LEO
“HOW GREAT IS THIS?”
I circle the dorm room I share with Asher, surveying all the luxuries that I once took for granted. A comfortable bed, our own heating and AC unit, furniture that looks sturdy enough to withstand the storms . . . who needs anything more? But someone has gone to extra lengths to make up for my sad lack of clothes—planting T-shirts and socks, boxers and swim trunks, khakis and sweaters into the chest of drawers, all in my size.
I’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be taken care of until now. The thought of no longer having to fight for every scrap of food, every piece of cloth on my back, makes me feel ten pounds lighter. I flop onto the bed, gratitude flooding through me.
“It’s pretty cool,” Asher agrees, rifling through his luggage. He starts unloading books and photos onto his desk, and I wonder if he’ll notice that I don’t have a single belonging to unpack. But if he does, he’s polite enough not to comment.
“Were you as shocked as I was to get drafted?” I ask.
Asher gives a modest shrug. “I mean, I definitely hoped to get picked, and once I became a fighter pilot in the Tzahal—that’s the Israel Defense Forces—I figured I had a shot. That was my plan even before the Europa Mission: to become an astronaut by starting out as a pilot.” His eyes cloud over. “But now that we know they’re having a robot fly this mission, I’m not so sure what I’m doing here.”
“They can’t leave it all up to an AI, though,” I point out. “What if there was a systems failure or a technical issue? I bet Dr. Takumi and the general still need at least one human onboard with piloting experience.”
Asher nods, looking slightly more hopeful. “Thanks. I just . . . I need this.” He glances down at the floor. “You know how it is—not having a home to go back to.”
“I know.” I don’t elaborate on how much I’ve lost—I’m sure my lack of belongings says it all. But I feel a pang of sympathy as I remember that the rising of the Mediterranean Sea pulled millions of homes underwater, giving Israelis no choice but to flee.
“I hope you make the Final Six,” I tell him suddenly. “I hope we both get to go.”
Asher smiles. “Me, too.”
Asher and I step through the doors of the cafeteria into a hum of conversation and a cloud of tempting smells. Three faceless utility robots are stationed behind the buffet counter, their plastic-coated synthetic bodies moving in unison as they prepare our dinner. I elbow Asher in amazement, and he lets out a low whistle.
“Yeah, this is different from home, all right.”
We join Lark, Beckett, and Katerina at our table, seconds before Naomi and Suki slide in. Naomi’s eyes are red-rimmed, her expression wary, and I have the unexpected urge to reach across the table, to make her smile. But her head is turned to the front of the room, where Dr. Takumi, General Sokolov, and the rest of the faculty are surveying the scene from an elevated platform. Dr. Takumi rises to his feet, and silence falls over the cafeteria.
“Good evening, finalists,” he greets us. “I imagine right now your families are all in front of their TVs, watching the media coverage from today and feeling immeasurably proud of you.”
If only.
“However, our real work begins tomorrow,” he continues. “During training, you will be expected to push your bodies and minds beyond your limits, beyond fatigue. This is what distinguishes astronauts from amateurs.”
I sit up straighter, hoping Dr. Takumi can see the determination in my face. I won’t be one of the amateurs. Whatever it takes, I won’t let myself slip.
“Throughout this process, you will alternate between learning the skills needed for the arduous journey into deep space and those needed to survive and build a permanent home on Europa. Your focus is critical.” He pauses. “The tools you learn down here could be precisely what saves your life up there.”
The silence in the room seems to thicken at his words. He holds our gaze for one more moment, and then nods approvingly.
“And now, dinner is served. When I call your team name, take a tray and line up at the counter.”
As soon as it’s our turn, I practically shoot out of my chair. One of the utility robots swivels forward as I approach the counter. “Would you like the American meal, the Chinese meal, or both?” it asks in a genderless, mechanical voice.
“Um, both, please?”
I watch in awe as the robot piles fried chicken with collard greens and corn bread onto my plate, before handing me a second dish of mapo tofu and a bowl of shrimp dumpling soup. I can barely remember the last time I ate like this. For a while the only sounds around me are the clatter of silverware scraping against plates as the six of us dig in, until Katerina leans forward.
“Did any of you see the new BBC documentary about Europa?”
“Yeah, my uncle showed it at the White House,” Beckett says through a mouthful of food. I catch Naomi give a slight eye roll at that, and I stifle a laugh.
“Wasn’t it amazing?” Katerina raves. “The coolest part was when they showed how Jupiter appears twenty-four times bigger in Europa’s sky than our own sun looks to us. Can you imagine the view we’d get every day? I think that’s what I’m most looking forward to: sitting out on the ice surface and seeing Jupiter right in front of me, looming large.”
“It’ll definitely put all of Earth’s sights to shame,” Lark agrees, an inscrutable expression crossing her face.
“What I keep thinking about is the landing,” I say, leaning back in my chair as I imagine it. “That moment when we’re the very first to set foot on a whole other part of the universe . . . it’s like we get to be Marco Polo, but on an infinitely bigger scale.”
“Yeah, and the rocket launch,” Asher joins in, his face lighting up. “I’ve watched so many online and always wanted to be up there myself, strapped inside the flight capsule, ready for liftoff. But I never pictured getting to go somewhere so far off the map. That’s the most surreal part about all of this.” He glances at Suki sitting across from him. “What about you?”
There’s a brief pause before Suki answers, her voice quiet but firm. “Getting away from Earth—that’s what I can’t wait for.”
I raise my glass to hers.
“I’m sure we can all toast to that.”
But Naomi shakes her head, stabbing at a piece of corn bread with her fork.
“I don’t get it. You guys are acting like this is a vacation instead of a draft. If we get picked, we could literally explode into flames before we even reach Europa, or wind up starving to death if the Athena fuel leak costs us our supplies. Or we could make it to Europa with no problem, only to get killed by the environment or . . . something else.” She takes a deep breath. “I just think we need to be a little more realistic.”
“What, are you scared?” Beckett jeers.
“We should all be scared,” Naomi says under her breath. I can tell there’s more to her words than she’s letting on, but before I can ask, Lark jumps in.
“Look, risk is an inherent part of space travel, but that doesn’t mean those worst-case scenarios will actually happen. I know the fuel leak sounds alarming, but SatCon is keeping a sharp eye on it twenty-four hours a day—and moving up the launch date ensures the Final Six should make it to Mars in time so salvage the supply ship.” She looks at us intently. “If there was ever a mission destined for success, it’s this one. Europa is the first time we’ve had the collective brainpower of all the international space agencies together on one project. You can trust that they’re making this mission as safe as it can possibly be.”
“No matter what happens, it’s still got to be better than staying on Earth and waiting to die,” I remark. Suki and Asher both nod in agreement, but Naomi gives me an incredulous look.
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am. And if you don’t know what I mean”—I smile sadly—“consider yourself lucky.”
She furrows her brow, about to say something more when Lark clears her throat.
“How about we end our first night on a lighter note? I want to see us become a real team, which means we need to start getting to know each other fast. Why don’t we go around the table and share a little something about ourselves?”
When no one volunteers, Lark says, “Okay, I’ll go first. I was born and raised in Huntsville, Alabama, home of the US Space and Rocket Center. That’s what got me interested in space from an early age, and I studied engineering at MIT before joining NASA straight out of college. My first spaceflight was actually the final trip to the International Space Station, but when Dr. Takumi offered me the chance to help him develop the ISTC, I retired from space travel to join him here.”
“You were on the last ISS mission?” Naomi stares at Lark. “So then you were here training when the news broke about the Athena crew. Did you know—”
“And that’s enough about me,” Lark cuts her off, with a short laugh. She turns to our teammate sitting to her right. “Katerina?”
“Um, some of you might have seen me on the final Olympics,” Katerina says with a fleeting smile. “But what most people don’t know about me is that I’m really good at math. That’s part of what made me so strong on the ice—instead of being nervous, I would focus on the number of rotations and the geometrical angles I needed to hit to land the perfect jumps.”
As we continue around the table, I learn that Suki was the youngest-ever engineering student in her university’s history, after skipping multiple grades in pre-tsunami Singapore, while Naomi tells us about her prizewinning radio telescope invention. The more my teammates list their accomplishments, the more beads of sweat I can feel forming on my brow. How am I supposed to compete with this group?
By showing Dr. Takumi and General Sokolov that I’m just the swimmer and diver they need to survive Europa, I remind myself, recalling Elena’s words. If what she overheard was true, then I’m just as integral to this mission as the academics . . . maybe even more.
Beckett is the last of our teammates to speak, and when it’s his turn, he glances around the table at each of us, like he knows something we don’t. “Interesting, isn’t it, that each of us has the exact same strength as someone else on this team? Suki and Naomi have the same engineering and science background, Asher and Katerina are both math prodigies—and me and Leo are the swimmers.” He cocks his head. “You would almost think we’re all being pitted against each other.”
Lark tries to laugh off his theory, but it’s too late. The six of us are already looking at each other differently. And at the thought of another swimmer here, all the food I just ate threatens to come rising to the surface. That was supposed to be my ace in the hole. What if he’s as good as me? It’s been over a year since my last swim meet or training session with my coach; I am far from competition-ready.
“What was your best race?” I ask Beckett, trying to sound nonchalant.
“The four-hundred-meter freestyle.”
“Oh.” I swallow hard. “Me, too.”
I should have known they would have more than one swimmer in contention here, with all the underwater elements involved in terraforming Europa. But in my excitement, I never even considered it.
I just assumed it would be me.
Training Day One kicks off with a crack-of-dawn wake-up call from our dorm room’s interactive mirror, followed by a jittery team breakfast where, unlike last night, no one seems to have much of an appetite. And then, before I know it, we’re following Lark to the elevator bay—and to our first training session.
The elevator dings as we land on the sixth floor. Lark sweeps through the lift doors first, leading us to a concrete wall straight ahead.
“Each team is running on a different schedule, so you can receive as close to individualized attention as possible during training,” she says, glancing behind her to make sure we’re all within earshot. “Your first session today takes place on a life-size mock-up of the Pontus: the spaceship that will fly the Final Six to Europa.”
Lark presses the badge hanging around her neck to a quarter-size symbol on the wall, and I hear a gasp behind me as the concrete splits apart. The wall juts open, revealing the gleaming white facades of space capsules and the outstretched arm of a robotic crane, beckoning us forward.
“Here we go.”
Lark steps through the opening, and we follow her onto the Mission Floor. It’s a vast expanse the size of an American football field, with a series of hulking, interconnected cylindrical structures running the length of the floor. The walls and ceiling are painted to resemble the pitch-black sky you’d see from the windows of deep space, while a futuristic blue light offsets the darkness. General Sokolov steps out of one of the capsules, dressed in a red flight suit adorned with mission patches and insignia.
“Good morning, and welcome to the Pontus,” she announces. “What you see before you are the capsules, modules, and nodes that make up the most cutting-edge spaceship ever built—the Final Six’s home base for the duration of the journey to Europa.”
I turn to Asher standing beside me, and we exchange an excited glance. This is getting real.
“Not only does the spacecraft transport you from Point A to a very far-off Point B, it also serves as a life preserver, shielding you from the deadly elements and punishing conditions of deep space. However, this very shield can easily become a weapon if you fail to understand how it works and what makes the Pontus tick. All it takes is one innocuous mistake—for example, failing to close the airlock doors securely—and you could be killed within seconds.”
She lets those words hang in the air, the image of an explosive death lingering above us, before she leads the way to the first space capsule.
“In the coming days, you will face emergency drills to test both your understanding of the spacecraft and your ability to survive a crisis onboard—so pay close attention as I walk you through the Pontus.”
The general climbs into a giant cylinder in the shape of a spinning top, with four thrusters protruding from the bottom. We follow her inside, emerging into a glowing, blue-lit flight deck. Two massive tablet screens hang from the ceiling, angled downward to face the five leather seats at the center of the cabin, all in the reclined position for liftoff. Another pair of seats rests in front of a glass cockpit, with an array of flight instruments between them, and an 8K electronic navigation display unfurling across the glass. As the six of us look around in wonder, General Sokolov strides up to the cockpit.
“While Cyb will be piloting the spacecraft under my command, one of the Final Six gets to take this seat beside the AI and serve as copilot. Upcoming flight simulations will test your abilities and determine who is best suited for this role, as well as help us fill the other key posts for the mission: lieutenant commander, communications and tech specialist, science officer, medical officer, and Europa underwater specialist.”
Asher elbows me in the ribs, a grin lighting his face. He’s sure to snag the copilot seat, and I know he must be thinking I’m a lock for underwater specialist. And I should be—it’s the job I was born to do. But as Beckett flashes the general a confident smile, I feel a pang of worry.
“Most of the journey will be flown in cruise control, thanks to the new algorithm technology implemented in our flight computers and avionics,” General Sokolov continues. “However, three key stages in the spaceflight must be executed manually, due to their complexity and the higher degree of risk involved. That would be the escape trajectory from Earth, the rendezvous with the Mars supply ship, and the landing on Europa. While Cyb and the copilot keep us on course, we’ll need two members of the Final Six to complete an Extravehicular Activity, or EVA—otherwise known as a spacewalk—and oversee the docking of the Pontus to the Mars supply ship. If anything goes wrong there . . .”
“We die?” Naomi guesses.
“You die,” the general confirms. “But the remaining four will still be expected to fulfill the mission.”
I hear Katerina gulp beside me, and I can feel the ripple of tension running through the six of us, but the general is already moving on, opening a round hatch at the back of the capsule and crouching onto her hands and knees.
“Follow me.”
We crawl through the tunnel behind her, making our way from one equipment-filled module to the next, as she points out the functional cargo block that provides our power and propulsion, the utility hub that stores our payload racks and emergency supplies, and the crew quarters, where we’ll spend most of our time onboard—complete with private sleep stations, a galley kitchen, gym, a communications bay with a pair of large-screen desktop computers, and two bathrooms with “space toilets.” My pulse quickens as I take in our surroundings.
I can picture myself here so clearly. I can see the shadow of my future self sitting in the communications bay chair; I can feel the pride and elation of delivering progress reports to Houston and the watching world. I know the choice isn’t up to me, but in my mind, I’m already there.
“There’s something about the geometric design in here.” Naomi speaks up, turning around slowly. “The whole spacecraft reminds me of someone, actually—of Dr. Greta Wagner’s work.”
General Sokolov pauses, looking at Naomi in surprise. “That’s an astute observation. The Pontus was, in fact, a collaboration between SpaceInc and Dr. Wagner.”
Naomi’s face lights up, and she breaks into the first real smile I’ve seen from her yet.
“So Dr. Wagner’s involved in the mission? Is she coming here? Do we get to work with her during our training?”
The general purses her lips. “I’m afraid not. While we are grateful for her contributions to the Pontus, we chose to end our contract with Dr. Wagner.”
“What?” Naomi stares at her. “Why?”
“She had some differences with the rest of the team,” Sokolov says cryptically. Before any of us can ask what that means, the general turns on her heel, moving toward a tube-like tunnel at the back of the crew quarters. “Now, through the passage straight ahead, we’ll reach one of the most critical structures in the entire spacecraft: the airlock.” She pulls a lever, and the passage door shudders open. “You all go in first. I’m right behind you.”
Beckett climbs inside, followed by Katerina and me, all of us forced to shimmy forward on our stomachs through the tight confines. I hear the sound of a steel plate shifting into place as the general closes the hatch, and then her voice echoes through the tunnel.
“The airlock is the last thing you’ll see before exiting into open space, and your first stop upon returning to the ship from your EVA. As you move between the Pontus’s controlled, breathable environment and the toxic realm outside, the airlock’s pressure prevents the outside poisonous gases from entering our spacecraft. And as soon as you hang up your suit, the airlock mechanism automatically filters out those same gases.” She pauses. “I’m sure now it’s clear why a simple failure to immediately secure the door would get you killed.”
“Yes,” the six of us respond in unison.
We reach a heavy round hatch with six interconnected latches covering its surface. General Sokolov crawls past us and demonstrates how to work the rods to unfasten each latch, until the airlock door swings open and we tumble inside.
“Don’t worry. This will be a lot more graceful when you’re floating in zero g,” the general says as Katerina and Naomi smack into each other and Beckett hits the floor with a thud. The general looks up sharply as the last of our team, Suki, topples inside. Sokolov’s eyes flit between the open hatch door and my teammate.
“Didn’t you hear what I said about closing the hatch, Suki?”
Suki’s face drains of color. “Y-yes. I did.”
“And yet you were the last one into the airlock and failed to follow my express command.” The general’s voice is ice cold. I have a sinking feeling in my stomach as I watch her stare Suki down.
“But I—it’s only because I thought you were going to—”
The general grabs Suki by the shoulders and pushes her toward the hatch. “Go back in the tunnel.”
Suki eyes the general nervously but does as she’s told, crawling through the hatch. Once in the tunnel, she presses her hands against the open door, her mouth forming a question—just as the general slams the door shut from the inside, barely missing Suki’s fingers. The airlock chamber turns dead silent.
“What’s going on?” Suki’s muffled voice calls from outside the steel-plated door. “How do I get out of here?”
“You don’t,” the general says. “Not until your next training period in thirty minutes.”
“What?” Suki’s voice rises in panic. “But there’s hardly any air in here. I won’t be able to breathe!”
“Imagine that feeling magnified to the hundredth power,” General Sokolov says coolly. “That is what will happen if you or any of your teammates use the airlock improperly in the vacuum of space.” She turns to face the rest of us. “You’re all receiving a crucial lesson, one that will save your lives if it sticks with you.”
And then, proceeding as if Suki weren’t trapped in a confined space behind the hatch door, the general moves deeper into the chamber, motioning for us to follow. But I can’t concentrate, my mind back in the tunnel with my teammate. I can tell Naomi feels the same way, and as General Sokolov shows us the equipment lock where we’ll purify our space suits, I catch her sidling away from the group, edging her way toward the hatch door. What is she about to do?
Instinctively, I take a few steps closer to her, while staying within the general’s line of sight. Naomi presses her face to the hatch and begins to speak.
“Can you hear me, Suki? It’s Naomi. We need to keep you relaxed, and your pulse even. As long as you don’t panic and deplete your oxygen levels, you have enough air in there to survive for more than double the time. Close your eyes—let’s see if we can trick your consciousness into falling asleep . . .”
Something tugs at my chest as I watch her, risking a punishment of her own to help a girl she only just met. I glance behind me at General Sokolov, in the middle of demonstrating the space suit purification mechanism, and I catch her gaze flickering in Naomi’s direction too. But the general doesn’t react. She simply watches Naomi out of the corner of her eye while continuing with the lecture, an unreadable expression on her face.
Lark is waiting on the Mission Floor when we emerge from the space capsule, and she zips us from the Pontus mock-up to our second training session on Level 4. I can smell the chlorine even before the elevator doors open, and my muscles clench on cue. Time to compete.
“For years, this floor was home to the Neutral Buoyancy Lab,” Lark says, taking us through a long white hallway. “NASA engineers built an underwater mock-up of the International Space Station, and astronauts-in-training, like myself, would wear neutral-buoyancy suits to simulate the microgravity of space while we practiced for our EVAs. But when the Europa Mission was approved, Dr. Takumi had this place redesigned and repurposed for something else: preparing the Final Six for the underwater operations necessary to terraform Europa for human settlement.”
She pushes open a set of double doors, and my mouth falls open. From the colossal pool and elevated diving boards to the dozens of countries’ flags dotting the walls, it’s like we’re inside one of my old Olympic dreams. But when we step closer, I spot the differences. I’ve never seen a swimming pool this deep—it appears almost fathomless—and sitting about fifty or sixty feet underwater is a massive block of ice. The ice is covered in crisscrossing red ridges . . . just like the surface of Europa.
A man in a diving wet suit crosses the floor toward us, and Lark gives him a salute before taking a seat in the stands.
“Welcome, finalists. I’m Lieutenant Barnes, United States Navy SEAL and PADI master scuba diver.”
This is my moment. I straighten my shoulders, my adrenaline kicking into gear as he speaks.
“As you know, the Final Six’s first and most crucial task upon landing entails drilling through Europa’s ice crust to reach the ocean and rocky surface beneath—the most Earth-like segment of Jupiter’s moon, where we will build our human colony,” he says. “We need one exceptional leader and athlete to serve as underwater specialist and spearhead this effort, but the other five must become scuba-certified divers as well.”
It has to be me. What are the chances that anyone else here can come close to executing the kind of deep dives I performed as a scavenger in Rome? I was tailor-made for this, my body built for it.
“On that note, today we’ll begin with a diving tutorial,” Lieutenant Barnes continues. “You all have bathing suits on under your uniforms, correct?”
We nod, as Lark’s instructions from last night suddenly make sense.
“Good. Once I hand out your diving equipment and wetsuits, change out of your uniforms and meet me at the edge of the pool.”
I’m about to tell him that I actually don’t need any equipment when it occurs to me that I might want to keep that particular trick under wraps until the right moment. I stay quiet as Lieutenant Barnes passes out backpacks filled with scuba tanks and rebreather sets, diving helmets and masks. And then out of nowhere comes a whirring sound, followed by a series of beeps punctuating the air. We all turn in the direction of the sound—and find the lead robot, Cyb, advancing through the double doors toward us. The sight makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
“It must be here to evaluate us,” Katerina says, watching Lieutenant Barnes jog over to the AI. And as the six of us exchange glances, I can feel an instant shift in the mood, an undercurrent of competition crackling between us now that Cyb is here. I already knew I had to be at the top of my game today, but this is starting to feel as high stakes as the Olympic moment I once visualized.
I’m so preoccupied staring at Cyb, straining to hear what it’s saying to Lieutenant Barnes, that I fail to notice my competitor moving past me and tossing his uniform on the floor. It isn’t until I hear Asher murmur “What is he doing?” that I glance up—and see Beckett climbing up to the three-meter diving board.
“Oh, boy.” Naomi cringes.
I hold my breath, watching as Beckett stretches his body in a pencil-straight shape, assuming a dive pose. His form looks good so far. . . . And then he leans his head forward and lifts his legs, leaping off the springboard in a swan dive.
His entry is flawless. My heart sinks at the realization that my edge is no longer mine alone.
“You don’t need to teach me that one, Lieutenant,” Beckett boasts from the water. And though he’s speaking to Barnes, his eyes are locked on Cyb, making sure the robot saw.
Lieutenant Barnes arches an eyebrow.
“Noted. Does anyone else consider themselves exempt from this lesson, or should I continue?”
The thumping in my chest tells me what I have to do. I may not be a pompous jerk like Beckett, but right now, I need to take a page out of his playbook. I have something to prove.
I strip off my uniform and walk right past the three-meter diving board Beckett chose—climbing up to the ten-meter instead. I hear someone say “Oh, God.” And it’s the last thing I hear before my body tenses, my muscle memory taking over as I perform a twist dive from thirty feet high, somersaulting through the air before entering the water with a clean splash.
Nailed it. If this were a meet, I would outscore Beckett in both difficulty and execution. And this is what happens when you try to show the rest of us up, Beckett Wolfe.
He climbs out of the pool with a scowl on his face while our teammates gape at me. I glance up at Naomi, who watches me with raised eyebrows and a half smile. The thought that I might have impressed someone as accomplished as her makes my shoulders puff up with pride.
“Well done,” Lieutenant Barnes says at last, striding toward me with Cyb at his side. “You must be Leonardo Danieli.”
“That’s me.”
I hoist myself out of the pool with a grin. I’d almost forgotten how good it feels to do what I love, what I’m best at. For a second I can almost imagine that I’m home, that Angelica and my parents are there in the stands, whistling and cheering my name just like they used to at all my swim meets. But then I feel the heat of Beckett’s glare and am returned to the present moment.
Something tells me he won’t take this embarrassment lightly.