“The robots,” she breathes. “They were there. They circled Europa thirty-six times in their probe, close enough to collect the data I need. If there are biosignatures to be found, they have to still be stored within Dot and Cyb.” Her body trembles with excitement. “I may not be able to get into NASA’s supercomputer—but I can get to the robots.”
I hate to disappoint her, but . . . “You really think they’re just going to give up classified info if you ask nicely?”
Naomi avoids my eyes.
“There are other ways to get it.”
I feel a flicker of worry as I study her, wondering how far she’ll go. It’s tempting to get swept up in the intrigue of her theory—but I’m the one with something to lose.
“Listen, I . . . I won’t stand in your way, and I’m here if you need me. But you have to know that I still want this—still need to be one of the Final Six. I know that might seem crazy to you after all you just told me, but what you’re saying is still speculation. None of us can know for sure what Suki meant, or what really happened to her and Callum. But what I do know for sure is that Europa is the only future I have.” I crack a smile. “Plus, if anything, your hypothesis just made it that much more interesting. Who wouldn’t want to see aliens up close? I mean, if you didn’t have a family waiting for you at home . . . wouldn’t you want to go?”
Naomi looks at me for a long moment.
“I get it. I won’t blow your chance at this, Leo. But I will try to keep you safe—and that means continuing to dig for the truth. I’ll just be . . . careful.”
Be careful. The memory returns to me in a flash, of someone else’s voice saying the same words. My skin prickles as Elena’s warning from before I left comes rushing back to me. They see you as some kind of weapon.
Is it possible . . . that what Elena overheard that night at the Palazzo has something to do with Naomi’s theory? Should I say something?
But the thought of being forced to return to the emptiness of my old life is worse than any unconfirmed danger on Europa. I keep my mouth shut.
The next day’s training finds us back in the Vomit Comet for the first time since our weightless flight. This time, General Sokolov joins us on the Zero-G plane along with Lark, and as we step inside, I see a stack of body harnesses lined up on one of the front-row seats. A long, sturdy rope that wasn’t there before is now attached to the door of the plane, running the length of the aircraft.
“Please tell me we’re not using those,” Naomi says, staring at the body harnesses.
“All right, finalists!” General Sokolov claps her hands together. “Who here knows what will be required of the Final Six when they dock with the supply ship in Mars orbit and prepare for a gravity slingshot to Europa?”
Asher raises his hand.
“While Cyb and the copilot fly the Pontus, two people will need to perform a spacewalk outside—first to patch the fuel leak on the supply ship and run diagnostics, and then to supervise and guide the docking mechanism.”
“Correct,” General Sokolov says. “So for any of you who may have a fear of heights, now is the time to overcome it. When you’re spacewalking in Mars orbit, you will be higher up in the universe than your mind can grasp—and you cannot, must not, lose your cool. EVA Height Vertigo can pose a real problem for astronauts, and our goal today is to combat this.” She pauses, watching our reactions. “The virtual reality sim helped us get there mentally, but now, in order to physically replicate the sensation of floating among the stars while performing a spacewalk—we’ll be bungee jumping off of this plane at ten thousand feet, and landing on another.”
I hear Naomi gulp beside me, and I’m tempted to squeeze her hand or wrap my arm around her. But I hold myself back.
“You will be tandem jumping, and paired according to your weight. Meanwhile, the harness and rope you’re using today will perform a similar function to the tether you’ll be using in space.”
The general consults her tablet, and the thumping in my chest speeds up.
“The skydiving pairs are Naomi and Katerina, Asher and me, and Leo and Beckett.”
My stomach drops. I should have known it would be him and me.
As the plane’s wheels drive forward and we lift off, my adrenaline thankfully takes over. I sit next to Naomi, my body thrumming with anticipation, as the general prepares us for what’s to come. She and Asher will be going first, and I watch as Lark helps fasten them into their full-body harnesses, then straps them together. The plane slows to a hover, and as Lark presses a button, the cabin door blows open.
“Oh, God.” Naomi grips the armrest with white knuckles, and this time, I don’t hesitate to place my hand over hers.
General Sokolov and Asher shuffle in tandem to the edge of the plane, the air blowing at their faces. “Three . . . two . . . one,” the general chants. “Jump!”
Katerina’s shriek echoes through the cabin as the general and Asher go flying, their bodies hanging upside down from the rope. I press my face to the window, watching as the two of them spread their arms like wings and soar through the clouds, Asher’s screams fading. In spite of my ratcheting nerves, I feel a flicker of excitement. This should be a damn good ride.
“I won’t die,” Naomi mutters to herself through chattering teeth, though it sounds more like a question than a statement. “Terminal velocity—I won’t feel the sensation of free-falling once I hit terminal velocity.”
I squeeze her shoulder.
“Remember how much you loved the weightless flight? This will be as fun as that, plus it’ll be over soon.”
A second, smaller plane swoops down to meet Asher and the general midair, and the two of them use their rope to swing through its open door. “Whoa,” I murmur. “I can’t believe we get to do that.”
“Get to?” Naomi looks at me incredulously. She flinches as Lark calls her and Katerina up, and I reach over and give her a brief hug. “Good luck.”
It’s only a second of contact, but I feel it as she steps away from me—the warmth where her body used to be.
I lean forward, nervous for her, as Lark connects the bungee cord to her harness strap and feet. “Three . . . two . . . one . . . jump!” she yells, and I brace myself. But Naomi and Katerina remain on the ledge, staring at the far-off ground in fear, and Lark has to repeat the countdown, this time giving them a slight push. And then they are falling, flying, just like the general and Asher, their screams puncturing the air. When they soar past our plane, I smile at the sight of Naomi laughing from the adrenaline release as she sails through the clouds.
The second plane ropes them in, and now it’s our turn. I keep my eyes straight ahead, not saying a word to Beckett as Lark straps the equipment to our backs.
“You’ll be in the air for two full minutes,” Lark yells over the sound of the engine as she fastens the cord through our harnesses. “Don’t look down, and you should be fine. Bend your knees as you jump, and then spread your arms wide as you fly.”
My legs feel like lead as I shuffle toward the open door, tied to my rival. As we approach the edge, I immediately go against Lark’s advice and look down. But there’s no ground to rush toward, there’s only clouds—and the wind, which blows bitterly cold gusts from up here.
“Three . . . two . . .” I glance at Beckett, and on instinct, I extend my hand to shake his. As much as I don’t like the guy, we’re about to take the jump of our lives together . . . shouldn’t we at least be on good terms for this? But he either doesn’t see my outstretched hand or he ignores it. And then Lark shouts out, “One! Jump!”
The moment is here, but at first my legs don’t move. I stare into the sky, my mind trying to comprehend what I’m about to do, freezing my body in fear. And then I realize that I am closer to my family up here than anywhere in the world.
Beckett lunges forward, and I bend my knees and step off the ledge, into the air.
My heart seems to leap out of my body as I jump. The wind slams against our backs, turning us upside
down, and I hear screams as my insides contort, as gravity disappears. But then comes a rush of wild, pure euphoria. And as I soar above Houston, I realize I’m not falling—I’m being carried by air.
I let out a whoop as my body flies, so exhilarated that I don’t even mind having to share this with Beckett. Our bodies glide through the wind beside each other, and I look at him with a grin, temporarily forgetting that he’s my rival here. But he hasn’t forgotten. He is looking at me, too—only his eyes are dark pools. And suddenly, I feel his hand on my back, reaching for my harness.
“Stop—” I try to shout, but I can barely speak up here. We’re moving too fast; the wind drowns out my voice. I fumble behind me, trying to grip my harness, the rope, something—but his hands have already closed around my harness straps. I feel a sickening lurch in my stomach as he pulls at the first strap. He is going to kill me—right here in the sky, where no one can save me. He is going to throw off my harness, untether me from the rope, and send me hurtling down to the ground in a crushed heap of limbs, where he can tell everyone it was an accident—
An engine roars. Our pickup plane circles, General Sokolov throwing out the rope to reel us in. And I’ve never been so relieved to see anyone or anything in my entire life. I’m going to live. Beckett missed his chance. His hand drops from my harness, and he grips the general’s rope instead, swinging his body into the second plane, with me right behind him—never taking my eyes off his back.
“Wasn’t that crazy?” Naomi rushes toward me, giddy with relief from having her jump over with.
I nod and try to smile, but my insides are turning to ice. Behind us, Beckett grins and high-fives Asher and Katerina, looking nothing like the killer I saw in the air. Could I have possibly misinterpreted what happened? Or did my competitor, my teammate, just try to take me out?
Fourteen
NAOMI
I MAKE IT TO THE CAFETERIA IN THE MORNING WITH BARELY A minute to spare, still groggy from a night of the nightmares that have been plaguing me since Suki left. I slip into my seat just as Dr. Takumi rises to make one of his announcements, and I brace myself, almost afraid to hear whatever news he has for us this time. But it’s not another report of an RRB reaction—it’s something else entirely.
“As vital as your physical skills and academic intelligence are to the mission, there is another factor that plays an equally crucial role in determining who will make up the Final Six,” he begins. “That would be your mental and psychological state. The passing of Callum Turner is a tragic reminder of that.”
I stiffen in my seat. So he’s sticking to that story, then, instead of pointing the finger where it really belongs.
“The personality tests you completed back when you were in school, during the scouting phase of our mission, helped secure you a spot here. However, as we saw with Callum, these tests were far from foolproof. As we prepare for the first round of eliminations later this week, we must employ more in-depth psychological evaluations—which will begin after breakfast today.”
Leo and I exchange a nervous glance. The last thing I need is to have one of Dr. Takumi’s followers trying to peer into my soul—or guess at my plans.
“To prevent human bias and emotions from affecting the psych evaluations, we are handing control of this task over to our robots,” Dr. Takumi reveals. “Dot and Cyb were the only ones to suspect Callum’s instability, and they understand exactly what we are looking for. And seeing as they will be traveling and living alongside the Final Six, it is only appropriate to have them closely monitor the personalities involved.” His eyes sweep across the room, watching all twenty-two of us. “The best advice I can give you is to be completely honest in your answers. By saying what you think we want to hear, you may inadvertently hurt your own chances. And there’s no need to worry about self-consciousness in front of your teammates. Each of you will be meeting privately with the robots.”
My heartbeat quickens. There’s no denying that time alone with the two most advanced robots in existence is the stuff of my scientific dreams—but I always figured I would be the one studying them. I didn’t expect to be on psychological trial in front of two flawless machines, who probably have some kind of sensors that light up whenever they detect me lying. How am I supposed to outsmart perfection?
The far-off voice of my former computer sciences teacher echoes in my mind: There are two keys to understanding and manipulating machines: you must have a keen grasp of both the binary number system and logic.
Both binary and logic play into my strengths. I’m not sure how I can possibly implement them into my upcoming session with the robots . . . but I’ll have to try.
Lark steps in and out of our training sessions throughout the morning, pulling us off the Mission Floor one by one for the psych evaluations. Asher goes first, and I’m dying to ask him how it went, what the robots were like and what kinds of questions they asked—but Lark already warned us to keep our sessions confidential. All I can do is gauge the reactions of my teammates as they return, noticing whether they appear rattled or relieved. And then it’s my turn.
Walking with Lark to the elevator bay, I realize this is my first opportunity alone with her to ask about Suki. I take a deep breath as we step onto the lift, trying to play it cool, but my words still come tumbling out in a rush.
“Lark, I—I’m really worried about Suki. We haven’t gotten any updates, and I don’t know if she’s still here or how she’s doing—but I know she can’t go back to Singapore. The situation is awful for her there, and the only family she has left is her stepfather, who’s a—”
Lark holds up a hand to stop me. “Suki’s not returning to Singapore.”
“She’s not?” I breathe a sigh of relief.
“No. She is in a medical facility here in Houston. Doctors are hoping they can reverse the effects of her catatonia.”
“What?” My stomach plummets. “They’re hoping? You mean she’s still not any better? What happens if they can’t heal her?”
The elevator stops at the fourth floor, and Lark leads the way.
“I’ve been checking up on her through Dr. Takumi, but it’s still too early to determine any sort of prognosis. As I said, the doctors are hopeful. But if they can’t reverse her symptoms, Suki will remain in the care of the ISTC’s medical team, providing a human case study for the development of the RRB. Either way, she will be taken care of.”
“But—but—she’s not a lab rat!” I protest, horrified by what I’m hearing. “She’s Suki. She was brilliant and meant to do great things, and—and that could be any of us in there!”
Lark stops midstride, placing a hand on my shoulder. “She can still achieve great things, even now. By helping us refine and perfect the serum that will keep the Final Six alive and thriving on Europa.”
I feel bile rising in my throat at the implication behind her words. While Suki lies defenseless in a hospital bed, they plan to treat her body and mind like some kind of brutal science experiment? How can Lark be okay with this?
“They’ve gotten to you—” I start to say, but Lark gives me a sharp look before raising her eyes to the ceiling. I follow her gaze to a blinking green light. Security camera.
“There are casualties of every mission,” she says, her voice a tinge too loud, as if performing for someone out of sight. “I know that better than anyone. All you can do is keep moving forward. Do your best here—in Suki’s honor.”
I nod and stay silent the rest of the way, as my mind spins with questions about Suki and the scope of Dr. Takumi’s plans, about Lark and where her loyalties lie. We pass one closed door after another in the labyrinth-like corridor until Lark finally pauses and pulls out her key fob in front of a blue-painted door. “Welcome to the robotics lab.”
I hold my breath as we step inside, entering a vast warehouse-like space with cables coiled all along the floors and long tables littered with metals, wires, computers, and tablets. At the center of the room, emitting an unearthly glow, are two six-foo
t-tall, egg-shaped pods.
“Are those the sleep pods?” I ask, staring.
“Yes. That’s where Cyb and Dot go to recharge their batteries—literally.”
As she leads the way through the sprawling space, we pass a row of robot heads and torsos in black storage cases—like dismembered body parts lying in their coffins. Even though I know they’re under-construction AIs, the sight still sends a shiver through me.
Lark steps through an archway and into a smaller room within the lab, a study humming with the sound of machinery, centered around a glass touch-screen desk. I follow her inside, and I stop in my tracks as I come face-to-face with the bronze and platinum humanoids. I open my mouth to speak, and find that for the second time in my life, I am starstruck. I haven’t felt this way since I met Dr. Wagner—like I’m standing before the highest realm of possibility, the place where science and miracles collide.
“Hello, Naomi,” Cyb greets me in a crisp, male-programmed voice.
“Hi,” I reply, my voice coming out slightly above a whisper.
“I’ll be back in thirty minutes,” Lark says. “Remember to just relax and give the first honest answers that come to mind.”
“Um. Okay.”
“Have a seat,” Cyb commands, gesturing to the chair opposite the glass desk. Dot shuffles toward me, and I try not to gasp as the AI proceeds to attach wired sensors to my chest, abdomen, and fingertips, and wraps a blood-pressure cuff around my upper arm. My nerves mount at the realization that they are monitoring my physiological reactions, and I say a silent prayer for my body to not betray me.
Cyb presses a spot on the touch-screen desk, and then swivels his head back up to face me.
“Naomi, how would you assess your time here thus far?”
“Um, well . . .” I shift in my seat. My thoughts are all jumbled as I stare from the robots to the sensors on my body, but I force myself to focus. How can I work this to my advantage? “It’s different than I imagined. Some things have been better than I expected, and others have been . . . worse.”