Seventy-Second Entry

March 14^th, 2037

1930

Dear Space Diary.

Everything’s a little calmer now. It’s been an interesting hour.

On the upside, I’ve run into Mary, the poor girl sent deliberately to Mars and accidentally here, who everyone thought must be dead. That’s a win. Especially for her.

On the downside, her entrance was rather shocking and unexpected.

I may have punched her in the face a little.

She took the punch quite well. In both senses. I think she realises that sneaking up behind someone who doesn’t know you’re alive is not necessarily the best of ideas.

Mary explained some of what had happened to her while I was searching for an ice pack. I couldn’t find one, so in the end I put some food paste in a towel and wrapped it up tight. That stuff is bloody cold.

It did the trick, there doesn’t seem to be any bruising. She’s taking a shower now to wash the paste off.

She doesn’t remember a whole lot of the voyage itself after her final log to NASA, it had all kind of blurred together. The first proper thing she can remember is the crash itself, which was as memorable as crashing into planets usually is. Which is to say, very memorable.

The lightdogs were triggered by the crash, and a few hours after landing all got up and left, leaving her alone.

Two weeks later she got up the courage to venture out and follow them. I assume she brought a space suit, or the lead in the atmosphere would have finished her off.

After several days of walking, she found the beginnings of the city.

Excited, she hiked back to the Zubrin, and managed to pilot it into the city, where she planned to wait for any rescue from NASA.

Whereupon a yellow lightdog promptly towed the ship away and threw it in the garbage.

And she’s been stranded in the city ever since. Until I arrived.

She was very grateful to find her ship had been brought back. Even more grateful to learn that rescue is in fact on the way. She’s even less keen on dealing with NASA than I am, but after 15 years adrift and 2 years marooned, she’s very ready to go home.

She was a bit miffed that I took the batteries out of SupaNovey though. We’ll have to disagree on that one.

There are some things I still don’t understand, like where the lightdogs went, why Mary still looks so young (she doesn’t look older than mid-twenties), and near the top of the list, whose skeleton I’ve been sharing a ship with (Mary has no idea either, she suggested a stow away, but 20 years is a lot of stowing).

But I’m just about ready to file those in the “no longer care” box. Mary’s going to help dig out my spaceship from under the Zubrin and then I can finally go home.

It’s nice that -

“Do you always talk to yourself?”