NAOMI
THE SCREAM SLICES THE AIR OF OUR DORM ROOM. I WAKE WITH a jolt as my roommate lets out a second earsplitting shriek, thrashing and kicking against her mattress. My fingers shake as I fumble for the light switch.
“Suki! Wake up!”
But she won’t stir. I jump out of my bed and run to hers. Suki’s face is pale and glassy, her forehead slicked with sweat. I’m startled to find her eyes open, with only the whites showing, and I shrink back, suddenly afraid . . . of what, I don’t know.
“No—don’t go, don’t go!” she wails, tears streaking down her cheeks.
I can’t let her continue like this. I reach for her arm, but she automatically slaps my hand away. She must be fighting something in her dream, and right now I am the stand-in. I’m bound to get hit again if I stay this close, but I have no choice. Her screams are agonizing, like sharp fingernails scratching at a bloody scab, and I use all my strength to shake her back into consciousness.
“Wake up!” I shout in her ear, gripping her shoulders. “Suki, wake up!”
It does the trick. She blinks, dazed and panting as she takes in her surroundings. And then, meeting my eyes, she starts to cry—the kind of unrestrained, racking sobs I never would have expected from someone as calm and collected as Suki.
“It’s okay,” I whisper, placing my hand over hers. “You’re okay. It was just a dream.”
She shakes her head violently.
“It wasn’t,” she chokes out through her tears. “It was the same nightmare I’m forced to remember every day. Only . . . only I’ve never dreamed it like that, so vivid and full of every horrific detail—” She breaks off, crying too hard to speak.
“What do you mean?” I ask, fearing her response. What if I’m the wrong person to help her? I don’t know what to do—
“I watched my mom and siblings die. I saw the whole thing, and I couldn’t stop it.”
My hand flies to my mouth.
“One minute I was in the kitchen cleaning my drunk of a stepfather’s mess, watching my mom and brother and sister play bocce ball through the window, and the next . . .” Fresh tears spill from her eyes. “You wouldn’t believe what I was thinking then. I was worried about what would happen when I went back to school, when I’d have to leave the three of them at his mercy. I was so distracted worrying about a future they would never have—that I missed my split-second chance to save them. I heard the sound of the roar, and I wasn’t quick enough to recognize it as a warning.”
I squeeze her hand, my heart in my throat as she speaks. I wonder if I should interrupt and tell her she doesn’t have to say any more, not if it’s too painful to remember. But something in her voice lets me know that she needs this, and I stay silent.
“The wave looked like a hundred-foot cobra, arched and ready to strike.” Suki’s voice drops to a whisper. “By the time I saw it, it was too late. The tsunami had already seized my family and everyone else on the beachfront, sweeping them all out to sea. The water came pouring in, crushing the front door and chasing my stepfather upstairs, but I let it carry me outside. I swam against the current, searching for my family—but there was no hope. All I saw were piles of bodies and upturned boats slicing the faces of the drowned. I’ve tried to wipe that image from my mind, but I can’t, I can’t.”
“I’m sorry—I’m so sorry.” I throw my arms around her, realizing that I am crying too. My stomach churns and my chest aches as I imagine what she went through. Her words trigger my memories of seeing the tsunami all over the news, the horror my family and I felt at the photos of the carnage. But by the next day, there was a new disaster to report, and the world quickly moved on from mourning Singapore. You become numb to the daily tragedies, until the next one happens to you.
As I look at Suki, and think of Leo and Jian, I can’t help seeing the Europa Mission in a different light. If it worked, what an escape it would be . . . But I am too scientific for blind faith. I wish I could believe in the mission, I wish I could forget what my hypothesis and my gut are telling me about Jupiter’s moon. But I can’t.
“Where did you go after?” I ask, wiping my eyes. “What did you do?”
Suki shakes her head bitterly.
“I didn’t have a choice. I had to stay with the drunk, because I was still a minor and had no money of my own. I thought it would be just a few more months stuck with him in that house, and then I’d go back to university and be gone for good.” Her eyes drop. “But I soon found out the university went under, too.”
“So this is the first time you’ve left since . . .” My voice trails off, and she nods.
“Yes. And now that I’ve gotten away, I’m never going back. I’m going to make the Final Six, or I’ll die trying.”
“I understand,” I murmur, wrapping my arm around her. She leans her limp head on my shoulder, exhausted from the conversation. But her forehead is burning, and I sit up in alarm.
“Suki . . . are you feeling sick?”
She shrugs slightly, and I press my palm to her forehead. “You’re burning up. I should call the medic—”
“I just need sleep.” Suki bats my hand away and sinks under the covers. “Don’t call anyone, okay?”
“Okay,” I sigh. “I’m going to get you a cold compress though.”
I throw on a sweatshirt over my pj’s, and I’m almost out the door when Suki sleepily calls my name.
“Thank you. For being a friend, even though I haven’t exactly been the warmest.” She takes a breath. “I guess I was afraid to get close to anyone I’m competing against.”
I turn around, my insides constricting at her tearstained face. “It’s okay. I understand—and you can count on me.”
Morning dawns and Suki is still pale and feverish, with a fiery red rash running down her arm. I bite my nails with worry as I stare at her.
“This looks serious, Suki. Please, just let me take you to the medical office.”
“No. I can’t let the judges find out and decide I’m too weak for the draft,” she argues. “Especially now that we only have a couple weeks to prove ourselves before the first eliminations. I just have to get through today without it being obvious there’s anything wrong with me, and then hopefully this—this flu will go away.”
So she hasn’t suspected that it’s more than just the flu. Either that, or she’s in denial. I wonder if I should tell her my opinion, if maybe that will convince her to see the nurse, but I keep my mouth shut, afraid to stress her further. Instead I help Suki apply concealer to her puffy eyes and lend her a long-sleeved tee to wear under her ISTC shirt, before giving her my arm to lean on as we walk to the cafeteria. She stumbles on our way down the hall, and I stop to steady her.
“Are you feeling dizzy?” I ask.
She hesitates before nodding.
“Suki, please let me—”
“No way.” She cuts me off. “You know why I can’t risk getting cut. I can’t go home.”
I rub my face with my hands, torn. “Okay, fine. Just stay close to me all day.”
She squeezes my arm. “Thank you.”
I link my arm with hers as we step into the cafeteria, and when it’s time to hit the buffet line, I order for her, grabbing every high-protein item on offer. Back at the table, our teammates are busy quizzing Lark about her astronaut years, and I think Suki and I are doing a reasonably good job of pulling off our act—until Leo leans in across from me.
“What’s wrong with her?” he whispers.
“Um . . .” I glance around me. Leo and I are at the far end of the table, and the others are still absorbed in their conversation, paying little attention to us. I could tell him without them overhearing, and it would be a relief . . . but am I certain I can trust him?
I turn to Suki, who’s now dragging her spoon through a bowl of oatmeal as if it requires colossal effort. She’s right beside me, and at the same time, she seems to be somewhere else.
“Naomi.” Leo looks at me knowingly. “I know something’s up. You don’t have to tell me, but just let me know if I can help.”
I close my eyes. God, I would love some help. I lean across the table until our faces are so close I can feel his breath against my cheek. And I whisper, “I think she’s having a reaction to the RRB. But you can’t tell anyone.” I pull back in time to see the alarm register on Leo’s face.
“But if she’s sick, shouldn’t we get her some help?”
“Believe me, I said the same thing. But for now at least, we have to do as she asked and not say a word. I don’t want to be the one to blow her chances of making the Final Six.”
It hits me how ironic my words are. If my brother were here, he would tell me I’d be doing Suki a favor by risking her spot in the draft and keeping her here on Earth. But now, knowing what she’s been through, what so many of my fellow finalists have suffered on our planet . . . I feel my conviction starting to waver.
Today’s first training period takes us to the third-floor Altitude Chamber: a cavernous space made almost entirely out of ice. It looks like an empty indoor igloo, with nothing but scattered orange cones and piled blocks of ice filling the space. Lark passes out thick puffer jackets before dropping us off, and I feel a sprig of hope that maybe this cold is just what Suki needs—maybe it can break her fever.
“What’s up with her?” Beckett asks loudly, watching as Suki holds on to my arm, leaning most of her body weight against me. I feel my shoulders stiffen in defense.
“She didn’t sleep well last night. That’s all.”
Lieutenant Barnes, our instructor from the diving tank, is waiting for us inside, this time dressed in snow-weather gear. And he’s not alone. Dot is with him, the robot’s artificial eyes roving over each one of us.
“Welcome to the Altitude Chamber,” the lieutenant greets us, with a sweep of his hands. “The space we’re standing in is a NASA-engineered replica of Thera Macula, the ice-surface terrain where the Final Six will land when they reach Europa.”
A ripple of excitement runs through my teammates. Katerina does a little spin on the ice, managing to make it look elegant even in tennis shoes. “It feels like home,” I hear her murmur to Asher before Lieutenant Barnes continues.
“In preparing for any mission, astronauts-in-training will generally spend two hours a day exercising, three times a week, to prepare their bodies for the physical changes that occur in space. We often put them through military-grade obstacle courses, in addition to the standard gym routines. At the same time, our scientists develop altitude chambers like this one to help astronauts’ bodies adjust to the environment they’ll be entering. However, in your case, with so much training we need to pack into so little time, we’ve decided to kill two birds with one stone: by combining the physical challenge of a military obstacle course with the Europa Altitude Chamber.”
I exchange a nervous glance with Suki. Could there be worse timing for a training session like this?
“Europa has no atmosphere, which means no wind or weather—so you’ll be safe from all the climate-related crises that plague us on Earth.” Lieutenant Barnes pauses, smiling at my teammates’ reaction to that. “There are only two environmental issues on Europa that we’re aware of. The first is the occurence of icequakes, which should feel similar to a low-grade earthquake. The second are known as water eruptions: when shifting tectonic plates cause enormous plumes of water to shoot out of the ice. While these events might sound unsettling, both are fairly mild compared to what we’ve been through here on Earth.”
I eye the lieutenant suspiciously. How can he say that with any authority, when he’s never experienced either of those things for himself? Besides, even if these are the only environmental issues they’re “aware of,” how soon will it be before the hands of humans wreak havoc on this new world, just as we did on Earth? I’m beginning to wonder who should be more afraid: us of Europa’s unknowns and its potential intelligent life . . . or them of humans and our tendency to destroy.
“To complete the course, you’ll run sprints around the path of orange cones and jump over the ice-block hurdles, dodging any simulated icequakes or water plume eruptions that may occur,” Lieutenant Barnes instructs us. “Your challenge is to make it through the obstacles without falling, and without touching the water or the cones. You’ll complete the course in pairs, and whoever has the fastest time and fewest deductions at the end wins. Got it?”
I cringe. This is an athletic feat beyond my comfort zone—and way beyond what Suki is capable of right now.
She turns to me in panic. “I—I can’t mess up,” she gasps. “I need to win.”
I resist the urge to tell her that’s not about to happen in her state. “Let’s be partners,” I suggest instead. “I’ll go at your speed, so you don’t seem off compared to the others.”
“Thank you,” she says, her face flooding with relief. “I can’t thank you enough.”
“No problem,” I tell her, though a small voice in my mind reminds me of Dr. Takumi’s warning. What if I’m not a good enough actress to pull this off—what if they figure out that I’m throwing the game on purpose? Then again . . . my paltry athletic skills could come in handy here. It won’t take that much effort to make Suki look decent.
“All right, line up in pairs!”
Leo and Asher stand at the head of the line, with Katerina and Beckett right behind them, and me and Suki going last. I watch, nerves mounting, as Leo and Asher take off the second Lieutenant Barnes blows the whistle. The two of them weave around the cones at a breakneck speed, occasionally slipping on the ice but catching themselves before they touch the ground. And then the first icequake hits. I’m not even in the obstacle course and my body sways, hands gripping my knees to keep from falling over and dragging Suki down with me. Asher hits the ground, but Leo keeps running, leaping over one of the ice blocks with such confidence that I can’t look away. Asher gets to his feet, and I hear Katerina cheering him on as he catches up, running to the hurdles. Just as Leo soars over the second-to-last hurdle, a four-foot-high gust of water bursts from the floor. I gasp, but he doesn’t stop moving, his face a mask of determination. Another blast of water hits right before his final jump, and in one of the most stunning sights I’ve ever seen, Leo takes a flying leap, soaring above the water plume and hitting the finish line.
“Wow,” I whisper.
Asher finishes not far behind, and then the whistle blows for Katerina and Beckett. Knowing we’re next has me too jittery to watch, and instead I attempt to give Suki a pep talk.
“Once we get out there, for these next few minutes, just try to block out whatever you’re feeling, okay? Pretend you’re as good as on your healthiest day, and just . . . just go kick ass.”
She nods, but her eyes are distant, her face sweaty even in this cold. My heart sinks.
“And . . . next!”
“That’s us,” I say with a gulp. “Let’s get in position.”
Suki and I assume the runner’s stance at the starting line, my muscles tensing in anticipation. When the whistle blows, I hang back a split second to let her go first, and then I follow. Running on ice is harder than it looks, and when the ground below me rattles from the first icequake, I fall smack on my butt. Hoisting myself back up, I spot Suki making a valiant effort, her hands gripping her shins to keep from falling in the quake. I resist the urge to cheer her on and I keep running until the water plume hits. My feet slide out from under me, and I tumble back down onto the ice.
“Come on, ladies!” Beckett shouts from the sidelines. “Way to represent America, Naomi.”
I grit my teeth. That obnoxious sonofa—
A sickening crash sounds, echoing through the chamber like shattered glass. My heart nearly stops at the sight of Suki crumpled at the side of the ice block, having failed to clear the hurdle. I scramble upright and run at full speed for the first time today, until I reach her. Her face is contorted in pain.
“Are you okay? I’m so sorry, I should never have let you—”
Lieutenant Barnes swoops down, interrupting my babbling. “Let’s take a look at that ankle,” he says as Suki manages to sit up.
“I’m okay,” she wheezes. “It’s just a light sprain. I’m fine, really.”
I close my eyes briefly. Is she seriously going to refuse help again? I feel a gentle pressure on my shoulder, and I turn around. It’s Leo, his blue eyes full of concern. The rest of our teammates crowd around Lieutenant Barnes and Suki, but Leo is here for me. I step off to the side so we can talk alone.
“I don’t know what to do,” I tell him under my breath. “I told her I’d help her, but . . .”
“But something is clearly wrong.” He finishes my sentence. “And not because she missed the jump. That could happen to anyone. It’s the way she . . . is today.”
I know just what he means. Our poised, laser-focused teammate is like a different person ever since last night—since the RRB. I turn to look back at Suki, who is hobbling to her feet with the help of Lieutenant Barnes.
“She’s done,” someone says behind me, and I whip around to find Beckett, watching the scene with a patronizing look on his face. “Her head’s clearly not in the game.”
“Will you just shut up?” Leo snaps at him, and I feel a rush of gratitude.
Beckett raises his eyebrows at Leo. “I would have thought you would be glad for a little less competition.”
“Then you weren’t paying attention, because I just beat your time out there,” Leo shoots back. “If anyone needs lighter competition, it’s not me.”
“You only ‘beat’ me by two seconds,” Beckett scoffs. “I’d call it more of a coin toss. Besides, you’ve already shown all you’ve got. I’m just getting warmed up.”
“Right. That’s what all second-place finishers say.”
As much as I love watching Leo take the jerk down, I don’t want to leave Suki alone with the others for much longer. I grab his arm. “Let’s go find out how she’s doing.”
We turn our backs on Beckett and return to Suki, who forces a smile when she sees us.
“Sorry about all that. I was just—just telling Lieutenant Barnes that my ankle really doesn’t hurt badly enough to bother with the medic. I’ll try to rest it today, and I’m sure I’ll be better by tomorrow.”
“I appreciate the spirit,” Lieutenant Barnes says with a nod. “That’s what we like to see here at ISTC. I’ll tell Lark to keep you off your feet today, but I’ll expect you back in fighting form tomorrow.”
“Absolutely.” Suki beams, and I have to admire her performance. Maybe that fall knocked the zombie-like symptoms out of her—she certainly seems more alert and eager now. Or . . . maybe that’s just how desperate she is to stay. The need trumps everything, even agonizing pain.
“Back to work!” Lieutenant Barnes calls out, gathering everyone toward him. “I have the final scores based on your times. Coming in last, with an incomplete, is Suki, preceded by Naomi in fifth, also with an incomplete.”
The two of us exchange a miserable glance, even though the results aren’t exactly a surprise. I hear Beckett stifle a snort, and I have a sudden urge to kick something.
“In fourth place, with a time of four minutes and thirty seconds, is Asher. Katerina takes third with four minutes even.”
The question is, why am I so frustrated? I wanted Suki to do well, not me. I’ve already gotten more attention here than I intended, considering my ultimate goal is to go home. But the defeat leaves a sour taste in my mouth. Is it possible . . . am I actually getting swept up in the competition of it all?
“And in second place, we have Beckett with a time of three minutes, forty seconds. That makes Leo our winner, coming in at just three minutes, thirty-eight seconds!”
Everyone applauds—except Beckett, of course. Leo smiles broadly. I smile back.
Suki seems to inch closer to normal as the day wears on—still a little too pale, and sweating even under the blast of the AC, but I can see the life coming back into her eyes. Still, when six thirty rolls around and it’s time to line up for our second shot of the RRB, I urge her yet again to tell the nurse about her symptoms. “I mean, doesn’t it seem a little . . . unwise to get another dose without telling them how you’ve been feeling since last night?”
Suki remains stubborn as ever.
“I told you—I have to make the Final Six. I can’t go back. And if I give them any reason to think I’m not as strong as the others here, then it’s over for me.”
And so I watch, holding my breath, as she gets another dose of the serum. Leo gives me a questioning look, but he doesn’t say anything either, both of us guarding her secret . . . for better or worse.
We proceed from the medical office to the cafeteria for dinner, and it’s as odd a segue as you could imagine, going from injections to the British menu of bangers and mash. Once we’re seated in front of full plates, Dr. Takumi makes a surprise announcement—the kind I’ve been waiting for since the moment I arrived.
“After the meal, team leaders will escort you to the library for your first weekly video-chat with your families. All of your next of kin have been notified and will be waiting by their computers at the designated time—”
The whoops and cheers from all four cafeteria tables nearly drown him out. The thought of finally getting to see and speak to Sam and my parents has me giddy, too overcome to eat another bite. Katerina and Asher beam as they launch into an animated conversation about who from their hometowns they expect to see in their video-chats, while Beckett joins in half-heartedly. I’m amazed he’s not taking the opportunity to gloat about webcamming with the White House, and I’m about to whisper as much to Leo when I notice his crushed expression. Suki pushes her full plate away, her eyes trained on the floor, and my heart twists for them both. There can’t be anything worse than knowing that the only people who matter won’t be there on the other side of the screen.
“I don’t have to go, do I?” Leo asks Lark under his breath.
“You want to stand up your date?” Lark raises an eyebrow at him, and Leo stares at her in confusion.
“I don’t have a next of kin,” he says. “So I figured . . .”
“That you wouldn’t have a video-chat? Not a chance,” Lark says with a grin. “We received a very impassioned letter from a certain Elena Vincenti asking for communication privileges with you. I couldn’t say no to a letter like that.” She lowers her voice to a conspiratorial tone. “And her being the prime minister’s daughter certainly helped me get a yes from Dr. Takumi!”
My face turns strangely hot as I listen, though I don’t know why I care. So what if he has a girlfriend back home?
“The PM’s daughter?” Beckett cocks an eyebrow. “You’re a dark horse.”
“It’s not like—” Leo starts, his cheeks reddening, but Asher interrupts.
“Own it, man.” He fist-bumps Leo, and I feel my insides go twitchy with irritation. And for the first time since we met, the sight of Leo’s smile makes me feel worse instead of better.
By the time we make it to the library for our turn at the computers, I’m practically bursting out of my skin. I can’t stop fidgeting as Lark sets up the video-chat monitors and logs each of us in; I wait impatiently for her to finish getting Katerina set up before coming around to my seat. Finally I’m logged in, my eager face staring back at me from the left-hand corner of the screen. And then—
“Naomi!!”
“Azizam!”
Sam and my parents’ faces fill the screen, and as I gaze at them, it’s like taking my first real breath after days underwater. My eyes fill with tears as I forget everyone else in this room, forget everything but them.
“It’s so good to see you,” I manage to choke out. “I miss you so much.”
“Not as much as we miss you,” Mom says, placing her hand up to the screen.
“How are you, sweetie?” Dad asks, and I notice he’s wearing the fuzzy green sweater I got him for Father’s Day. I’d give anything to be able to reach through the computer and hug him.
“I—I’m okay. I can’t stand being away from you guys—it’s just as hard as I thought it would be. But luckily I made a couple of friends here, and that helps a little.”
“Of course you did,” Sam says with a wistful smile.
“That reminds me. We have something to show you,” Dad says, his voice rising in excitement. I hear him fumbling offscreen, and then he holds up a copy of Time magazine. “Incredible, right?”
I suck in my breath. It’s us, the Twenty-Four, on the cover of the magazine—under a bold headline that reads, “The Teenagers Saving the Human Race.”
“Wow,” I murmur. It’s surreal to see me and my teammates on the cover of a magazine—but more than pride, the sight fills me with fear. Fear that we’re leading on the public, lifting their hopes too high, when there’s no guarantee our story won’t end differently from the Athena disaster—or that Europa won’t turn out to be every bit as perilous as Earth.
“They devoted the most space to you and Beckett Wolfe,” Sam adds, taking the magazine from Dad and flipping through the pages until he finds what he’s looking for. He holds an article up to the screen, a feature titled “The First Nephew and the Iranian-American Prodigy,” with a glossy photo of me and Beckett standing stiffly next to each other on arrival day.
“Knowing how President Wolfe feels about immigrants, he must love all the attention on our heritage.” Dad laughs.
“That’s true,” I say with a smile. Beckett is probably just as thrilled to have to share all his press with me. I know it’s petty, but I can’t help feeling a flicker of satisfaction at the annoyance this headline will cause him.
“Enough about me, though. I’ve been dying to know how you guys are doing.” I peer closer at the three of them. “Sam, how are you feeling?”
“I’m okay. Going to all my appointments and taking my meds. You don’t need to worry, Sis,” he says with a wry grin.
But as I study him through the screen, I feel a wave of anxiety. He looks even thinner than when I left, and there’s no hiding the weariness in his eyes.
“Are you resting enough? Eating enough? I thought families of the Twenty-Four were supposed to get extra food—”
“Yes to all three,” Sam says, chuckling. “I’m fine—but I can see space camp hasn’t changed you a bit.”
I try to smile, to shake the feeling that his reassurance is just a put-on for my benefit.
“We’re taking great care of him, sweetie. Don’t worry,” Mom says, wrapping her arm around Sam. I feel a pang in my chest at the sight of them, so close while I’m an impenetrable distance away.
“What’s it like over there? Are you enjoying yourself at all?” Dad asks, looking at me hopefully.
“Actually . . . yeah, sometimes. The training we’ve done so far is pretty incredible. It’s like we’re in Hogwarts for space, but instead of teaching us magic, they’re preparing us to get kicked off the planet.” I laugh. “I’ll have a ton of stories for you when I come home.”
In the silence that falls, I can almost hear them all tweaking my sentence in their minds: “If you come home.”
“So, did you open my letter?” Sam asks, trying to sound casual.
I know the real question he’s asking: Do I plan to use the flash drive with the hacking software, and am I making progress on my true mission—to return to them, to stay on Earth? I have to assure him that I’m keeping my promise to come home, without giving myself away if Lark or anyone else overhears.
“I did, and in answer to your question . . . I’m still figuring it out,” I reply. “But I will.”
My parents are clearly confused, but before they can ask what we’re talking about, Lark signals for our attention.
“Time to log off. It’s the next team’s turn at the computers.”
My stomach plummets. We can’t be done so soon—and I can’t fathom the thought of only ever seeing my family like this, in painfully short bursts through a computer monitor.
“I love you guys,” I say, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I don’t want to say good-bye.”
“We love you more, azizam,” Dad says gruffly, and I can tell he’s getting choked up. Mom’s eyes are watery as she blows kisses through the screen, and Sam gives me the goofy secret hand signal we made up in elementary school. I thought he’d forgotten it, and I laugh through my tears.
“Love you, Sis. I really miss you.”
And then the screen turns black, its emptiness leaving me with renewed resolve.
I have to set a plan in motion.