Temi Oh - Do You Dream of Terra-Two?

The only thing that was clear at that point was that one of the Beta was dead. An astronaut had died that afternoon while Jesse had been lying on his back watching the shadows slip down his wall.

‘Professor Stenton,’ one of the reporters shouted, ‘can you or can you not confirm that the launch will be going ahead as planned?’

‘I cannot confirm anything at this moment in time. Our directors are working very hard to—’

‘Will you be looking to replace Ara Shah with a member of the backup team? Will they be mission-ready?’

The moment was here. Jesse saw it illuminated before him.

‘I will be!’ he shouted.

At first only a couple of people around him heard. Jesse leapt into the light, suddenly, horribly, aware that he was still in his pyjamas. Sweat patches were spreading like stains under his arms and as he strained to catch his breath camera flashes blinded him. Jesse leant into the microphone. ‘I’m in the backup crew. My name is Jesse Solloway and I’m here to replace Ara. I’m ready to go to Terra-Two.’

13.05.12

T-MINUS 6 HOURS

ON THE MORNING OF the launch, Astrid opened her eyes to an empty dormitory, the beds abandoned, the cool sunlight pouring through the window. She was surprised that Maggie wasn’t there, as she usually was, to wake them. Most mornings Astrid leapt out of bed at first bell, and was brushing her teeth in the sink by the time Maggie poked her blonde head around the door to wake the other girls. Astrid sometimes suspected that Poppy and Ara feigned sleep just long enough to feel the back of Maggie’s hand brush the hair from their brows.

The night before, the doctors had given Astrid half a dose of valium to stop her from shaking. She had cried so much that, even after the tears dried up, her throat still contracted with rhythmic little hic s. The pills had dragged her so deep down into sleep that she missed the first and second bell, but Maggie had not come in to wake her.

Across the dormitory, Ara’s crumpled duvet was bundled up as if she was hiding under it and if Astrid looked hard enough she could make herself see it rise and fall. She kept remembering that Ara was never coming back. Everything about her was still there: her socks scrunched by the foot of her bed, the air perfused with the smell of jasmine oil and incense, a smudged handprint on the window where she had thrown it open. She couldn’t stay in that room any longer; her eyes kept darting to the door in the vain expectation that Ara might burst through. So Astrid climbed out of bed, pulled on a cardigan and went to sit on the landing outside.

There was so little left to prove what had happened the day before. The bruises forming where her knees had smacked pavement, the soreness and exhaustion that follows a night spent crying, the ache of despair.

‘They’re at breakfast already,’ came a voice. Astrid looked up and was surprised to see Solomon Sheppard, their commander, in civilian clothing, moonfaced from sleep, his afro slightly misshapen.

‘Good morning, sir.’

‘No, don’t get up.’ He came up the stairs and stood on the landing in a way that cast a long shadow over her. ‘I was just out there.’ He gestured towards the courtyard.

‘Really, why?’

‘I was…’ He hesitated for a moment, ‘praying.’

‘Oh…’ Astrid looked down, suddenly embarrassed about asking such a private question. ‘I didn’t know you were a—’

‘Sometimes I am. Days like today.’ He paused, glanced away too and then said, ‘I hope you’re feeling better.’

‘Kind of… yesterday was… a nightmare…’ Astrid exhaled heavily, but then remembered herself. ‘I am feeling better, though. Ready for the mission. Of course.’

Sheppard was tall and thin, with skin darker than her father’s but not as deeply lined. Astrid had always liked the soft baritone of his voice, and the way he rarely smiled with his straight white teeth, as if he was keeping them a secret. He had been the youngest man – at twenty-six – to land on Mars, and for the first time it occurred to Astrid that perhaps he was still young. She had only been eleven back then, and so when she’d seen his face on the news he’d seemed astronomically old, just another adult, like her parents.

‘And today?’ he asked. ‘Underneath it. Don’t you feel just a little bit—’

‘Excited?’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I always do. Before a launch. Especially the first couple of times. I’d be so excited I couldn’t sit still. As if I was a kid again and it was the night before my birthday.’ He laughed at himself.

‘I keep forgetting it’s real, actually. Then I remember and feel glad, but whenever I feel glad, I also feel guilty that I get to go and she…’ They fell silent. On her ankle was the friendship bracelet that Ara had woven for her one Christmas when she had no money for a ‘proper gift’. It used to have three tiny silver bells on it, so that ‘you can have music wherever you go’, Ara had laughed, and then rattled the bracelet on her own ankle, ‘and so you’ll always know where I am.’ Over time the bells had come loose and dropped off, each in turn. The pain of it was crushing and fresh every time Astrid thought about it. She’d thought they would all grow old together.

She only realized she was crying again when Solomon looked at her in alarm.

‘I’m sorry,’ Astrid said, her face burning with shame. She jumped up and tried to duck back into her room, but he put his hand on her shoulder and for just a moment they both froze in surprise.

‘Don’t be sorry,’ he said. A fresh wave of tears from Astrid. He did something she’d never seen him do before. He leant forward and hugged her. And, for half a minute, when Astrid buried her face into his shoulder, she forgot who he was. Her commander. Her once and future teacher. Forgot that she was still in her pyjamas, her feet bare, hair still in the fat cornrows she had tied them in the night before. She liked the way he smelt, distantly, of aftershave. Sandalwood and bergamot.

‘I should go,’ she said suddenly, leaping back.

‘Of course.’ He stepped away. Astrid turned and fled down the stairs.

She rushed down the oak-panelled hall of the residential wing of the space centre, hoping to reach the refectory in time to catch the tail-end of breakfast. She had missed lunch and dinner the previous night, and her head was spinning with hunger. But she was surprised on turning a corner to spot the provost of Dalton Academy through the glass pane in the door of a meeting room. Astrid ducked, instinctively: six years at Dalton had instilled an almost Pavlovian dread of the woman.

‘…ever recover, quite frankly.’

Who was she talking to? Astrid peered through a gap in the door, and spotted the slight figure of Dr Friederike Golinsky, one of the medical directors. They spoke in hushed voices and as Astrid leant in to listen she noticed Dr Golinsky’s uneven intakes of breath, the shuddering of her shoulders. She was crying.

‘We all have to make sacrifices—’

‘I know, I just thought there would be more time. That the mission would be suspended or delayed, at least, for half a year.’

‘Come on, Fae. We both knew that had to be avoided at all costs. And consider the costs.’

‘But I’m—’

‘This is bigger than you!’ the professor shouted. ‘We all have our part to play, and…’ Her voice died down suddenly.

‘Did you hear something?’ Dr Golinsky asked. They both turned towards the door.

Astrid leapt back and stood for a moment, holding her breath. When the soft hiss of voices behind the door started up again, she turned in the opposite direction and headed to the refectory, where the whole crew sat together on a table near the glass wall. They had almost finished eating by the time she entered.