After a time, Lewis asked, “How many samples do you need?”

“Seven each, perhaps?”

“That’s fine,” Lewis confirmed. “I’ve got four so far.”

“Five here,” Martinez said. “Of course, we can’t expect the navy to keep up with the air force, now can we?”

“So that’s how you want to play it?” Lewis said.

“Just call ’em as I see ’em, Commander.”

“Johanssen here.” The sysop’s voice came over the radio. “Houston’s upgraded the storm to ‘severe.’ It’s going to be here in fifteen minutes.”

“Back to base,” Lewis said.

• • •

THE HAB shook in the roaring wind as the astronauts huddled in the center. All six of them now wore their flight space suits, in case they had to scramble for an emergency takeoff in the MAV. Johanssen watched her laptop while the rest watched her.

“Sustained winds over one hundred kph now,” she said. “Gusting to one twenty-five.”

“Jesus, we’re gonna end up in Oz,” Watney said. “What’s the abort wind speed?”

“Technically one fifty kph,” Martinez said. “Any more than that and the MAV’s in danger of tipping.”

“Any predictions on the storm track?” Lewis asked.

“This is the edge of it,” Johanssen said, staring at her screen. “It’s gonna get worse before it gets better.”

The Hab canvas rippled under the brutal assault as the internal supports bent and shivered with each gust. The cacophony grew louder by the minute.

“All right,” Lewis said. “Prep for abort. We’ll go to the MAV and hope for the best. If the wind gets too high, we’ll launch.”

Leaving the Hab in pairs, they grouped up outside Airlock 1. The driving wind and sand battered them, but they were able to stay on their feet.

“Visibility is almost zero,” Lewis said. “If you get lost, home in on my suit’s telemetry. The wind’s gonna be rougher away from the Hab, so be ready.”

Pressing through the gale, they stumbled toward the MAV, with Lewis and Beck in the lead and Watney and Johanssen bringing up the rear.

“Hey,” Watney panted. “Maybe we could shore up the MAV. Make tipping less likely.”

“How?” Lewis huffed.

“We could use cables from the solar farm as guylines.” He wheezed for a few moments, then continued. “The rovers could be anchors. The trick would be getting the line around the—”

Flying wreckage slammed Watney, carrying him off into the wind.

“Watney!” Johanssen exclaimed.

“What happened?” Lewis said.

“Something hit him!” Johanssen reported.

“Watney, report,” Lewis said.

No reply.

“Watney, report,” Lewis repeated.

Again, she was met with silence.

“He’s offline,” Johanssen reported. “I don’t know where he is!”

“Commander,” Beck said, “before we lost telemetry, his decompression alarm went off!”

“Shit!” Lewis exclaimed. “Johanssen, where did you last see him?”

“He was right in front of me and then he was gone,” she said. “He flew off due west.”

“Okay,” Lewis said. “Martinez, get to the MAV and prep for launch. Everyone else, home in on Johanssen.”

“Dr. Beck,” Vogel said as he stumbled through the storm, “how long can a person survive decompression?”