Chap 3

The MEV is horrendously battered. It's a wonder they're alive. Doc is propped against a rock, moving a device the size of a tablet over his abdomen. It's a kind of combination x-ray/sonogram. Doesn't like what he sees. Puts it aside for the moment without discussing it with the others.

Ianto emerges from the MEV dragging some tools and other salvaged gear.

"What've we got?" Doc asked with a hitch in his breath.

"The radio's dead. Rover's dead. Myfanwy's dead. You give me a shop and three months and I could get this thing set for orbital re-entry. Otherwise...it's staying here." Ianto huffed.

John's climbed to the top of a nearby outcropping of rock. Surveys the area. Red sky, blue clouds, rocks.

"Anything?" Owen calls out as Tosh hovers.

"No."

"Great." Owen growls at John, "We put up with your shit for three hundred million miles, so you could crash-land us on Mars. Just fucking great."

By all rights, son, we should be dead." Doc calls out, "That was a decent piece of flying."

"We have a mission to accomplish, people..." John says with purpose.

"We'll be dead in eight hours anyhow when the air runs out." Owen snarks, "'Cause megapilot missed the landing site. There is no more fucking mission."

That puts it all into perspective.

"So, where the hell are we?" Ianto asks as he tried to bring them back on track.

"The G.P.S. was tied to the radios...which are dead. Transponder on the Hab was tied to the nav computer..." John drones.

"...which is dead. Didn't the boys at NASA pack us a compass?" Ianto finishes for him.

"There's no magnetic core on Mars. Wouldn't do any good." Owen throws out as he eyeballs Doc.

Ianto considers all this for a moment. "I don't think I like this planet."

"Best guess. Where do you think we are?" Owen asks.

Tosh shrugs. As much as you can shrug in a spacesuit.

"Somewhere downrange." Tosh pulls her HHC out of a pocket on her thigh. 2050 descendant of a laptop. Mutters at it. It whizzes past all info graphics, the standard 360 degree pan from the landing site, topographical map of Mars. Zooms in to show where the Hab was deployed.

"Based on the last uncorrupted nav state, and given that we were in a full manual descent with no computer correction, I'd say...in this 60x120 mile ellipse." She shows John.

"Okay. That's big." There's a long moment of resignation.

"We've got every other mission variable in here, we ought to be able to figure aerobrake friction and the speed and orbit of the Ares when we exited. We should be able to close in on the downrange variables. Tighten up the ellipse. It's about the math." Tosh shrugs.

Ianto can't believe it. "This is it. This is that moment they told us about in high school. Where one day again we'd use algebra. And it would save our lives. And I thought they were fucking kidding."

Ianto turns in frustration and walks away. Doc calls to him "Stay in range. A thousand yards. And your radio's line of sight."

"Right, I wouldn't want to get lost." Ianto deadpans as he continues to wander off. We can hear them discussing drag coefficients and whatnot. It just makes him ill.

Ianto stares out at the Martian landscape. It would be quite pretty. Except for the fact he's gonna die here. He's pissed and frightened. Yanks his HHC out. Mutters, images appear. All the Hab details. Stares at the map and then the 360 degree panorama. Back at the map. Back at the panorama. Something about it strikes him. Looks at it some more. He gets up, looks around. Looks around some more. Heads back to the guys...

"I don't think it's about math. I don't like math, so I'm biased. I think it's about the picture." Ianto calls out, as he holds out the picture of the panorama. John dismisses him - he's not a scientist, he's not a pilot, he should leave them alone.

"We're not in that picture. If we were, we'd know where the Hab was. We're trying to figure this out." Owen waves a hand at the picture.

Ianto ignores him, throwing a large rock in the sand, wraps the 360 degree panorama around it. Screen bends and turns translucent as he does.

"Look, say that's the lander. At about 30 degrees in the distance, it sees this mountain with the funny top. And at about 180 degrees it sees this funny set of twin peaks." Ianto points to different things, "Now I see this mountain over there. And these peaks over there behind me almost on a straight line. And then there's this other peak maybe, which would put us on the line, say here. Which leaves the angle to the Hab at about there..."

John and Tosh start to manipulate their HHCs faster than you can follow. Muttering to each other, hand-gesturing, cross-referencing back and forth to the map, as the ellipse shrinks and their landing location is...determined.

"Space Janitor First Class Jones, nicely done." Owen crows.

"The good news is it's an eight-hour walk." John claps his hands.

"There's bad news?"

Doc checks Ianto's wrist monitor. "You've got seven and a half hours of air. Try not to breathe too deep."

"Let's get the hell outta here." Owen prepares to start walking.

Doc struggles to his feet. As the five of them tromp away in the giant landscape Doc looks over at Ianto and remembers their early days entering into this trip.

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*********************FLASHBACK*******************

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The Earth is a distant ball outside the craft.

A large open common space. Empty for the moment. Until Doc and Ianto enter through an access tube. Gravity follows them around as they walk. The rooms cycle around and the computer adjusts to keep their footfalls steady. Floor, ceiling wall...A meter on the wall with a glowing "G" points an arrow the direction of the current gravity.

"Chief Science Officer" Ianto nodded. "This is trippy."

Doc grins. He's been up so many times he's forgotten what it's like the first time. "You'll get used to it. When you get home, it feels weird you can't walk on the ceiling."