Welcome Back, Commander.







[COUGHING] That wasn’t fun. Can tick crash landing off the bucket list, Jesus… [COUGHING]. Gonna do a walk.



Nothing’s broken on me at least. All ten fingers and toes accounted for. Might have bruised a couple ribs, though. Pretty sure the back of me head’s bleeding, but I won’t know until I get this suit off…The Sand-Skipper’s got a dented chassis but it’s not leaking any fluids, thank God. The Sandpiper went down somewhere north I reckon. The Skipper’s searching for it, that’s what the beeping is.


Jesus…what a mess.



Four hours and the Skipper can’t find Sandpiper…Give it another few hours and I’ll turn my oxygen off. I’m not starving to death on a stupid damn moon. Don’t even know what moon it is…[MUMBLING].



In case I die here, which is seeming more likely by the minute, I might as well get what happened on record.

Alright. I was enroute to Duamta 4 when the Conroys jumped me. Must’ve had eyes on the sun and scanned me the second I arrived. They took the credits owed them and left me wrecked. I punched for the first planet I saw and the rest’s history. At least Claire and Jack should be safe now. Bart’s debt’s paid. No more Conroys. I’d celebrate, but I forgot to pack the bloody Cava.



Skippers found the Sandpiper…urgh…It could be better news. Two thousand kilometers north-west, roughly. I don’t know how I fell that far away…She must’ve kept flying for a bit. I didn’t hear an explosion so I just assumed…If she exploded that far away I wouldn’t have heard it. The only thing waiting for me might be a crater and a black box.

The Skipper has a max speed of 45kph…I’m just gonna stop recording for a bit. Need a little scream…



That’s better. A scream a day works just as well as any apple. We’re heading for the Sandpiper. Might be a tough trek, but it’s better than sitting down and waiting to die. Anyway, I’ve not kicked Bart in the testis yet. I ain’t dying till I’ve kicked Bart in the testis.



Rock. Rock. Rock. Rock. Crater. Rock. Hill. Rock. Crater. Crater. Crater. Hill. Rock.



I don’t get it, I’m exposed to radiation all the time and I never turn big and green. I just throw up. Now the Flash…There’s a superhero.



One, two, three o’clock, four o’clock rock

Five, six, seven o’clock, eight o’clock rock

Nine, ten, eleven o’clock, twelve o’clock rock

We’re gonna rock around the clock tonight



Calling it a day. I’m tired and Skipper’s making weird noises. Might have some rocks stuck somewhere. I’ll look once I’ve had a kip. I’ve got another…two days of oxygen and no food. Water’s on half rations but should be fine. Fuel might be a bit tight, but I’ll walk it if I have to.

Alright. Going to sleep.



How many hours is that? I need another two at least. Balls, didn’t mean to record that.



I wish I was still asleep. I wish I had food. I wish I had a bed. I wish some KNOB-FACE hadn’t shot me out of the DAMN SKY!



I read The Martian in High School. Everyone did. A little hard to picture Mars as a barren wasteland, but that’s exactly what it was. You can’t really imagine how boring a drive is across perpetual desert until you’ve done it. So, Mark Watney, hats off to ya, mate. This crap is really…REALLY boring.



Burst a tire. Jesus stupid bloody Christ!



Don’t have the tools to change this bloody thing. Must’ve lost the kit in the fall. Great design, probably didn’t wanna keep anywhere secure to save on weight. Tight bastards. Next time let’s just get rid of the seat too, and the seatbelts. Who needs ‘em?



Found the toolkit.



I’m gonna turn this thing off until I’ve made some real progress. Rolling again now.



Three quarters of the way there. Really damn hungry now. Drove through the night cause I’m getting worried about, ya know, starving to death. Who needs sleep anyway.



Found a crater bigger than your mum. I don’t even care if that’s immature, I haven’t eaten in three days, screw you. What’s less funny is the fact I’ve gotta drive all the way around this damn thing. Wall’s too steep to drive down, and probably too steep to drive up the other side, but the Sandpiper’s right the way over there. Of course it is.



Man this thing is deeeeeep. I threw a stone in and it got swallowed by the darkness…Swallowed by the Darkness sounds like a thrash metal album by a band called Moon Crater. I should form a band called Moon Crater.



Just c’mon and be,

Swalllooowweeddd by the DARKNESS!

I’m probably more of a base player than a frontman.



Past the crater. I can see the Sandpiper now, I’m almost there. Just gotta go over this hill and–oh Jesus, I’m rolling! Ha. No. Could you imagine? Flipping your buggie at the last hurdle. Who would do that, Mark Watney? Who?



She’s beautiful. A bit bent. A bit on fire. A bit broken, but the same old Sandpiper. Surprised to see the landing gear to be honest, even more surprised to see her standing on them. All in all…yeah, we’re in good condition.



Engine won’t start, probably a bit flooded. I’m just looking at it now…Not flooded…on fire. Yup that’s…that’s fire.


Why can I NEVER find the bloody fire extinguisher?!



Nothing’s working. It’s late. I’m gonna have a kip. Found some food though, so at least I won’t starve to death.



Two days and I’m still rewiring this piece of moldy sushi rolls. Rationing my food and water now. Things could be worse, though. I could be living off of potatoes.

Really need to stop these Martian references. But also, I really shouldn’t stop these Martian references.



It might just be screwed. Ya know? My eyes are going funny. Might take a walk back to that crater and throw some stones into it…Work on Moon Crater’s first album. Yeah. That sounds nices.



It’s been five days since I found the Sandpiper again. Which means I’ve been stuck here for like…two weeks? I dunno, maybe less. Who knows. Either way, that blackbox message might have sent. Just adds another piece of bullcrap I’m gonna have to fix when I’m off this rock…If I get off this rock…

In other news, I might have invented a new emotion. I call it Fluur based on the noise you make when you feel it. Fluur occurs when you’re sitting on the top of your spacecraft and you’re kind of contempt because you’ve just eaten and you’re thinking about all your sexual partners, but you’re also acutely aware that you’re probably going to die because said spacecraft isn’t working and you’re running out of resources, least of all oxygen. Fluur.



Woke up to a bunch of alarms and smoke. Fire in the engine room again.



Fire’s out, and…I dunno what the hell happened but there’s a light on in the cockpit that wasn’t on earlier…It’s the damn engine, man. The fire fixed the fucking engine! What the…OK, wait…Engine…won’t start. Oh…wait…C’mon girl…C’mon…There we go! Here we go, flying again, we’re flying and–Sparks! No—craaaap! What was that about, eh?

Fire? No fire…Got oxygen…Too much oxygen? Nope. Sod it, let’s just try again…



Hasta La-bye, you stupid bloody rock! I’m out.





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