She bumped Andi’s fist in celebration as their team’s observer recorded their success on a score sheet.
Next came the Fagans, whose envelope contained a different photo. They got the pieces in the right order, but Brandon failed to specify the proper rotation of the base. Nearly perfect, but not.
“You didn’t listen,” he snapped.
“I did. You never told me the rectangle was supposed to be vertical.”
“You should have asked instead of assuming. One little mistake like that could knock us out of contention.”
Mila traded awkward looks with Andi as the couple squabbled, but she didn’t dare turn around. It wasn’t any of her business if Libby was willing to put up with being bullied by her husband. It probably threatened his masculinity that she, as an astronaut, was already in one of the world’s most elite clubs and he wasn’t.
Guillermo and Wei took their turn, talking hopelessly past one another. It would be a miracle if either of them advanced to the next round.
Zion clapped. “Last team. You’re up!”
By this time, Mila and Andi had moved back to the front of the line, close enough to hear Jancey and Shel struggling with the task. Shel confused the trapezoid with the rhomboid, and had trouble estimating degrees and centimeters.
“This is impossible,” Shel said. “We should have switched sides so I’d get the envelope. I’m no good on this end.”
“You have to focus,” Jancey told her firmly as the clock ticked. “You heard what Zion said. If this is an exercise in space, failure isn’t an option. Now pay attention. We’ve got less than a minute left.”
“I’m serious, Jancey. I can’t do it this way. The harder I try, the more confusing it gets.” Shel staggered to her feet, gripping her head with both hands. Her eyes were squeezed shut and her face was twisted in a look of pain.
“What’s happening?” Jancey rushed to her side, as did Zion and their team’s observer.
“That ringing…can’t you hear it?”
Mila jumped up also, moving closer in case Shel stumbled.
“Easy does it,” Zion said. “It’s probably just some pressure built up in the inner ear. Take her outside and walk her around.” She gestured for Mila and Andi to go along.
A blast of hot, humid air enveloped the four women as they stepped outside in the afternoon sun. Mila supported one of Shel’s elbows while Andi held the other. They guided her to a bench where she collapsed, still holding her head.
“I’m fine, ladies. Just trying to make it look good.”
Jancey checked her forehead, obviously worried. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I was killing you, Jancey. That guy in the yellow shirt…our observer. I saw him write something in his notebook when I was trying to make sense of what you were saying. He checked your badge, not mine. I don’t want to be known as the idiot who got Jancey Beaumont bounced out of the Tenacity Project.”
“Are you insane? You can’t just give up like that. One little test doesn’t mean anything. We train like this for a reason.”
Shel looked at Mila with pleading eyes. “Tell her. You saw the guy.”
Mila felt her stomach drop as she came under Jancey’s fiery gaze. “I did. He checked your badge and then made a mark on his clipboard.”
“So freaking what? He should have been writing that I remained calm. That I was clear and persistent.”
“I don’t think so.” It took nerve for Mila to disagree with Jancey, but this was important. “He frowned and shook his head. Whatever he wrote, it wasn’t good.”
“He frowned and shook his head,” Shel repeated pointedly. “The only reason I got this far was because all the tests have been visual up to now. I’ve had a problem with auditory directions ever since I was a kid. I have to record everything and transcribe it to make sense of it. I can’t even use a talking GPS in my car. It’s been a good run, but this is the end of the line for me. If I don’t pull out right now, your scores are going in the toilet.”
Jancey threw her hands up. “That’s it? How can you just give up like that? This is Mars we’re talking about. Do you know how many people would kill to be where you are?”
“And we both know I don’t stand a chance of getting there. It’s not even a real test because there’s no way you’d ever get sent to Mars with a journalist, not when half the people left are astronaut material. Do you want to risk losing your shot?”
“She’s right, Jancey,” Andi said. “You can’t take a chance on this. There’s too much at stake.”
The veins in Jancey’s neck rippled as she clenched her jaw. “If this is how you’re going to deal with adversity in space, I sure hope none of you end up going with me. Where’s your tenacity? Your persistence? Your determination?”
“She’s just being logical,” Mila said. She felt bad for Shel, who’d just fallen on her sword to save Jancey’s chances. “When you’re faced with a situation where one of you might succeed or both of you will probably fail, there’s only one rational choice. I’d have done the same thing Shel did, Jancey. At least for you. Not for Shel or Andi though. The stronger one must survive.”
Andi smacked her on the upper arm. “You think you’re stronger than me?”
“It’s stronger than I, and yes. Maybe not physically, but I can improve that during training. I don’t believe any amount of training will bring your concentration or spatial acuity up to my level. On a mission to Mars, those skills will be far more important than physical strength.”
It hadn’t been her intention to insult Andi. She only meant to dispel the tension between Shel and Jancey, and apparently she’d done that. Both of them were looking away and whistling innocently as if trying not to witness Andi’s humiliation.
“I’m not saying you aren’t smart enough to make the cut. Organic chemistry is very important in a long-term space project.”
“Damn right it is. Without me you’d starve to death, so don’t go thinking you’re going to cut my tether and let me drift off into space.”
Mila could have argued that she expected to be trained in the science of growing food and cloning protein, and that she was fully capable of learning it. Something in Andi’s red face told her she’d already said more than enough.
* * *
As much as Jancey hated to admit it, her chances for moving on were notably improved now that Shel had withdrawn. Not only was she free from the consequences of her auditory learning problems, she was reaping a clear advantage from being grouped with Mila and Andi for the rest of the afternoon. They were smart and capable, and took their tasks seriously.
They also were competitive with one another, and it made both of them better.
Mila in particular seemed to grasp how the small details added up to the big picture. She was confident of her strengths and determined to overcome her weaknesses. Logical, systematic, unexcitable. Perfect qualities for an astronaut.
The observers scurried around the gym passing out pencils and index cards.
“Something a little different this time,” Zion yelled from the center of the gym. “Not a test…just something to get you thinking about life on Mars. You may launch with three personal items. Assume that all of your scientific needs are met, as are your basic necessities of food and hygiene. I’m talking about personal items for leisure and comfort. Be reasonable. That means no bicycles or grand pianos. Write down which three things you’ll take.”
Thanks to her year-long mission, Jancey knew exactly what she’d take to Mars. A tablet computer so she could read or watch video without having to sit at the command console. She expected Mission Control to supply her with a steady stream of science articles so she could keep up with her field, though once she left for Mars, the scientific discoveries on Earth would have less consequence for her. Her work—her experiments and observations—would constitute a new subfield of molecular biology, one that depended solely on her dedication to sharing her newfound knowledge.
The other two
items were critical to keeping her sane—her clarinet and a box of reeds that would last until supplies could be replenished within a couple of years by the next wave of colonists. There would be little time for leisure, but she understood after her year alone in space how important it was to make time for relaxation.
“I’ll go first,” Andi said. “I want my noise-canceling headphones. And I want an iPod that holds every piece of music I like. And third, I want my neck pillow, the one I use on airplanes.”
Mila nodded slowly. “Those are very good choices.”
“You’re going to say something smartass now, aren’t you?”
“You might consider it smartass, but I’m sincere in saying how much I appreciate that you included headphones so I wouldn’t be impacted by your desire to listen to music I don’t enjoy.”
“It’s better than that crap you listen to…Bulgarian choirs. They sound like elephants at a funeral.”
“I’ll have you know Bulgarian choral music is a centuries-old style that contains complex diaphony and dissonant harmony, all of which are culturally conditioned. It takes a trained ear to appreciate it. A trained Bulgarian ear. Whereas your music…what is it they say? It has a nice beat and you can dance to it.”
“Girls, girls.” Jancey was both impressed and entertained by Mila’s precision takedown, but with the observers wandering around taking notes, it mattered more to show they could work as a team without bickering. “I’ll go next.”
She listed her items, explaining their importance during her time aboard Guardian. When she mentioned her clarinet, she glowered at Andi, daring her to call it crap.
“I would take a Rubik’s Cube, a five-by-five,” Mila said. “I’ve only solved it once, and it took me weeks. If I had the time to concentrate, I’d try to figure out the algorithms so I could get my time down to under an hour. And I’m very interested in reading, so a tablet computer would be a good idea, especially since I could also use it to watch video and listen to music. Including tango music. I would enjoy very much teaching my partner the tango.”
Andi rolled her eyes dramatically and addressed Jancey, “Are you hearing this crap?”
Not only was Jancey hearing it, she was keenly aware that Mila appeared to be directing her comments to her and not Andi. That took chutzpah.
“And third…I have noise-canceling headphones on my list too. That way, my partner can do whatever she wants and it won’t disturb me.”
“Next exercise,” Zion bellowed. “Name one item you’ll take for your partner, the other person in your crew.”
“Andi needs her own tablet,” Mila said without hesitation. “Music’s fine, but it doesn’t stimulate as much as reading or watching video.”
“Who says I wanna be stimulated? The way I see it, we could be working fifteen hours a day. That’s enough stimulation for me. Besides, we can trade back and forth, my iPod for your tablet. That way you can listen to your dissonant harmonies.”
Jancey heard an undertone of grudging camaraderie between the two, but hoped for Mila’s sake she ended up with someone else if she were chosen to go. She needed a partner who was committed to her success, not one needling her at every turn. “I agree with Mila. I’d take along a tablet for you. If you never used it, I’d have an extra when mine wore out.”
“Fine, then I’d take an iPod for Mila. I can’t take one for you though because you won’t have any headphones.”
“Of course I will,” Jancey said. “The ones that come with our comm system are far superior to anything you can buy commercially.”
Mila scrunched her nose and nodded, clearly conceding she’d wasted a pick. “Jancey, I’d take along another box of reeds for your clarinet so you wouldn’t have to worry about running out.”
Thoughtful and selfless. Exactly the way a partner should be. “Thank you. Except I’d probably run out anyway, because I’d take a second clarinet for you. I’d teach you to play, and perhaps you’d train my ear in the Bulgarian tradition. It sounds very challenging, like something we could work on together for years.”
She held Mila’s look for several conspicuous seconds, biting her tongue to keep from adding that she’d love learning the tango.
Andi scoffed, breaking their gaze. “Thank God you didn’t pick a clarinet for me. I’d take a tablet over that any day.”
Jancey shook her head as she snapped their gaze, scolding herself. She didn’t need a distraction like Mila, not when both of them were fighting for a seat on Tenacity. Grace Faraday would say otherwise, that Mila was the perfect partner for a lifelong trip to a hostile planet. They had to get there first, and that wouldn’t happen if she didn’t focus.
Chapter Six
On the video screen, Mila’s grandmother sat at her kitchen table in Sofia. “Who will take care of me if you go to Mars?”
“The same person who will take care of you if I don’t—you. You take care of yourself better than anyone else can.” She’d learned from her classmates at Delft that the guttural sounds and harsh cadence of Bulgarian made her sound angry. Those in the library at this early hour likely thought the same thing. “Mother promised to come see you more often, and you could always go to Berlin for a visit.”
“Fine, go to Mars. You don’t care about me.”
She shouldn’t have been surprised by her grandmother’s sullen reaction to her news that she’d survived another cut. Vio had responded exactly the same way. “I do care, Grandmother. I love you.”
“I love you too, Milanka.”
Mila cringed at the cutesy nickname. Why couldn’t her mother have chosen a stronger name that couldn’t be cutesy-fied? Like Gergana or Genoveva. Those names commanded respect.
The Blue group had been divided into two teams for today’s test. According to the schedule, her team was to report to the pool. The word alone was enough to convince her to skip breakfast. She was a fair swimmer—good enough not to drown—but she hated being submersed. Her older cousins in Bulgaria had made a game of holding her underwater as she thrashed, laughing cruelly when she coughed up half the river.
She would know today if she had what it took to be an astronaut. Much of their training would be conducted underwater to simulate weightlessness. If she couldn’t beat back her anxiety, she had no business going further.
Andi and Libby Fagan were coming out of the women’s locker room in their swimsuits when she arrived.
“Hustle up, Mila,” Andi said. “If you’re late, I’m gonna kick your ass.”
“Is that Texan for please?”
She found a locker with her name on it and removed a swimsuit and towel. Getting naked out in the open was disconcerting but she didn’t have time to go searching for a stall, not at the risk of being late. She’d stripped down to nothing when the door opened and Jancey came in.
“Ready for your big swim?”
Mila fumbled with her suit and finally stretched it into place. Of all the people in the world to walk in on her naked, it had to be Jancey Beaumont.
Jancey wasted no time peeling down to her underwear.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” If she waited five more seconds, she’d have a glorious vision burned into her memory to last for all of eternity. Her face was already on fire at the thought of being caught staring. Without even stashing her clothes in the locker, she blew past Jancey and out the door.
The rest of their group was waiting on the pool deck, where Mila got her first look at the day’s exercise. A cube-shaped scaffold about three meters across had been lowered by a boom to the bottom of the diving well. An etching along the side noted its depth at five meters. Judging from the equipment on the pool deck—scuba tanks, diving masks and bulky gloves—their job was to construct something underwater. That something was in a fishnet bag, but she couldn’t make out what it was.
The new Blue group looked a lot like the old one with Jancey and the Fagans. Guillermo and Wei were gone, replaced by Gunther Hardig, a German chemist, and Jerry Huffstetler, a NASA alum from Huntsville,
Alabama, who talked a lot like Andi. One thing was clear: the remaining candidates represented serious competition.
Mila and Andi had continued to work well as a team. They’d breezed through the puzzles, peg boards and pin sorting by establishing a pattern of helping. Both were capable of completing each task individually, but they worked faster when one assumed leadership and the other served as support.
Irrespective of the task, the greatest challenge today was the water.
As Jancey exited the locker room, Mila’s eyes were drawn to the subtle ripples in her thighs. She was perfectly proportioned. Only her forearms were outsized, and Jancey had let them in on why. Astronauts used their hands more than anything else—twisting, winding, turning. Not only was it a waste of effort to overdevelop larger muscles all over her body, it was counterproductive, since those muscles would lose mass in zero gravity.
Mila looked down to realize she’d begun opening and closing her fists. Starting tonight in the gym, she’d focus more of her workout on her hands and forearms.
The last person to arrive poolside was Marlon Quinn, the African-American astronaut who’d spent months at the International Space Station. Mila had seen his name next to Jancey’s this morning on the partners list. The rumor mill yesterday afternoon had it that his former partner, a Scottish RAF pilot, had left the project unexpectedly after learning his ex-girlfriend was pregnant with his child. Oops.
Jancey and Marlon. The top two candidates in the whole program, and now they were paired together. No one else stood a chance.
Danielle Zion emerged from an office near the diving platform. “In case you’re wondering, the only way to get away from me is to go to Mars.” Her voice echoed off the tile walls.
“Wanna bet?” Andi whispered. “She’ll probably be on an exercise hologram.”
T-Minus Two Page 6
