I join the others and nod obediently, but I can feel my heartbeat quickening. Why all the secrecy? Why are we confined to just four spaces on this massive campus?
What are they hiding?
The door closes behind us, plunging me and Suki into silence. For a few moments we just stand there, both of us frozen in the awkwardness of the situation. But then I clear my throat, force myself to get a grip. I may not be much of a social butterfly, but I need a friend here. Maybe having a roommate will turn out for the best.
“So, um, what do you think? About all this?” I ask, realizing as the words come out of my mouth that I really do suck at making small talk.
“I think . . .” She takes a shaky breath, and for a second I wonder if she’s going to tell me something real—but then her expression closes up. “I think we should try to get some rest while we can. We’re going to be on an exhausting schedule.”
She strides forward and flicks on the lights. Our luggage is already here waiting for us, and Suki drags her bag to the bed farthest from the door, effectively claiming the quieter side of the room without asking me. But I have bigger things to worry about than a potentially inconsiderate roomie.
I sink onto the bed on my side and glance around at our surroundings. The room is about what I expected—small and stark, with two twin beds, a pair of matching white desks and swivel chairs, and a closet and chest of drawers to share. The walls are bare, save for a large, sleek mirror near the door. At first I’m surprised that the ISTC even bothered with such fancy mirrors in each room, until an LED screen lights up within it. A message on the screen displays our names and today’s schedule, with a clock reminding us that we have T-minus two hours until dinner.
“I would have preferred a window to that,” I tell Suki, nodding at the Mirror Screen of Stress.
“Hmm” is all she says in response, before opening her duffel bag and folding her clothes into our chest of drawers. I’m in no hurry to unpack, but Suki is making it clear that we’re not about to break the ice and bond. I might as well fix up my side of the room with some reminders of home.
I hop off the bed and grab my carry-on, unzipping the compartment that holds my photos and posters. I pull out the framed photo of me with Dr. Greta Wagner from the science fair two years ago and set it in a place of honor on my desk, then use a couple thumbtacks from the desk to pin up my favorite poster, of Albert Einstein sticking out his tongue. And then I unearth my most precious photo of all—from Persian New Year, back when I was fourteen. My father is leaping over a blazing fire per New Year tradition, a childlike grin on his face, while me, Sam, and Mom watch with our arms around each other, practically crying with laughter. It’s an image that’s always made me smile—until today.
Nothing can make this place feel like home, not when my family is a thousand miles away. And if I thought I had a solid plan up my sleeve to get back to them, Dr. Takumi’s litany of rules and restrictions is forcing me to reconsider everything.
“I—I think I’m going to take a nap,” I fib to Suki. Of course there’s no chance I’ll fall asleep, but I need an excuse to turn away from her—to hide my face and let the inevitable tears fall.
Seven
LEO
“HOW GREAT IS THIS?”
I circle the dorm room I share with Asher, surveying all the luxuries that I once took for granted. A comfortable bed, our own heating and AC unit, furniture that looks sturdy enough to withstand the storms . . . who needs anything more? But someone has gone to extra lengths to make up for my sad lack of clothes—planting T-shirts and socks, boxers and swim trunks, khakis and sweaters into the chest of drawers, all in my size.
I’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be taken care of until now. The thought of no longer having to fight for every scrap of food, every piece of cloth on my back, makes me feel ten pounds lighter. I flop onto the bed, gratitude flooding through me.
“It’s pretty cool,” Asher agrees, rifling through his luggage. He starts unloading books and photos onto his desk, and I wonder if he’ll notice that I don’t have a single belonging to unpack. But if he does, he’s polite enough not to comment.
“Were you as shocked as I was to get drafted?” I ask.
Asher gives a modest shrug. “I mean, I definitely hoped to get picked, and once I became a fighter pilot in the Tzahal—that’s the Israel Defense Forces—I figured I had a shot. That was my plan even before the Europa Mission: to become an astronaut by starting out as a pilot.” His eyes cloud over. “But now that we know they’re having a robot fly this mission, I’m not so sure what I’m doing here.”
“They can’t leave it all up to an AI, though,” I point out. “What if there was a systems failure or a technical issue? I bet Dr. Takumi and the general still need at least one human onboard with piloting experience.”
Asher nods, looking slightly more hopeful. “Thanks. I just . . . I need this.” He glances down at the floor. “You know how it is—not having a home to go back to.”
“I know.” I don’t elaborate on how much I’ve lost—I’m sure my lack of belongings says it all. But I feel a pang of sympathy as I remember that the rising of the Mediterranean Sea pulled millions of homes underwater, giving Israelis no choice but to flee.
“I hope you make the Final Six,” I tell him suddenly. “I hope we both get to go.”
Asher smiles. “Me, too.”
Asher and I step through the doors of the cafeteria into a hum of conversation and a cloud of tempting smells. Three faceless utility robots are stationed behind the buffet counter, their plastic-coated synthetic bodies moving in unison as they prepare our dinner. I elbow Asher in amazement, and he lets out a low whistle.
“Yeah, this is different from home, all right.”
We join Lark, Beckett, and Katerina at our table, seconds before Naomi and Suki slide in. Naomi’s eyes are red-rimmed, her expression wary, and I have the unexpected urge to reach across the table, to make her smile. But her head is turned to the front of the room, where Dr. Takumi, General Sokolov, and the rest of the faculty are surveying the scene from an elevated platform. Dr. Takumi rises to his feet, and silence falls over the cafeteria.
“Good evening, finalists,” he greets us. “I imagine right now your families are all in front of their TVs, watching the media coverage from today and feeling immeasurably proud of you.”
If only.
“However, our real work begins tomorrow,” he continues. “During training, you will be expected to push your bodies and minds beyond your limits, beyond fatigue. This is what distinguishes astronauts from amateurs.”
I sit up straighter, hoping Dr. Takumi can see the determination in my face. I won’t be one of the amateurs. Whatever it takes, I won’t let myself slip.
“Throughout this process, you will alternate between learning the skills needed for the arduous journey into deep space and those needed to survive and build a permanent home on Europa. Your focus is critical.” He pauses. “The tools you learn down here could be precisely what saves your life up there.”
The silence in the room seems to thicken at his words. He holds our gaze for one more moment, and then nods approvingly.
“And now, dinner is served. When I call your team name, take a tray and line up at the counter.”
As soon as it’s our turn, I practically shoot out of my chair. One of the utility robots swivels forward as I approach the counter. “Would you like the American meal, the Chinese meal, or both?” it asks in a genderless, mechanical voice.
“Um, both, please?”
I watch in awe as the robot piles fried chicken with collard greens and corn bread onto my plate, before handing me a second dish of mapo tofu and a bowl of shrimp dumpling soup. I can barely remember the last time I ate like this. For a while the only sounds around me are the clatter of silverware scraping against plates as the six of us dig in, until Katerina leans forward.
“Did any of you see the new BBC documentary about Europa?”
“Yeah, my uncle showed it at the White House,” Beckett says through a mouthful of food. I catch Naomi give a slight eye roll at that, and I stifle a laugh.
“Wasn’t it amazing?” Katerina raves. “The coolest part was when they showed how Jupiter appears twenty-four times bigger in Europa’s sky than our own sun looks to us. Can you imagine the view we’d get every day? I think that’s what I’m most looking forward to: sitting out on the ice surface and seeing Jupiter right in front of me, looming large.”
“It’ll definitely put all of Earth’s sights to shame,” Lark agrees, an inscrutable expression crossing her face.
“What I keep thinking about is the landing,” I say, leaning back in my chair as I imagine it. “That moment when we’re the very first to set foot on a whole other part of the universe . . . it’s like we get to be Marco Polo, but on an infinitely bigger scale.”
“Yeah, and the rocket launch,” Asher joins in, his face lighting up. “I’ve watched so many online and always wanted to be up there myself, strapped inside the flight capsule, ready for liftoff. But I never pictured getting to go somewhere so far off the map. That’s the most surreal part about all of this.” He glances at Suki sitting across from him. “What about you?”
There’s a brief pause before Suki answers, her voice quiet but firm. “Getting away from Earth—that’s what I can’t wait for.”
I raise my glass to hers.
“I’m sure we can all toast to that.”
But Naomi shakes her head, stabbing at a piece of corn bread with her fork.
“I don’t get it. You guys are acting like this is a vacation instead of a draft. If we get picked, we could literally explode into flames before we even reach Europa, or wind up starving to death if the Athena fuel leak costs us our supplies. Or we could make it to Europa with no problem, only to get killed by the environment or . . . something else.” She takes a deep breath. “I just think we need to be a little more realistic.”
“What, are you scared?” Beckett jeers.
“We should all be scared,” Naomi says under her breath. I can tell there’s more to her words than she’s letting on, but before I can ask, Lark jumps in.
“Look, risk is an inherent part of space travel, but that doesn’t mean those worst-case scenarios will actually happen. I know the fuel leak sounds alarming, but SatCon is keeping a sharp eye on it twenty-four hours a day—and moving up the launch date ensures the Final Six should make it to Mars in time so salvage the supply ship.” She looks at us intently. “If there was ever a mission destined for success, it’s this one. Europa is the first time we’ve had the collective brainpower of all the international space agencies together on one project. You can trust that they’re making this mission as safe as it can possibly be.”
“No matter what happens, it’s still got to be better than staying on Earth and waiting to die,” I remark. Suki and Asher both nod in agreement, but Naomi gives me an incredulous look.
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am. And if you don’t know what I mean”—I smile sadly—“consider yourself lucky.”
She furrows her brow, about to say something more when Lark clears her throat.
“How about we end our first night on a lighter note? I want to see us become a real team, which means we need to start getting to know each other fast. Why don’t we go around the table and share a little something about ourselves?”
When no one volunteers, Lark says, “Okay, I’ll go first. I was born and raised in Huntsville, Alabama, home of the US Space and Rocket Center. That’s what got me interested in space from an early age, and I studied engineering at MIT before joining NASA straight out of college. My first spaceflight was actually the final trip to the International Space Station, but when Dr. Takumi offered me the chance to help him develop the ISTC, I retired from space travel to join him here.”
“You were on the last ISS mission?” Naomi stares at Lark. “So then you were here training when the news broke about the Athena crew. Did you know—”
“And that’s enough about me,” Lark cuts her off, with a short laugh. She turns to our teammate sitting to her right. “Katerina?”
“Um, some of you might have seen me on the final Olympics,” Katerina says with a fleeting smile. “But what most people don’t know about me is that I’m really good at math. That’s part of what made me so strong on the ice—instead of being nervous, I would focus on the number of rotations and the geometrical angles I needed to hit to land the perfect jumps.”
As we continue around the table, I learn that Suki was the youngest-ever engineering student in her university’s history, after skipping multiple grades in pre-tsunami Singapore, while Naomi tells us about her prizewinning radio telescope invention. The more my teammates list their accomplishments, the more beads of sweat I can feel forming on my brow. How am I supposed to compete with this group?
By showing Dr. Takumi and General Sokolov that I’m just the swimmer and diver they need to survive Europa, I remind myself, recalling Elena’s words. If what she overheard was true, then I’m just as integral to this mission as the academics . . . maybe even more.
Beckett is the last of our teammates to speak, and when it’s his turn, he glances around the table at each of us, like he knows something we don’t. “Interesting, isn’t it, that each of us has the exact same strength as someone else on this team? Suki and Naomi have the same engineering and science background, Asher and Katerina are both math prodigies—and me and Leo are the swimmers.” He cocks his head. “You would almost think we’re all being pitted against each other.”
Lark tries to laugh off his theory, but it’s too late. The six of us are already looking at each other differently. And at the thought of another swimmer here, all the food I just ate threatens to come rising to the surface. That was supposed to be my ace in the hole. What if he’s as good as me? It’s been over a year since my last swim meet or training session with my coach; I am far from competition-ready.
“What was your best race?” I ask Beckett, trying to sound nonchalant.
“The four-hundred-meter freestyle.”
“Oh.” I swallow hard. “Me, too.”
I should have known they would have more than one swimmer in contention here, with all the underwater elements involved in terraforming Europa. But in my excitement, I never even considered it.
I just assumed it would be me.
Training Day One kicks off with a crack-of-dawn wake-up call from our dorm room’s interactive mirror, followed by a jittery team breakfast where, unlike last night, no one seems to have much of an appetite. And then, before I know it, we’re following Lark to the elevator bay—and to our first training session.
The elevator dings as we land on the sixth floor. Lark sweeps through the lift doors first, leading us to a concrete wall straight ahead.
“Each team is running on a different schedule, so you can receive as close to individualized attention as possible during training,” she says, glancing behind her to make sure we’re all within earshot. “Your first session today takes place on a life-size mock-up of the Pontus: the spaceship that will fly the Final Six to Europa.”
Lark presses the badge hanging around her neck to a quarter-size symbol on the wall, and I hear a gasp behind me as the concrete splits apart. The wall juts open, revealing the gleaming white facades of space capsules and the outstretched arm of a robotic crane, beckoning us forward.
“Here we go.”
Lark steps through the opening, and we follow her onto the Mission Floor. It’s a vast expanse the size of an American football field, with a series of hulking, interconnected cylindrical structures running the length of the floor. The walls and ceiling are painted to resemble the pitch-black sky you’d see from the windows of deep space, while a futuristic blue light offsets the darkness. General Sokolov steps out of one of the capsules, dressed in a red flight suit adorned with mission patches and insignia.
“Good morning, and welcome to the
Pontus,” she announces. “What you see before you are the capsules, modules, and nodes that make up the most cutting-edge spaceship ever built—the Final Six’s home base for the duration of the journey to Europa.”
I turn to Asher standing beside me, and we exchange an excited glance. This is getting real.
“Not only does the spacecraft transport you from Point A to a very far-off Point B, it also serves as a life preserver, shielding you from the deadly elements and punishing conditions of deep space. However, this very shield can easily become a weapon if you fail to understand how it works and what makes the Pontus tick. All it takes is one innocuous mistake—for example, failing to close the airlock doors securely—and you could be killed within seconds.”
She lets those words hang in the air, the image of an explosive death lingering above us, before she leads the way to the first space capsule.
“In the coming days, you will face emergency drills to test both your understanding of the spacecraft and your ability to survive a crisis onboard—so pay close attention as I walk you through the Pontus.”
The general climbs into a giant cylinder in the shape of a spinning top, with four thrusters protruding from the bottom. We follow her inside, emerging into a glowing, blue-lit flight deck. Two massive tablet screens hang from the ceiling, angled downward to face the five leather seats at the center of the cabin, all in the reclined position for liftoff. Another pair of seats rests in front of a glass cockpit, with an array of flight instruments between them, and an 8K electronic navigation display unfurling across the glass. As the six of us look around in wonder, General Sokolov strides up to the cockpit.
“While Cyb will be piloting the spacecraft under my command, one of the Final Six gets to take this seat beside the AI and serve as copilot. Upcoming flight simulations will test your abilities and determine who is best suited for this role, as well as help us fill the other key posts for the mission: lieutenant commander, communications and tech specialist, science officer, medical officer, and Europa underwater specialist.”
The Final Six Page 7