Red Horizon (The Martian Fanfiction)

Chapter 22

SOL 72

The morning sun crept over the barren Martian landscape, casting long shadows across the red sand as Mark and Olivia prepared for their next mission. They had eaten a quick breakfast, the tension in the air lighter than usual as they loaded the Rover with the few remaining supplies they would need. Today's task was clear: retrieve the RTG.

Mark drove the Rover across Acidalia Planitia, the landscape stretching out endlessly in every direction. The terrain was smoother than other areas they'd driven through before, but the weight of their mission still hung over them. Olivia sat beside him, her leg propped up slightly, eyes focused on the horizon. In the distance, a green flag fluttered weakly at the top of a hill—Mark's makeshift marker from when he had scouted the area before.

"That's the spot," Mark said, his voice steady as they neared the hill.

Once they reached the base of the hill, Mark climbed out of the Rover with a grunt, stretching his back before grabbing a shovel from the rear. Olivia stayed behind, still working on fully regaining her strength, but her eyes followed Mark as he ascended the hill, each step deliberate.

At the top, Mark began to dig. The loose Martian soil crumbled easily under his shovel, and soon enough, he uncovered the big box containing the plutonium core—his RTG, their new heater. The sight of it, a small missile-shaped object nestled in the dirt, sent a wave of relief through him. He crouched down, wiping the sweat from his brow before gripping the handles and hoisting it free from the ground.

"Got it!" Mark called down, grinning as he carried the RTG down the hill with surprising ease.

Back at the Rover, Olivia watched as he secured the RTG in place, sliding it into the cab. Within moments, the cab began to heat up, the temperature rising rapidly. The warmth hit them like a wall, making the enclosed space feel stifling.

"This thing works fast," Olivia muttered, already feeling beads of sweat forming on her skin. She reached for the zipper of her flight suit, tugging it halfway down before peeling it off her arms. Beneath it, she wore a sports bra, and even that felt like too much as the heat continued to build.

Mark glanced over at her, his face flushed from the heat. He had already stripped off his own shirt, tossing it into the back of the Rover. His chest glistened with sweat, but despite the discomfort, there was a hint of satisfaction in his eyes.

"I'm not cold anymore," Mark said, turning to the camera mounted on the dash as he drove. His voice was light, almost teasing, despite the sweltering temperature inside the Rover. "And yes, I could choose to think about the fact that I'm warm because I have a decaying radioactive isotope riding shotgun next to me, but right now, I have bigger problems on my hands."

He paused, glancing over at Olivia, who was fanning herself with a gloved hand, her face flushed from the heat. She shot him a wry look but said nothing, clearly too hot to offer her usual sarcastic commentary.

Mark continued, his expression becoming more serious as he tapped the screen in front of him. "I've scoured every single data file on Commander Lewis' personal drive, and this is officially the least disco song she owns."

With a dramatic flourish, Mark pressed play on the computer, and the unmistakable opening beats of "Hot Stuff" by Donna Summer filled the cabin.

Olivia groaned, rolling her eyes even as a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Mark's face remained completely deadpan, his eyes fixed on the Martian landscape ahead, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward as the disco beat thumped through the cabin.

"Hot love, baby, this evening..." Donna Summer crooned, the lyrics ridiculously on-the-nose given the circumstances.

For a moment, they drove in silence, the heat oppressive, the music absurdly cheerful. And then, Mark—unable to help himself—started moving his shoulders to the beat, his hands tapping rhythmically on the wheel as he drove.