The Final Six (The Final Six #1) - Alexandra Monir Page 0,12
Her grandparents emigrated here from Iran, and sources tell me Naomi’s interest in science and technology was spurred on by their stories from home, of the ancient Persians who invented algebra and hydrodynamics.”
“Not to mention al-Sufi, who only discovered the Andromeda Galaxy,” I say to the TV. Despite how weird this all is, I can’t deny the warm glow in my chest at hearing my grandparents mentioned, their influence on my life recognized.
“If they could see you now . . . ,” Mom says softly, and I squeeze her hand.
The graying anchorman Seymour Lewis takes the mic, his deep voice booming through the screen. “From the granddaughter of immigrants, we move on to a finalist whose family has been in the good ol’ USA since just about the Mayflower: Beckett Wolfe, also known as the nephew of the president of the United States.”
The footage flashes to the White House lawn, where a tall, muscular blond boy in a prep school uniform strolls beside President Wolfe. Dad and I exchange a glance. Back on the screen, Robin Richmond arches an eyebrow at her cohost.
“Smells a bit like nepotism, wouldn’t you say?”
“Hold on a second.” Seymour, the anchor known for flying to the president’s defense, sits up straighter. “You know as well as I do that NASA and the Europa Mission leaders had final say in choosing the American finalists. Not POTUS.”
“Right.” Robin gives him a condescending nod. “And it’s safe to say the president made his wishes abundantly clear: to have his own blood on the first Europan settlement. I wouldn’t be surprised if he gave NASA some real incentives to pick Beckett.”
“Oh, for crying out loud!” Seymour sputters, but Robin continues.
“I’ll grant you that Beckett Wolfe had to have met the basic criteria, but let’s be honest here: he is no Naomi Ardalan.”
“Damn, Sis!” Sam yells, thumping my back proudly. “You just showed up the First Nephew on national TV!”
I can’t help laughing, and for one brief moment, the mood among the four of us lightens. But then Robin turns back to the camera, a solemn expression on her face.
“When we return, two former astronauts who oppose the mission will join us to discuss the deadly risks these teenagers will face as they set out into space.”
At those words, all our smiles vanish. Sam and I exchange a grim look. He follows the Space Conspirator just like I do . . . and we can both guess what the astronauts are about to say.
“They always have to interview the naysayers. It doesn’t make them right,” Dad says, aiming for a breezy tone even as the shakiness in his voice gives him away.
“Let’s see what else is on,” I tell him. The last thing we need is to sit here in fear, listening to all the dangers I’m about to encounter.
He changes the channel to Breaking News Tonight just in time for a segment titled “The Twenty-Four: Why They Were Chosen.” Show anchor Sanford Pearce is settled in at his sleek glass desk, hands folded as he addresses the audience.
“From an Olympic medalist to the world’s youngest tech titan, tonight we introduce you to the twenty-four teenagers who are setting out on a galaxy-spanning journey to change all of our lives.”
A montage begins, set to a cinematic score. The strangers from today’s press conference return, but instead of a collection of faces, I now get to see snippets of them in action. A boy with dark skin and black curls leads an interviewer through a garage-turned-office, proudly showing off the app he created to predict incoming earthquakes. A red-haired girl dressed in a white lab coat stands in the center of a formal room, while the man I recognize as King William V of England taps a sword against her left shoulder and then her right in some kind of ceremonial gesture. An Asian boy pilots a plane over the ocean, swerving past another incoming aircraft and calling out instructions to a copilot who looks a good decade his senior. And then someone familiar takes the screen, a tall, tanned boy stepping up to a diving board. It’s the Italian finalist—the one who tried to comfort me.
Just as I’m peering closer, the footage fades, the montage ending on a split-screen image of me and Beckett Wolfe. My cheeks heat up in self-consciousness.
“Like most of you, we on the news team were especially curious about the American finalists, Beckett Wolfe and Naomi Ardalan,” Sanford Pearce says into the camera. “Since their names