The Final Six

by Alexandra Monir

  Just as I’m peering closer, the footage fades, the montage ending on a split-screen image of me and Beckett Wolfe. My cheeks heat up in self-consciousness.

  “Like most of you, we on the news team were especially curious about the American finalists, Beckett Wolfe and Naomi Ardalan,” Sanford Pearce says into the camera. “Since their names were revealed this morning, we had a chance to do some research on these two exemplary teens. Take a look.”

  The images on the TV scroll back in time, back to the last Wagner World Science Fair. I’m caught off guard by the sight of my fifteen-year-old self. I look different . . . I look happy.

  My idol, Dr. Greta Wagner, enters the frame and hands me a gilded trophy. It’s the moment forever memorialized in the framed photo on my desk, reminding me every day to work harder, to think big, like Wagner.

  “Last year, Naomi blew us away with her DNA editing solution, an experimental method of hacking into and correcting a patient’s genomes. This year, she brings us another work of true ingenuity: the Ardalan radio telescope model, with its unique antenna and receiver design that would allow us to capture a clearer signal from other planets in our solar system.”

  As Dr. Wagner unveils my blueprints on the screen, my parents and Sam cheer in real time, right along with their younger selves in the footage. I smile with them, though my pride is dampened by the fact that the telescope was never built. Same with my DNA editing solution, which I dreamed up for Sam. Once Earth entered the state of climate destruction, there were no more grants or funds left for anything that didn’t relate to our immediate survival.

  “In fact,” Dr. Wagner continues in the footage, “this is the kind of invention the folks at SETI would have jumped over themselves to use.”

  The great inventor and engineer purses her lips, her eyes darkening, and I know the reason for her soured expression. SETI—the Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence Institute—was defunded three months before the Wagner Science Fair. The scientific community protested the loss, but there was no way around it: NASA and the government had deemed the search for extraterrestrial life “nonessential” in these desperate times. And that’s precisely why the Final Six will be walking blindly into whatever is waiting on Europa—because unlike every previous space mission, there is no SETI to rule out the possibility of life.

  My head snaps up.

  I’ve just given myself an idea.

  After saying goodnight to our parents, I grab my tablet and cross the hall from my pocket-size bedroom into Sam’s. I find him staring at a screen of his own, his brow furrowed with worry.

  “What’s wrong? What are you looking at?”

  I pull up a chair beside him at the desk, and he slides his laptop toward me. An article fills the screen, with the headline reading: “Athena Backup Crew Warns of Europa Risks.” At the center of the page is a photo of the surviving astronauts, hugging through their tears at the memorial for the doomed Athena crew five years ago. A chill creeps up my spine, and I quickly close the page.

  “I know. I tried asking the NASA rep about it today, and she fed me the company line about how this mission will be completely different . . . but we have even more important things to talk about. Have you been on Space Conspirator today?”

  Sam shakes his head and I log on to the site, which has a brand-new landing page since this morning’s announcement. Underneath the Conspirator logo is an artist’s sketch of six shadowy puppets, staring at a faceless creature rising up from the ocean—while a caricature of a man and woman, meant to represent the Europa Mission leaders, pull the puppet strings. As Sam shudders, I click on the website’s News tab and scroll, hunting for a certain article.

  “That footage on TV gave me an idea—the part where Dr. Wagner mentioned SETI,” I tell him. “If I could prove it, if I could show the world that the Space Conspirator’s claims aren’t just the ravings of some renegade scientists, but the truth . . . well, that would change everything. It would bring me home.”

  My cursor lands on the article I was looking for: “Scientific Probabilities of Life in Europa’s Oceans.” The Conspirator was right when it predicted the outcome of the Athena mission years ago. Why shouldn’t it be right this time, too—especially when science supports the theory? As my brother starts to read, I jump out of my chair, too fired up to sit still.

  “I’ll go to Space Training Camp under the pretense of preparing for the Europa Mission—but in reality, I’ll be on a whole other mission of my own. I can use the Johnson Space Center tools at my disposal to finish the job that SETI never got to do. I’ll conduct my own search for extraterrestrial intelligence—focused solely on Europa.”

  Sam turns around in his seat, watching me with raised eyebrows.

  “If I can prove the theory that there is a high probability of intelligent life waiting for us, that would completely turn public opinion of the mission on its head.” I take a deep breath. “There is just no way world leaders would send us if they believed what I do. Especially when the president’s own nephew is involved.”

  A slow smile spreads across my brother’s face.

  “So you’re going to sabotage the mission from the inside?”

  “I prefer the term ‘enlighten the public.’ But yeah.” I grin. “Certain people might call it sabotage.”

  Sam reaches over to give me a fist bump.

  “I like this plan. Go get ’em, Sis.”

  Five

  LEO

  “LEO, LEO, FORZA LEO!”

  I pull back the curtains of the guest bedroom with a smile. It’s just past eight in the morning on Departure Day, but my neighbors are already here, waiting on the docks to see me off. The sight fills me with warmth, and I can’t resist cranking open the window.

  “Vi amo tutti!” I call, waving at the faces below. And it’s true—right now I love every last one of them standing there in the cold, cheering my name. My appearance at the window sends their cheers into overdrive, and I laugh to myself as I imagine what my sister would say. They do know it’s you, right?

  Just then, a knock sounds at my door.

  “Leo, it’s Dr. Schroder. Are you up?”

  “Come in,” I call, and he steps inside, carrying a small trunk.

  “I have something you’ll need for the trip. The Europa Mission leaders requested that all finalists arrive at International Space Training Camp already in uniform.”

  He hands me the trunk, and as I lift the lid, my pulse begins to race.

  The first thing I see is a dark blue flight jacket lined with wool, warmer and softer than any of the threadbare clothes I’ve been wearing since the flood. The jacket is adorned with military-style patches: one bearing the ISTC logo, another with the logo of ESA, and a third patch emblazoned with my own name. The back of the jacket reads Mission: Europa in striking bold letters, and for a moment I can’t speak. This is really happening.

  Beneath the jacket is a pair of khakis, some high-tech sneakers, and a blue ISTC polo shirt glinting with a flash of gold. I take a second look—it’s a golden pin of the Italian flag. My breath catches. I won’t be leaving my country behind, after all. I’ll be wearing our colors proudly against my chest.

  I look up to meet Dr. Schroder’s eyes.

  “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

  He grins.

  “Glad you approve. See you downstairs in twenty minutes?”

  I nod, adrenaline working its way through my body as the countdown begins. Stepping into the ISTC uniform and leaving Europe for the first time in my life seems almost like assuming a new identity. It’s the second chance I never expected, even though a part of me still clings to who I used to be—when I was with my parents and with Angelica.

  I pull the polo shirt over my head and step into the khakis and sneakers, which are as comfortable as they look. I drape the Mission: Europa jacket over my shoulders, and now I look the part. I am ready.

  The guards escort the Vincentis, Dr. Schroder, and me to the Palazzo boat dock, where the crow
d of onlookers breaks into a chorus of hurrahs at our arrival. I turn to Elena with a grin, and though she returns my smile, it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. I can tell she’s still preoccupied with last night’s discovery, and I wish I could reassure her that it doesn’t faze me. What matters isn’t how I got picked—it’s that I was chosen at all.

  “There it is.” The prime minister points straight ahead, where the boat’s mast breaks the monotonous stretch of water. My heart lifts at the return of the vessel that saved—and changed—my life.

  “Are you ready, Leo?” Dr. Schroder asks.

  I take one last look around me, at the sunken new face of Rome. Even in its wrecked state, there is still something beautiful about my homeland. I know I’ll never forget the way it looks right now, the morning sun gleaming against the waves.

  “Arrivederci, Roma,” I murmur. And then I glance at Dr. Schroder. “Let’s go.”

  I’ve already said my good-byes to the Vincentis inside, but just before I step onto the boat, Elena grabs my wrist. She flings her arms around me in one last hug before whispering in my ear, “Remember everything I told you. Keep your eyes and ears open, and your guard up.”

  “I will. Don’t worry, Elena.”

  But as I settle into my seat on the boat, watching my neighbors on the docks grow smaller, all I can think about is the adventure ahead.

  Elena’s warnings are already forgotten.

  The sleek white Gulfstream lowers in the sky toward us, its engine emitting an earsplitting roar. Dr. Schroder pulls me back, and the two of us duck as the jet slides onto the Tuscan Airfield runway in a perfect landing.

  “Did I tell you I’ve never been on an airplane before?” I shout above the noise.

  Dr. Schroder’s eyebrows shoot up.

  “It’s true,” I say with a chuckle. “We never had the money for transcontinental travel, so all our family trips were by train, within Europe.”

  He places a hand on my shoulder. “And now you might be one of the few to travel farther than anyone else on this Earth.”

  The thought sends a flash of excitement through me. The farther I get from Rome, the more I want this—and the harder it is to imagine ever returning.

  The jet parks on the concrete before us. Its automatic doors slide open, and a set of stairs unfurls from them. Our pilot, a captain from the Italian army, steps outside to greet Dr. Schroder and me, ushering us into the compact passenger cabin where we take our seats.

  “It’s so much more personal than it looks on TV,” I comment to Dr. Schroder.

  “Yeah, well, those big commercial airliners are a thing of the past,” he says grimly. “Now that more than half of the world’s tourist destinations are underwater, there’s no need for them. This generation of kids growing up will likely never experience air travel, unless they work for the government or military.”

  “Speaking of, am I now considered part of the Italian army?” I ask. “Since I’ve technically been drafted?”

  “You are representing Italy, but as part of a new World Army,” Dr. Schroder explains. “It’s all of us fighting together now . . . fighting to save the human race.”

  I nod, trying to appear calm, even as his words push my anticipation into overdrive.

  “We’re cleared for takeoff.” The captain’s voice echoes over the loudspeaker. “Please ensure your seat belts are fastened.”

  “Copy that,” Dr. Schroder calls back.

  I grip my armrest as the jet lurches forward. And then, like a thrill ride from the old amusement parks, we hurtle up into the sky at breakneck speed. The cabin shakes as the plane skims the clouds, my stomach flipping over with each pitch of the aircraft.

  “Are flights usually this bumpy?”

  Dr. Schroder shifts in his seat to face me, looking almost as queasy as I feel. “They didn’t used to be. It’s another one of climate change’s side effects—the warming temperatures strengthened the jet stream winds and turned the skies hostile. But believe it or not, we’re safer up here than we are down there.”

  “I believe it!”

  I turn to the window, keeping my eyes locked on the glass to distract from the bumps and dips of the plane, and soon I’ve lost track of how much time has elapsed. It isn’t until the anxiety presses against my chest that I realize I’m waiting for something that isn’t coming—a break from the blue. The endless ocean dominates my view, overwhelming the dots of green and tiny slivers of land.

  “You can see it clearly from up here: why this mission is so crucial,” Dr. Schroder says, following my gaze. “Not long ago, when you were a child, the scenery below was vastly different. The scientists and climatologists tried to warn the public about the risks of carbon emissions and pollution, but . . .” He shakes his head. “Well, it’s too late now. And we don’t have much time left if we’re going to escape the rising seas.”

  “No,” I agree, staring at the foreboding stretch of blue. “We don’t have much time at all.”

  NAOMI

  It seems like all of Los Angeles is on the tarmac at Burbank Airport, watching as my heart breaks. I hold on to my family, trying to block out the noise and the pressure as the crowd shrieks my name, flashing their camera-phones and waving signs proclaiming the Twenty-Four “Our last chance for survival!” Only a few minutes remain until the NASA official and army major will come tear me away from my family. Dad pulls the three of us into a tight-knit group hug, and I bury my head in his shoulder, hiding my face.

  “Naomi, azizam, we’re going to miss you more than we can bear,” he says in my ear, his voice choked with tears. “But . . . we know you weren’t born for this planet. You were meant for something bigger.”

  “He’s right.” Mom cradles my chin in her hands. “As much as I want you beside me, you have too much to offer to stay in a world that’s failing you. Go out there and—and change the universe.”

  “I—I would if I could, but . . .” My words falter as I watch my little brother wipe his eyes on his sleeve. Maybe in another life I would have leaped at this opportunity, but not now, not with my heart pulling me toward home. As if reading my thoughts, Mom adds, “Don’t forget—if you make the Final Six and the mission succeeds, then the three of us are guaranteed a seat on the first human settlement spacecraft to Europa.” She gives me a shaky smile. “So you see, we can all be together again . . . but in a better place.”

  I meet Sam’s eyes, and I know we’re both thinking the same thing. Mom is an eternal optimist, but whether the mission will succeed is a gigantic if—and even if it does, my brother’s heart could never withstand a rocket launch into space. And there’s no way anyone else is leaving him behind. So, no—there won’t be a fairy-tale reunion for the four of us on Europa. Not a chance. Still, I force myself to nod along with her words, to let her hold on to hope. But then Sam is in front of me and I can’t say good-bye to him, I can’t; I choke on the words.

  “I love you, Sis. It’s—it’s going to be okay.” He lowers his voice. “You’re going to go to Houston and show everyone what’s possible . . . what’s really out there. And then you’ll come home.” He looks at me hopefully. “Right?”

  “Right,” I whisper back.

  I reach into the pocket of my Mission: Europa jacket and hand him a folded square of paper. “To read when you need me.”

  Sam smiles at me through his tears. “Our telepathy game remains strong.”

  My eyes well up all over again as he reaches into his coat pocket and hands me an envelope of his own. But instead of just a letter, I feel something small and bulky inside.

  “Keep it safe.” Sam gives me a warning look and I nod, stashing the envelope in the front pocket of my backpack.

  “Naomi? Let’s go.”

  I turn sharply at the sound of Dr. Anderson’s voice. It’s too soon; I’m not ready—but now the army officers are approaching, the jet doors are sliding open, the plane’s engine is revving. I’m running out of time. I reach for my parents once more.

  “Take c
are of my brother. Take care of each other. I love you all so much.”

  I get in one last hug with Sam before Dr. Anderson and Major Lewis’s hands are on my shoulders, pulling me away from my family—and ushering me into a new life.

  I peer through the jet window, watching as an island of concrete materializes below. This must be it: Space City, Houston. The land that gave us the Apollo missions and the International Space Station, that launched a million childhood daydreams—including mine.

  When my mom showed a six-year-old me the historic video of Anousheh Ansari climbing inside the Soyuz rocket, becoming the first Iranian-American woman in space, I remember instantly picturing myself in her place. “That’s what I want to do,” I told Mom then, brimming with confidence. “Me and Sam can be the first brother-sister duo in orbit!” Even then, I never wanted to leave him. So once I learned the truth about Sam’s condition, that it would preclude him from ever venturing beyond our Earth, I dropped the astronaut dream like a bad habit. And now the childhood wish is coming true . . . in spite of me.

  “We’ll be touching down any minute,” Dr. Anderson says from her seat beside me. “Do you want to freshen up for the cameras?”

  I shrug. “Not really.”

  At this point, looking attractive for strangers is the very last item on my priority list.