wouldn't do: changing shift schedules, altering fund allocations, juggling projects, and out-and-out looting of other projects. But he was willing to do anything to bring Peeta Mellark home, as evidenced by his ass-kissing and groveling to the prominent congressman on the committee that could approve emergency funding. You owe me Mellark.

A soft knock at the door interrupted him. "Come in!" he called gruffly and he looked up to see Katniss enter.

"What's going on, Sweetheart?"

"He's on the move."

Haymitch's eyebrows furrowed, "Another test drive, you think?"

She shook her head, "No, he drove straightaway from the Hab for almost two hours, did a short EVA, then drove again. I think the EVA was to change the batteries."

Haymitch leaned back in his chair. "Well, maybe it's an overnight test?"

"If it was just another test, wouldn't he stay within sight or walking distance of the Hab?"

"How far did he get?" asked Haymitch.

"Seventy-six kilometers," answered Katniss.

Haymitch let out a low whistle, that was a good bit of distance. What was that boy up to?

"Shit," he cursed under his breath. "We've had teams run the numbers on that set up of his and there's no way to make it to Antares 4 with it. He never loaded up the oxygenator or the water reclaimer," he huffed in frustration, "He'll die before he gets there."

"I don't think he's going to Antares 4...Well, I mean, if he is, he's taking a weird path."

"Oh?"

"He's driving south-southwest. Schiaparelli crater is southeast."

"Hmm...Well, what's he doing right now?"

"He's got the solar cells out now, they are charging. The last time he did that, it took twelve hours, so I was going to go home and try to get some sleep, if that's okay."

"Sounds good. Keep me updated. Let me know if he heads back for the Hab or continues this course."

"Yes, sir," Katniss said and left, grateful to get some extra rest.

The brass fanfare of Flickerman's show announced a return from commercial break.

"Welcome back folks, today on the Mellark Monitor we will be talking to Dr. Roman Aurelius about Peeta's mental state, but first, we have Jennifer Jackson from the United States Postal Service. Welcome to the show Mrs. Jackson," said Caesar flashing his smile.

"Thank you for having me, Caesar." Jennifer nodded.

"So, it sounds like the Antares 3 mission or really Peeta Mellark caused a bit of a stir at the USPS. Tell us about it."

"Ah, yes, well, when he died, we released a small run of Peeta Mellark commemorative stamps. Twenty-Thousand to be exact," began Jennifer, "We wanted to honor his memory. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time."

"But he wasn't dead."

Jennifer cleared her throat, then spoke, "No, when we found out he was alive, we immediately stopped production and had the stamps recalled."

"Why is that?"

"Well, you see Caesar, the postal service does not issue stamps for people who are still living. We managed the recall quickly, but thousands were already sold. It is the first time something like this has ever happened in the history of the United States Postal Service."

"I bet those stamps are worth a pretty penny now, huh?" suggested Caesar with a smile.

"Well, I don't know about that. I mean, they'll be rare, but not super rare," said Jennifer seriously.

Caesar nodded and gave a bright smile. "Alright folks, if you were lucky enough to buy one of the Peeta Mellark commemorative stamps, I suggest you hang on to it! Jennifer Jackson, thank you so much for coming to visit us today and talk to us about this unusual stamp mix up and postal service first."

"Thank you, Caesar."

"Let's welcome our next guest, Dr. Roman Aurelius, flight psychologist for the Antares missions, who we hope will shed some light on Peeta's mental state. Dr. Aurelius, thank you for coming on our show."

Dr. Aurelius nodded. "I'm happy to be here. Thank you for having me and for all you do to keep Peeta foremost in the public consciousness."

Caesar beamed at the flattery.

"So, Dr. Aurelius," Caesar began, "Did you get to know Peeta personally?"

Dr. Aurelius nodded again. "Yes. I did psychological evaluations of the whole crew every month before launch."

"What can you tell us about him?"

"He's a good-natured guy all around. Remarkably observant and intelligent. He's a particularly resourceful problem-solver. But he also loves to joke and make people laugh. In fact, that's why, despite his age, he was chosen for the mission."

"His age?" Caesar interrupted.

"Yes, Peeta was the youngest person ever assigned to a Mars Mission. When you have 6 people who have to live in close quarters with each other for over a year on an intense mission, they need... social compatibility, to be able work together and get along well. Peeta got along with everyone, but more than that, he brought the best out in each member of the crew."

"So he was a catalyst, you're saying?"

"Yes, exactly, a catalyst." Dr. Aurelius nods enthusiastically. "Everyone was better for having known him. It was a terrible blow to the crew when he 'died'." sadness flashed across Dr. Aurelius's face for a moment. Then he smoothed his features and pushed the glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"It's been reported to us that the crew is not yet aware that Peeta is alive."

"That is correct. The higher ups thought it was best for them to not know. It was a tough decision to make I am sure."

Caesar nodded seriously, then asked, "So, tell me Dr. Aurelius, what do you think Peeta's mindset is on Mars right now? How is he handling the stress? I mean, he's alone, has no idea we're trying to help him..."

"When they were in the end stages of preparing for the mission, the crew was stressed, exhausted, and moody from the grueling training schedule, Peeta included, but the way he showed it was different. His response to stress was to crack more jokes, play pranks, and bring in baked goods. He got people laughing and feeling content. So that is probably what he is doing now, using his humor to distract himself from the stresses of being abandoned on a lifeless planet."

"Why do you think he's working so hard? We've seen the EVAs. It looks like he wants to be there when Antares 4 arrives."

"Yes, the current analysis of his activity is that he's trying to get to the MAV at the Schiaparelli crater," said Dr. Aurelius.

"That's what Haymitch Abernathy suggested in his interview. Why do you think Peeta would attempt such a perilous journey to the MAV."

"Communication. When you know you're going to die, you want to reach out, to be heard."

"So you think Peeta just wants to talk to someone before he dies?"

"Yes."

"Has he given up you think?"

"I think for now, he still has hope. But if he loses hope then, yes, he'll stop trying. And if he does that, he'll get out to the MAV and he'll reach out, then...well, there's enough morphine in the supplies to give a lethal dose. It's a better way out than starving to death."

Caesar blinked. There was a palpable pause.

"We'll be right back."

Haymitch sat drinking coffee and typing on his computer when the phone rang.

"Haymitch Abernathy."

"Hey, Haymitch. Plutarch Heavensbe."

"Plutarch! Thanks for calling me back. I know you don't have a lot of time."

"Yeah, no problem. What did you need to discuss?" asked Plutarch.

"Well, I was thinking about the presupply probe. We still have no way to talk to Peeta and let him know we're sending it...So how can we let him know when it lands?"

"We've been working on that. We thought about having the probe send a radio beacon when it lands."

"Yeah?"

"It would have to be a strong signal, though. The receivers in the Hab and rovers are just not that sensitive."

"But Mellark may not even be listening," said Haymitch, "Why would he be?"

"We've thought about that too. We are working on a mechanism that will release bright green ribbons with the words 'PEETA, TURN ON YOUR COMM' printed on them. The bright green will show up the best against the Martian sky and soil."

"Hmph, that could work. He'd only need to notice one."

"But, Haymitch, if he's really making a trip to Antares 4 in that cobbled together Mellarkmobile of his, this...will all be for nothing. I mean we could land the probe at Antares 4 if it comes down to that, but without the Hab, well..."

He didn't need to say it. Haymitch knew it too. If Peeta was headed for Antares 4, he was a dead man.

At the vending machines, Haymitch grunted in frustration at the sparse offerings, evidence of long hours for everyone. He was hungry, but the cafeteria was closed. The best candy bars and snacks were all gone. He selected pretzels (it was either that or the mini rice cakes) and got a soda. The Dr. Pepper was out so he had to deal with Coke. He checked his cell phone on the way back to the office and saw he had an e-mail from Katniss. Mellark is on the move again.

Haymitch decided to go pay her a visit. He turned around and headed for SatCon. He found her at her computer still studying the imagery and pulled up a chair.

Katniss pointed at the image that she had been looking at, "Look, he's still going in a straight line. There's no way he's headed for Antares 4."

"How far is he now?"

"One hundred and fifty kilometers."

"What are those? The solar cells?"

"Yeah, he drove two hours, did a short EVA to swap batteries, then did another 2 hour drive and set out the solar cells to charge." She rubbed her eyes. They were getting sore from staring at the computer screen for so long. And she brushed some of the flyaways from her face.

"What is that boy up to?" wondered Haymitch aloud. They both peered at the screen.

"Wait a minute...Wait just a god damn minute," he said and he grabbed a pad of post-it notes and a pen. "Give me the coordinates for the Hab there, Sweetheart." She gave them and he wrote furiously. "And his current location." Again he scribbled as Katniss rattled off the latitude and longitude of Peeta's location.

He moved through the small office looking on the walls and shuffled through stacks of paper.

"What are you looking for?" asked Katniss.

"A map." answered Haymitch.

"We have digital maps on the computer," said Katniss confused.

"Not that I can write on!"

"The break room. Come with me."

"Yes! It has latitude and longitude lines!" said Haymitch crossing the room and pulling a table away from the wall so he had better access to the map. He looked at the post-it and with a sharpie marked the location of the Hab in the middle of Acidalia Planitia on the map. Then looking back and forth at the coordinates and the map he marked the second location, where Peeta was currently waiting for the solar cells to charge.

"Hey! That's our map!" complained a technician who happened to be in the break room. "You can't draw on that!"

"I'll buy you a new one," said Haymitch absently, double checking the coordinates.

Haymitch stepped back. "A ruler. I need a ruler."

Katniss looked around but didn't see one, so she grabbed the binder from the flustered technician.

"Hey!" protested the technician.

"We'll get you another one," said Katniss. She turned to Haymitch, "Here," she handed him the notebook. Using the technician's binder as a straightedge, he connected the two dots and continued the line further south-southwest from Peeta's current location straight through to a bright yellow dot. He stepped back grinning from ear to ear. "Peeta, you sneaky, clever bastard."

"Pathfinder," said Katniss cautiously.

"Yep. He's going to Pathfinder. He can definitely make it there and back with the supplies on hand."

"And bring Pathfinder and Sojourner back with him," added Katniss.

Haymitch pulled out his cell phone. "That boy knows what he's doing. We lost contact with Pathfinder in 1997. There's no telling whether the solar cells just got dirty or there's a larger problem, but Peeta's an engineer; fixing things is his job. If he can get it online again, we'll be able to communicate!" he said dialing a number. He waited for a response. "Plutarch? Yeah, it's Haymitch. Listen, Mellark's not headed for Antares 4...He's headed for Pathfinder!...Yeah, it's a total game-changer...Okay, look, you dig up everyone that was on that project and get them to JPL and I'll catch the next flight out."

He walked briskly out of the break room shaking his head, "Son of a bitch," he muttered under his breath.

Katniss stood in the break room a little longer, gazing at the map. She traced Peeta's path with her fingertips.

At the end of her shift she discreetly removed the map from the wall, folded it up, and took it home.