The Final Six (The Final Six #1) - Alexandra Monir Page 0,97
look at Johnson Space Center, the place that changed my life, that brought me painfully close to my dreams—and then I force myself to move forward.
I sense something is wrong as soon as I step into the plane. This isn’t the same basic military jet I flew in on—it only looks identical from the outside. This one is surprisingly spacious inside, filled with plush furniture and an array of computer screens, consoles, and blinking sensors. What’s more, no one is here to greet me—not Dr. Schroder or anyone else from ESA, not even a flight attendant.
My eyes catch on one of the computer screens. I blink and lean in for a second look, to make sure my eyes aren’t deceiving me. But there it is on the screen, the Space Conspirator home page—the same website whose theories Naomi talked so much about. And right there, in the top corner, is the telltale text: LOGGED IN: ADMINISTRATOR.
What the hell? How did I end up on this plane?
“Hello?” I call out, stumbling as the jet lifts off. “What is this? What’s going on?”
“Thank you, Lark,” I hear an unfamiliar female voice say. “He’s here.”
And then a silver-haired woman steps out of the cockpit—the same woman from the photo on Naomi’s desk.
“Greta Wagner?” I whisper.
She hangs up the phone and flashes me a smile.
“Hello, Leonardo. Have a seat. We have much to discuss.”
Twenty-Eight
NAOMI
MY CREWMATES ARE WILD WITH EXCITEMENT AS AIR FORCE One descends toward the Gulf of Mexico, where we will launch from sea to space. They whoop and cheer; they pose for selfies with the president and ask the Europa Mission flight director traveling with us a million and one questions. But not me. I spend the first half of the flight with my eyes closed, my head bent against my knees, trying to block out the noise and pretend none of this is happening. But now I look up, staring at Beckett Wolfe in hushed conversation with his uncle as my thoughts swirl together. I watch as President Wolfe murmurs something in Beckett’s ear and Beckett nods, a strange expression crossing his face. And then the president rises to his feet, moving toward his private cabin at the front of the plane, while Beckett crosses the aisle back to his seat opposite me. He catches me staring.
“What are you looking at?” he scoffs.
“You told Dr. Takumi what you saw that night, didn’t you?” I say slowly, as the pieces fall into place. “You told him a lot of things. That’s what he meant when he said you proved yourself invaluable. You took Leo’s spot by being a spy.”
Beckett laughs, but it’s a false, hollow sound. And as I meet his gaze, I know my hunch is right.
“You’ll pay for it.”
His eyes narrow into slits.
“Oh, really? Are you actually dumb enough to threaten me, right here on my uncle’s plane?”
“Sorry to disappoint, but I’m not afraid of your uncle,” I retort.
He leans forward, his hot breath on my cheek.
“You should be. Dr. Takumi put me in charge.”
“What?” I can’t have heard that right.
“It’s true. He told me and my family today.” Beckett wraps his hands behind his head, a smug look on his face. And then his smile distorts into a sneer. “So don’t even think about threatening me again. As soon as we reach space, you’ll be answering to me.”
For once in my life, I am without a comeback.
Air Force One touches down to a massive crowd at South Texas Spaceport, a swarm of bodies large enough to swallow the throng we just left in Houston. I can see the SpaceInc Jupiter rocket waiting on the launchpad above the Gulf of Mexico, its thousands of tons gleaming in the sunlight while its vapor rises in preparation for liftoff. As I stare at the rocket, it seems impossible that we’ll soon be strapped inside. This is insane.
Moments after the wheels hit the ground, we are ushered from Air Force One into the astronaut crew quarters, a hangar near the runway, where a flurry of NASA officials help us into our blue space suits built for liftoff and landing. But I’m barely conscious of the action around me, my legs aching to run to where I know my family waits.
Finally, once we’re suited up, the flight director and security guards escort us to the VIP area, reserved for President Wolfe and the Final Six families. I whip my head around wildly, searching for them, until I hear—