“Copy,” Lewis said. “Time to intercept?”

“Twenty-eight seconds,” Johanssen said.

“Wow,” Martinez said. “We cut that pretty close.”

“You ready, Johanssen?” Lewis asked.

“Yes,” Johanssen said. “All I have to do is hit enter.”

“Martinez, how’s our angle?”

“Dead-on, Commander,” Martinez reported.

“Strap in,” Lewis said.

The three of them tightened the restraints of their chairs.

“Twenty seconds,” Johanssen said.

• • •

TEDDY TOOK his seat in the VIP room. “What’s the status?”

“Fifteen seconds till they blow the VAL,” Venkat said. “Where have you been?”

“On the phone with the President,” Teddy said. “Do you think this will work?”

“I have no idea,” Venkat said. “I’ve never felt this helpless in my life.”

“If it’s any consolation,” Teddy said, “pretty much everyone in the world feels the same way.”

On the other side of the glass, Mitch paced to and fro.

• • •

“…FIVE…four… three…,” Johanssen said.

“Brace for acceleration,” Lewis said.

“…two… one…,” Johanssen continued. “Activating Lighting Panel 41.”

She pressed enter.

Inside Vogel’s bomb, the full current of the ship’s internal lighting system flowed through a thin, exposed wire. It quickly reached the ignition temperature of the sugar. What would have been a minor fizzle in Earth’s atmosphere became an uncontrolled conflagration in the container’s pure oxygen environment. In under one hundred milliseconds, the massive combustion pressure burst the container, and the resulting explosion ripped the airlock door to shreds.

The internal air of Hermes rushed through the open VAL, blasting Hermes in the other direction.

Vogel and Beck were pressed against the wall of Airlock 2. Lewis, Martinez, and Johanssen endured the acceleration in their seats. It was not a dangerous amount of force. In fact it was less than the force of Earth’s surface gravity. But it was inconsistent and jerky.

After four seconds, the shaking died down and the ship returned to weightlessness.

“Reactor room still pressurized,” Martinez reported.

“Bridge seal holding,” Johanssen said. “Obviously.”

“Damage?” Martinez said.

“Not sure yet,” Johanssen said. “I have External Camera 4 pointed along the nose. I don’t see any problems with the hull near the VAL.”

“Worry about that later,” Lewis said. “What’s our relative velocity and distance to MAV?”

Johanssen typed quickly. “We’ll get within twenty-two meters and we’re at twelve meters per second. We actually got better than expected thrust.”

“Watney,” Lewis said, “it worked. Beck’s on his way.”

“Score!” Watney responded.

“Beck,” Lewis said, “you’re up. Twelve meters per second.”

“Close enough!” Beck replied.

• • •

“I’M GOING to jump out,” Beck said. “Should get me another two or three meters per second.”

“Understood,” Vogel said, loosely gripping Beck’s tether. “Good luck, Dr. Beck.”

Placing his feet on the back wall, Beck coiled and leaped out of the airlock.

Once free, he got his bearings. A quick look to his right showed him what he could not see from inside the airlock.

“I have visual!” Beck said. “I can see the MAV!”

The MAV barely resembled a spacecraft as Beck had come to know them. The once sleek lines were now a jagged mess of missing hull segments and empty anchor points where noncritical components used to be.