Laika’s commander, Miranda Cammermeyer, sat in the mess hall, sipping Vanilla & Bran Formul@. Her arms and legs ached, the concoction would repair her waking bones.

She silently sat, dictating recent events into the ship’s computer log. Aunt B was a cognitive based system, the crew were forced to attempt all activities on their own, Aunt B would only intervene when all reasonable possibilities were tried. Basically, most emergencies weren’t Emergencies, just mental laziness.

“May 13th, 2110. Our landing onto Mars’ surface was too soft, we sunk in 6 feet of powder. Aunt B. suggested a thruster blast; it took another week for the cloud to settle. I might calibrate the seismometers today if the rovers haven’t done it yet. I’ve crafted the first Martian Dustshoes, based on a Swiss snowshoe design.”

.
“Ares has turned into a liability, I can’t locate her. The men told me she dug into the duct system. But Aunt B could easily locate her heat signature; the men are playing games. I’m tired. End log.”