Leo clears his throat.
“Is that—is that what went wrong on the Athena mission?” he blurts out. “Was communication lost because the astronauts didn’t have this caliber of space suit equipment?”
I inch closer to Dot. Everyone is watching Leo and Cyb.
“Excuse me?” Cyb utters after a pause.
“Well, I—I mean, even though no official cause was ever given for the tragedy on Mars, there had to have been a reason, right?” Leo rambles. “I guess I’m just wondering what it was.”
Cyb makes a series of mechanical sputtering sounds in response, and I can feel all the finalists in this room recognizing the same truth: the robots have clearly not been programmed to discuss the controversial Athena and its perished astronauts.
But I can’t think about that now. I seize my opportunity, quickly reaching for Dot’s mechanical arm, and the AI turns to face me.
“I hear you have something for me,” I whisper to the machine.
Dot’s artificial eyes bore into mine. She expresses no surprise at my words, confirming that the AI did in fact receive my command. So then, why . . . ?
“Follow me,” I say under my breath. I slip behind one of the hulking mock-up modules, out of Cyb’s and the group’s line of sight. “I received a command on my tablet last night,” I fib. “It said something about deciphering biosignatures, and that you would be bringing them to me.”
“I am the backup machine,” Dot says quietly, her voice like the female twin of Cyb’s crisp, clear tone. “Only my superior is authorized to deliver materials to the humans.”
Logic, Naomi, I tell myself. Remember, the robots work off logic. “But that’s not true anymore, is it? Have you ever received a command by mistake?”
Dot hesitates. “No.”
“That means something changed,” I insist. “You were chosen for this task, Dot. Not Cyb. And only you and I are allowed to talk about it.”
I can see the wheels turning in Dot’s machine-mind, and I press on. “One of the Europa Mission leaders clearly needs both of us to do this. You can’t go against your leaders, can you? I know that I can’t.” I give Dot an imploring look. “What if this is some kind of test to see how well I can read the scientific elements, to determine if I should be one of the Final Six? They need your help finding out . . . and so do I.”
I half hate myself as I use logic-filled lies to sway the innocent robot. But as Dot looks back at me, registering my words . . . I can’t help feeling a sprig of hope. This just might work.
Twenty-One
LEO
THE AIR SEEMS TO THICKEN AROUND ME AS CYB FUMBLES AT my question and the rest of the finalists stare. I scan the room for Naomi and Dot, wondering when I can put an end to this—but they are both missing. Suddenly, Cyb presses a round button on his mechanical arm and within moments, General Sokolov comes bursting through the doors.
My stomach drops. This can’t be good—especially not if the general notices that Naomi and Dot are both absent. Hurry up, Naomi, I beg silently.
General Sokolov paces toward us, her eyes flashing with irritation. “Since when do we hijack training sessions with our own inappropriate questions?”
My skin burns under the glare of the general and the stares of my competitors, most of whom appear to be reveling in seeing me get called out. Only Jian, Henri, and Sydney look at me with a hint of concern. But then I see Dot shuffle into view, followed a second later by Naomi filtering back into the crowd, and I breathe a sigh of relief. At least she managed to get through her part of the plan unscathed. Now I just have to find a way to remedy the situation on my end.
“I’m sorry,” I tell the general and Cyb. “I didn’t mean any disrespect whatsoever. I was genuinely just . . . curious.”
“So am I,” an unexpected voice calls out. “I think we all are.”
I turn and find that the voice relieving me from the spotlight belongs to Jian. I give him a grateful smile.
The general freezes, and for a second I think she might explode on all of us. But then she heaves a sigh. “Fine. Let’s put the rumors to rest once and for all.”
I can feel Naomi trying to get my attention from across the room. She meets my eyes and mouths the words thank you, putting her hand to her heart.
“I can tell you, from my insider’s vantage point of working on the International Space Station at the time, that whatever preposterous stories you heard are complete nonsense,” General Sokolov begins. “There was no conspiracy. Russia didn’t sabotage the mission for its own gain.”
I glance up, suddenly interested. I didn’t know about any Russian conspiracy . . . but it must be enough of a story if the general immediately assumed that’s what I was getting at.
“Nor did the crew starve to death,” she adds. “Not only did they have all the provisions they could fit into their habitat on Mars’s surface, but the Athena’s supply ship was permanently waiting in orbit with another two decades’ worth of food—which the Final Six will now benefit from.” She pauses. “The tragedy was simply a failure of science, a failure we all learned from.”
“What was the scientific failure, exactly?” Sydney calls out. I can read the subtext in her eyes: Could it happen again?
“Off the record,” the general says, “we instructed the Mars crew on how to build an enclosed Earth-like ecosystem on the planet shortly after they touched down. Because the astronauts all died at the same time, in the middle of the night, we have reason to believe an unexpected chemical reaction in the artificial space caused the oxygen to leak out while they were asleep.” Her voice drops. “They were gone before we could do anything.”
So they suffocated. I can feel my own throat closing up as I imagine the crew’s nightmarish last moments. How did no one know about this?
As if reading my thoughts, General Sokolov continues, “Again, this is just a theory. Without a living crew to tend to the equipment, our monitor readings couldn’t be deemed accurate, and NASA’s and Roscom’s public relations teams felt it was unfair to the families to float theories that may cause greater distress.” She gives us a pointed look. “I expect your cooperation in this. But I felt it was important for you to know that the likely cause of the Mars tragedy is something unique to that situation—and will not present itself on Europa. We have enough real complications to prepare for. I can’t have my potential Final Six distracted, worrying about impossibilities.”
“How is it impossible on Europa?” Henri calls out. “The inflatable habitat—”
“Is exactly why you’ll be safe.” General Sokolov finishes his sentence. “We began working with Bigelow Aerospace after Mars, and it’s a whole new level of protection. In addition, unlike Mars, we don’t need to create an artificial ecosystem. Europa has the key ingredient of water—all we have to do is drill through the ice and get to it.” She glances at Cyb. “Speaking of which, you all have a training session to return to. Now that I’ve answered your questions, I hope this will be the last time we discuss the Athena mission.”
As she saunters out of the room, it occurs to me that others here must have been questioning her about this before me. Otherwise, why would she give in and tell us the truth so quickly?
“There’s just one thing she left out,” Jian mutters behind me. “The Dr. Takumi connection. Did you know he didn’t advance to power until Mars happened?”
I turn around, staring at Jian in surprise.
Leaving the Mission Floor for our next training session, I feel someone push my shoulder.
“What was that about, Italian? Getting cold feet?” Beckett gives a mocking laugh. “Eager to go home to Mommy and Daddy and avoid big, bad space?”
I spin around, my insides burning with fury at the mention of the family and home I no longer have.
“You wish. I’m not going anywhere. The bigger question is, why do you act so high and mighty when you’re obviously the one afraid of me?”
“Please.” Beckett gives me a scornful look. “You’re n
ot a threat.”
“Right. That’s why you attempted to cut me loose from ten thousand feet in the air.”
Beckett stops short, the color draining from his face. He thought I didn’t know. He must have thought it was a secret moment that only he and his dark conscience would ever remember.
“What the hell?” He wrinkles his nose, making like I’m the crazy one. But I know better.
“I saw you try to mess with my harness. You would have killed me if you could. The only reason you’re not trying anything like that here is so you don’t get cut.” I lean forward. “So tell me, Beckett, what is so terrifying for you back at the White House that you’d try to kill me in order to stay away?”
For a split second, I think Beckett might actually own up to everything. But then he glowers at me. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says before turning his back. I’m still watching him stalk away when I feel a hand on my arm.
“What was that about?” Naomi murmurs in my ear.
“Uh, I’ll tell you when we’re alone.”
“Speaking of, Lark says we have a free hour between training and dinner. Meet me at our spot?” she asks. “I have something to tell you.”
I nod, the thought of alone time with her wiping Beckett from my mind.
“I’ll be there.”
I climb the steps of the Telescope Tower to find Naomi already waiting, leaning her elbows on the balcony railing as she looks up at the stars. She turns at the sound of my footsteps and gives me a sheepish smile.
“Hey,” I greet her, kissing her forehead. “What did you want to tell me?”
She looks at me as if in awe. “You mean you’re not angry?”
“About what? The whole thing with the general?”
“Yeah.” She laces her fingers in mine. “Here I was all prepared to apologize, and you’re not even mad.”
“Well, considering I let you off the hook after pulling something way riskier the night of the storm, I think we’ve established that I don’t know how to be mad at you. Clearly I need to work on that.” I grin. “But I am curious to hear the apology you planned out.”
“Okay, yeah, let me say it.” She stands up straighter. “I didn’t expect Cyb to bring in the general. I know how important this mission is to you, and I’m really, really sorry if I caused any sort of red flag by your name. But”—she takes a deep breath—“if it turns out I’m right—not just about the RRB, but about what the Space Conspirator has been writing all along—then I’m not afraid to say it. I want you to stay on Earth. I want you safe.”
I touch her cheek, momentarily lost for words. It’s been a long time since somebody cared this much for me, and I’d almost forgotten, after losing my family, what it feels like to truly matter to someone.
“Well, at least one interesting thing came out of your plan,” I say when I find my voice. “Jian told me something General Sokolov left out of her explanation about Mars. Apparently, Dr. Takumi accelerated to power right after the Athena tragedy.”
Naomi’s eyes widen. “Wow. That is some seriously shady timing.” She leans back against the balcony railing, thinking. “If there’s more to it, maybe we’ll find out when—if—Dot comes through. Provided I don’t get arrested for treason first.”
I stare at her, marveling at how she can speak so matter-of-factly about that possibility. “So you’re really not afraid of getting caught? Is there anything that scares you?”
Naomi gives me a half smile before glancing away. “The thought of losing the people I love. Especially my little brother.” She takes a breath. “I’m not just scared of that, I’m terrified. So, I’m not fearless. And whatever I do that may seem that way . . . it’s all for them.”
I nod, realizing as I gaze at her that Naomi’s words make her even more beautiful to me.
“What about you?” she asks. “You don’t seem at all scared of the mission, even with the laundry list of risks.”
“Yeah. Well . . . I used to have the exact same fear as you. But then my worst fear came true. And for a while, that made me unafraid of anything—including, and especially, death.” I swallow hard. “But now I know what it’s like to be afraid of losing something again. I’ve known that feeling since I found you.”
Naomi’s eyes well up. She pulls me close, answering my words with a kiss. Our kisses start out soft and tender, and then her fingers move beneath my shirt, running down my back, and suddenly we’re sliding down to the tower floor together—kissing like it’s our last night in this world.
Twenty-Two
NAOMI
I’M IN THE MIDDLE OF A PERFECT DREAM WHEN I HEAR THE sound. I’m back home, sitting at the old dining table that still has Sam’s and my initials carved into the wood, and my loved ones are seated around me: my brother, our parents, and Leo, too. But then a rhythmic series of beeps seeps into my consciousness, interrupting the golden moment.
“What’s that noise?” I ask, glancing around the table.
“What noise, azizam?” Mom gives me a funny look.
“You know what it is,” Sam says. “It’s Morse code, saying you have to wake up.” He leans over and shakes my shoulders. “Wake up!”
I sit bolt upright, my eyes snapping open at the beeping in my room. Dot is in front of me, shuffling her way across the floor toward my bed. I cover my mouth to keep from crying out in amazement. The plan actually worked!
Dot stops dead center, facing my bed. That’s when I see that the AIOS screen in her chest chassis is all lit up and flashing with . . . symbols. But it’s more than just images. There’s also a sound coming from the screen—a vibrational humming, only the pitch and tone are all wrong. It’s a foreign sound that turns my body cold, that sends pins and needles prickling through my skin.
The robot beeps again, urging me in Morse to copy down what I see on the screen. I know why Dot isn’t speaking verbally—in case anyone on either side of these walls happens to be up at this hour. I’ve made the AI believe this is a secret, crucial task from one of the mission leaders, and I feel a stab of guilt at the way I’ve misled Dot. But this is too important for me to hesitate. I switch on the light and run to my desk, grabbing a notepad and pen.
My pen flies across the paper as I copy down one chemical symbol and physics formula after another, not stopping to register what I’m notating—until an image fills the screen, and I almost fall out of my chair.
It’s a sketch of what appears to be a cell, its insides punctured with three nuclei. Just like the RRB.
I’m shaking as I finish copying the figures on the screen. And then, finally, it turns dark. Dot shuffles back to the door, and as I watch her retreating form, I whisper, “Thank you.”
The cell image is a revelation enough, but I still have numerical data to decipher. I spend the next two hours studying it and unscrambling the formulas—until I finally solve the main riddle with a heart-stopping flick of my pen.
C55H72O5N4Mg-CH4-
Chlorophyll-Methane-Europa
Chlorophyll and methane found on Europa.
The room sways as I stare at my notes, and for a split second I am outside of my own body, looking down at the surreal scene of my discovery. Because where there is chlorophyll and methane, there is life. These are the biosignatures I was looking for. And with the RRB cells matching the idiosyncratic image of the cell in this data . . . that proves my hypothesis.
We are being injected with bacteria from Europa’s alien life.
And it’s making some of us more like them—as proven by Leo in the diving pool.
It’s making some of us see them . . . as evidenced by Suki’s cries, and Callum’s breakdown.
As for the rest of us, we may never know how deep its effects go until we land.
I jump out of my seat, too overcome to sit still. This goes beyond any secret I thought Dr. Takumi was keeping; it’s on another level from the Space Conspirator’s theories. But how could NASA and all the reputable space agencies allow this? And why?
/> Unless . . . Could it be that the space agencies, as a whole, don’t know? Dr. Takumi and General Sokolov have jurisdiction over the robots, which certainly makes it possible for them to keep the data secret. Did they? And what is their endgame?
One thing is for sure: I can’t wait till morning to share this news with Leo. I’m pretty sure I’ll explode if I have to keep it inside a minute longer. I know we agreed to resist the temptation of sneaking into each other’s rooms, but compared to everything else I’ve been up to here at ISTC, stealing into the boys’ dorm seems practically quaint.
I slide my feet into slippers and grab the flashlight under my bed. I can feel my heart palpitating as I make my way down the corridor to the fork that separates the girls’ side from the boys’, imagining what Leo will say to my discovery . . . what the world will say when I release the data. Maybe I can find a way to get it to someone like Dr. Wagner, to shield my family from the fallout of my hacking—
My flashlight hits against another yellow beam. I jump back, fear rising in my throat. I’m not alone. Someone is standing across from me in the dorm corridor, shining a flashlight of his own. Beckett Wolfe.
He tilts his beam of light straight into my face, catching me red-handed.
“Sneaking out of your room after curfew—I could report for you this,” he says with a sly smile.
He looks all wrong, leaning against the wall like he’s been here for hours . . . like he’s been waiting for something.
“I could say the same about you,” I retort, but Beckett just shrugs.
“I’m just getting some air. I’m not the one trying to sneak into my secret boyfriend’s room.”
The breath returns to my lungs. Could he only know about Leo . . . and not about Dot?
I raise myself to my full height, giving Beckett my best scornful expression.
“Don’t be stupid. I couldn’t sleep and just thought I’d take a walk. It’s not any more scandalous than that.”
The Final Six Page 21
