Mission Mars (2 page)

“No, Celia.” The smile was back. “But we need to talk before you take the final step.”

Many of our earlier conversations had revolved around motivation. Why was a young woman with stellar academic qualifications eager to give up a spot at an elite university, and the likelihood of a promising career, in order to spend the rest of her life in harsh and dangerous conditions? There was really nothing more I could say that hadn't been said before. I resorted to my fallback position: watchful waiting.

His sigh carried more than a hint of exasperation. Maybe he was as fed up with me as I was with him. “What if I could guarantee that your withdrawal would not affect your family's status? That they'd be allowed to remain with the colony regardless of your decision.”

One of the major sticking points in our discussions had been his insistence that I make my decision based on what was best for me, not my family. “What do you mean?”

“You could freely decide for yourself. To go, or stay.”

“I already have.” My face felt hot and I couldn't muster the control necessary to hide the socially inappropriate desire to smack him in the mouth.

“A decision made under coercion is not made freely.”

“Coercion? Do you really believe my parents forced me to join the colony?”

“I believe the knowledge that your family would not have been accepted as finalists without your presence was a strong motivating factor.”

No wonder he'd spent the last two years pushing me so hard. I'd assumed the constant harping on motivation was just part of the process every applicant went through. For once, my silence had nothing to do with a test of wills.

“You didn't know?”

I shook my head and waited for the tightness in my throat to subside enough to allow me to speak. “I thought it was my parents they wanted. I thought my brother and I were just part of the package.”

“Far from it. The skills your parents bring are replicated hundreds of times over in the applicant pool. Our aim is to build a viable, self-sustaining colony. Young people like you are the key to our success.”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“I assumed your parents told you.” His gaze slid away from mine, finding refuge in the space that separated us. Lines appeared at the corners of his mouth and eyes that I'd never noticed before. “Your refusal to discuss it convinced me you weren't being entirely honest.”

“I'm not the one who has a problem with honesty.” A month ago, I would've enjoyed his wince and shift in posture, but now I knew that he really has had my best interest at heart all along. “Emigrating to Mars has been my dream since I first learned about the colonies. I made my decision freely.”

My eighteenth birthday brought a perk I never expected: a berth of my own. When the scanner confirmed my identity and the door slid back, I was sure there'd been a mistake. The
room, as large as my bedroom at home, was furnished with a pair of couches separated by a low chest. A table with seating for four hugged the far wall. A workstation and food prep area occupied the space to the right. Meals would be served communally, but we had the option of eating in our quarters. The wall color was set to the red-yellow spectrum I preferred; the first hint that I was probably in the right place.

I dropped my pack on the table and logged on to the workstation. The computer greeting left no doubt that the space was truly mine. The excitement I'd held at bay to avoid disappointment sent me scurrying around the room. But after inspecting every surface and all the furnishings, I still couldn't locate the bed. Chiding myself that it was ridiculous to hope for such an extravagance as a separate bedroom, I walked over to the door next to my dining table, pressed my hand against the doorframe, and took a deep breath before opening it.

To my surprise the room beyond contained not just a bed large enough for two, but a separate toilet and shower. Plus, cabinets built into the walls held an assortment of clothing and linens, and open shelves provided storage for items I wanted to keep in view. The thought of having so much space to myself brought a twinge of guilt, but it didn't dim my joy at the unexpected gift I'd been given.

I spent the next hour meticulously arranging the contents of my pack in the cabinets and shelves, fascinated by the ingenious devices designed to secure objects in zero gravity. The warning chime and the holo text message from the computer reminded me that I was due at the first general meeting of the colony. I didn't want to risk being tardy.

Benches rose in tiers from floor to ceiling in the circular room. It felt like the first day of school as I climbed to my assigned seat. A girl from an early training group waved from across the room. I responded enthusiastically, happy to see a familiar face I had not expected. My little brother Barry and my parents hadn't arrived yet.

As I scanned the crowd, I remembered we all had been chosen to represent all the mental and physical skill sets necessary for colony survival, as well as computer matched for social compatibility. The next three months were a test of whether the computer algorithms proved to be right.

I located my seat in a nearly ceiling-level row to the left of the podium. The man next to me acknowledged my greeting but immediately returned to his conversation with the woman on his right. I scanned the room for Alex and Marta. The three of us had bonded during physical training and had spent most of our free time—what little there had been—hanging out together over the last year. They were both twenty and had entered the program on their own, leaving behind large, extended families who would grieve their absence. I knew from our discussions that their psych sessions had often taken on a very different tone from my own.

The room filled quickly. I watched a thirty-something woman shuffle past a row of people in front of me to finally arrive at an occupied seat. She didn't bother to hide her annoyance. “You're in my place.”

The man stood. “O-15?”

“That's right. Are you sure you're where you belong?”

He pulled a compad from his pocket and I could see his ears flush. “Sorry, my mistake.”

Instead of retracing the woman's path, he hopped to an empty seat one row up, then repeated the maneuver to land in the seat beside me. I watched in admiration, positive I'd end up with more than one broken bone if I attempted such a feat.

“O instead of Q. An easy mistake, don't you think?” he said by way of greeting. His smile was infectious. “I'm Devon Michaels.”

“Celia Scott.”

“Where's your family?” He looked past me down the row.

It was my turn to blush. He'd taken one look at me and assumed I was a child. I vowed to cut my hair in a more daring style the first chance I got. Nothing much I could do about measuring a mere one hundred and sixty centimeters and massing slightly under forty-eight kilos. I certainly wasn't going to admit that I'd only just turned eighteen.

“They're around somewhere.” My tone could've frozen Lake Michigan in midsummer.

“Sorry, it's just you're so—”

“Small?” I almost regretted my response when I saw him flinch.

“I was going to say petite, but I guess you get that a lot.”

He looked so mortified, I just couldn't stay mad at him. Besides, I wanted to see him smile again. “Today's my eighteenth.”

Whatever he saw in my face must have reassured him, because his smile returned. “If there's room for one more at the party, I'd love to help you celebrate.”

The meeting dragged through a score of introductions and boring minutia related to scheduling: meals, work and training shifts, educational modules for those of us still in school. We all perked up when Captain Larkin stepped to the podium. He was shorter than I'd expected: well under a hundred and ninety centimeters. Rather than remaining behind the metal stand, he walked to the middle of the semicircle and allowed his gaze to wander over the crowd as he spoke.

Like everyone else, I gave him my undivided attention. This was the man who controlled our lives for the next year—longer if the colony was not prepared for self-governance when we arrived on Mars. My parents considered us lucky to be under his command. Not only was he reputed to be the best, he was bringing along his own kids whose lives were as much at risk as ours.

“The three colonies scheduled for the first wave will enter lockdown at 1600 hours tomorrow,” he said. “The next launch window for Mars is four months away. The minimum time necessary to achieve transfer to our ship is twenty-one days. Any breach of lockdown will trigger an automatic reset with a two-week penalty.” He paused a few seconds to let us all do the math. “If we miss this window, we'll be bumped to the end of the line and won't be eligible for launch until the spring of 2054. And that is not an option.”

As we all had worked hard to be among the first colonists scheduled for transport, nobody liked the idea of waiting four more years for our next opportunity.

“Once the airlock is sealed, it will not be breached until the ninety-day period has ended. Not for any reason.”

Whispers echoed around the room. The man who'd been introduced earlier as Chief of Med-Surg rose. “We were told the lockdown was a trial period … to insure we are all compatible as a group.”

“If this colony intends to be among the first wave, the time for trials has passed,” the captain answered.

“Shouldn't that be a decision we make together?”

“This isn't a democracy, Doctor.” Captain Larkin advanced a couple of steps. “You're on my ship, Doctor Samuels. Until the colony is fully established on Mars and elects its first Board of Governors, the decisions to make are mine, and mine alone.” The doctor sank into his seat and Larkin continued.

“You have the next twenty-four hours to make your decision. Do not allow a false sense of responsibility to guide your choice. For every position filled by someone inside this room, there are at least three people waiting on the outside for the chance to join this colony. Each of them passed the same rigorous training each of you experienced and is every bit as qualified as each of you. Don't put your fellow colonists at risk by staying if you are not prepared to abide by my rules.”

Three people on the second row stood in unison at his gesture. “Med-Psych will be available for consultation. We'll meet back here at 1600 hours tomorrow.”