NAOMI
I CAN FEEL THE BLOOD ROARING IN MY EARS, THE BREATH trapped in my throat, as Leo and I flatten ourselves against the wall. There is nothing we can do now but listen to the excruciating sound of footsteps in the dark and wait out our last moments of freedom. Dr. Takumi’s list of potential punishments runs through my mind, and my hands start to shake. I was stupid to think I could get away with this—and now Leo has to pay the price for what I did.
All my bravado is gone, and I look to him, hoping he is as strong in this moment as he looks. As the footsteps march closer, I turn my face toward his. I’m sorry, I mouth.
Leo nods, reaches for my hand. Through the dark, I notice the outline of his lips. There is so much unspoken between us, so much I want to say, and now we’re about to get caught—
“Security breach detected.”
“Attention! Security breach detected.”
I freeze at the sound of the mechanical voices echoing toward us. And then a light shines in my eyes, and my head snaps up. This time, I can’t hold back my scream.
Three faceless utility robots circle us, compact versions of Dot and Cyb, but just as intimidating in the dark. Army insignias glow across their metal chests, and I realize—these are Dr. Takumi’s soldiers.
“Source of breach uncovered,” one of the robots drones, marching toward us with handcuffs. “Finalists out of bounds—”
A zapping sound crackles through the air, and I jump back at the sight of the flying blue current. One of the robots hits the floor with a crash, and I turn in amazement to see Leo, aiming the stun gun from the lab at the remaining two. They reach into their holsters, withdrawing arms of their own—
Zap. Zap. The breath whooshes from my lungs as the second and third AIs fall. And then Leo is seizing my hand, both of us lunging forward into a run, the adrenaline and fear driving my body faster than I’ve ever moved in my life. Neither of us says a word as we sprint toward the staircase, and for once I’m thankful for the rain and thunder, as it muffles the sound of us pounding up the steps, our panting breaths.
Within minutes we’re back on the Hab floor, running past the deserted cafeteria and library to the darkened dorm wing. My heartbeat only starts to stabilize when we reach the corridor that separates the girls’ wing from the boys’. We made it.
“You—you were amazing,” I whisper. “Thank you.”
Leo shakes his head, his expression dazed. “You’re the one who told me to grab the stun gun. I just remembered to use it.”
“The way you used it is the reason we’re standing here now.” I touch his arm. “I was wrong before, when I said I didn’t need you.”
A smile lights his face. “I’ll remember that. And . . . maybe now you can take a break from trying to get in as much trouble as possible?”
“I guess I do owe you that much,” I say wryly. “And I promise I’ll wait for a few days to go by before I even attempt to access Dot with my drive, to make sure no one’s onto us.”
“What about the utility robots?” Leo winces. “Are you sure I didn’t do any permanent damage?”
“I’m sure. And the electric shocks wiped the past three minutes of their memories, which means they’ll have no data of seeing us.” I take a step closer to him. “Once again, you were amazing. I just—I’m really sorry I almost roped you into disaster.”
“Maybe I should be mad,” he acknowledges. “But . . . before I followed you, I was back in that dark place that storms always bring me to. You distracted me. So . . . maybe it was worth it.”
My chest fills with warmth at his words. “I—I’m glad.”
“And I have to admit, I never thought I’d see the day where I’d manage to disarm three robots. I won’t forget that one.” He grins.
“You definitely have bragging rights for days,” I agree, smiling back.
“So what should we say tomorrow, when people ask why we weren’t in the tunnel? I’m guessing they noticed.”
I nod, thinking quickly. “Let’s just pretend we didn’t make it to the tunnel in time—that we were lagging behind and the door closed before we got there, so we had to wait out the storm in our rooms. I know Dr. Takumi took a head count when we were still there, but between the finalists and instructors and all the chaos, it’s not hard to believe that he could have counted an extra two.”
“Yeah. That makes sense.” He takes a breath. “Goodnight, Naomi.”
“Night, Leo.”
He inches closer to me, and then seems to think better of it, backing away again. I wish he hadn’t.
“Sleep well. And for God’s sake, hide that flash drive—somewhere no one in the world could find it but you.”
“I will. I’ve taken to keeping it right here.” I gesture to my bra, and then instantly turn bright red. Too much information, Naomi.
“Oh! Good—good thinking,” Leo stammers. “Well. I’ll see you in the morning, then.”
“See you.”
As I watch his retreating figure turn toward the boys’ wing, I can’t help smiling.
It’s nice to see him a little flustered.
I’m just managing to drift off to sleep when the sound of someone barging through my door jolts me awake. I sit upright, heart racing, as Lark slams the door behind her and looms over my bed. Her eyes flash with fury.
“What were you thinking?” she snaps. “Do you realize I risked my job covering for the two of you?”
She knows. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out—my throat is like sandpaper. I grasp for the right words to explain, to sugarcoat what I did, but I can’t come up with anything better than a pathetic, “It’s not what you think.”
“Oh, it’s exactly what I think.” Lark’s eyes are like daggers. “I should have guessed earlier. It was obvious something was going on between the two of you—but I didn’t think you’d ever be so reckless as to risk your lives during a storm and sneak off together, right under Dr. Takumi’s nose!”
My face heats up in embarrassment as I realize what Lark’s getting at. But then . . . could her misunderstanding let us off the hook?
“So you’re saying you know . . . about me and Leo?” I ask, testing her.
“Obviously!” She throws her hands up in exasperation. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
“I’m sorry. Really sorry. I—we just thought this would be our only chance to be alone,” I fib.
Lark shakes her head. “I warned them about bringing teenage hormones into this. But of course, no one listened to me!”
“What—what did you tell Dr. Takumi and the general?” I ask. “About us, I mean.”
“You’re both lucky I thought on my feet. When the others noticed you were gone, I put two and two together and figured out what you were really up to.” She gives me a pointed look. “So I said I saw you both come running to the tunnel just before the door closed, and that you missed it.”
The same excuse I planned, I note with amusement.
“General Sokolov wanted to open the door in case you were still there waiting, but I said you’d probably gone back to your rooms by then and it wasn’t worth exposing the rest of us to the elements. But if she or Dr. Takumi had pressed the issue and found out that you’d disobeyed their orders to go suck face—well, the two of you would be toast.”
I’m too mortified to look her in the eye—and also a bit deflated at the realization that my personal life is a whole lot more exciting in Lark’s mind than in reality. But I am curious about one thing.
“Why did you cover for us? I’m incredibly grateful, believe me,” I add hurriedly. “I just can’t help wondering, since you seem awfully . . . mad.”
“Oh, I am mad,” she says icily. “But I already lost one team member before the first eliminations. The last thing I want is to show up on Friday as the only leader with half their team already gone. I know Dr. Takumi, and he would blame me for your transgressions.”
So she’s not looking out for us out of the goodness of her heart. But in a way, her motive makes it easier for me to believe we really are safe . . . at least for now. I feel my muscles begin to relax.
“Thank you, Lark. I mean it.”
“This is the only time, though,” she warns me. “From now on, you two are going to have to do a much better job of covering up whatever is going on here—or better yet, nipping it in the bud. It can only work against you with Dr. Takumi and the general.”
“You’re right.” I nod automatically. “I’m sorry. We, uh . . . we’ll end it.” Before it’s even begun.
She moves toward the door, seemingly satisfied by my remorse.
“One more thing,” she says on her way out. “You owe me one. Remember that.”
The power is back on by morning, but when we arrive at the cafeteria, Dr. Takumi announces that the day’s training sessions have all been canceled.
“The staff here at ISTC and Johnson Space Center need to focus on repairs and equipment checks in the aftermath of last night,” he explains. “So after breakfast, instead of going into a training session, you’ll be following me to the media room.”
I watch Dr. Takumi carefully as he speaks, trying to gauge whether anything is different—if he has any inkling that something went down in the robotics lab last night, or if he bought Lark’s explanation of where me and Leo were. But when his eyes roam over our team table and land on me, his expression is unreadable. I wonder if I can take that as a good sign.
Dr. Takumi leads the way to a space we haven’t seen before, a small room at the end of the Hab floor that resembles a movie theater. A large screen unfurls across the front wall, the image paused on what looks like the TV news—something we haven’t been allowed to watch since we arrived here. Once we’re all seated, Dr. Takumi paces to the front of the screen.
“Last night, we experienced a taste of the devastation that shook the American South with its effects felt even farther beyond: a 7.0 earthquake, and a midlevel tsunami triggered by the quake’s undersea megathrust,” he says. “Thanks to our extreme precaution methods, Johnson Space Center suffered comparatively little damage. However, very few buildings in the country are privileged with this level of protection. You will find that the majority of others in our region did not fare as well.”
My stomach clenches at his words. How many died? How far did the disaster stretch? Please let California be safe, I pray silently. Please let my family be untouched by this.
“It’s important for you to recognize the suffering going on outside these walls, and to understand why the Europa Mission is the answer,” Dr. Takumi continues. “To keep you informed and remind you of what’s at stake, I’m lifting the TV restrictions today.”
I glance at Leo and Asher on either side of me, unsure how I feel about this. On one hand, it’s a relief to be able to catch a glimpse of the outside world after being out of the loop for so long . . . but there is something manipulative about Dr. Takumi letting us watch the news on a day when the images are certain to be harrowing.
I take a deep breath, bracing myself as the screen flickers to life. But even after everything I’ve seen in the past two years, there’s no way to prepare for this: the sight of skyscrapers swaying and sinking into the waves while the earth shakes, the echoing screams of the hundreds of victims trapped inside. I grip the armrest with white knuckles as the scene shifts to a weary-looking anchorman facing the camera.
“We’re looking at the wreckage of Oklahoma City, which faced widespread destruction last night in the earthquake and subsequent tsunami,” he reports. “The landmark Chase Tower was one of the buildings to fall, and the entire state of Oklahoma is still out of power.” He rubs his face, seems to fight back tears. “This marks another city taken from us by Mother Nature.”
Panic presses against my chest. I can’t watch any more, I can’t listen to them counting the casualties. And as the footage pans over anguished Americans, standing in the waist-high rubble and water where their homes used to be, I shoot out of my seat. My family may be miles away from the epicenter of the storm—but they’re not far enough to escape its reach, not in this disfigured Earth we’re living in. And I can’t sit here a second longer, not until I know if they’re safe.
I can feel the other finalists’ eyes on me as I dash toward Dr. Takumi, who stands by the screen with a poker-faced expression.
“Please—I need to see my family, to know if they’re okay.” I look him in the eye, hoping against hope that my desperation might move him. “Is there anything you can do? Can we arrange a video-chat for today?”
He sighs. I can feel his refusal coming, and I try another tack.
“Not just for me, but—but for Beckett, too. I’m sure he’s worried about how things are looking in DC.”
It may be easy to deny me a favor, but Beckett is a different story. The president of the United States is one of the key figures who signed off on this mission, who helped get Congress to bankroll it. If Dr. Takumi thinks his nephew wants to see him . . .
“Fine,” he relents. “But let it be known to all of you that this is a one-time exception. If we allowed spontaneous video-chats every time a natural disaster occurred, we’d be spending all day in front of the computer instead of preparing for the mission at hand.”
“Thank you!” I cry, before turning to Beckett in the audience and mouthing, You’re welcome. After all, it’s because of me that he gets to check on his family. But he just looks away with a scowl.
“Sam!”
My eyes well up with relief as soon as I see his face. He’s okay, he’s okay, my mind chants on a loop, the air seeping back into my lungs. But as I look closer at my brother, I notice something is different. His eyes are hollow, all the light gone from them. It’s like looking at someone with my brother’s face, but none of his spirit.
“What happened?” I ask, afraid to hear the answer. “Is it Mom or Dad? Where are they?”
“They’re fine. The only reason they’re not here right now is because they’re helping the downstairs neighbors evacuate. The lower floor flooded completely in the storm,” he says heavily.
I flinch at the thought of the sweet, elderly Bursteins being forced to flee. “Did—did they lose everything? Where are they going to go?”
“They salvaged what they could, but . . .” He shakes his head. “They’re staying with us in your room, until they can get ahold of other family.”
“I’m glad they’ll be with you guys,” I say quietly. “So our apartment is okay, then?”
“Yeah, it managed to stay afloat. The damage wasn’t as bad up here. But listen, Naomi . . .” He takes another breath, and I notice how shallow it sounds.
“Are you okay? How are you feeling?” I interrupt him.
“The same,” he answers, and I don’t know whether to be relieved or worried. The same isn’t necessarily good news for my brother—but if he’s telling me the truth, then at least he hasn’t gotten worse while I’ve been away.
“What I was about to say is, I’ve been thinking about something since we last talked, and . . .” He meets my eyes. “I don’t want you to come home.”
I recoil in my seat. “What? What are you saying?”
“I want you to forget the—the message I gave you.” He looks away. “I realize now it was selfish of me to want you to come back. I’ve lost count of how many times this planet has tried to kill us. Whatever is on Europa, it can’t be worse than here. So . . . you have to go.”
My mouth falls open. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “You want me to leave Earth? To possibly never see you again?”
“I want you to save yourself,” he says. “You’ve been given an opportunity, and I don’t want to be the one holding you back. Plus, if the mission has any hope of succeeding, it needs a brain like yours.” He musters a smile. “The future needs you.”
“But . . . but what about you?”
“I—I’ll be okay.” He gives a resigned shrug. “I’m a lot tougher than I seem, you know? I shouldn’t have pushed you to try to come home. Besides, I’ve been thinking of ways I can help you on Europa, from here.” The old spark briefly returns to his eyes. “You’re not the only one good with computers.”
“But I—I already—” I want to tell him to forget what he’s saying, that I hacked Dot last night and set a plan in motion. But of course I can’t. I can only hope he reads the truth in my face.
“Two more minutes!” Lark calls out from the doorway, where she’s supervising Beckett and me. I hold on to the edges of the computer monitor, as if I can somehow keep my brother close.
“It’s not my decision to make, but . . .” I lower my voice. “Even if I get chosen in the end, I’m still not giving up. Not on you, or on Earth.”
Sam smiles sadly. “But you should. Let go of us, Sis. Let go and soar, like you’re meant to.”
“No,” I whisper. “You don’t know—”
But the screen is flickering, turning pixelated. Our time is up.