Sometimes you just had to be there, thought Mark Watney. This was something he'd been looking forward to since SOL 6. He winced a little bit as Beck helped him arrange himself in a hospital-issue armchair. He couldn't endure the indignity of a wheelchair, and he'd be damned if he'd greet his team lying in a hospital bed. He'd had a shower and a shave, and sure enough, NASA had come through with a new, navy blue uniform for him. It didn't have M. WATNEY embroidered on it, but he supposed that would have started too many people talking, lower down the NASA food chain. It fit nicely, though. It was a good feeling. His hospital room, such as it was, was crowded with extra chairs and a table with some snacks and drinks laid out. It lent a sort of party atmosphere, even though Mark knew the reactions of his crew-they were his friends, his family-was going to stir up a lot of mixed feelings, for all of them.
Commander Lewis was the first to walk in, followed by Johanssen, Martinez, and Vogel. Lewis stood silently, in shock, when her eyes met his. She had no words; nobody had told her what to expect at this unexpected Saturday morning, mandatory meeting. She took a step back, with a look in her eyes that would pulverize rock. Was she angry? Apparently she was, yes. Not at him, though. She was still angry with herself, he could see that clearly now. She managed a small smile and wave, and then she turned away, unwilling to let the others see her tears.
Martinez, ever the ice-breaker, ventured, "I thought we agreed to leave this guy on Mars."
. . .
"Wait. What?" It was the most frequently spoken words that morning, as Mark tried to fill them in on how exactly he'd managed to make it home. "Say that again?" He tried to go as quickly as possible, telling them about his voyage home. It never failed, though, as he hit the interesting parts of the story, someone would shake their head incredulously and demand more details. "No, you did NOT." Details that he hadn't yet had a chance to tell Venkat yet, but this was his team. His people. They deserved to know.
"So, let me get this straight." Beth Johanssen's eyes were full of laughter. "You let the alien give you a medical examination? Didn't you ever watch cable TV when you were a kid?"
Mark laughed and nodded towards Lewis, "Thanks to Commander Lewis here, our new alien friend's first introduction to human habits and culture was the collective works of Bo and Luke Duke. Oaiea couldn't get enough of the Dukes of Hazzard."
Shouts of laughter, as the crew rounded on Lewis, who was wearing a sheepish smile. She was starting to relax, in spite of herself. She hovered near Mark's shoulder, giving it an occasional pat.
"She was quite fond of the Mork from Ork episodes of Happy Days, too. Just for the record."
Beck snorted.
"Any chance we'll get to meet her?" Vogel hadn't said much, but this was obviously something he'd been considering, quietly. He was usually the softest spoken of the team, and chose his words the most carefully.
"I'm hoping you do." Mark replied simply. "We're going to meet with the President. Hopefully he can be convinced to allow Oaiea a visit. She wants this to be a peacemaking mission."
"That sounds like a political fiasco," noted Vogel. "Do you think she'll be willing to share her technology?"
"I don't know." Mark sighed. "I kind of think, probably not. She's been very cautious in what she's told me about her people. I get the feeling that she's gone against protocol, by helping me."
"Where is she now?" Lewis asked.
"Not very far away. She wasn't willing to land her craft here without permission, except for very briefly when she dropped me off. She touched down, let me out, and took off again."
"She drop-kicked your ass through the airlock and split, you mean?" Martinez smirked.
Mark rolled his eyes at Martinez. "Pretty much," he agreed. "But she's hanging around, at least for a few weeks, while she waits to see if we can negotiate a sanctioned visit. Want to see how I talk to her?"
The room fell silent.
"Are you serious?" Johanssen's eyes were wide.
Mark opened his hand, so that they could see the translucent circle-shaped computer that fit snugly against his palm. It was difficult to see, if you weren't looking for it. He tapped it to bring up the menu system.
"Oaiea controls hers with her voice, but I have to do everything the hard way on this one." He poked and prodded at the projected images as he sorted through the menu options, as the team gaped.
"Watney, you should have turned this over to NASA." Lewis looked stern, her Commander face slipping on effortlessly. "Alien technology is nothing to play around with."
"It's keyed to work only for me," he replied. "See? You try to tap it. Nothing happens. It's the only extra one she has. She gave it to me. A gift, from one scientist to another. I'm not giving it to NASA to pick apart. It belonged to her crewmate, I think."
"She had a crewmate?" asked Beck.
"I think she did, once. Her ship was built for two, for sure."
"What happened to him? Or her?"
"I don't know. I never asked her. It didn't seem appropriate."
The crew was silent for a minute.
"Do you think she's listening to us now, with it?"
Johanssen had hacker's paranoia, but she also possibly had a point.
Mark smiled. "I wouldn't care if she was, but no, she's not." He pulled up a menu, spun it to show them. "No audio link active." He gestured to some geometric symbols, "I have to grant permission for her to do that, right here."
"Look at you, master of the alien cell phone." Martinez shook his head, laughing.
"Those symbols, Mark. They're freaky. Did you learn how to read... what language is that, anyway? What's it called?" Johanssen asked.
"No. Here, let me pull up an audio clip of it, it's nothing I can possibly say." A few moments later, several trilling notes sounded, in the quiet hospital room. The text below it identified it as Oaiea's Language.
Vogel, ever the diplomat, stated ruefully, "And I thought learning English was a challenge."
"Tell me about it. We started out with short video clips, using a combination of sign language and me speaking the word we'd agreed on in English. Then she assigned it to a symbol-word in her language. Eventually she was able to create a text alphabet for me to assign the new words a name."
"That must have been like pulling teeth." Beck's eyes were wide. "I take it that developing this application here, " he gestured to the menu that Mark was currently poking, "this must have kept you busy on the way home."
"Yes, it was a big part of our schedule. Probably three or four hours per cycle, adding new words as we were able to agree on them."
"What's that one?" Johanssen gestured to a symbol that was exaggerated in size, comparatively. "Is that how you indicate words that you use a lot?"
"Yes, exactly." Mark had finished tapping out his message.
Oaiea, say hello to my crew! He double-tapped to send it.
Lewis weighed in again, with a note of censure in her voice, "Watney, you shouldn't be communicating with the alien like this-NASA should really be involved, here."
A single musical note sounded. Mark tapped the circle, and the Ares 3 crew listened to the message, spoken improbably in Mark's voice.
"My greetings to the crew of Ares 3. Mark, NASA researchers have retrieved your EVA suit and other belongings."
"She dropped off my stuff, at the same time she dropped me at Johnson Space Center, on Monday," Mark explained. "I had her leave it on the roof of Building 2. I think they've been looking through the logs and things since late last night."
"Bet they're loving that. When does all of this go public, anyway?" said Lewis.
Beck spoke up, "Monday morning. Annie Montrose is setting up the press conference."
The others turned to him, but it was Vogel who formed the question. "How long have you been in on this, anyway?"
Beck looked down, embarrassed. "Since the morning they found him. NASA sent a car and a couple of officers to bring me in. I thought I was being arrested for something. I spent a couple of days meeting with Teddy Sanders and Venkat Kapoor, while they argued back and forth about every possible thing. There was a lot of coffee involved."
"It's true, he's barely been home all week." Johanssen piped up. She gave Beck an elbow to the ribs. "Holding out on me, I see," she grumbled.
Beck circled one arm around her, pulling her into a well-practiced hug. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
Teddy Sanders walked in at that moment. Mark sprang back against his chair, looking guilty, as Lewis gave him a meaningful expression. Tell him, or I will, it said. Mark nodded at her.
"Sorry to break up this reunion," he smiled at them. It was good to see them together again. "But the Presidential convoy is on the way from the airport now. I need to speak with Mark."