The Martian by Andy Weir Read Free Book Online Page B

critical power failure. I tore the LED bulbs out of one and left the two frayed power wires very close together. Now, when I turned it on, I got a small spark.
    Taking a canister of O 2 from Vogel’s suit, I attached a strap to both ends and slung it over my shoulder. Then I attached an air line to the tank and crimped it with my thumb. I turned on a very slow trickle of O 2 ; small enough that it couldn’t overpower the crimp.
    Standing on the table with a sparker in one hand and my oxygen line in the other, I reached up and gave it a try.
    And holy hell, it worked! Blowing the O 2 over the sparker, I flicked the switch on the flashlight and a wonderful jet of flame fired out of the tube. The fire alarm went off, of course. But I’d heard it so much lately, I barely noticed it anymore.
    Then I did it again. And again. Short bursts. Nothing flashy. I was happy to take my time.
    I was elated! This was the best plan ever! Not only was I clearing out the hydrogen, I was making more water!
    Everything went great right up to the explosion.
    One minute I was happily burning hydrogen; the next I was on the other side of the Hab, and a lot of stuff was knocked over. I stumbled to my feet and saw the Hab in disarray.
    My first thought was: “My ears hurt like hell!”
    Then I thought, “I’m dizzy,” and fell to my knees. Then I fell prone. I was
that
dizzy. I groped my head with both hands, looking for a head wound I desperately hoped would not be there. Nothing seemed to be amiss.
    But feeling all over my head and face revealed the true problem. My oxygen mask had been ripped off in the blast. I was breathing nearly pure nitrogen.
    The floor was covered in junk from all over the Hab. No hope of finding the medical O 2 tank. No hope of finding anything in this mess before I passed out.
    Then I saw Lewis’s suit hanging right where it belonged. It hadn’t moved in the blast. It was heavy to start with and had 70 liters of water in it.
    I rushed over, quickly cranked on the O 2 , and stuck my head into the neck hole (I’d removed the helmet long ago, for easy access to the water). I breathed a bit until the dizziness faded, then took a deep breath and held it.
    Still holding my breath, I glanced over to the space suit and Hefty bag I’d used to outsmart the regulator. The bad news is I’d never removed them. The good news is the explosion removed them. Eight of the nine intakes for the regulator were still bagged, but this one would at least tell the truth.
    Stumbling over to the regulator, I turned it back on.
    After a two-second boot process (it was made to start up fast for obvious reasons), it immediately identified the problem.
    The shrill low-oxygen alarm blared throughout the Hab as the regulator dumped pure oxygen into the atmosphere as fast as it safely could.
Separating
oxygen from the atmosphere is difficult and time-consuming, but
adding
it is as simple as opening a valve.
    I clambered over debris back to Lewis’s space suit and put my head back in for more good air. Within three minutes, the regulator had brought the Hab oxygen back up to par.
    I noticed for the first time how burned my clothing was. It was a good time to be wearing three layers of clothes. Mostly the damage was on my sleeves. The outer layer was gone. The middle layer was singed and burned clean through in places. The inner layer, my own uniform, was in reasonably good shape. Looks like I lucked out again.
    Also, glancing at the Hab’s main computer, I saw the temperature had gone up to 15°C. Something very hot and very explodey had happened, and I wasn’t sure what. Or how.
    And that’s where I am now. Wondering what the hell happened.
    After all that work and getting blown up, I’m exhausted. Tomorrow I’ll have to do a million equipment checks and try to figure out what exploded, but for now I just want to sleep.
    I’m in the rover again tonight. Even with the hydrogen gone, I’m reluctant to hang out in a Hab that has a history of