“I can’t promise we’ll succeed in rescuing him, but I can promise this: The entire focus of NASA will be to bring Mark Watney home. This will be our overriding and singular obsession until he is either back on Earth or confirmed dead on Mars.”
-
Shiro pinched his eyes closed, lips cracked as his voice creaked out what was becoming more mantra than Martian quote one more time as he pressed too-hot skin to grimy but blissfully cool metal of his brig cell.
Who was he fooling.
The Garrison had to think they were dead. The Holts were undoubtedly dead. And any rescue team would get dead. Dead, dead, dead.
Champion shoved himself to a sitting position as the clank of droid feet stamped down the coorider and his cell door rattled.
Well. He still had one more thing in common with Mark Watney besides just being an astronaut: if he was getting out of this alive, he was getting himself out. And doing it alone.
Mechanical hands grabbed at him and marched him towards the pit.
Well. If he did survive to escape, that’d officially make him a space pirate.
Eat that, Watney.
