If Tomorrow Never Comes

08

INT. NASA - MISSION CONTROL - DAY

Timer Controller said, "...and liftoff of the Iris Supply Probe."

Cheers coursed through the room.

While team members congratulated one another, the Launcher Interface frowned at his station and said, "Getting a little shimmy, Flight."

"Say again?" Mitch replied.

INT. HULL - DAY

A violent shimmy rattled the payload as the craft accelerated. The bolt at the forefront cracked.

EXT. IRIS CRAFT - DAY

As the first stage depleted its fuel, it jettisoned the stage-clamps. As the stage began to fall away from the shimmying craft, it caught hold, swinging unnaturally to the side. The second stage engines ignited.

INT. HULL - DAY

A whoosh sounded and the acceleration shook the craft. The bolt sheared clean off, the payload rocked, and the other four bolts snapped.

Iris slipped from its supports, and slammed into the hull.

INT. NASA - CONTROL ROOM - DAY

Alarms and lights flashed across the consoles. A cacophony of urgent voices from the floor.

"Whoa!" Launcher Interface cried. "Flight, we're getting a large precession!"

Guidance Telemetry Force on Iris at 7 G's said, "Intermittent signal loss."

"Launch, what's happening?" Mitch asked.

"It's spinning on the long axis with a 17
degree precession."

"We've lost readings on the probe, Flight," Comms informed.

Mitch went cold and cursed, "Shit. It shook loose in the bay."

"Loss of signal, Flight," Launcher Interface said.

"L.O.S. here, too," Guidance Telemetry Force stated. "Same here."

The voices went silent. The alarms blared.

"SatCon?" Mitch called after a moment.

"No satellite acquisition of signal," SatCon said.

Mitch looked to the main screen. It went black, with large white letters reading: "L.O.S."

"Flight, US Destroyer Stockton reports
debris falling from sky," Capcom said.

Cameras caught glimpses of debris trails falling from the sky.

Mitch put his head in his hand. "Roger. GC, Flight. Lock the doors."

INT. NASA - VINCENT'S OFFICE - NIGHT

Vincent sat in his office. NASA was eerily silent. He stared into space. A click sounded. He'd been motionless so long, the sensors thought the office was empty and shut off the lights.

Vincent shifted and lights clicked back on.

A chime rang out on his computer. Vincent glances at the screen to see a relayed message from Pathfinder:

WATNEY: "How'd the launch go?"

EXT. SPACE

The somber reds of Mars blazed against the spacescape.

Sol 186

EXT. MARS - DAWN

Mark stood outside. The horizon reflected off his faceplate.

Mark said, "So, um. Commander Lewis. I need you to do something for me. If I die. I need you to check on my parents and my wife. They'll want to hear about my time on Mars first-hand. I'll need you to do that. It won't be easy talking to a couple about their dead son or a widow about her dead husband. It's a lot to ask; that's why I'm asking you. I'm not giving up. Just planning for every outcome. Please tell them I love what I do. And I'm really good at it. And I'm dying for something big and beautiful. And greater than me. Tell them I said I can live with that. And tell Esme that I love her more than she'll ever know."