Badass Dragon Scavengers of the Void - The Wreck of the Coleridge

Delicious, that’s what they were. But, Martian beggars can’t be choosers.

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You… eat them?

I thought you were civilised, not an eater of vegetables. I see I was sadly mistaken.

Good day, sir!

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[okay, nobody told you to get on the shuttle but then nobody told you not to get on the shuttle… this will work, this will work, just don’t draw and attention and find a nice quiet …]

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Well, I did. Don’t act like you haven’t stooped to consuming potassium in a survival situation, I’m well aware of what the robo-bananas did on Arcon XVI. I was on Mars. It was survival. I’ve learned a lot since then, but when the chips are down it’s a dog eat dog world. Sorry doctor, it’s just a phrase.

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Well, it was a different time. It was a different planet, not even Mars. I didn’t say I did it recently.

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Hello fellow space human. Let’s sit at this table like normal space humans and do normal space human things. Like the normal space humans we both are. Normal normal normal.

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eek!

Uh, yes, yes, hello! Salutations and greetings and… Uh, please please sit down.

May I pour you some water? Yes, that’s just the thing, water. Here you are… and, oh! Where are my manners, I completely forgot to pass the salt!

… Uh, you do take salt in your water, right?.

shit shit shit shit shit

[downs glass]

Heh, Normal normal normal, yep! Just like me!

[pat pat]

Say, your arm feels great, what kind of skin is that?

[buuuurrrrp]

Oh. Oh my. I don’t think I feel so good

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Oh, no salt water for me thanks. I find it corrodes my… uh it… disagrees with me. You look like you really enjoyed yours though!

My arm? How kind of you! Must be the new moisturiser I’m using. WD-40K I think it’s called.

Hey you’re not looking so great there… should I fetch a bucket?

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Say, fellas, did I ever tell you about this one time, on Mars where…

Son of a whore.

Say fellas, did I ever tell you about this one motherfucking time, on motherfucking Mars where I was motherfucking stranded for FIVE HUNDRED AND FIFTY SOLS by that ASS TEX ASS?

Brother, we have got some talking to do. And by talking, I am using it as a metaphor to imply that I am going to beat you senseless and leave you on Mars. Up and at em, jacknut.

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No, no , I’m fine, really, I’m fine

Oh, my, something is not agreeing with me.

Do I look flushed? I feel flushed.

You, you look… Is that a wir- totally normal thing sticking out that you absolutely don’t need to tuck back in?

Well, at least there’s us two normals onboard, right?

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This? Oh it’s just some totally normal jewellery, that’s all. There, tucked away. No need to draw any further attention to it.

You do look slightly …not flushed exactly. I want to say orange? Orange-ish at any rate. And slightly bulgy?

Here, have some more water. I suggest maybe leave out the salt this time. Take a moment to gather yourself while I get us some proper drinks

Waving over the nearest scullerybot: Pshhhkkkkkkrrrrkakingkakingkakingtshchchchchchchchcchdingding*ding

There, 2 totally normal refreshing beverages coming right up!

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Aw, Christ, where’s the fucking cat when you need him? Goddamn typical.

“Hey. Watney. Long time. ‘Bout a year and a half, right? Ha. Ha ha. Yeah, right. ‘Stranded,’ were ya? Sounds rough. Sounds almost… heroic. But ya know what, Mark ol’ buddy? Since you seem to love an audience so much, I got a bit of intelligence to add to your legend. If you really want the audience to have a full appreciation for what went down. Like your potatoes. (Hey, Spiner, stop lookin’ so green, you hardly knew 'em.) I heard you say on the News-O-Net that your airlock blew out and destroyed your crop. How ‘bout that. I have it on good authority that yer taters went up in a conflagration that was ignited when your fertilizer spontaneously combusted. Because your shit was so thermodynamically unstable due to your maniacal love for frijoles refritos and ghost pepper salsa. How do I know this? Same way everyone else on the Hermes knew: we all possessed nostrils. And I, not being the botanist, oh no, nothing so highfalutin as that, lowly engineer’s mate Tex had the job of swapping out the atmosphere scrubbers, which I was obliged to do twice as often as per spec on that expedition because of guess who and his caustic tailwind? And you wonder why we left you behind. You probably thought it was because of your endlessly flappin’ mouth…”

Splash

“What the… dammit, Jones, watch where the hell you’re goin’! You just soaked me with that pint of Arcturan goatpiss you call…”

“It’s tropical coolant, Boss, and you needed an extra splash ‘cause it’s quite evident you’re runnin’ a quart low. Hey, human. Watney, is it? Pleasure. Don’t mind Cap’n Ass there, he’s grievin’ the loss of his command and his youthful virility to boot, plus his mum just died. Say, don’t I remember seein’ your face on a statue over in Schiaparelli? Y’know, out in front of Desmond Balthar’s Groovy Gals Gentlemen’s Club? No? Somebody else? Huh. Small galaxy.”

“Jones, come here, I’m gonna towel off on your fur.”

“Boss, will you keep it together? Amusin’ as it is to see you madder and wetter than a wet hen, do I have to remind you that you’re broke, you’re not as young as you used to be, you’re on Day One of this gig, and by all appearances you’re gonna have to work with this guy?”

“I already did my time, Jones. Life’s too short. No amount of money is worth putting my nostrils and ears through all that again, hell he’s ugly to boot, so there’s only one in seven holes in my head he hasn’t offended…”

Shut. Up. Boss. You can’t back out now.”

“Sure I can, just watch me.”

“Lizard, why haven’t you ever learned to Read The Fine Print?”

“Huh? Where? Lemme see that…”

“…”

“Shit.”

“Yep.”

“Do I gotta buy him a drink?”

“Might be a good start.”

“I think he wants to clobber me.”

“Can you blame him?”

“I just did.”

“Shall we read that fine print again?”

“No.”

“…”

“Hey, XO, why aren’t you clobberin’ him for me?”

“You don’t have an XO, remember?”

“What are ya, some kind of pussy?”

“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.”

“You outweigh him by 200 kilograms.”

“Yeah, and my dick’s spiked, too. But I’m not fighting him.”

“Why not? Against the fine print?”

“No. I didn’t sign any paperwork, remember? I just don’t have any quarrel with him.”

“You lousy, fleabitten, toothless housecat.”

“Make your peace with the human, Boss. I’ll get ya a fresh drink.”

“Lazy, no-account, good-fer-nuthin’ kitten… sigh. Hey, Watney. Mark. Look, that was a long-ass time ago. Howzabout we let bygones be bygones, whaddaya say? We don’t have to bunk together, we just have to work together, and I promise you can abandon me on the very next asteroid if you think you can get away with it having read the fine print in your brand-new contract. Specifically the third page, paragraph six. No, above “Mutiny.” That bit right there. Yeah. We’re both just here to make a livin’, right? Okay, I’m sorry I made fun of your gastrointestinal issues. And truth be told, we really did try to come back for you, it was all a practical joke gone bad, Esmerelda cried her eyes out when the maneuvering jets froze up and we couldn’t turn around, she shouldered all the blame even though we told her no, we all couldn’t stand the smell and thought you could stand to be taken down just a peg or two, but she wouldn’t listen, locked herself into the airlock and somehow spaced herself. I can still see the tears frozen on her cheeks just before her eyeballs exploded. And I’m sure we all felt that bad. Can you find it in yer heart to forgive us? Me, Smitty, No-Nuts, Lefty, Vasquez, !Kung, and especially Esmerelda (since she’s the one who thought of it, honest)? Lemme get ya a drink. You like… say, Luksusowa? Oh. No, I get ya. Yeah, sorry, my bad. How about somethin’ else?”

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“Ssssssssss!”

[Remembers, pulls the the string on the See-and-'Slate ™ translator.]

“Hey, don’t wanna be THAT LIZARD, but are these steak fries…done?”

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In the spirit of mutual cooperation, and the fact that I didn’t see that line, fine.

However, if I want you, and everyone else within earshot to know straight off that if there’s any marooning to be done on Mars, it’s sure as hell going to be me sailing away in the spaceship at the end of the day. I’ll shake your hand but there’s no way do I have to trust y…

[skims contract]

Ahem, no way I have to trust you. Jonesey, I’d watch out if I were you, don’t make him use up one of your lives. Tex, sorry to hear about your mom.

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Space is cold.

Sibling, Remember the cold. When we your friends need warmth, be warm, remembering the cold. When friendship pains you, forgive us, remembering the cold. When selfishness tempts you, renounce it, remembering the cold. For we will go the distance with you, and you will return with us, renewed. Remember, remember the cold.

–Landau

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[Orders tater tots and a juice box from the AutoGrub.]

Hey Mister, did you grow tater-tots on Mars?

[Starts to make a Mess of the Coleridge]

How come you didn’t grow tater-tots instead. I don’t like just potatoes. That’s gross. Just potatoes make me sick. Bleeecech!

[a Tater tot rolls off the plate and under the table]

What’s Mars anyhow? Is that a person or a city? My friend Lars has potatoes in his ears. His Mom said so. Maybe you grew potatoes on Lars. [giggles and smears ketchup on her sleeve]

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“Barkeep! Your finest complementary beverage! Browf Clamphoof is going back to Charybdis!”

“Sir, they don’t have table waiting staff in this section”, remarked Dakota. “Punch your order into the replicators yourself”

“Can’t you do that wirelessly now? You’ve got that new handheld compudeck the company bought…”

“I ate before we got on the shuttle. Ground food is always much better than the ‘food’ these poorly maintained military replicators make. And order it yourself, Browf, I’m trying to beat this ancient Earthican game of Bejeweled.”

“Those beavers should never have got you hooked on that dumb game. With that money we earned shipping logs for the beaverkin, I didn’t think you’d spend it on a device that you’re using to emulate centuries old games.”

Dakota doesn’t even look up from her compudeck handheld, but shrugs it off anyways. “Deal with it, Browf. It’s not my fault we got caught by the spacetax department”.

Browf huffs a huff. “Look, that wormhole you found to avoid the toll gates was amazing, and we certainly made the best of it. But the business is in my name, and you’re the accountant, and we’re both here to pay back the space lobster tax department for using their wormhole loophole without authorisation.”

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Humans!

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The Lobsterians loooove me, and I loooove their food! But I could run this joint a thousand times better! It’d be YUUUGE if I was in charge!

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Oops, looks like an off-by-one error. Never mind, I’m sure there’s someone here who’d like to join us!

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