“No BattleStorm, huh? Too bad.”
“Are you serious? You play BattleStorm?”
“Of course. All of us do. Anything with a joystick keeps you sharp, but BattleStorm is better than most. Even if you’re playing by yourself, there’s enough with all the built-in layers and levels to test your reaction time and dexterity. When you add in other players, you get that human variability that really makes you have to concentrate. You have to study everyone’s patterns so you can guess their next move.”
Mila envisioned Jancey sitting alone in her office at a gaming console, the only light from a gigantic monitor. From her captain’s chair, she—
“Oh, my God.” Jancey Beaumont. A solo space mission. “You’re JanSolo. You have the top four all-time scores.”
“Five, counting last night. And you are?”
“I go by The General. One night I had an amazing game and took over the top score. Then I went to bed, and six hours later, there you were in first place again. You didn’t even let me enjoy it a whole day.”
“The General…I remember seeing your name. How come we never played against each other?”
“Different time zones, I guess. I haven’t played since I got here, but Vio—that’s my friend in Rotterdam. She goes by Second in Command. She saw you online when you got to Hawaii. It’s a twelve-hour time difference. You must have been playing when you were staying with Grace Faraday.”
“Affirmative.”
“But your avatar is male.”
“It’s an avatar,” she said sarcastically. “Gamer boys don’t like to play with women.”
“Tell me about it. That’s why Vio and I have to crash everyone else’s game. I want them to know it’s a woman kicking their ass.”
“Which is exactly why you can’t get a higher score. Those boys aren’t going to stick around for an ass-kicking by a woman. The reason you don’t get to vanquish them is because they drop out before that happens.”
Mila fumed to realize she was right. She rarely got the chance to put her opponent away in glorious battle fashion because they simply bowed out. “Those chickenshit, mouth-breathing knuckle-draggers.”
“Change your avatar. Tell your friend too. We’ll take them on together sometime.” Jancey set her tablet aside and flipped off the light above her bed.
Mila could have stayed up and talked all night. How was she supposed to sleep when everything was so awesome?
Chapter Eleven
Dressed in a freshly laundered flight suit, Jancey stood at ease alongside her fellow finalists on a makeshift stage in the parking lot in front of Building A. Sir Charles spoke from a podium to a small audience of staff and press who had come to cover the start of their analog trial.
“I can’t begin to tell you how inspired I am by these sixteen candidates, and how much I envy the task before them. Over a year ago, we began our selection process with an open call for those keen on being among the first of humankind to colonize Mars. We received over forty thousand applications from all over the world. That alone should tell you how extraordinary these sixteen people are. It’s obvious from looking at them they’re in superb physical condition, but that’s only a very small piece of what they offer. They are intelligent, curious, quick-thinking. They met all of our challenges and refused to take no for an answer. I expect them to sail through the next six weeks with the same perseverance they’ve already shown.”
In the last half hour, the wind had picked up, sending temperatures on the mountain into the single digits, the low forties in Fahrenheit. Photographers and reporters huddled in their coats while staff shivered in their pullover sweaters. Jancey tried to ignore the chill, focusing instead on the afternoon ahead, when she and the others would be dropped off at their habitats. By the end of the day, she’d be tired and hungry, this ceremony a distant memory.
“At the conclusion of our trial, the Tenacity Project selection committee will choose four of these eight teams you see behind me for continued training. What they don’t know”—he turned and looked over his shoulder, smiling broadly—“is that just this morning the committee agreed we must take advantage of this exemplary slate of candidates rather than call for new applicants and repeat the selection process. Therefore all four teams who perform best on the analog will be slated for a mission to Mars. One of them will launch four years from now to establish the colony. The other three teams will follow at one-year intervals.”
That was a bombshell. Half of them would get a definitive assignment to go to Mars at the end of the analog. Jancey still wanted to be first, but it took a lot of pressure off to know she wouldn’t have to go through the selection process again if they finished lower. Given their skills, it was ridiculous to think she and Mila wouldn’t be among the top four teams. Furthermore, the committee wouldn’t dare cut the only team of women.
Mila too seemed to realize the significance of his statement. She was grinning openly and even winked when she caught Jancey looking her way.
The last few days had left Jancey feeling encouraged—and relieved—about her decision to choose Mila as a partner. They’d worked together methodically to assemble their habitat on the slope, where Mila’s engineering expertise was immediately obvious. Even more impressive was her demeanor. Quietly confident, thanks to the time she spent each night preparing for the next day’s work. If her goal had been to impress, she’d done it so far.
It didn’t hurt that Grace’s disembodied voice had been whispering encouragement in her ear the whole time they worked. Mila could very well turn out to be more than a workmate, and even more than an interesting companion. But only when Jancey decided the timing was right. She had no intention of losing control just because they were alone together. In a small space. With little else to do. No matter how tempting it might be.
“With that, I know you join me in wishing them well. We’ll be serving refreshments in Building A, where you’ll have a chance to question each of these teams before they depart.”
Once she’d moved inside and poured herself a cup of water, Jancey migrated to a corner well away from the microphones and throng of reporters. Publicity was one part of the job she didn’t enjoy at all.
A familiar face squeezed through the crowd and joined her.
“Well, if it isn’t Shel Montgomery. Are you here to ask if you can share our little round hut?”
“No way in hell. I can hardly breathe up here as it is.” She flipped open a reporter’s steno pad. “Turns out Sir Charles was serious about letting all of us stay on with the project. Guess who’s Number Two in the media relations department? That’s gainful employment for at least the next fifteen years. My mother will be so proud.”
Jancey laughed. “And all this time I thought you dropped out because you were unselfish. Now I see you had an ulterior motive.”
“Damn right. I’ll take a cushy life right here on Earth as long as I have a meal ticket.” She studied the questions on her pad and held out a small digital recorder. “I’m putting together an official press release on all of the finalist teams. Something for the average newspaper reader, like hometown, hobbies, why you want to go to Mars. Got any juicy quotes for me?”
Before her Guardian mission, Jancey had received very little attention from the press beyond her hometown newspaper and TV stations. That changed after her dramatic return, when she was swamped by interview requests from all over the world. Those interviews continued for years as part of the publicity campaign for her speaking engagements around the country. They were all the same. Boilerplate questions, boilerplate answers.
“I’ve got to tell you, Jancey. I was blown away when I saw you were paired with Mila Todorov. I thought you and Marlon Quinn were teaming up. What happened with that?”
Jancey looked around to make sure no one was within earshot. “Off the record, okay? I don’t know a better astronaut than Marlon, but I started having some doubts about how we’d live together. Personal doubts.”
“I get it. So you went with
Mila because she’s a lesbian?”
“No!” The last thing Jancey wanted was another tabloid rumor. “She happens to be quite good. Like I said, Marlon’s top-notch, but I’ve watched Mila work too. She’ll be at least that good once she’s gone through training. Maybe even better. That you can print. This part, no, because I don’t want tongues wagging over my personal life. My decision to team with her had absolutely nothing to do with her being a lesbian. But yes, I chose her because I came to realize how difficult it would be for me to live with a man. It just isn’t in my DNA.”
Shel tipped her head toward Mila, who was standing alone behind the refreshment table as though hiding from reporters. “You have to admit she’ll make an interesting companion.”
“Oh, please. I have socks older than her.” After the sacrifice Shel had made to save her chances, Jancey doubted she’d take advantage of her confidence for a sensational story. “You’re jerking me around, right? You aren’t seriously going to write a story like that.”
“You’re safe. My audience is PG. But don’t be surprised to learn your partner has other ideas. There’s something about the way she looks at you.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Try as she might, Jancey couldn’t hold back an embarrassed smile.
“I noticed it that first day we were in the gym. She couldn’t take her eyes off you.”
“That’s ridiculous. She was starstruck, thanks to you and your friends in the press. I was just doing my job on Guardian and you guys turned me into some kind of media sensation.” Mila had admitted as much with her claim that Jancey had inspired her to study space engineering.
“Just look at her…quite a package. What’s not to like? And no, I’m not writing any of this down. I write about science, not gossip. But from a personal standpoint, it would be kind of nice to think you’re both going off on a grand adventure where you get to do something besides work every day.”
And now Shel was channeling Grace.
Jancey kept telling herself that wasn’t her plan. At least not her conscious plan. Her whole argument had been that Mila would be easier to live with than Marlon. But would she have chosen Libby Fagan for the same reason? Doubtful, even though she too was a trained astronaut. She’d chosen Mila for Mila, and it had more to do with their chemistry than she was willing to admit.
“Let me call her over so I can interview both of you together.”
“No surprises?”
Shel shook her head and gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. With a wave of her hand, she invited Mila into the corner. “Jancey’s been singing your praises. How does that make you feel?”
“It’s gratifying to know I have my partner’s confidence. She certainly has mine.”
“Tell me your story, Mila. Why are you here?”
“I’m here to be part of something extraordinary.” Her voice was low and even, with no trace of self-aggrandizement. “From the time I was a little girl growing up in Sofia, I’ve been fascinated by space exploration. I dreamed of blasting off someday in a rocket ship, and I set out to make that dream come true. What I learned through my studies is that space exploration is so much more than a personal quest. It’s a gift to all of humanity, and my job is to help unwrap it. All of us who study space want to make contributions to our knowledge of the universe. I would be honored if the colonization of Mars was mine.”
Jancey was impressed by her well-articulated response and thoughtful demeanor. For someone who’d never been in the limelight, she had a remarkable media presence.
“I agree with every word,” she said, “but I’d like to add one more thing. With the honor bestowed upon us for the Mars colonization comes an obligation. This is not a part-time job, nor does it end at sixty-five with a gold watch and a party. It requires a relentless dedication to the mission. All the funders, scientists, engineers and support staff…they’re going with us. Our success is theirs.”
“Whoa, that’s about six money quotes from just one question,” Shel said. “Something tells me you two are going to make a great team.”
“Working with Jancey will be like nonstop training. It’s phenomenal how much she knows, how sharp her instincts are. As long as she’s around, I won’t ever stop learning.”
Jancey didn’t want anyone to come away thinking she’d chosen a partner who wasn’t capable of holding up her end. “Don’t listen to her. I’ve learned to get out of her way when it comes to building something. She gets so wrapped up in the challenge, she doesn’t even know I’m there.”
Mila blushed so quickly, so deeply, it was hard not to be amused.
“Seriously, Shel. When you’re mired in a mission of this magnitude with so many working parts, you have to be willing to put your fate in other people’s hands. On this project, the most important person is your partner. I feel confident Mila Todorov is one hundred percent capable not only of doing what’s required of her, but of going well beyond her mission. She’s going to make a great astronaut, and I trust her to be there for me.”
“That’s good to know.” Shel looked over her shoulder and lowered her voice. “I’m going to let you both in on a little secret. The rumor mill’s already churning. Sir Charles likes you two a lot. He likes Marlon Quinn and Jean-Paul Robillard too.”
“The international pairs,” Mila said, with a nod toward Jancey. Exactly as she’d predicted.
“Bingo. They like the idea of a married couple too, and since Libby Fagan came out of NASA and Brandon has all that expertise in robotics, they probably have the inside track on that front. I’d bet anything you guys will be the top three teams…unless one of you screws up.” She peered around again as if to make sure no one had overheard. “I probably should make an attempt to talk to someone else…at least look like I’m working. Good luck, you two. We’ll do this again in six weeks—with champagne.”
Armed with Shel’s tidbit of inside information, Jancey checked off the competition. Nothing she’d learned was particularly surprising, except perhaps to know Sir Charles and the committee were already discussing favorites. If that were true, then Shel was absolutely right—all they had to do was get through the analog trial without a major screw-up.
* * *
Danielle Zion stood at the front of the bus facing the passengers, bracing herself as the rugged service road caused her to jostle from side to side. “Two hours each. That’s all you have outside your habitat every day, and only in your spacesuit. Don’t forget to record your in and out.”
After three days working on the slope to build their habitat, Mila hardly noticed the thin air anymore. Her workouts were back to normal, and she had no signs of headache or stomach upset from the altitude. Two hours of physical labor outside ought to be easy, but Jancey had warned her about tiring sooner in a full suit.
“Your power pack should be good for at least twenty-four hours, depending on how much you use. Top priority is communications. Your comm should be active at all times.”
They’d been over the guidelines several times already. Everything was to be managed for maximum efficiency of time and resources. They were advised to anticipate failures—damaged equipment, spoiled food, inadequate supplies, communications outage—and emergencies. Solar flares could happen at any time.
“In the event of a real emergency—and by that I mean something outside of the analog, such as a life-threatening sickness or injury—your trial will be temporarily suspended. If you’re able to return quickly, you will not be penalized. Bear in mind that altitude sickness can come on at any time, so if you have chest pains or a severe headache, the only cure is to descend immediately. Use your head. The trial is not important enough to cost anyone their life.”
Mila could see Kamal was anxious. He and Phillip Clarke had struggled with the altitude, so much that they’d been forced to descend the first night to six thousand feet to sleep in an RV.
The bus stopped to allow David and Kamal to exit at their site. “Your trial starts when you reach your habitat. Goo
d luck.”
The eight habitats were situated along the slope at fifty-meter intervals. Mila and Jancey were next to last to step off. Their nearest neighbors were the Fagans on one side and the Clarkes at the end.
When they reached their hut, Mila held the door and allowed Jancey to enter first. A quick glance around the perimeter outside confirmed their equipment had been delivered—solar panels, water supply and a hydroponics kit. With a deep breath, she ducked her head and entered, their analog now officially underway.
“Home sweet shoebox,” Jancey said.
The dome was two and a half meters in diameter and only a few centimeters higher than Mila around the edges. Someone as tall as Marlon couldn’t move comfortably inside unless he was standing in the middle. Advantage Mila and Jancey.
On one side was a sleeping platform, waist-high with a plywood enclosure meant to simulate a radiation chamber. Two people could sleep comfortably inside, and even sit up in bed, but the men would never consider such a thing. It was “gay.” They probably would sleep in shifts. Mila would leave it up to Jancey to decide their schedule. As long as they left their communication channel open, it wasn’t necessary to have someone awake monitoring it at all times.
Beneath the platform was storage space for food lockers, supplies, and their personal belongings, which included their clunky spacesuits. The other side held a drop-down table with two low chairs, a small galley and a hydraulic stair climber with exercise bands attached. Directly opposite the door was a closet that jutted out from the back of the dome, closed off with an accordion curtain, and a window that opened to the outside—the compost lavatory. The only empty space, less than a square meter beside the door, was reserved for the hydroponics garden.
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