Dare Mighty Things Page 15

  I’d have to show them my edge. Convince them that choosing anyone other than me was a mistake.

  After me was Kendra, then Anton, with Mitsuko and Emilio lagging behind. Giorgia, Pratima, and Boris made up the last three slots.

  Hanna’s name being absent gave me a little stab of some murky emotion, which I ignored. But even seeing my name higher than it’d ever been before, I didn’t feel the way I’d thought I would. Not satisfied—okay, maybe a little. But undeserving? Embarrassed?

  I should not be feeling those things.

  Emilio was overall great at everything and had an attitude to match. He was creative, energetic, never complained. He could be a little annoying sometimes, but he got along with everyone, and I’d already seen how valuable a skill that was. He’d been more down than usual lately, but I was sure that was a temporary thing.

  Anton could lift two of me over his head and went out of his way to help other people, to the point of absurdity. Kendra I didn’t know so well, but she was whip-smart and more than capable. Mitsuko was a born leader, not afraid of anything or anyone. Me, I might’ve had better brain waves than everyone else, but just the day before I’d had a confrontation with the guy in charge.

  If the EEG testing was so important that my success had me jumping over everyone else, why was Luka still number one and why was I still only in second place? I’d even stayed in the HHM longer, too.

  I didn’t understand this. I didn’t understand anything at all.

  That night, Hanna’s bed was made and empty. There was no trace that she had ever been there at all.

  THIRTEEN

  WE HAD A couple more days of class at the same breakneck pace. I was pretty sure our instructors were intentionally ramping up the stress.

  I was on my way back from breakfast with Mitsuko, mentally girding myself for another day of rapid-fire questions, when it happened.

  Mitsuko hit the door first, hand trying the knob. It rattled uselessly in her palm. “Uh. Why the hell is our door locked?”

  Nobody had keys. No one locked their doors.

  I tried the one next to ours, which had been empty since the last cut. Nothing.

  Mitsuko half groaned, half laughed. “Here we go again. What is it this time?”

  All nine of us had been in the cafeteria for breakfast. As the others returned in ones and twos, they joined us in confusion. Every one of us was locked out of our rooms.

  Once everyone recovered from their respective heart attacks, speculation abounded. Were we being moved, or were some of us going home? Was it another test? It had to be another test.

  Ms. Krieger eventually came to get us. We followed her down the halls past the classrooms, far past any doors I’d ever had reason to enter, and through a set of double doors into a massive gymnasium, two stories tall and big enough for four basketball courts, though there were no hoops in sight. Sound seemed swallowed up in its vastness. Sunlight streamed onto the concrete floor from the high, narrow windows lining the far wall. I could see nothing but a thin strip of blue sky near the ceiling. I imagined that maybe they used this place to test drive Mars rovers or the moon buggy—set it all up with the proper environments, obstacle courses, the works—but right now it was repurposed for us.

  Our fate, I surmised, had something to do with the large white pod in the middle of the room. It looked retro sci-fi, like all those digital renderings of future Mars habitats back when we thought we’d never get the money to do that. The dome was about twenty feet tall and not quite twice that around.

  There was something like a submarine hatch at the end where we stood.

  Ms. Krieger, the colonel, and Felix were there, along with a couple of techs in dark blue NASA flight suits.

  Ms. Krieger spoke. “Welcome, everyone. This is the Simulated Living Habitat, based on actual models for use on Mars, albeit adapted for our use here. You’ll be staying here for one week. Once inside, you may not leave without also leaving the program.”

  Nervous excitement fluttered in my chest.

  “This is designed to simulate the actual experience you’d have living in cramped quarters with your crew members, only you’ll have the luxury of gravity. You’ll eat here, shower here, and use the toilet here for the next seven days. You’ll be constantly monitored, given a variety of tests, and we will be in communication regularly via the radio.”

  Felix stepped forward, his expression carefully neutral. I could feel a tiny trickle of sweat drip down my sternum. “I don’t have to explain to you that this is meant as a stressor. But it is a valid stress, and one that you will encounter if you are chosen for this mission. Tempers will flare. Nerves will fray. We expect some of that from everyone. But out of concern for your safety, any violence will be grounds for immediate expulsion from the program. We do expect you to work through any disagreements yourselves, peacefully, as you would have to do in space. You’re all adults.”

  “If, at any time, you decide this isn’t for you, simply hit the red button next to the hatch and it will open. You’ll be on the next flight home.” Colonel Pierce surveyed us coolly. “Anybody want to back out now?”

  Nobody did.

  The two men in navy flight suits were part of our “Mission Control.” They spent the next half hour demonstrating how to use the shower, toilets, and emergency controls. We were each given a pack that included toiletries, underwear, and identical blue flight suits, and told we’d have no laundry service for the duration of our stay.

  And suddenly—all too suddenly—they had crawled out of the hatch and were closing us in.

  There was a rush to claim bunks. I didn’t particularly care where I was, so I just slung my stuff onto the first free bed I saw. Emilio moved to claim the one beside mine, but Boris got to it first.

  “What, you wanna sleep next to your girlfriend?” Boris grinned lewdly.

  “Nah, I’m fine, dude.” He went to the next bunk over.

  Boris wasn’t exactly my favorite person, but I didn’t care. It was time to show what I was made of.

  The bunks were all in a row, no partitions, no privacy. The beds were small and narrow, the mattresses and pillows equally thin. We each had one drawer under the bed and a narrow shelf next to the bed with a tiny lamp, to be shared between the bunks.

  A shelf and a drawer, and the two-foot radius between my bed and the beds on either side of me. That was it for personal space.

  Four guys. Five girls. One bathroom.

  For a tense couple of minutes we all looked at one another, wondering how we were going to change clothes in front of everyone.

  Luka solved the problem for us by simply turning to face the wall, stripping to his boxers, and redressing in his navy flight suit without any attempt at modesty. The way he acted like he was the only one in the room, there wasn’t even anything sexual about it.

  It was one thing to change in front of other girls. I wasn’t going to be topless in front of all these guys, especially Boris. I left my undershirt on and zipped my flight suit up over it.

  Mitsuko plopped down beside me, forcing me to make room for her on the narrow bed. “Geez, I’m sitting on like half a butt cheek,” I said.

  “Oh, whine.” Mitsuko pulled something silky and red from her shirtsleeve, wadded it up, and tossed it behind her to land on the bunk she’d claimed. Anton’s eyes went wide, making Mitsuko and me laugh.

  We had no tasks for the evening, so a few people wandered into the living quarters to check it out. Mitsuko, Emilio, and Anton hung out with me. It felt like a sleepover—at least how I imagined one might be, never having been invited to one. A mixed-gender sleepover, which was even more interesting. I allowed myself some small measure of enjoyment, listening to Mitsuko and Emilio trade jokes and barbs.

  This wasn’t going to last. The novelty of being here was still fresh—it felt a little silly, like camping in your own backyard and pretending you were in the wilderness.

  This was a test to see how well we could get along with others in tight
spaces. I was going to pass this one with flying colors.

  The lights dimmed by half, the signal that we had five minutes left before simulated nighttime. The people on and around my bunk dissipated—too slowly. I wanted sleep. I needed time alone in my brain for a while.

  I used to have problems sleeping, back before I started running. I guess because I was an only child, I never had to get used to noises and strange things going on when I was falling asleep. I got around it when I was older by exhausting myself physically. But today I hadn’t been able to run.

  When the lights went out completely and I was finally alone, I lay on my back and stared at the curved darkness over my head and realized I would not be able to sleep. For a while I listened to other kids in the room toss and turn on squeaky metal beds. A few bouts of snoring. A few whispers and giggles. The sounds tapered off to a steady white noise of sleep-breathing.

  My eyes adjusted to the dull yellow safety lights in the floor, barely bright enough to do anything but keep you from tripping. I closed my eyes again and imagined I was flying through orbit at that very second, but that only made me feel more awake.

  Mentally I went through each of the other candidates sleeping around me, invisible in the dark. I weighed them against myself with all the scientific impartiality I could muster. Could I do better than them? Yes, I thought. Most of them, yes.

  Emilio? He had better social skills than I did. He was in good shape. Mitsuko, too. But I had more drive. I was smarter, at least on paper. I had nothing holding me back to Earth like Mitsuko did, no sentimental attachment like I imagined Emilio would have; I had the ruthlessness and ability to think on my feet. Mitsuko had that, to a fault. Pratima was smart, capable, but prickly. Anton was athletic, sociable, not so good with tests. Kendra was smart, strong, and worked well with others, but didn’t shine in the EEG. Boris was just a jerk.

  Everyone had a weakness. Even Luka.

  Luka had consistently performed at the top of the class and acted like he was bored most of the time. Could I do better than him? Physically—maybe not. Mentally, I thought we were evenly matched.

  But time would have to tell how we might match up in other ways. Maybe he panicked under pressure. Maybe I was more creative. Sociability? I had made friends, and Luka spent so much of his time alone. But how much would that matter, in the end? There were just too many variables, and too many of them unknown at this point. Luka himself was entirely an unknown, a variable unto himself. He hadn’t picked up the EEG skill quite so quickly, but I was willing to bet that was a temporary setback.

  If I was making the decision—and if I was being honest—Luka seemed to be the right choice. But that didn’t mean I was going to stop trying to beat him.

  In the quiet, with no one watching me anymore, my thoughts focused on home. Somehow in the dark, it didn’t hurt as much to imagine my family living their lives without me. What were they doing right now? Were they thinking about me? I could see Gauresh watching TV on the couch with his yappy little dog. Dadi tucked into the recliner, knitting. Papa reading his tablet, Mama on the phone with one of her sisters. That had been my every night at home. I’d usually be sitting beside Uncle, fighting over what to watch next, or sitting at the coffee table working on homework with his dog Saachi in my lap. It’d been oppressively, embarrassingly boring at the time. And I was happy to be here—I was. But I couldn’t deny the twinge in my heart when I thought of home.

  Dadi would pray for me: to Parvati for protection and Saraswati for the pursuit of knowledge and to Ganesh for luck and the removal of obstacles. Maybe she was praying for me right now.

  That thought—of home, of Dadi telling me I would make my own destiny—finally helped me close my eyes.

  And then the alarms screamed.

  FOURTEEN

  LEGS TANGLED IN the blanket, I tumbled out of bed, my hands and knees slamming into the floor with a sharp smack of pain.

  Red lights flashed in the darkness. I saw faces, moving limbs—glimpses of the same panic that I felt—bathed in split-second blinks of red, like a living horror movie.

  There was rushing, shouting. I yanked the sheets around until I was free, then I was up, unsteady on my feet, dizzy. No one seemed to know what they were doing. I stood still until I could block out some of the shrieking alarm and think.

  The control panel in the kitchen. That was the only thing I could think of that might have some kind of switch to shut off the damn alarm. I made my way slowly down the bunks, feeling for the feet of the metal beds so I wouldn’t break a toe or knock my freshly bruised knees.

  Someone collided into me, banged my shoulder hard. It was Mitsuko, the whites of her eyes drenched with the bloodred light.

  “The kitchen,” I shouted near her ear, but I had no idea if she could hear me. I kept stumbling forward. I couldn’t tell if she followed me or not.

  A few of the beds I passed still had bodies in them, sleeping with pillows pressed over their heads. I rolled my eyes. Don’t worry, I’ll fix it for you.

  Somehow I reached the control panel. I couldn’t read any of the labels, so I just started flipping switches and hitting buttons without any expectation of success.

  Suddenly there was another presence beside me, a large dark shape. I had to crane my neck to see his face, and in the flashing light, I realized with a start that it was Luka. He must have had the same thought I did. He didn’t look at me, but scowled at the panel and punched a large red sphere at the top of it.

  The sudden silence made me think I’d gone deaf.

  There was a smattering outbreak of applause and halfhearted cheers. The sleepers grumbled and turned back over in their bunks.

  I looked over at Luka, but my eyes were still adjusting to the darkness, and the details of his face were unreadable.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  He nodded tersely.

  “What was that?”

  “That,” he said, “was the fire alarm.”

  The speaker right in front of my face crackled to life, making me jump. “Houston to SLH. Apologies for the false alarm. No action required on your end. Over.”

  Those bastards knew very well what they were doing. I had no doubt that alarm was meant expressly to make us lose sleep and put us on edge.

  Luka hit the reply button. “Understood. Over.”

  He took his thumb off the button, and I could feel him looking at me in the dark. “False alarm,” he repeated. “The first of many, I’m sure.”

  I smiled. “Maybe we should take shifts.”

  That earned me a little chuckle. “Great idea. You can get the next one.”

  Luka went back to bed. I certainly wasn’t going to be able to get back to sleep, so I took a shower while I had the chance for privacy and went to explore the other half of the SLH. The SLH was one large dome, with the bunks separated by a thin wall from the living and working space. The kitchen and bathroom were side by side, near the entrance hatch. A control panel, with screens and readouts that were mostly blank, took up an entire wall beside the kitchen.

  The living space consisted of chairs and tables, even a small gym that contained a few weights, a stationary bike, and a treadmill. A large screen took up a good part of one wall, but it wasn’t a TV—at least not one that we could figure out. There were no books, no windows, no clocks. Nothing to help pass the time.

  Seven days living in an isolation dome with eight people and nothing to do.

  Challenge accepted.

  The others woke in spurts after the lights came back on for morning. There were a few short squabbles over the bathroom, and a few grumbles about the alarm, but all the kids who were left knew by now that every action and every complaint was being observed, dissected, scrutinized. Everyone was intensely conscious of the fact that this SLH was something actually designed for use in space, and if someone couldn’t handle living there, then they needed to give up now.

  Food came in shrink-wrapped trays through a port in the wall three times a day. One plastic tr
ay for each of us, identical except for special dietary concerns. I was impressed that mine was vegetarian.

  This wasn’t a vacation, however. Our hours were scheduled down to the minute. That day we were to fill out psychological evaluations, which consisted of essay questions and complex tests trying to ferret out any defect or propensity for falsehood. In the afternoon, the screen in the living quarters came to life—its purpose now apparent—and someone from Mission Control walked us through hypothetical emergency scenarios, quizzing us on what actions we would take.

  We each had to spend two hours per day exercising, which was tricky, considering there were two machines and one set of weights for nine people. I solved the problem by finding a free patch of floor space and doing some yoga.

  In the evenings, after dinner trays had been put back into the port in the wall and everyone had finished their paperwork, we were allotted an hour of free time. But there was precious little to do. Someone had found a deck of cards in the living space—maybe forgotten about, maybe left there on purpose. So people made up games using the only supplies we had: the paper from our psych evals.

  Mitsuko tried to get me to play cards, but when she found I didn’t know any card games, she huffed away and asked Kendra.

  I was tapping my fingers on the table, daydreaming about playing piano, when I realized the music I was tapping along to wasn’t coming from my own head.

  Am I losing it? I quashed that thought before it could finish forming into words.

  Of course not. There was music in here.

  Slowly, keeping an eye on the others, I rose out of my chair and made my way around the living quarters, trying to figure out where the sound was coming from. It never got any louder than the quietest whisper, but I recognized it: Beethoven. The Moonlight Sonata. One of the most famous pieces of piano music in the world, and no one else heard it? In a room full of people with enhanced senses?