The Final Six (The Final Six #1) - Alexandra Monir Page 0,40

and closer to the Pontus.

“We’re about to drop down to the battery module, Beckett!” Naomi shouts. “Get your tether ready for us, and we’ll cut you loose and make it to the airlock together.”

But Beckett is one step ahead of us. As we circle closer to the module, I can see he’s managed to unearth a steel cutter from his tool belt with his free hand, and is slicing through the netting. Once extricated, he starts pulling his way across the spacecraft from handle to handle—heading for the airlock without us.

“Beckett, she said to wait!” I yell through the radio.

“This way makes more sense,” he argues. “I can get to the airlock faster and prep it for opening, so we don’t waste time there.”

Naomi and I exchange a glance. We know what he’s really up to—angling to be first, to win the challenge.

“If we don’t jump now, we’ll miss it,” she says, gripping my glove in hers. “Engage the thrusters one last time.”

I can feel my heart clanging as we let go of the crane, our two bodies propelling through open space with a gust of fuel. My free hand claws in front of me for one of the handles or knobs to break our fall, and then smack. My glove grips something solid, my feet scratch against metal—

“And that’s a wrap. Welcome back to Earth.”

A voice cuts through the scene. I shake my head to rid myself of the sound, still trying to get to the airlock . . . until it disappears from view. Someone lifts the mask from my eyes, but I’m not fully in the real world yet. My hand is still in Naomi’s, my feet kicking the legs of my chair as I try to make our way to safety. When I finally open my eyes, the sight of the room and its equipment is a relief and yet, somehow, seems all wrong. Naomi and I drop each other’s hands, and I notice a flush creeping up her cheeks.

“That was—that felt so real.” I blink up at General Sokolov standing before us. “I almost forgot it was just a sim.”

She nods approvingly. “That’s the idea. Our technology works with your consciousness to make the simulation as immersive and authentic as possible.”

“But why did it stop before we got to the airlock?” Beckett asks with a frown. “I was so close.”

Yeah, you were. I shoot him a glare. Traitor.

“I saw what I needed to see,” the general says, a cryptic expression on her face. “Now, all three of you did well and displayed strong instincts, but one of you in particular stood out. Cyb, I take it we’re on the same page?”

I hold my breath as the robot unplugs from the VR grid and wires, turning to face us. “For the ability to read and decipher machine code, the understanding of velocity and propulsion mechanisms, and ability to think on her feet, the winner of this round is the American: Naomi Ardalan.”

I watch as Beckett’s face turns to stone, and Naomi’s flush deepens. And to my surprise, as much as I wanted to win . . . hearing her name feels almost as good.

That night in the cafeteria, something is different. The buffet counters are dark, with none of the usual savory smells wafting through the room.

“What do you think is going on?” I ask Asher as we head to our table.

“No idea, but let’s hope nothing’s wrong. I’ve been dreaming about this meal all day.” He rubs his stomach hopefully.

We slide into our seats as Dr. Takumi enters the room, stepping up to the raised faculty platform and looming above us all with his rodlike posture and fixed gaze.

“From now on, dinner will be pushed back half an hour—however, you are all still required to meet here at the usual time so we can incorporate something vital into our schedule. It has to do with the RRB.” His voice takes on an almost reverent tone as he says the name.

“Radiation-resistant bacteria is the foremost reason the twenty-four of you are sitting here. Not only does the advent of the RRB make it possible for us to finally explore Jupiter orbit without risking deadly radiation exposure, but the vaccine’s age limit caused us to seek out a new pool of astronauts . . . and find you.” His eyes rove over the crowd, and my senses heighten as his glance lands on me.

“Those of you who make the Final Six will be required to self-administer daily