LOG ENTRY: SOL 388 (Dec. 8, 2036)
I started the day with a potato. I washed it down with some Martian Coffee. That’s my name for “hot water with a caffeine pill dissolved in it.” I ran out of real coffee months ago.
My first order of business was a careful inventory of the Hab. I needed to root out anything that would have a problem with losing atmospheric pressure. Of course, everything in the Hab had a crash course in depressurization a few months back. But this time would be controlled and I might as well do it right.
The main thing is the water. I lost 300L to sublimation when the Hab blew up. This time, that won’t happen. I drained the Water Reclaimer and sealed all the tanks.
The rest was just collecting knickknacks and dumping them in Airlock 3. Anything I could think of that doesn’t do well in a near-vacuum. The three remaining laptops, all the pens, the vitamin bottles (probably not necessary but I’m not taking chances), medical supplies, etc.
Then I did a controlled shutdown of the Hab. The critical components are designed to survive a vacuum. Hab depress is one of the many scenarios NASA accounted for. One system at a time, I cleanly shut them all down, ending with the main computer itself.
I suited up and depressurized the Hab. Last time, the canvas collapsed and made a mess of everything. That’s not supposed to happen. The dome of the Hab is mostly supported by air pressure, but there are flexible reenforcing poles across the inside to hold the canvas up. It’s how the Hab was assembled in the first place.
I watched as the canvas gently settled on to the poles. To confirm the depress, I opened both doors of Airlock 2. I left Airlock 3 alone. It maintained pressure for its cargo of random crap.
Then I cut shit up!
I’m not a materials engineer; my design for the bedroom isn’t elegant. It’s just a 2m perimeter and a ceiling. No, it won’t have right angles and corners (pressure vessels don’t like those). It’ll balloon out to a more round shape.
Anyway, it means I only needed to cut two big-ass strips of canvas. One for the walls and one for the ceiling.
After mangling the Hab, I pulled the remaining canvas down to the flooring and re-sealed it. Ever set up a camping tent? From the inside? While wearing a suit of armor? It was a pain in the ass.
I repressurized to 1/20th of an atmosphere to see if it could hold pressure.
Ha ha ha! Of course it couldn’t! Leaks galore. Time to find them.
On Earth, tiny particles get attached to water or wear down to nothing. On Mars, they just hang around. The top layer of sand is like talcum powder. I went outside with a bag and scraped along the surface. I got some normal sand, but plenty of powder too.
I had the Hab maintain the 1/20th atmosphere, backfilling as air leaked out. Then I “puffed” the bag to get the smallest particles to float around. They were quickly drawn to where the leaks were. As I found each leak, I spot-sealed it with resin.
It took hours, but I finally got a good seal. I’ll tell ya, the Hab looks pretty “ghetto” now. One whole side of it is lower than the rest. I’ll have to hunch down when I’m over there.
I pressurized to a full atmosphere and waited an hour. No leaks.
It’s been a long, physically taxing day. I’m totally exhausted but I can’t sleep. Every sound scares the shit out of me. Is that the Hab popping? No? Ok… What was that!? Oh, nothing? Ok…
It’s a terrible thing to have my life depend on my half-assed handiwork.
Time to get a sleeping pill from the medical supplies.
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