The Final Six (The Final Six #1) - Alexandra Monir Page 0,56

we’re all seated around the long reading tables, Dr. Takumi clears his throat, looking out at the sea of stunned faces.

“Finalists, I know you’ve been through a terrible shock. The general and I, Lieutenant Barnes, and all of the staff here at ISTC are devastated by what happened to Callum Turner today. For his teammates who were on the scene, we know how traumatizing it must’ve been to witness. But it’s important for you to understand that this was an isolated incident.” He pauses. “It appears Callum Turner had an undiagnosed psychiatric condition that our initial vetting failed to pick up on—which explains his fatal behavior today.”

What?

“The robots first reported something amiss when monitoring his physical reactions and brain waves during the virtual reality simulation,” General Sokolov speaks up. “We scheduled a psychiatric evaluation for him for tomorrow, but” —she hangs her head—“we were too late.”

I glance around me, wondering if my fellow finalists are buying this convenient story. But I can already see it on most of their faces: acceptance. I know how easy it is to cling to the first answer you’re given in the haze of shock, but I shake my head in frustration, convinced Dr. Takumi and the general are manipulating us into believing what they want.

“I just got off the phone with one of Houston’s leading psychiatrists, who confirmed that in a patient such as Callum, stress can trigger symptoms and breakdowns like what occurred in the diving pool,” Dr. Takumi continues. “We deeply regret exposing Callum to an environment he wasn’t equipped to handle. We also regret the impact this is having on you, his teammates and cofinalists.”

I raise my hand. “What was his condition, exactly?”

“I’m afraid the specific details must remain confidential, out of respect to Callum’s family,” Dr. Takumi says smoothly.

Convenient once again. I take a breath, daring myself to ask the next question.

“And are you sure it’s not the RRB? What if this was a reaction to that, like what happened to Suki?”

Every face in the room turns in my direction, and I can feel Leo tensing up beside me. When Dr. Takumi finally answers, his voice is controlled and calm—but I can see the threat in his eyes as he looks at me.

“I think we made it clear this has nothing to do with the RRB. As the general said, Cyb and Dot reported irregular brain wave activity in Callum before he received his first dose of the vaccine. Again, this was an isolated incident.”

He turns his sharp gaze away from me, toward the rest of the watching crowd.

“We will all mourn Callum, and we won’t forget him. But know this: in every landmark achievement in the history of mankind, there have been unfortunate casualties along the way. It’s as my predecessors at NASA always said: risk is the price of progress.” He lets the words linger before continuing, “We’ll leave you in the capable hands of your team leaders for the rest of the day. Take this time to comfort yourselves and your teammates. We’ll be back to our mission in the morning.”

His speech might have worked on the others, but my suspicion is only growing. I have to get my hands on the RRB—I have to get the answers we all need.

As soon as everyone is out of their seats, I scan the faces around me, looking for the person who can give me at least one clue. Jian Soo is standing near the computers with the French finalist, Henri, and I elbow my way toward them.

“Jian,” I murmur. “I know Callum was your teammate, and I’m so sorry. This is—this is really weird timing, I know, but I have to ask you something. Last night, when Suki was having her—her reaction to the RRB, she kept repeating something in Mandarin.”

He raises an eyebrow, and nods at me to continue.

“It sounded like tā hái huózhe. Is that—is that a real phrase?”

Jian lets out a sharp exhale.

“Are you sure that’s what she said?”

“I couldn’t get it out of my mind. So, yes.”

Jian stares at me.

“She was saying, ‘It’s alive.’”

As if I needed more proof of Dr. Takumi’s priorities, that night we’re escorted to the medical office for the RRB shots as usual. You would think that today, of all days, he would let us forgo the injections, but even the loss of a finalist isn’t enough for him to pause our strict schedule. There is only one benefit of going back and risking another dose: it gives me an