The Final Six (The Final Six #1) - Alexandra Monir Page 0,5
fist tightens around my heart. There’s no way, no way this could be happening—but the grave faces across from me confirm the worst.
“You’re telling me I’ve been drafted?” My voice is whisper thin.
The army officer, Major Lewis, nods. “Yes, though currently your only duty is to International Space Training Camp. The Europa draft won’t be decided until the completion of training camp, at which point you will either be cut and sent back home, or—”
“Or I’ll be deployed to Europa,” I finish his sentence. “For good.”
The room turns silent, except for the sound of my mother crying. I push out of my seat and to her side, wrapping my arms around her as I wonder how many more times I’ll get to do this. How long will it be before I forget what it feels like to hug my mom and dad, before I forget the sound of my brother’s voice?
“You can’t do this.” I raise my eyes pleadingly to the figures looming before us. “If you know as much about me as you say, then you know I have a little brother who needs me. You can’t just split up our family and send me away!”
“Sweetie,” my dad murmurs, his voice breaking. “It’s a draft. That means they can do exactly that.”
“The reality here is that we are at war,” Major Lewis says, eyeing me with a frown. “We’re at war with our own environment, and the fact that you are among the few with a chance to escape makes you one of the lucky ones.”
O-kaaay. I didn’t realize getting kicked off Earth was something to be grateful for.
But before I can retort, Mom speaks up, taking my hand in hers. “Please don’t misunderstand my tears, Naomi. Yes, my heart is broken at the thought of separating from you, but I’m . . . I’m thankful that you’re getting another chance.” She looks into my eyes. “I honestly don’t know how much longer we can go on like this. We’ve already been evacuated from three different homes in less than two years—who knows where we’ll be tomorrow? And you know how worried I’ve been about you losing so much weight from the rationing. We’re living in quicksand, and if anyone can be saved from this fate—well, I want it to be you.”
She believes in it. My mouth falls open at the realization that my mother actually believes the hype, that the Final Six can possibly survive this pipe dream of a mission. And even if they—we?—managed to achieve the incredible, I’d choose dying with my family over living with five strangers on Jupiter’s moon any day.
But as I look at the hope written across my parents’ faces, I let my protests die on my lips. Instead, I turn to the NASA scientist, Dr. Anderson. “You say the trip includes a flyby to Mars to pick up the unused supplies from the Athena mission and get a gravity assist to Jupiter, right? Well, how do we know this mission won’t result in the same outcome as the Athena? How do you know we all won’t end up . . .” I don’t bother finishing my sentence. They know the word I’m looking for. Dead.
“It’s simple: Mars was always a gamble—the crew of the Athena knew there was a good chance the planet would prove uninhabitable. But the tragedy caused us to take a closer look at Europa, which was revealed in our robotic missions to have the key ingredients needed to build a new Earth,” Dr. Anderson explains. “Where Mars lacked a viable source of water and oxygen, Europa’s wealth of oceans gives us access to both through water electrolysis. And unlike the Athena mission, the Final Six won’t be spending any time on Martian surface. The spacecraft will manually retrieve the Athena crew’s cache of supplies, and then use a booster to slingshot from Mars’s orbit to Jupiter. None of you will be exposed to Mars’s atmosphere.”
I can tell by the way my parents are gaping at Dr. Anderson, they’re trying to comprehend the idea of their daughter zipping from one planet to another. But I’m not done with my questions.
“And . . . what about the supposed intelligent life on Europa?”
Dr. Anderson and Major Lewis exchange a smirk. “That’s just the Space Conspirator and other questionable websites drumming up tabloid fodder. We’ve found no evidence whatsoever of existing life on Europa. You have nothing to worry about.”
I nod, though I’m hardly reassured. Something about her reply feels canned,