Since I never wanted to leave Earth in the first place, I can only assume that I was kidnapped, knocked unconscious, dragged, and tortured – not necessarily in that order. So, now finding myself in quite the pickle, my best chance, the only chance that I and my fellow detainees have of not being sent to the Mars penal gulag is an uprising against our captors – who attended the Sgt. Schulz school of planning by appearances, but back to that in a second. We must take control of the ship somehow, quickly, before we pass the last gas station anyway, and compel someone that can land this space bucket to do a 180 and return us back home to Earth. It will be easy to talk the guards heads around, that much is clear. Who’d want to guard a bunch of people on Mars, the big red rock, with no food or water? This is no mission, we’re all doomed together.