LEO
I WRAP NAOMI IN MY ARMS, KISSING HER LIPS, HER FACE, HER hair. I feel her responding to my every touch, her arms tightening around me as she kisses me back with urgency, like this moment is all we have—
Footsteps. We spring apart, the sound outside the hatch door plunging us back down to earth. I jump out of my seat, hoping our flushed faces don’t give us away, as General Sokolov bursts into the capsule.
“Come on, you two, let’s go! I have another sim to get through.”
She doesn’t need to tell us twice. Naomi and I hurry to the hatch door, and right before I step through it, the general turns to meet my eyes, a warning in her gaze.
But now Dianna Dormer and Ami Nakamura are climbing into the capsule, and General Sokolov’s attention shifts away from me, onto them.
“You don’t think she saw, do you?” I murmur as Naomi and I step back onto the Mission Floor.
Her blush deepens.
“It looked like the cameras stopped rolling once we unplugged from the sim, so I think we’re safe,” she whispers. “But . . . she might have guessed something was up when she walked in.”
“I’ll be more careful next time.”
As soon as the words come out of my mouth, I cringe—was that too bold of me, assuming there will even be a next time? What if she just got caught up in the moment and doesn’t want anything more? But then she glances up at me with a shy smile.
“This is really happening, isn’t it?”
My chest swells. I lean in, whispering one last reply before we join the rest of the finalists. “I think it’s been happening since the day we met.”
I can’t believe this is my life.
The thought plays on a loop in my mind the rest of the day and into the night—as Naomi and I share covert smiles across the floor throughout training, as we float into the cafeteria on a high from our secret. I can’t believe she feels the way I do.
Now that the teams are disbanded, we’re thankfully no longer bound to our old table assignments—meaning we don’t have to endure another meal with Beckett Wolfe. We join a table with Jian, Sydney, Dev, and Ana, but I’m hardly aware of the conversation. I’m too distracted by the feel of her soft hand, just barely resting against mine under the table.
We spend the after-dinner hour curled up in an empty corner of the library, Naomi leaning against me as she scribbles a bunch of figures into a notebook.
“What are you working on?” I ask, peering over her shoulder.
“I’m double-checking the algorithm coding I have to enter in order to connect my tablet to . . . you know.” She gives me a little wink, lowering her voice. “A certain machine.”
“Oh.” I feel like someone’s splashed cold water on my face. “You mean, you still plan on following through with that?”
“Of course.” She glances up at me with a bemused expression. “Why would I change my mind?”
Because now you have more reason to stay, I answer silently. Because maybe it’s no longer worth the risk of getting caught.
But I don’t say any of it out loud. I just watch her brain at work, her face scrunching up in concentration as her pencil flies across the page.
I walk her to her door at curfew, peering around the hallway to make sure we’re alone before saying goodnight. I’m aching to kiss her again, but the blinking red light of the security camera overhead stops me.
“Hey, I have that book you wanted to borrow,” Naomi says loudly, flashing a brief glance at the camera. “Come in for just a quick sec.”
My insides thrill as she opens the door to her room, and I follow her inside. As soon as the door shuts behind us, she pulls me toward her, and I pin her against the wall, our hands interlacing as I move my lips across hers. She lets out a sigh, and it’s almost unbearable, how good this feels.
“I should go,” I whisper, though every part of me wants to stay. “Where’s that book I’m supposed to be borrowing?”
Naomi reaches behind her, grabbing the title on her nightstand, a doorstopper-size memoir by Dr. Greta Wagner.
“Just a little light reading, huh?” I say with a grin.
“Yeah, well. It’s my favorite, so keep it safe.”
“If it’s your favorite, then I’ll do you one better—I’ll actually read it.” I lean in closer, brushing my lips against hers one last time. “See you tomorrow.”
“See you then.” But a shadow crosses her face as I pull away.
“What is it?”
“Nothing. I guess—it’s just . . .” Her shoulders sag. “Why couldn’t I have met you any other way?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.
“There’s such a big chance of us getting separated at the end of this. It—it makes me afraid of what I feel for you,” she confesses. “I mean, one minute we were seeing Asher every day, and now we may never see him again. What if it’s the same for us?” She blinks back tears, and something tightens in my chest. “It’s just—it’s so unfair.”
“I know. But if we can get drafted together—”
“Or better yet, go back to LA together,” she interrupts, giving me a meaningful look. “You would love Sam and my parents, and we could have an actual life—”
I stop her words with a kiss. I’m not ready to contemplate getting cut. Not yet—maybe not ever.
Is it wrong of me to wonder if there’s some way I can have it all . . . the girl and the mission?
The next couple days fly by in a blur of training sessions with the general, Lieutenant Barnes, and the AIs, while my evenings are filled with Naomi. Even though neither of us shares a room anymore, we know not to risk another attempt at outsmarting the cameras and sneaking into each other’s dorms. Instead, we spend every last second between dinner and curfew together, keeping up a pretense of platonic friendship in front of the others, while our eyes tell a different story. The only place we don’t hold back is the Telescope Tower—the spot Naomi says is our safest bet for avoiding the cameras. We make it our own, the place where we can finally hold each other and kiss, after hours spent an arm’s length apart.
I fall asleep with her sweet scent on my lips; I wake up with her face in my mind. Being with her is like flying in zero gravity, even while my feet are planted firmly on the ground. There’s just one flaw to this new magic in my life: losing her would wreck me. And the closer we get to the reveal of the Final Six—the more possible that scenario becomes.
With T-minus five days left, we learn that our schedules will be shifting to mostly private training in each finalist’s area of expertise. While I’ll be spending these last days getting one-on-one instruction in drilling through Europa’s ice crust, Naomi will be in the Mission Control Center with the capsule communicator, aka CAPCOM, deciphering coded computer messages and working flight-velocity equations. It’s clear to all of us what the transition to specialized training means: Dr. Takumi and General Sokolov are auditioning us for the six crew positions.
My suspicion is confirmed when I show up to the diving pool for what I assumed was a private session, only to find Beckett there too. So I was right: the two of us are going head-to-head. I turn my face as soon as I see him, though I can feel his eyes boring a hole into my back. I won’t acknowledge him; I won’t let him psych me out.
“All right, my two divers!” Lieutenant Barnes says cheerily, oblivious to the tension between us. “Who knows the best way to drill through thirty kilometers of ice quickly in space?”
Am I supposed to know this? I stay quiet, hoping Beckett doesn’t have the answer either. Thankfully, the lieutenant plunges ahead.
“A nuclear hydrothermal drill!” he answers for us. “Here’s how it works: the underwater specialist on the Final Six will set up the drill on the landing site of Europa. Once in position and switched on, a nuclear power source in the drill will heat water and spit it back out in the form of high-powered jets to melt through the ice. At the same time, rotating drill blades beneath the water jets will chip away at the ice.” He smiles. “And that is how you will pierce Europa’s ice shell and descend into its rocky ocean and land below.”
Adrenaline courses through me. I have to beat Beckett—I have to be the one chosen for this job.
“The actual drill we plan to use is being finalized at NASA’s Jet Propulsion Lab right now, so today we’ll be working with a smaller prototype. But first, let’s warm up. Give me a twist dive followed by a two-hundred-meter freestyle.”
“Are we racing?” I ask the lieutenant, already grinning at the prospect. The First Nephew is about to get crushed.
“Yes. Leo, you can take the ten-meter board.”
I can’t resist a smirk in Beckett’s direction as I climb up to the higher diving board while he is relegated to the three-meter. As I step up to the ledge, I glance down at the prick mark on my arm from last night’s RRB shot, wondering if Naomi was right about it. Will I feel . . . different in the pool again?
I have my answer as soon as I hit the water. My skin is vibrating, my insides pulsing with the sensation of something coming to life within me—something faster than human. And as I fly through the pool, I think of the word Naomi used. Amphibious. The way I move underwater without needing a breath . . . there does seem to be something almost amphibious about me now.
I touch the wall, ready to lean back and wait for Beckett to catch up. But then I see . . . he’s only a few strokes behind me. How is that possible?
“Well done, both of you!” Lieutenant Barnes calls out, not looking nearly as stunned as he should be, considering we both just swam faster than Olympians. What is going on here?
“Lieutenant Barnes!” Beckett calls out from his lane opposite mine. “I’ve been working on that breath-holding technique we talked about and I’ve gotten pretty good. Let me show you?”
“Sure.” Lieutenant Barnes nods, and Beckett hoists himself out of the pool and approaches my diving board—the ten-meter. A chill runs through my veins as Beckett executes a near-perfect backflip and stays underwater, the lieutenant gleefully calling out each minute he stays under. He makes it a full seven minutes—not as long as my fifteen-plus, but an unprecedented improvement over his last two-minute hold. And as I watch Beckett break through the surface and speed to the end of the lane, it’s obvious that I’m not the only one benefiting from the strange side effects of the RRB.
Naomi was right. There is far more to the RRB than we’ve been told. Once again, I remember Elena’s warning words. But now I’m beginning to have an idea of what the ISTC had in mind . . . the kind of weapons we are intended to be.