Mycroft is being completely counterintuitive. If they’re going to have any chance of beating Eurus, it’s John who should die. John knows it, Mycroft knows it, Sherlock knows it, and yet it’s not John at the end of the barrel. It’s Mycroft. For someone who claims to be missing a heart, the love that Mycroft feels for his little brother is stronger than the logic he reveres. And so despite all that brain power and potential Mycroft knows he offers if he lives, he chooses to put it all aside and be a solider. To do his duty. To protect Sherlock. To be big brother.
Victoria LaBarre was climbing out of a canyon and into a bright, vast, seemingly lifeless landscape when she started to experience an astronaut’s nightmare.
“Suddenly,” she said, “I couldn’t breathe.”
The symptoms were real — maybe from claustrophobia, or from exertion at high altitude. But LaBarre didn’t unlatch her helmet to get a breath of fresh air because, in this simulated Mars exercise in the Utah desert, she was supposed to be an astronaut. The canyon was standing in for Candor Chasma, a 5-mile-deep gash in the Red Planet’s surface. On Mars, there’s no oxygen in the air — you do not take off your helmet.
So, instead, LaBarre radioed for help from fellow members of Crew 177. The team of students and teachers from a Texas community college had applied together to live and work for a week this spring in a two-story metal cylinder at the privately run Mars Desert Research Station near Hanksville, Utah.
Elijah Espinoza, a freshman assigned to be a crew engineer and geologist for the week, heard LaBarre’s call and walked her through some breathing exercises.
“I think that’s really one of the best things about Mars — the teamwork,” said LaBarre.“I don’t think you could live without it.”