It's A Mad Mad Mad Mad Mars

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."_