Simon made sure he was right in front of me, always in my line of vision, framed by my mask. When I drifted he shifted his body in the water; when my body rotated, he nudged me back upright.
We kept going, down and down. When the pressure in my ears increased, I held my nose and blew like Simon had shown me. I kept my breath low and slow. The pool was surprisingly deep, at least twenty, twenty-five feet. The water grew darker and quieter. Every so often I saw the kick of a fin or bubbles moving upward. I knew there were other divers nearby but it almost felt as if we were alone.
Eventually my feet touched the bottom. Now I could see people clustered on the pool floor. One group was collecting plastic diving rings. Another was untying a heavy box secured to the floor. My breathing was fine; I was doing okay. I rotated my head to expand the narrow field of vision inside my mask. Left, right. But then I looked up; far above me fins splashed and dark bodies moved through the water. What was up seemed like it should be down, and the dimensions of the pool seemed to bend. My stomach turned and pressed against my skin. I clenched my regulator in my teeth and pulled my arms to my chest, and my body began to rotate.
Then Simon’s hands were on my shoulders, turning me slowly but firmly upright. My feet touched the bottom again, and I had an overwhelming urge to push myself up, up, as fast as possible to the surface. But I didn’t do it. I slowed my breath. All around me kids were still collecting rings; the group at the box had successfully untied it and were dragging it across the pool floor. One of the divers with the box was Nico.
Simon made a hand signal to ask me if I wanted to start our ascent, and I signaled no. Nico and everyone else had been down here for at least forty minutes, and I’d managed only five. I slackened my breath more, emptied my lungs, and slowly filled them. I watched Nico. I wouldn’t start my ascent until he did. His group pushed and pulled the box to the other end of the pool and secured it with another set of ropes. Then they turned and swam back to the center. I waited until his group clustered together, dropped weight, and started their ascent. Then I signaled to Simon and we dropped weight too, and slowly—by fractions of an inch at a time—we began to rise.
14
Our cafeteria was in a building with gray concrete floors and long yellow tables. Sometimes there was decent food, and sometimes there wasn’t. At lunchtime after my first session at the dive pool the grilled cheese sandwiches were burnt, and only the baked potatoes were edible. I stood in line. Water was trapped in my right ear; I shook my head to the right trying to dislodge it, and then to the left.
At least a hundred kids packed the room. Their voices were a great murmur behind me, and their clacking utensils echoed against the walls. After I got my potato I walked to the table where Carla and Lion and Nico were sitting, along with some other kids I didn’t know. I hovered behind Lion. There weren’t enough tables. Everyone was already squeezed together on the bench, and I hesitated, holding my tray tightly in my two hands. Then Lion pushed in and everyone groaned. But I was so grateful to sit down I didn’t care.
People were complaining about the potatoes. I cut mine open and it steamed. At home my aunt put bits of bacon on top of our potatoes. I didn’t have any bacon now, but there was butter. I put a small pat on top and watched it melt.
I wish this was a sandwich, Nico said.
Across the table Carla hadn’t touched her food; she was writing on her notepad. Lion was trying to talk to her about going to the airfields on Saturday to watch the test rockets take off. It’s an hour walk, tops, he said.
I’d like to go, I said.
I just want to get out of here for a few hours, Lion said. What’s wrong with that?
It’ll be freezing, Carla said. We should use that time to work on the hand.
A TV bolted to the wall played a news channel. The woman on the screen began talking about Inquiry and everyone at the table turned to the TV and went quiet, and the wind buffeted the walls of the building with a tunk tunk, tunk tunk. The explorer had been dark for three weeks, the woman said, with no communication from the crew and no definitive proof they were still alive. A task force had been formed by NSP to investigate what happened but they had not yet reported their findings. Then the screen split in half and James Banovic’s face appeared. His hair was shorter, his angular face thinner, but other than that he looked the same.
Can you tell us now if a rescue mission is planned and who will crew it? the woman asked him.
A rescue mission would be led by four of NSP’s most talented astronauts.
And this mission would utilize NSP’s second explorer, Endurance.
Correct.
Which means launching not from Earth but from the Pink Planet—
All future explorer missions will take advantage of the optimal launch windows on the Pink Planet.
Is Endurance ready?
It is.
And when will the task force make their decision?
His eyes shifted slightly. Soon.
Isn’t it true that you yourself were slated to lead the second explorer mission and would be the logical choice to command the rescue?
I can’t comment beyond saying there are at least three teams qualified to man Endurance and that yes, one of the teams is mine—
Do you think they’re still alive? a girl named Brianne asked.
Who knows, Nico said. He stabbed his potato with a fork.
Someone from Peter Reed is commander of that crew, another kid at the table said. He had hair that stuck up on one side and he was in Materials at the same time as us—his group was doing something with microscopes and adhesive tape.
Anu, I said.
A girl from math class, Netty, made a face. Not from the Trainee Group there isn’t. It’s a crew of four on Inquiry, she said. They clean their own toilets. They replace their own light bulbs.
I didn’t understand what she meant.
Brianne had eaten her whole potato, skin and all. If they aren’t dead already they will be soon, she said.
They’re not! I said this loudly and Nico snorted.
They’re stuck, Brianne said. They’re going in circles—she rotated her spoon slowly through the air—until they either freeze or starve to death.
Carla’s sister’s going to be on the rescue crew, Lion interrupted. She’s going to be its pilot—
We’re not supposed to talk about it, Carla said.
Netty looked skeptical. Who’s your sister?
Amelia Silva.
I turned in my seat. Amelia Silva was my uncle’s student, one of the four who helped to develop the fuel cell. She’s your sister? I asked.
You don’t have the same last name, Netty prompted.
Half sister, Carla said.
Netty sat back in her chair. If they think they’re dead already they’re not going to send a rescue crew.
What do you know about it? Nico asked Netty. Your brother works on trash transport—
So does yours!
The bell rang and everyone got up from the table.
My potato was still in front of me. It had gone cold. Do you think they’re going to die? I asked.
Only Nico was left at the table to answer. They’re going to send Endurance after them.
What happens if they don’t?
If they’re smart enough to fix the problem, he said, they’ll live. If they aren’t they’ll die.