Eighty-Eighth Entry

March 16^th, 2037

1615

Dear Space Diary.

Just as we were about to start up the hill, Mary decided she wanted a break after all. She wanted to stretch her legs for a bit, (well, as much as you can stretch them in a spacesuit, which is admittedly more than you can stretch them in a spaceship) so she took the suit and vanished over a hill to the… East? The direction the sun rises in. I’m calling that East.

Hmm. Which means the city is a little off North, and the curious incident of the lightdog digging in the sand is off to the south west.

Excellent! Well now that I know my bearings, I can… keep doing what I was already doing.

1620

Sigh. Bored.  Mary has the suit, so I’m stuck in the ship until she gets back.

Plus, we forgot to roll the ship back before she took off, so it’s not the right way up. I’m lying on my back, head tilted downwards, with the computer monitor hanging above my head. Have to clench my back muscles just to stop me sliding off the chair. Reminds me of when I was stuck down that hole.

Because that’s just a fond memory.

Actually, I really should take advantage of Mary’s absence to read a little of this mission log. 400 pages long so I won’t really make much of a dent, but I should at least be able to finish the table of contents to the table of contents before she returns.

1618

Ok, firing it up.

Oh, interesting, it’s an audio guide. I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, given the length.

BING

Welcome to the NASA 2017 Mission Parameter handbook. NASA, and its research departments are proud of the work we do. Like Ted here. He just loves working for NASA. Wave hi, Ted.

Given this is an audio recording, I can only assume that Ted is waving. Good for you, Ted.

That’s great Ted. Go to my office. Now, NASA considers itself at the forefront of modern, scientific, and cutting edge Mission Parameter Handbook design. I think we’ve taken Mission Parameter Handbooks well into the 22^nd, or even 23^rd, century. I’m sure you’ll agree.

-RECORDING PAUSED-

Thought I saw a spacesuit over there. Mary back already?

…No, it’s gone. Maybe she was checking on me, making sure I hadn’t manifested superhuman strength and lead immunity and had rolled the ship off without her.

 Isn’t that sweet.

-RECORDING RESUMED-

Chapter 1: Understanding this handbook. This forms pages 1-297 of this 400 page handbook. It will take approximately 72.354 hours. Please have a pencil and paper handy, as a test will follow immediately after.

-RECORDING PAUSED-

I don’t have three days to listen to an instruction manual for an instruction manual! All I want is to find parameter 234:10. Trouble is, I don’t know where bloody NASA have hidden it.

CODE 234:10 VERIFIED. UNLOCKING CLASSIFIED PARAMETERS

…Well that was easy.

Eighty-Seventh Entry

March 16^th, 2037

1133

Dear Space Diary

That was actually rather fun.

Ok, back to being an adult. Let’s get rolling.

Did you hear that, Mary? I said: Let’s get –

“I heard you.”

See, it’s funny, because we’re rolling the ship, and I said –

“I do get it, I assure you. Can we hurry up?”

Some people have no sense of humour.

“And they’re currently in a space suit.”

…Touché.

1144

Can’t see the valley of the lightdogs anymore, the hill blocks the view. Guess we just have to leave them to their mysterious machinations, n’ stuff.

1230

Stopping for lunch, which given our food systems are all built in to both suit and ship, means we just stand still for a bit and suck on the appropriate tube.

1235

Back to it.

1400

Extremely dull couple of hours. No hills, no chance of getting lost, just roll towards the ever growing dome and the city inside.

Mary hasn’t said a word in hours. I’m actually starting to worry a little. Something is clearly bothering her. Her reluctance to return to the city, her rage at the lightdogs, her sudden insistence on returning to the city. It all adds up to something. Problem is I don’t know what the answer is, what the question is, or why it’s being asked.

Mary crash landed alone on a planet, with about a hundred construction robots, who proceeded to build a city, then wandered off and started digging a hole. Possibly another city now I think about it, but nobody’s using the first one (except Mary, several hundred times), so I can’t see the point to that.

Also, Mary is about 20 years younger than she should be. I’m filing that under the “I’ve got nothing” box of my investigation.

I can’t help but feel the answers for all of this are in the 400(!) page mission document I’ve been sent. Unfortunately at the same time I was sent a warning that under no circumstances was Mary able to see the mission document. Meaning I can hardly say “Mary, can I borrow the spaceship, I want to read a mission document you’re not allowed to know about.”

So the sooner we get back to the city, the sooner I can hopefully find out what’s going on.

Oh well, no sense worrying about it now, we’ve just got to roll on.

…I say, Mary, I just came up with another one. We’ve just got to –

“I don’t care.”

Fine.

1600

Starting to get close to evening and we’ve just hit another hill.

I’m pretty tired from all the pushing. Mary’s probably not feeling the best either.

“I’m fine.”

You sure? No deep dark secrets bothering you? No mysterious fits of rage you need to get off your chest?

“No I’m good, but thanks.”

Ok. Well, up to you. We can rest, or get over the hill first.

“Let’s keep going. We’re on a roll.”

Ha ha ha.

“See, it’s funny, because -”

Shut up.

Eighty-Sixth Entry

March 16^th, 2037

1045

Dear Space Diary.

Been watching the lightdogs for about 20 minutes. They’ve been steadily digging up the ground with their lasers, cutting out cubes of soil, then carting it away.

Strangely, they seem to be changing colour on their own now, without any direct intervention from us. They glow green while cutting up the rock. Then one turns to a yellow light and drags it over to a pile. Then they turn blue and start neatly stacking and sealing them into giant squares of rock, so smooth you’d hardly know they used to be separate pieces if you hadn’t just see them use to be separate pieces. Then it’s right back to Green and back to chopping up more rock.

Quite the production line. Kind of like if you had your house assembled by Christmas lights. Christmas lights with lasers.

Based on what I’m seeing I’m pretty sure they weren’t after us with the lasers, we just happened to be in the middle of their plan, whatever that might be. It is odd that they only began to change when Mary and I approached them, but on the whole I’ll take a little odd over a horde of rampaging killing robots any day.

So all in all, we’re good.

I’ve been trying to work out what they’re up to, but nobody left an instruction manual lying around, so I’ve narrowed it down to two possibilities.

1: They need a great deal of rock, or

2: They need a very big hole.

Not the most comprehensive of analysis I’ll admit, but it’s the best I can do with the evidence at hand.

Mary’s been oddly silent since her little outburst, now the fear and adrenaline have worn off. Just sitting in the spaceship, staring. Whatever enraged her enough to cause her to charge into the middle of the lightdogs has either warn off, or she’s decided discretion is better than stupidity. I’d call that a win. All she says when I talk to her is that we need to get back to the city.

I can’t work out what these lightdogs are up to. And to be honest if it comes down to mysteries, I’d just rather go home.

Let’s get back, Mary.

1100

…And back to rolling a spaceship. The ship was fortunately where we’d left it.

1105

Just reached the hill where I, um, tripped before. Mary’s still silent, but she did give me a glare that was most communicative. I’ll be more careful this time.

1115

We’re going slower, being surer of our footing. About halfway.

1117

Thought I saw a spacesuit over there. Crap, did we leave it behind?

…wait, I’m wearing it. Never mind. Imagining things.

1125

Nearly there. There’s the rock I was looking at when I slipped.

…Should stop looking at it.

1128

At the top! First good look at the city in ages.

The hill’s pretty steep, so we’re going to let it roll and chase it down.

1130

Whee!

Eighty-Fifth Entry

March 16^th, 2037

1005

Dear Space Diary.

The lightdogs are almost all green now.  And green was the mode used to, well, pretty much tear up everything in their path.

We’re in their path.

…Ok, Mary, can you hear me?

“Of course I can hear you. You’re standing right next to me.”

Ok, good. What we’re –

“You’re not even whispering.”

Great. Shut up. What we’re going to do is slowly back away, ok?

“Ok.”

Good. And starting… now. Back up.

1006

You’re backing away?

“I’m backing away.”

Well done. Ok. We’ve passed two rows of lightdogs already. Well done. How many are there to go?

“Uh, well they’re a bit difficult to count, but at a guess I’d say… 30 rows.”

…Right. Mary I have a favour to ask.

“Yes?”

Next time you decide to fly into a blind rage and charge straight into the middle of a group of benign robots that turn out to be ominous robots with the possible option to turn into murderous robots…

“Yes?”

Next time, don’t do that.

“Ok.”

Great. Go team.

1009

Ok, that’s six more rows. We’re making good progress. There’s nothing to be worried about.

“Except –“

NOTHING to be worried about.

“Except that they’re all green now.”

…Shall we back up a bit faster?

“Good idea.”

Excellent.

1011

12 rows. Ok, just a little faster. A little faster. What is it that kills you in these situations?

“Lasers?”

No, wrong. Yes, the lasers play a part. A very painful part. But it’s fear. Fear kills you. Also beauty kills beasts, didn’t I hear that once? Anyway. Fear is what is going to kill us. So we have to have no fear. It’s like a virus. No fear.

“No fear.”

Exactly right.

1015

19 rows. Brilliant. You see, we’re more than halfway. All we have to do is keep calm and keep to the plan.

“I think that one’s looking at me.”

Screw the plan. RUN!

1016

25 rows. Are you ok Mary? You’re not having trouble keeping up? Don’t get left behind!

“What are you talking about, I’m ahead of you!”

…Wait for me!

1017

29 rows! We’re nearly there! All we have to do is… Oh dear.

“What is it?”

The lasers are on! They’re firing!

“What are we going to do?”

Running sounds good! Keep doing that!

“Good advice!”

30 rows! They haven’t hit me yet! Just a few more and – ARGH!

“Are you ok?”

I’ve tripped! Just get out!

“I can’t leave you!”

Sure you can! I know it’s tough, but you can survive without me. I believe in you!

“No it’s not that! I can’t push the spaceship without you!”

Oh. Well you better get me out then!

“Working on it! Hold out your hand!”

Got me! I’m up!

“Great, now move!”

1018

…32 rows. We made it.

“Well done.”

…Can’t push the ship without me?

“Oh, I’m sorry. I was just scared. I didn’t mean it.”

Thank you.

“I probably could push it without you.”

Eighty-Fourth Entry

March 16^th, 2037

0953

Dear Space Diary

I’m currently in the process of chasing after a glint of light in the sand. That may not actually exist.

Mary’s convinced she saw something though, and whatever she wanted to tell me seems to have taken a back seat to the burning mystery of “The Glint”, so I’ve little choice but to follow her, if only out of a sense of loyalty and friendship.

Also, I can’t push the spaceship on my own.

0956

I can’t see anything, or any evidence that there used to be anything. Therefore I am convinced that there has not been, in the recent past, an anything.

I voiced this particular opinion to Mary, but she’s utterly convinced she saw a lightdog in the distance. If it was, it’s long gone now.

But Mary is on a mission. And I can’t but follow.

1000

Mary’s stopped on the hill ahead of me. Good. She’s finally realised that we’ve been chasing ghosts, and we can get back to the much more interesting task of rolling a spaceship through the sand.

Mary, are you ready… to… go?

…oookay.

Ahead of us is a valley. Quite large, but not hugely shallow. An almost perfect rectangle, quite unnatural looking. And also, very, very full.

Well, we know where the lightdogs went at least.

The valley is full of lightdogs. Perfectly arranged in lines, ordered by colour. Almost perfect, anyway, I can see a corner that looks like it’s missing one, presumably the lightdog I sent into orbit.

I probably shouldn’t tell them that.

It’s hard to know how to react to something like… MARY!

Don’t throw rocks at them!

1001

She’s not stopping. I should do something.

Oh it’s ok; she’s run out of rocks.

Except now she’s charging down into them, screaming and waving her fists.

I didn’t know people actually did that.

Sigh. I better stop her.

1003

Mary’s a hard girl to stop when she’s angry.

True, she can’t do a lot of damage to them with just her fists. I don’t even think any of the rocks hit them. But I’m worried she’s going to… do lightdogs get angry? I don’t actually want to find out.

Mary, stop!

“You bastards!”

Mary, be careful! These things have lasers.

“I’ll smash you! Bring them back!”

Bring who back?

She’s not answering. Too busy screaming.

I’ve managed to get a hold of her, trying to drag her out of the valley of the lightdogs. It’s not easy; she doesn’t particularly want to go.

“Let me go! I have to destroy them!”

But why? What did they do?

She’s stopped. Well that’s a relief on my ears at least.

Wait, what’s that noise? All the lightdogs have started to… hum? Or hiss, or something. It sounds almost like a swarm of bees.

And… they’re changing colour. Blues, yellows, red, and even some pink ones, all are changing colour to green.

Yellow was maintenance, blue was repairs, and green was…

Oh dear.

Eighty-Third Entry

March 16^th, 2037

0600

Dear Space Diary

Mary had crawled into the spacesuit and gone to sleep (face down, I notice) by the time I got back from reading NASA’s bizarre message. So I decided to go back to the space ship and start reading through the mission parameters.

At least that was the plan. Instead, I sat down, fell asleep, and woke up with a clear head and a sore neck. Ow.

Still, I guess it was a better use of my time. Sleep is productive, right?

0610

Mary’s still asleep, so I’ve come back to the ship. Good chance to read these parameters.

Ok. Table of Contents.

“What you doing?”

…crossword puzzle.

“Oh cool! I love those. What word are you on?”

Oh look, the computer crashed. Oh well.

“Lame.”

Yeah I hate it when the computer crashes.

“No not that, your ability to lie. Whatever, keep your secrets. Shall we get started?”

0700

Made good progress. Same plan as yesterday, dung beetle and hamster. What an unlikely team.

I’m only half talking about the metaphor.

I hid the parameters in the, well, the mission parameters folder. It’s full of various revisions of 400 page documents and appendices, so I doubt she’ll go in there. Fortunately Mary can’t hear me from inside the spaceship so I’m free to narrate in peace.

0830

This is actually quite easy. Probably a decent workout, too. Everybody wins. Terrain is nice and flat.

0900

Blast. A hill. A large one at that.

0910

This is no longer easy.

0915

Nearly there.

Akk! I slipped! I… oh dear.

0920

I, um. I dropped the spaceship.

It really does roll quite well, doesn’t it?

0930

It’s rolled down the hill, around the corner and stopped in a small furrow. Now it’s just sitting there.

I should probably go down there and see if she’s ok.

…but I’m scared.

Not that she might be hurt. More that she might be angry.

Which she probably has every right to be.

…Dammit, ok. Here goes.

0935

Door opening.

Hello, Mary, you there? You ok? Are you?

“AAAAAAAARRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!”

0940

Good news is she’s fine.

And boy, can she run fast.

0943

Mary’s decided not to kill me at this stage.

I’m entirely pleased with this outcome.

We’ve decided to take a break before we start pushing again, given we just lost a fair bit of progress and we’re both tired from our morning run.

0946

Actually kind of peaceful.

0950

“Hey.”

Yes Mary?

“Listen, you should know, I’m really not that keen to go back to the city.”

I know, Mary. But I have to go home. And unless we find fuel for the ship, I’m going to be waiting with you anyway.

“No it’s not that. I just don’t want to go back to the city.”

Why not? You can hardly sit outside in a spacesuit for the next however long.

“Listen.”

Actually I suppose you could…

“Listen!”

What?

“It’s… wait, is that a lightdog over there?”

Eighty-Second Entry

March 15^th, 2037

2315

Dear Space Diary

Mary has many fine qualities.

Night time silence is not one of them.

This is not actually her fault, snoring is something that can’t be helped (except by a pillow to the face, but that has other side effects), so I’ve simply moved myself out of earshot and am trying to sleep as best I can. “Best I can” includes sleeping in a spacesuit on distinctly un-flat pink rocks, so my best is not particularly good.

In its defence, the pink isn’t actually contributing to sleep difficulties. It is merely a colour.

The other main problem is that, thanks to the 48 hour days, even though it’s way past my bedtime I have blinding morning sunshine to keep me company. And this spacesuit doesn’t have any kind of built in sunglasses.

I’ve managed to turn myself around in the suit, although that took a lot of leg and arm wrangling. The suit is face down on the ground, but I’m face up. At least it’s dark now.

NASA have yet to respond to my message, although it’s after closing time so they’re probably all asleep. I suppose I should be grateful they were in on a Sunday at all. Actually that is a little odd. After being so adamant that they worked Monday 9-5, ever since my contact changed I’ve been getting messages at all hours.

Kind of hard to tell who it is under all the voice modulation (I assume that’s the static from long distance), but they do sound a little different. Still, I suppose I should be grateful of more frequent contact.

2320

The back of my space suit is really quite boring. I’d like that noted.

2330

So tired. Think I’m… finally… falling…

“Wake up!”

Urrrgggh. What is it, Mary?

“You’ve got a message from NASA.”

Spoke too soon.

“Did I?”

Not you, NASA. Ok, give me a minute and I’ll check the message.

“Ok, but hurry up. I need your spacesuit.”

Alright, hang on.

2335

Ok, here you go.

“That was the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen.”

What? If I’m in the suit back to front, it blocks out the sun. Helps me sleep.

“You’re weird.”

I’m fairly sure we’ve established that. Go dig a hole or something; I’m going to read this message.

2440

<INCOMING TRANSMISSION>

__

I DON’T HAVE MUCH TIME. THE COMMANDER WILL BE BACK ONLINE SOON. I CAN’T BE FOUND OUT. I FORWARDED YOU A LIST OF MISSION PERAMETERS.

YOU ARE NOT MEANT TO HAVE THIS LIST. IF THEY FOUND OUT I SENT IT TO YOU… WELL I WON’T BE ABLE TO SEND YOU ANYTHING ELSE.

EVER.

I’VE PROGRAMMED THE TRANSMITTER TO AUTOMATICALLY ARCHIVE FROM NASA’S LOG ANY ENTRIES MENTIONING PERAMETERS 234.10.

ANY TIME YOU MENTION THE CODE 234.10; THE MESSAGE WILL BE AUTOMATICALLY MOVED TO MICROSOFT OUTLOOK’S TRASH BEFORE IT CAN BE READ.

AND THIS IS MOST IMPORTANT. DO NOT LET MARY SEE THE PERAMETERS.

__

<END TRANSMISSION>

2442

…NASA use Microsoft Outlook?

Eighty-First Entry

March 15^th, 2037

2015

Dear Space Diary.

In her defence, once Mary finished laughing, she did help roll the spaceship and get me out in pretty short order. Once you get it started, it actually spins quite well is the lower gravity.

Not so much in her defence, it took her about half an hour to stop laughing.

She seems to have mellowed out a fair bit now that her chance of escape seems effectively negated. We’re out of fuel, and unless we come up with another solution, (and I haven’t ruled that out), there’s nothing to do now but wait for the rescue ship. We’re choosing to overlook the whole betraying each other thing for now.

Also, there was that whole saving each other’s life thing. That probably helped.

The city is only a few hours walk away. We are towing (or in this case rolling) a spaceship though, so it’s probably going to take a lot longer.

Before we started, I’ve taken a moment to read over the messages from NASA and to update them on the current situation. Nothing fascinating. Confirmation of navigation for the trip home (little useless now), a couple of newspaper articles (Nobody’s seen Bobo the Wonder Dog in weeks. A Nation Mourns, apparently), and some extra information about Mary’s original mission that a lowly technical officer thought I should read. Knowing NASA it’ll be as thrilling as a 400 page collection of blueprints and process documents (which is probably what it is), but I’m a little surprised they sent it at all. I was under the impression they weren’t allowed to tell me. Hmm.

I’ll read it later, no time now.

2025

And we’re off.

We’ve only one space suit, meaning we can’t both be outside at the same time, unless one of us wants to get lead poisoning. And if we could only travel for 30 minutes every six hours, NASA might actually get here before we were halfway.

Admittedly, they’ll be homing in on us, but the Zubrin’s not going to be as easy to shift as my ship is. We want to be as close as possible. I don’t entirely trust NASA’s autopilot.

Mary, being shorter and less (ahem) well rounded than me, is actually able to stand up inside the ship with only some minor strain and possible permanent back damage. So we’ve swapped places. I’m in the spacesuit, pushing the ship from behind, rather like a dung beetle. Mary’s inside, pushing and walking along whichever part of the ship is currently the bottom. Rather like a hamster inside a ball.

…Honestly not sure which simile is more demeaning.

2055

Even though we’re now working together, we’re not especially friendly, so the walk is a silent one.

2200

We’re stopping for the night. Uneventful, except for when Mr Rock fell out of the glove box and hit Mary in the head. That was amusing. I’m carrying him now.

2203

Mary’s already asleep.

2213

The dung beetle was definitely worse.

Eightieth Entry

March 15^th, 2037

1845

Dear Space Diary.

I’m starting to feel bad about kicking Mary out of the spaceship.

Also, her banging on the glass is giving me a headache.

It’s good to be back in my old ship though. Don’t get me wrong, the extra room in the Zubrin was nice, but in the end -

THUMP

- In the end –

THUMP

- The important thing is –

THUMP THUMP THUMP

Mary, stop it!

“No!”

Fine. Engaging engines. You might want to back off a bit.

“You’re bluffing. There’s no way you would… ARRRGH!”

That got her attention. She’s retreated to a safe distance.

I was going to head back to the city first, but I’ve changed my mind. I’ve been here long enough. I’m tired, and I’m going home. NASA can send me coordinates on the way.

I’ve given the homing beacon NASA wanted me to place on the Zubrin to Mary. And by give, I mean I’ve thrown it at her. She can plant that on the Zubrin, switch it on, and then the rescue ship will home right in on her. Easy. No trouble. She’s alright. She’s perfectly alright. Perfectly alright, marooned and alone on an alien planet with a toxic atmosphere.

Shut up, conscience.

I left her with the spacesuit, ok? It’s got air filters, food, and hygiene systems built in. She may be marooned, but at least she’s marooned in comfort and style.

Well, maybe style, anyway. Those suits are quite fashionable.

Engines warming up. Will be ready to launch as soon as I press the launch button.

Now, where was I? Oh yes. In the end, the important thing –

CLONK

Knock it off, Mary! She’s throwing rocks at the ship now.

“You can’t leave me here!”

I can and will. You stole my ship; I’m only taking it back. Besides, it’ll only take you a few hours to walk back to the city. The sooner you plant that homing beacon, the quicker the rescue ship finds you when it gets here. I’d get started if I were you. Just my advice.

“You think I give a -”

Fortunately I didn’t hear the rest of that. The engines are really whirring now, the smoke and noise is incredible. I was worried that the crash might have damaged the engines, but it’s working perfectly.

1850

Ok, let’s go home, Mr Rock.

TEN

NINE

EIGHT

SEVEN

SIX

FIVE

FOUR

THREE

TWO

ONE

BLAST OFF

FWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMPPH

Lift off! We’re going! We’re going home!

FWOOO-  FFT

That doesn’t sound good.

FFT

FFT

CRUNCH

1852

On the bright side, the engines are working. That’s fortunate.

What’s less fortunate is that May’s little escapade burned up almost all the remaining fuel in my ship.

There’s the FTL drive. That still has plenty of fuel. Unlimited. Get me into space and zoom.

But normal fuel? Gone. And I can’t take off without it.

1853

Also, the ship landed sideways. On the door. Trapping me inside.

1854

Also, Mary is laughing at me.

Seventy-Ninth Entry

March 15^th, 2037

1605

Dear Space Diary.

I’ve seen many strange things in my travels since leaving Earth. Other planets. Robots. Giant pink cities. Alien Death Tubes (although not actually alien as it turns out).

But I think the strangest thing I’ve seen has got to be this.

An analogue clock? In a spaceship? Really, NASA?

And I don’t even mean one of those fake ones where a computer turns the hands or projects a hologram. This is a proper old fashioned one with gears and everything. On Earth, this’d be a collector’s item.

Note to self, sign up for eBay when I get back.

The only thing stranger would be… a speedometer? WHY? Why does a spaceship need a speedometer? This one only goes up to 300 miles, anyway. I guarantee you, we went faster than that.

Yay for recycling I guess.

There are computer components as well, but for some reason they decided to hook life support up to the manual clock. I suppose it does make sense. In the event of a ship-wide power failure, this little watch battery here will keep the clock and life support going for about 50 years. 50 very, very boring years.

Speaking of boring, do you know how long it takes to wind a clock forward 2 days? Quite some time. Not two days, obviously, but still. Nothing to do but twiddle my thumbs.

On the winding mechanism.

1608

Hurry up, time. Mary hasn’t got much of you left.

One day forward.

1612

Two days forward. It should turn on any minute.

WHOOMPH

There it goes!

Tubes are flying out of the dashboard. They supply air and food by inserting… that’s quite unsettling.

…I’ll go stand over here while you, you know. Come back to life.

1615

Dum de dum.

1618

Doo be doo.

…are you alive yet?

I better check.

…she’s got a pulse! And she’s breathing. Very faintly. Still comatose, but I suppose after crashing a spaceship, surviving a flaming inferno, and not breathing for a good while, you’re entitled to a little downtime.

Guess I just have to leave her in there until she gets better. She very stupidly left without a spacesuit (although that probably would have given her plan away somewhat), so I have to leave her inside the ship until she regains consciousness.

…I wonder if my book’s still in there.

1625

…no good, I know how it ends. Sigh.

1800

I found another couple of rocks for NASA just as something to do. Didn’t draw faces on them this time.

Speaking of, how’s Mr Rock doing?

1802

Found him wedged under the seat. Poor guy’s a bit chipped, but still mostly in one piece. Good for him.

1830

Scouted up the hill, can just see the city in the distance, so at least I know the way back.

Mary’s stirring! She’s waking up!

“What happened?”

You crashed. I found you. Are you ok?

“I think so.”

Good. Get the hell out of my spaceship.

Seventy-Eighth Entry

March 15^th, 2037

1555

Dear Space Diary.

NASA I have to compliment you. I don’t want to, but I have to.

You build ships to take a beating. My spaceship, so far, has been sent across the galaxy, crashed into many, many things (I’ve kind of lost count) and eventually been set on fire.

And there’s not a mark on it.

If only we designed people that well…

Actually, apart from the whole not moving thing, Mary looks in pretty good shape. So I’m not entirely sure why she isn’t moving. I can see any obvious marks or burns; the spaceship shielded her from the worst of it.

Hmm. She’s not breathing either.

…crap.

What do I do? I don’t know CPR; I’d probably end up breaking her ribs or inflating her like a balloon or something. And NASA’ll take half an hour to respond, which could be half an hour too long.

If I’m going to do something, I need to do it now.

Damn it NASA, why did you just throw me in a spaceship and press “Blast Off?” Couldn’t you have at least taught me some survival skills? You knew I was going to end up here. That this was a rescue mission.

And now I’m here and I want to rescue her, and I don’t know how!

No, you had to leave it all up to your computers, your nutritional paste, and your emergency survival systems.

…That’s it! When I stopped eating after NASA “accidentally” sent me out of the solar system, an automatic feeding mode activated. That’s tied into a whole range of survival mechanisms that monitor the occupant and correct anything that slips out of balance.

All I have to do is put her in the ship, wait for the systems to kick in, and bingo! Alive Mary.

I hope.

1557

Either Mary’s gained weight, or the adrenaline rush has worn off. Either way, she’s really heavy. I wish I wasn’t so exhausted from all the running. Come on, pull your weight Mary.

1558

Phew. Got her in. Now just need to shut the door…

1600

Well? Come on ship. Save her life.

1601

Anytime now. Whenever you’re ready.

1602

Anytime.

1603

Blast, this isn’t working! Why not?

…oh.

Just worked it out. It monitors you, and starts correcting things after extended periods of inactivity. Generally around 48 hours. Or at least that’s how long it took from me not eating for it to start spoon feeding me.

She’s going to be dead by then! She’s going to be dead in minutes, if she isn’t already!

Come on, I promise it’s been 48 hours. Scout’s honour. Just save her life!

Ok, ok, think. There’s got to be something I can do. Some way to exploit the system. Some tiny, inexplicable flaw in the system that NASA may have overlooked. So how do I make a 48 hour emergency monitoring system think that’s it’s been 48 hours?

…I guess I could wind the clock forward.

Seventy-Seventh Entry

March 15^th, 2037

1535

Dear Space Diary.

Today has gone from bad to worse. My ticket home may just have been irreparably damaged.

Oh, and Mary might be dead. That’s bad too.

To be honest, I’d feel more beat up about that if it wasn’t for the whole betrayal thing. I trusted her! I know we hadn’t known each other for very long, but by reading her blogs and spending so much time with her… not actually her skeleton, I felt like we’d made a connection. Some kind of creepy, skeletal imposter connection.

I guess she’s known me for less time. Either that or she just didn’t like me very much. I did kind of give her a hard time I guess. And I was pretty mean to her.

...Damn it, I am pretty beat up about it. Why did you have to die Mary? You were the only friend I had that wasn’t a robot or a rock, and was actually capable of acknowledging my existence.

…You better not be dead. Otherwise I’ll kill you.

…You know, again.

1542

Getting close now. Or at least I hope I’m getting close. Otherwise those are mighty big flames. Which would mean my spaceship was very much on fire.

I would prefer my spaceship to not be on fire.

1545

…that’s quite a crash.

Assessing as best I can after the fact, it looks like the ship was travelling mostly sideways when it came down.

It came from over there, bounced off the top of that hill there, went THROUGH that hill there, before finally coming to a stop… here. In the middle of that great flaming inferno.

Which presumably was not there until after it landed.

Amazingly, the ship looks like it’s in one piece inside all the flames. What off Earth do you build these things out of, NASA?

That’s a question for later. We can while away the hours of my flight home discussing many such fascinating topics.

But right now, I have to do… something.

Hmm. The flames are concentrated towards the back of the ships, where the engine is. The door is actually mostly flame free. And there was a fire extinguisher under the dashboard if I remember correctly. Because fire in space is bad.

Worth a try I guess.

1548

Ow! That fire is hot!

…It’s really not my day for well-turned phrases, is it?

The spacesuit is very well padded, but even through the gloves I can feel the intense heat coming from the door when I near the handle.

This is going to hurt.

1550

I hate being right. Still the door is open. Mary is… well, she’s not moving.

Dragging her out of the ship. Then the extinguisher.

1552

COUGH COUGH

The smoke is playing havoc with the suit filters. I have to get out of here.

Got the extinguisher.

1553

It’s heavy duty. Just aim it at the fire, press the button and –

FWOOOOOOOOOOOOOM.

…where’d the fire go?

That’s a good extinguisher.

Seventy-Sixth Entry

March 15^th, 2037

1416

Dear Space Diary.

She didn’t just do that.

She did NOT just do that.

Mary has stolen my spaceship, and is going to use it to fly to Earth. Leaving me stranded here until rescue arrives. Whenever that is.

Ok, so she’d been stuck here for longer than me. Ok, so she spent 20 years in space, and I spent 5 weeks. Ok, so she spent most of her time thinking she’d never get home at all. So she must have been feeling pretty desperate.

…but it was MY ship! And she took it.

1418

There’s a trail of white smoke from the ship. Up it goes.

1420

And up.

1421

And up.

1423

And… sideways?

1424

And down.

1426

And down.

…I think it’s crashed.

She’s gone and crashed my ship!

She did NOT just do that.

1435

Trying to clamber through the hole in the roof before the smoke dissipates. It’s exactly as hard as it looked from the ground, but I’m about halfway up. Being in a spacesuit doesn’t help. These gloves aren’t actually made for gripping. I’m not sure what they are made for, but gripping is not it.

1440

Almost… urgh…

1442

And up.

…This is the first time I’ve been outside on the surface of Splat in a very long time. Lost track of the time I spent in the rubbish pile, the tube, and then the city.

It’s still pink.

The smoke trail is getting pretty faint, but I’m fairly certain it was… that way.

I think.

1445

Jump down from the roof was pretty frightening, but I had no time to climb down. Didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would. Let’s hear it for low gravity.

Making it pretty hard to run though. That and a bulky spacesuit, anyway.

Less whinging. Just run.

1455

The trail is almost gone. I’ve got to hurry. It should theoretically be in a straight line, but if she veered off at the last moment I’m not sure I’ll know where to look.

1503

Getting pretty tired. I’ve been running for about 20 minutes, which is more than I’ve run in one go since… well kind of ever.

Seems a very long way. How far can an interstellar space ship have gone?

Don’t answer that.

1506

Just keep WHEEZE running.

1508

Just WHEEZE keep WHEEZE running.

1512

Just WHEEZE WHEEZE WHEEZE.

1514

Ok, I have to stop. Have to stop. Catch my breath. Just… give me a…

THUMP

I appear to have fallen over.

I think I’ll lie here for a while.

1525

Ok, starting to feel like my lungs aren’t replaced with cheese graters anymore.

1530

Managed to stand up and everything. Take THAT, physical fitness!

Problem is: the smoke is completely gone now. And I can only just see the dome of the city back the way I came.

How am I ever going to find… oh.

Turns out it’s easy.

I just need to head for the flames.

Seventy-Fifth Entry

March 15^th, 2037

1400

Dear Space Diary.

I find myself posed with a difficult conundrum. I am unable to fit through the partially jammed shut door of my buried spaceship to fly it out of there. The alternative is to dig for another week, something neither I nor Mary are particularly looking forward to. There is a third option, but it’s not one I am entirely –

“Can I try yet, or what?”

…I can’t fault her courage I guess.

Yes Mary, fine. You can fly my ship out of there.

“Finally. Ok, gimme some room.”

1402

“Ok, I’m in.”

Yes Mary, I can see that.

“I thought I should mention it for the listeners at home.”

Very funny Mary. I don’t narrate every single little moment. Just the important bits.

1406

My nose is itchy.

“Riveting. Just riveting.”

Just hurry up and get my ship out of there.

“I’m reading the manual. Hey, what are these tube things?”

They’re the food supply and… um, the food disposal systems.

“…Ouch.”

Exactly.

1415

“This is going to be easy. The controls are just like the Zubrin. Ok, I’m going to program in a short burst on a thirty second countdown. That’ll get it out of the ground, then we can land it somewhere, swap places, and you can get out of here. Looks like everything is working properly, so you can hopefully get straight home.”

Ok, great. Thank you. And you’re sure you’re happy waiting for the rescue ship?

“Sure am. I’m not going five weeks without a shower. Not when you’re the result.”

Charming as always.

“You know it. Ok, countdown is set.”

THIRTY

TWENTY-NINE

TWENTY-EIGHT

TWENTY-SEVEN

“This is boring. I should have set it at ten. Ten’s traditional, anyway.”

TWENTY-TWO

TWENTY-ONE

My nose is really itchy. I’m going to have to do something about it.

“Like scratching it?”

Thank you, Mary, never would have thought about that on my own.

“You’re welcome. You know, I’ve changed my mind about Mr Rock. He’s actually kinda cool.”

SIXTEEN

FIFTEEN

FOURTEEN

“Hey, there are some messages on here from NASA for you.”

Really? What do they say?

“I’m not going through your mail, what do you take me for? You can read them after I land.”

Um, ok then.

“Some of them are pretty old, but a few are dated this morning.”

Hmm. They must have started sending them there after I reported I found the ship. Why wouldn’t they just send them to the Zubrin?

“Beats me. Maybe they thought you’d fly off straight away and you might not get them otherwise. Maybe they sent you some navigation data to get you home. Maybe they just got the wrong ship by mistake. This is NASA we’re talking about.”

NINE

EIGHT

SEVEN

“Oh yeah. There’s something I forgot to mention.”

SIX

What is it?

FIVE

“You know how I said I’d fly the ship out, land, and we’d swap places?

FOUR

Yes?

THREE

“Well…”

TWO

“I lied. I’m going home.”

ONE

“See ya!”