Page 57 of The Lottery

My eyes go back to Azalea’s, registering the fear that washes over her face.

“It will be fine,” I say, trying to convince myself as much as her.

“What’s getting dropped?” she asks. “Just the engines, or…”

I shake my head. I understand her fear. There is no way to soften this blow.

“The entire level has to go,” I say. “We have no control unless we release the bottom deck and Captain Millard takes control with our second level engines.”

“But, if we drop level one—”

“We drop our supplies, yes.”

“All of them? Everything?”

Explaining the situation to Azalea offers me a few precious seconds of thought as well. Will dropping our cargo work? Or will it be as good as death? Will I condemn us to a few painful weeks of starving on Mars, dashing any hopes for this mission’s success before it truly begins?

But then what is the alternative? A ship this size plummeting out of control with most guests untethered—odds of survival are nil. Perhaps a handful of people survive the crash, only to be stuck in a broken ship on the wrong side of the planet.

The choice is obvious. We land first and then figure out our next step. The planet is already terraformed and plants are growing. Wildlife was introduced years ago and has managed to survive and multiply. We have rovers for an expedition to retrieve what we abandon now.

I will lose the cargo. I will release food and water and plants and every personal effect each passenger decided they needed for their space voyage. I will let all of it go.

I will not lose Azalea.

If we lose level one, we have a chance, and she and I have more moments together.

For now, and forever, that is all that matters.

I nod to Azalea, take her hands, then look back to the screen.

“Captain Millard,” I say, my voice steady. “Make it so.”

17

ZAE

“Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity; and I’m not sure about the universe.”

—Albert Einstein, German Theoretical Physicist

* * *

I gasp. “Our supplies? All of them?”

The ship rumbles again, shifting under our feet, reminding me how impossibly high the stakes are. If Marek thinks we need to drop an entire level of the ship, then the alternative can only be utter destruction.

Shit.

Marek presses his lips into a hard line, and I know this must be killing him. I’ve seen how he takes such care of the supplies, how he knows where everything is. He worked hard to make sure we got a strong start on Mars, and now we’re about to lose so much.

He stares into my eyes, probably thinking a million thoughts, and yet I can see he’s already made his decision. His decisiveness makes my heart crave him all the more. He has an inner strength that is rarely seen. He makes the hard decisions the right way. With integrity and with the advisement of those he trusts. And… with compassion, though it has taken me longer than it should have to admit as much.

Marek nods. “Make it so.”

His face is grim when he addresses the room while looking into my eyes. “Everyone stay low and hold on!”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, a piercing sound emanating from the belly of the ship assaults our eardrums. Metal grinds and screams as a mechanism detaches the cargo.

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