text: On the surface of Mars, nested between a dry seabed and a mountain range Corporal Davis scanned the horizon from behind his visor. Nothing. He turned and began entrance procedures into the Habitat Dome. He had just received a transmission from O-Base. Command had prolonged their mission for an extra 30 martian days. “How long will we be here?” he had asked. “Do your duty Corporal, O-Base out” was the reply. Davis was used to that short, curt sentence. Never before as a grunt or an Air Force F-35 pilot or as an Astronaut had he questioned his orders from any command. Davis and his crew had been on The Rock for 168 days, 18 hours and 34 minutes. This was the third extension of the mission and the men wanted to go home. Davis entered the Hab to break the bad news to his men. His two subordinates shook their heads in unison. For both of them, this was their first mission. Usually, astronauts have at least 800 hours in space at the minimum before even being considered for planet exploration. Although inexperienced in space travel, the two men with Davis were both former pilots and had done exceptionally well on the aptitude tests. Sanchez was a battlefield medic during the Second Korean War and flew F-35s shortly after the it ended. The other man, Jung, was from the European Space Agency and flew state of the art research planes that he had designed for the German Intelligence Agency. Davis was a farm boy from Ohio. He had grown up near Wright-Patterson Air Force base. He had also seen action in Korea, but as close air support for troops. “Hopefully O-Base sends us some relief supplies soon,” said Jung, “We are 80% depleted” “We have to wait and trust O-Base,” Davis said. “When will we get off this fucking rock?” said Sanchez, with an edge on his voice. Davis stayed silent. They didn’t understand. Base was never wrong about anything. “Missions get extended all the time,” Davis said with a wave of his hand. “Calm down. That’s an order.” 4 Days Later Davis sipped his quarter cup of coffee. Thanks to the rationing that Jung suggested, he couldn’t have a full cup. *When we get the supplies, I’m going to hoard all the coffee,* he thought to himself, smirking. Sanchez walked into the kitchen area, his face pale white. “Are you ok soldier?” asked Davis “When are our supplies coming?” “Soon. Command never fails us.” “Bullshit! You’re lying!” “Stand down soldier.” Sanchez ran towards Davis, swinging his arms wildly and screaming. Davis threw his coffee at Sanchez and stood to meet him. Davis wrapped Sanchez up in a bear hug. “It’s ok Sanchez, We will go home soon. I promise.” Sanchez stopped resisting and began to sob, shaking. “Take a break today, rest up,” said Davis. Sanchez sniffed and rubbed his eyes. As soon as he left the kitchen, Davis sighed, *never send a greenie.* 8 days later Davis opened his eyes. An alarm blared. Shit! Jung was shaking him awake. “Wake up sir, we have to go. Something pierced the Hab. It’s depressurizing.” Davis rushed to put on his suit. He looked up and noticed a tiny hole in the ceiling. “Where’s Sanchez?” asked Davis. “I’m here.” “Ok. You and Jung need to fix this hole right now from the outside. I will work from the inside.” Davis grabbed the Hab patch kit and headed towards the air pump. No use in pumping air into the Hab if it was just going to leave through the hole. *It was expected, Habs are not built to last his long.* 3 Days later “Where are the supplies, Corporal?” Demanded Sanchez. “We have to wait and trust O-Base,” Davis said. “I know, you said that last time.” “O-Base is never wrong.” “This is ridiculous! We have been here for an extra fifteen days already with no sign from O-Base. I’m starting to think that the bastards have really abandoned us and that YOU are lying to me and Jung.” “We have to w...” “You said that already,” interrupted Sanchez. “Where is the radio?” “Trust O-Base. They have never failed us.” “Hey Jung, where’s the radio?” Jung walked in. “It should be in the Corporal’s office.” Jung and Sanchez made their way to the communications center near where Davis slept. “Use it, Jung.” “You do it.” Sanchez picked up the radio. “Hab dome one requesting a status report on supplies. Over.” Static. Sanchez repeated his request. Just more static. Sanchez swore. “They left us!” “Hey, hey calm down,” said Jung. “Base is probably out of range. Or.. or maybe there’s a dust storm.” 28 days later While Davis and Jung were going over supply rations for the week and trying to figure out how to make their own and restore contact with O-Base when the airlock alarm went off. Davis and Jung hurried towards the noise. Sanchez was inside, completely naked. His body was skinny and weak due to the lack of food. His eyes were sunken in and red, from crying. He had self-inflicted fingernail marks down his cheeks. Jung and Davis began to bang on the window. “Sanchez! What are you doing man? Get it together,” Jung pleaded. Sanchez just blankly stared past them. Davis grasped the handle but it was no use; once procedures had begun, there was no way to open the airlock. “Come on soldier, we can survive, we can do this.” Jung and Davis spent the next five minutes of the procedure trying to talk to Sanchez, trying to get him to come inside. Once the door opened, Sanchez walked outside, shivering. He took a deep breath and collapsed twenty feet from the door of the Hab. Dead. None of them slept that night. Jung sat in Sanchez’s room and stared blankly into the wall. Davis walked in. “Hey Jung, let’s get the radio com up.” “You’re not upset?” “What do you mean?” “Sanchez just fucking killed himself and you want me to get to work? You’re heartless,” he spat in the direction of Davis. “You know what Jung? Sanchez died because he was weak. We will make it out here alive, got it? I don’t need you moping around right now. We need to work to survive. As far as we know O-Base has no idea that we are even alive.” Jung said nothing. He just shivered, in the corner, tears streaking his face. “Get to work on the coms. That’s an order,” Davis left the room, a tear streaking down his cheek. 7 Days later Davis woke up to a small glass of water and began the systems check-up. “Hey, Jung? How are we doing on the communications fixture?” No answer “Jung?” Still silence. Davis walked into Jung room and saw his body grey and limp, hanging from the ceiling, the noose fashioned out of Sanchez’s sheets. His eyes were bulging out and drool dripped from the corner of his mouth. At his foot was a knocked over chair and a note. It read: Sorry Davis. Can’t take it anymore. Better to go out on my own then die of starvation. I’ll be with Sanchez soon. Singed, Jung. P.S. Feel free to use my noose when you find me tomorrow. “This has gone too far,” said Davis. “The experiment was a success. Congratulations Corporal,” replied a disembodied voice from the overhead system. “This is not what I wanted; I thought that we were forging a new path for mankind. “You did your duty, Corporal. Now it’s time to come home. O-Base out.