Red Horizon (The Martian Fanfiction)

Chapter 11

Mark moved tirelessly around the small, cramped confines of the Hab, his every movement precise, deliberate. The dim lighting cast soft shadows across the walls, barely illuminating the tight space as he went about his task with unwavering focus. The muted sound of his boots pressing against the floor was the only real noise in the stillness, each step punctuating the otherwise quiet atmosphere. The hum of the life support system had faded into the background, a distant reminder of the fragile balance keeping them alive in this barren world.

Olivia watched him from her spot on the bunk, her eyes following his every move. For the better part of an hour, Mark had been moving through the Hab like a man possessed—packing away gear, organizing items, and ensuring that everything was where it needed to be. His hands worked with a calm efficiency, sorting through the remnants of a mission that no longer belonged to them. Tools, soil samples, personal items left behind by their crewmates before the storm—all of it now stowed away neatly, as if reclaiming some semblance of order in the chaos.

His face was tight with concentration, brow furrowed in thought, every line etched with the exhaustion he refused to give in to. Sweat glistened on his forehead, the physical toll of his non-stop work evident in the small beads that trickled down his temple. His shirt clung to his back, damp from hours of exertion, but still, he didn't slow. He picked up another box, muscles straining slightly as he lifted it with practiced ease, carrying it across the room to place it in the last storage compartment.

There was an intensity to his movements, a silent determination that felt almost palpable in the small space. He worked like a man who couldn't afford to stop, his mind set on finishing every last task despite the toll it was taking on his body. Even as exhaustion weighed on his shoulders, his hands didn't falter, and the resolve in his eyes never wavered.

"Mark," Olivia said softly, her voice cutting through the quiet. He didn't respond immediately, so she called again, louder this time. "Mark!"

He stopped mid-step, turning to look at her. His eyes were tired, but his expression softened when he saw her watching him.

"You've been at this for hours," she said gently. "Take a break. You need to rest too."

Mark shrugged, setting the box down on one of the nearby shelves. "I'm fine," he said, his voice casual, though there was an edge of weariness there. "Besides, I'm almost done. Just want to get this stuff packed away so we can focus on more important things. Like... you know, staying alive."

Olivia smiled faintly, though her concern lingered. She shifted slightly, wincing as her ribs protested the movement, but she pushed the pain aside. "You're going to be no good to me if you collapse from exhaustion, you know."

Mark chuckled, though it lacked his usual spark of humor. "Don't worry about me, Livi. I've got plenty of gas in the tank."

But Olivia wasn't convinced. She could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his movements had started to slow, the sweat dripping from his brow. He was running on fumes, and she wasn't going to let him burn out just to finish tidying up the Hab.

"Mark," she said, her voice more insistent now. "You need to take care of yourself too. Why don't you take a shower? I can put a waterproof bandage over that wound, and you'll feel a lot better after cleaning up."

Mark hesitated, glancing down at his side where the bandage had been holding up, though it was showing signs of wear. He looked back at her, a reluctant grin tugging at his lips. "Are you saying I smell bad?"

Olivia chuckled, though it sent a sharp twinge through her ribs, forcing her to catch her breath. "I'm saying you've been working non-stop, and you need to relax. And yes, you could probably use a shower."