Suppertime found the six castaways gathered in the trailer’s habitat deck. Fireball crunched his quartz. The ponies nibbled their dried months-old hay, garnished lightly with a cheesy vegetable side dish from Mark’s meal pack. Mark ate the main course and dessert from said pack along with several potatoes.

It had been a light day. The morning had been spent loading and securing the week of emergency food packs onto the MAV, a chore which had taken only about an hour to complete. The Hermes crew had asked for a day off of supervising simulations, so Cherry, Spitfire and Starlight had had the afternoon free along with the others. There had been a bit of reading, a bit of tinkering with roleplaying scenarios, and a lot of staring out of portholes at the now-familiar landscape of Schiaparelli. But mostly, for lack of any other stimulus, their minds had wandered at random, each keeping their own thoughts to themselves.

That changed during dinner. “Mark?” Dragonfly asked from where she leaned shamelessly against him. “Why is it the MAV doesn’t have a name?”

“Well, Ares I was going to have a contest to name the MDV and MAV,” Mark said. “But the entries were flooded by assholes who submitted names like… well, let’s just say nobody in their right mind would put any of those names on a ship. In the end NASA backpedaled and said that, since each ship was a one-use vehicle, they didn’t merit a name.” The human picked a bit of chicken teriyaki out of the meal pouch and added, “What about you? Did all of your ships have names?”

“No, they didn’t,” Starlight said. “Friendship was the first spaceship we ever gave a name, because it was meant to be used again and again. Almost all our other ships were capsules like the MAV. We reused the capsules, but we never named them.”

“Except for the moon flight,” Cherry Berry said. “The Dreamer is in a museum now.”

“We should have given them all names,” Dragonfly said, in a drowsy, sing-song voice. “They deserve it. They did their jobs. Well, most of them.”

Silence followed, except for the cracking and crunching of Fireball’s meal.

Then Mark murmured, “Freedom 7. Liberty Bell 7. Friendship 7. Aurora 7. Sigma 7. Faith 7. Molly Brown.” He paused, muttering, “I don’t think any other Gemini capsules got a name. Nor Apollo 7 nor 8. But Apollo 9 had Gumdrop and Spider. Apollo 10, Charlie Brown and Snoopy. Apollo 11, the first actual moon landing, had Columbia and Eagle. Apollo 12, Yankee Clipper and Intrepid. Apollo 13, Odyssey and Aquarius. Apollo 14, Kitty Hawk and… and…” He tapped his head, groaning, “I used to have all of these memorized… Antares, that was the lander’s name. I don’t remember Apollo 15, 16 or 17, though, except that there was a Challenger in there somewhere. And the Skylab missions and Apollo-Soyuz didn’t get names, I don’t think. And I don’t think the Russians ever named any of their capsules.”

He held up a fist, saying, “Then the five space shuttles- the STS, not the Dream Chaser we use today. Columbia, that broke up on re-entry in 2003. I was nine then. Challenger, that blew up on launch before I was born. Atlantis. Discovery. Endeavor.” He extended a finger with each name. “And technically Enterprise, but that one only flew glide tests. It never went to space.” He lowered his hand and said, “The Soviet shuttle Buran, which only flew one unmanned flight. The Dream Chasers all have names, but I only remember the one I flew up to Hermes on, the Grissom. And Hermes. I don’t remember any other names.”

“Are there rules for if a ship gets a name or not?” Cherry asked.

“Not consistent ones,” Mark said quietly. “Privately owned spaceships generally do. NASA names ships only if they’re multi-person, reusable craft. Disposable ships don’t get names anymore. The Apollo ships got names only because NASA wanted good press for the moon missions, I think.”

“Hmmmm,” Cherry said. “What was it you kept talking about, when I wanted to rebuild Friendship into an escape ship? There was a name…”

“Flight of the Phoenix,” Mark muttered. “It’s a reference to a couple of movies. The original one is better.”

“What’s a fee-necks anyway?”

“Phoenix,” Starlight said in Equestrian, and then added in English, “The fire-bird. You know, like Celestia’s pet. I told you ages ago.”

“Does your version burn up and then rise from the ashes good as new?” Mark asked.

“Yes, it does,” Starlight said. “Fluttershy told me all about her first encounter with Celestia’s phoenix. It scared her silly, thinking she’d killed it. Turns out it was only playing dead.”

“Okay, then.” Cherry Berry pushed aside the uneaten portion of her hay, stood up, and reached into a cubbyhole for one of the old Hab laptops.

“What are you doing?” Mark asked.

“The transmission window is still open for a few hours, right?” she asked. “I need to send a message.”

[18:41] MAV: Please rename Ares IV MAV “PHOENIX,” because we who crashed and burned will rise again in fire and magic. Cherry Berry

[18:43] HERMES: Hermes copies message. Clear skies, Phoenix.

[18:59] HOUSTON: Request received and taken under advisement. We’ll let you know if it gets approved.

[19:17] MAV: An interplanetary spaceship needs a name. Maybe this one won’t need to go that far, but it’ll be able to. We’re calling it Phoenix. What you call it is your problem. CB

[19:35] HOUSTON: Cherry, please remember, it is our ship.

[19:51] MAV: Was your ship. Arrrrrr. CB

Author's Notes:

A thing that preys on my mind: if the Apollo capsules and landers all had names from 9 on through 17, why not the MDV and MAV in the book? I mean, yes, I can see the argument against naming single-use craft, but I can also see the strong argument in favor of publicity stunts to name the ships.

Feeling considerably better, except for a lingering cough and lack of energy. And glad that I have a weekend off before what I expect to be six conventions in a row.