Houston
Newly-built tract homes lined the narrow little streets, which flowed around in wavy curves instead of the usual straight lines. It was a cute neighborhood.
It looked like a nice place for young families, Mitch thought. A neighborhood playground was named Luna Park, with its small duck pond cheekily dubbed the Sea of Tranquility. The streets all seemed to have space-related names, some of which Mitch found fairly amusing. He'd driven down Milky Way and turned onto Orbital Circle, before making his way to the corner of Galaxy Way and Warp Drive.
Henderson rang the doorbell, as he stood there on the front porch of the Watney's home. Apparently, they had chosen to relocate from the suburbs of Chicago to this nearby neighborhood in League City in the time since Sanders had gone there to tell them the news about their son's unlikely survival.
Caroline Watney answered the door, and ushered him in.
"Good of you to come," she welcomed him.
He was there to answer any questions they had, regarding the MAV launch. As it was, Mitch had directed his final launch for NASA at Jiuquan for the resupply flyby. It wasn't as though NASA could really do much to help today, anyway. With a total time from launch to orbit of twelve minutes, and a communications delay exceeding twelve minutes, their hands were effectively tied. He had trained them well; now the crew was on their own.
"Hey there, Henderson," Richard Watney greeted him from the living room. "Welcome."
"Good to see you again," he replied, belatedly, somewhat taken aback by the fact that Richard had scooped up his grandson from where he'd been playing, on the rug. That's Watney's kid, Mitch thought, amazed, looking down at the sturdy little fellow sitting in the crook of Richard's arm. "Looks like Mark," he noted, grinning. "I've got a grandson about that age, myself," he said.
"Oh yeah? Grandkids are the best, aren't they?" Richard grinned. They settled in front of the TV, where the live feed from NASA had already begun, even though the MAV launch was still some time away.
"Yes," Mitch agreed, "Absolutely. Spoil them rotten, then send them on home to their parents." He'd said it without even realizing how insensitive he probably sounded. "Oh, I didn't mean…" he trailed off, apologetically. "Is that why you moved to Houston, then?"
"It's okay," Richard said, smiling in understanding. "And yeah, Mindy works long hours looking after our son, the least we can do is help look after hers," he grinned. "Henry here gets spoiled a'plenty, don't worry. How old is your grandson?" he asked, politely.
"I have four grandkids, actually," Mitch replied, getting his phone out to show the requisite Proud Grandpa pictures of his little crew. "Two grandsons, Mitchell there is seven and Grant, he's two. And two granddaughters, Evie and London. They're nine and six. And another one still in production," he smirked. "Due early next year."
"Almost got yourself a basketball team there, Henderson!" Richard congratulated him. Henry was returned to his spot on the rug.
"Well, golf is more my speed," he laughed. "Maybe I'll train up young Mitchell to be my caddy when I retire, next year."
"Good plan. Golf caddies are expensive," Richard mused, in agreement. "Grandkids are cheap."
Mindy came downstairs, then, holding her laptop, and Mitch was confused, for a moment, to see her.
"Uh, not working today?" he managed.
She smirked at him, and pointed to the headset that was hanging around her neck at the moment. "Working from home, today," she said, pointing out the obvious. "I don't think Watney is going to be sending us too many messages in Morse Code for the next few hours," she added.
"Wait, you live here?"
"Well, yeah," she replied, smiling, "It's my house."
Caroline joined them then, and appeared to be amused at his discomfiture.
"Well, Christ," he said, flabbergasted, "You guys hardly need me to run commentary, when you've got her."
Mindy smiled at the back-handed compliment, and settled herself on the far end of the sofa, as the NASA broadcast switched to a computer-generated rendering of the MAV, with a countdown to the actual launch time. Henry had pulled himself up to a standing position, hanging on to the side of a chair, and Mindy looked down at him, suddenly. The countdown was in its final minute now, not that they'd know anything about what had happened for another twelve minutes.
"Oh," she said, under her breath, not wanting to distract Henry from the task at hand, "Crap! My camera!"
Caroline looked down. Henry was wavering, looking towards Richard and Mindy.
Mitch didn't think twice; his phone was already on, and he started filming immediately, just as Henry set off on his own little adventure.
"3… 2… 1…."
Mindy was still fumbling with her camera, but Mitch was filming the whole event as Henry wobbled forward about ten steps, arms held stiffly for balance. The actual-time MAV launch went unnoticed for a few moments, as Henry crossed the rug to them on unsteady little legs, and the three of them cheered him on.
Mindy swept him up into a hug. "Good job, squirt," she congratulated him, kissing him as he giggled.
When Caroline looked at the screen again, she took a deep breath. "Well," she commented, "it's done." She closed her eyes, with an odd mixture of happiness and terror on her face, as she leaned into Richard for comfort. This was the very moment of life or death, for their son, and all they could do was wait, to find out how it had gone. A new countdown clock had appeared on-screen now, as Annie Montrose stood at the podium, talking. It represented the twelve light-minutes that the data would have to travel until they'd know what had happened.
Mitch nodded. "And now we wait."
Richard put his arms around her, whispering so that only she could hear.
Mindy's laptop was open, so that she and Mitch could hear and see the raw data as it returned from Hermes. There was a long period of silence, broken only by the sounds of little Henry playing and working himself up for another attempt at walking, as they waited out the delay.
They sat. They stared. They fidgeted. The tension continued to ramp up.
And then, finally, there it was.
And Mitch closed his eyes tightly, when he saw the projected distance at intercept.
"What? What does that mean?" Caroline asked him, anxiously.
Mitch sighed. "That's how far apart they'll be," he said, pointing to the 68.2 on the screen. "Sixty-eight kilometers away. It was a miss. Something went wrong."
Mindy was well-schooled in orbital dynamics, so she felt compelled to add, "They can still get to him, though, maybe. They'll fire the side-to-side thrusters on Hermes. And they'll slow down as much as they can."
"Oh my god. Oh my god," Caroline said, her voice cracking and then breaking. "Oh my god," she whispered. She buried her face into Richard's shoulder again. She was shaking, as Richard held her tightly, being strong for her, as was his way.
"How much can they slow down," Mindy wondered aloud, as the next batch of data arrived, answering her question. "Oh," she said. "Oh. Shit. Forty-two meters per second. That's…"
"Yeah, that's probably not going to work," Henderson agreed, softly. "It's not over," he said, "but no, that's not good."
There was a long silence.
"What'll they do, now?" Richard asked, finally.
"They won't give up," he attempted to reassure Richard. "They'll keep trying. Whatever they can think of. Something might work. They've still got time before the intercept."
"How long?" croaked Caroline.
"Thirty minutes now. Well, eighteen, actually. Thirty until we know what happened." He felt like a prize asshole, telling them that. It was the last thing Caroline needed to hear.
Caroline moaned. "I can't do this," she sobbed. "I…"
"C'mon Mom, let's go for a walk," Mindy said, suddenly. She stood up and took charge, taking Caroline by the hands. "Once around the block, that'll kill ten minutes. Watch Henry, okay?" she asked Richard, who nodded, mutely.
Holding onto Caroline's hand tightly, they were out the front door and Mindy started them around the corner, keeping to a brisk pace. It was hot outside, and muggy, and it felt good, somehow, to feel the oppressive heat, compared with the cold tension inside the house.
They didn't talk for a long time, just walking. Finally Caroline found her voice, and asked, "Have you ever called me Mom before now, Mindy, honey?"
Mindy took a long time before answering her.
"Only in my head, I guess," she answered, truthfully. "I wasn't like, confusing you for my Mom, or anything. It's just that I kind of think of you guys that way, now, and it sort of slipped out," she finished.
"I liked it," Caroline said then, and squeezed Mindy's hand, as they turned another corner, covering the sidewalk at a fast clip. "No matter what happens," she said, looking at Mindy. "Whatever the future brings. You're a daughter to us, now. I know Richard feels the same," she added.
"It's been nice," Mindy agreed. "Living as a family with you guys, and Henry. Nicer than I ever expected."
"I don't care," Caroline added, "if you and Mark aren't together, or if you decide to be with Davin instead-"
"Oh, no," Mindy said, "That's not ever going to happen."
"I don't care," she repeated. "You're always our daughter. Always."
They rounded the third corner.
"Okay," Mindy agreed. "Okay." She side-hugged Caroline awkwardly as they walked, sweating now in the hundred-degree summer heat.
"You're our girl," Caroline reminded her. "No matter what?"
"I promise," she replied, simply. She could do this much. Be their daughter. She loved them, and she didn't care what anyone would think about it. It felt right.
Neither of them were crying anymore, as they rounded the final corner, and they could see Richard, holding Henry up, waving at them to hurry.
"Oh my god," Mindy burst out, "he looks happy!" Hope was alive in her, she could feel it spreading, all the way to her fingertips and toes, a warmth starting to thaw the icy terror that had taken hold of her, and she knew it wasn't just the weather.
"What? What?" Caroline asked him, breathless. "Did something happen?"
"Yeah!" Richard grinned, as he turned and headed back to the house. "They're gonna blow up part of the ship. On purpose!" he added, over his shoulder.
Mindy and Caroline stopped, dead in their tracks.
Mission Day 688
The rescue had been a blur, Mark thought. NASA had promised him that he would accelerate faster than any man in the history of space travel, and they had definitely delivered.
Such a useless term, too… Fast. After eighteen months on the surface of Mars, and crawling along 3,000 kilometers to the MAV at a snail's pace, anything would have seemed fast. The rescue had been over in a blink, compared to five hundred and forty-nine Sols he'd spent on Mars.
He had a vicious headache, and that nagging feeling of nausea again, which told him that he'd most likely slept through the night, and Hermes was, once again, accelerating towards home.
Mark heard movement, and realized that there was someone in the small bunk room with him, then. He tried to open his eyes and sit up, before the grinding pain in his chest, and stiff, sore muscles reminded him, loudly, to not do that.
"Hey," Lewis's voice was gentle. "No need to jump out of bed. Not this time, Watney. I'm not going to take your pillow away, or tip you out of your bunk. Not today."
"I can sleep in? Aw, gee, thanks Mom," he quipped, his voice rough from disuse, eyes still closed, as he tried to return to his former position of lesser discomfort.
"I was just in here to check on you," she said, lightly. "Beck's got you on bed rest, today and tomorrow, and light duty, day after that. You'll have plenty of early mornings to look forward to, I guarantee. I hope you haven't been going," and Lewis glanced at the doorway, where Martinez had appeared, waving at Mark, "all soft on me, getting into bad habits like those Air Force guys they keep putting under my command." Her voice had turned sardonic.
"No ma'am," Mark answered, giving her as crisp a salute as was possible, given the fact that he had two broken ribs, and was laying down. "I wouldn't want to be all soft and undisciplined like one of those guys." The sarcasm was flowing freely by the time he finished the sentence.
Martinez shook his head and grinned at Mark, retrieving his boxing gloves, and continuing along his way.
Her headset beeped quietly, and Mark could just barely make out Johanssen's voice asking, "Watney awake yet, Commander?"
She touched the key on the side of her headset, and responded, "That's affirmative."
"Copy that, Commander," came the just-audible response.
"Johanssen is annoyed with you," Lewis informed him. "Just a heads up."
"Oh no," Mark deadpanned, deliberately loud enough that his voice carried over Lewis's com. "Did someone tell her that I accidentally deleted her progress on Zork 2?"
Lewis handed him his own headset, shaking her head and giving him the side-eye. Mark looked at it a minute, a little surprised to be seeing it again, and slipped it on, and Lewis patted him on the shoulder as she left, an uncharacteristic response from their stalwart Commander.
"Watney, that better have been a joke," Johanssen was speaking to him on the com now.
"Of course it was a joke," he replied, easily.
"Good." She sounded somewhat appeased.
"All of those crap games on your personal drive are a joke," he snarked, glad that she was on the other end of the ship and thus, couldn't smack him one.
"Watney, you are seriously trying my patience today."
"Copy that," he replied, getting down to business. "Mission Specialist Watney, reporting in for duty, even though he's been remanded to bed rest and is suffering from space nausea and has two broken ribs. How can I help you today?" He affected his most ultra-polite, unctuous voice.
"Well, you can start, by contacting your buddy Mitch Henderson down there at Mission Control," she started, with a sort of amused tone.
"Uh, sure," he replied, in his normal voice. "No problem. Did he need something?"
"Negative," she said, "Can you tell him to do us a big favor, and stop jamming our uplink with all these video clips of some little blonde kid, taking his first steps or whatever? I mean, he's cute and all, but really, Watney, we've got work to do here, and-"
"Copy that," Mark replied, laughing. "I'll get right on it."