Nigel looked at his desk calendar. The M6 crew, sans the children, Ms. Lawrence, and General Stone, had been on their way home for a little over a month now. Every day, he woke to this hell, his stomach churning aggressively. What would the world think? The mission's utter failure was a time bomb waiting to destroy him. Commander Mitchell was in charge now, although he didn't fully trust her. Looking back over their correspondence, the night Rocky died reminded him she wasn’t all in.

  Communication Log (M6 Day 364):

  Timestamp 18:54

  Commander Mitchel: The students shot Rocky.

  Timestamp 19:22

  Nigel: Commander Mitchell, verify your last communication

  Timestamp 19:32

  Commander Mitchell: Correction. He was strangled to death.

  Timestamp 19:33

  Nigel: Is General Stone dead?

  Timestamp 19:35

  Commander Mitchell: Affirmative. They've buried him.

  Timestamp 19:41

  Nigel: Where are the students?

  Timestamp 19:52

  Nigel: Commander Mitchell, please confirm

  Timestamp 19:57

  Nigel: Commander Mitchell, please advise

  Timestamp 20:17

  Commander Mitchell: Trevor has been shot to death.

  Timestamp 20:25

  Nigel: Commander Mitchell, you must get control of the mission.

  Timestamp 20:32

  Commander Mitchell: Both bodies were buried.

  Timestamp 20:33

  Nigel: You're now first in command. Are you armed?

  Timestamp 20:40

  Nigel: Commander Mitchell, advise.

  Timestamp 20:43

  Commander Mitchell: Yes

  Timestamp 20:45

  Nigel: You must eliminate anyone not following mission protocol

  Timestamp 20:48

  Nigel: Commander Mitchell, advise

  Timestamp 21:57

  Commander Mitchell: Peyton took the children. They plan to boycott the launch.

  Timestamp 22:06

  Nigel: If they don't comply, you must end their lives.

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  Timestamp 22:57

  Commander Mitchell: There must be another way, sir.

  Timestamp 23:05

  Nigel: That is an order, Commander Mitchell

  Timestamp 23:12

  Nigel: Commander Mitchell, advise

  Timestamp 23:27

  Nigel: Commander Mitchell, advise

  Timestamp 23:54

  Nigel: Commander Mitchell, this is not a game.

  She’d failed in ridding him of Peyton and the children. Theoretically, they were still alive and unsupervised on Mars. It was only a matter of time before they figured out how to communicate. Landing the Explorer first would support his story.

  “Nigel,” Catherine said apologetically, opening the door to his office. “There's someone here to see you.”

  “‘I’m not expecting anyone,” Nigel said, gruffly.

  “It's a sibling of one of our M6 crew members. He says his name is Michael. It's Sloan's little brother.”

  Nigel pushed back from his desk, his legs straightening in rebellion. The next few months were crucial. He had to win the families over before shattering their lives. Business as usual was paramount.

  “Send him in, please,” Nigel said briskly, and Catherine nodded and let the boy pass.

  Michael took his time finding the seat across from Nigel, his eyes scanning the office as if for clues. Nigel already disliked the boy.

  “Good afternoon, Michael. Are you here alone?”

  “Yeah, it's just me.”

  “Good, good,” Nigel repeated exaggeratedly. “I thought your mom might be with you.”

  Nigel had spoken to Renee several times about Sloan’s problematic behavior on the student portal before launch. In addition, he'd been intricately involved in intercepting and editing emails between all the students and their families for over a year now. Michael and Sloan were exceptionally close. Renee, not so much.

  “I don’t live with mom anymore,”

  “Got it,” Nigel said nervously, not wanting to know more.

  “Well, what can I do for you? Should we invite the individual who drove you here to join us?”

  “No, I took an Uber. Is my sister ok?”

  The question knocked the wind out of Nigel, who reached up to loosen his tie.

  “Yes, the whole crew is well and ready to be home, I’m sure.”

  “I haven't gotten any emails, and she emailed me a lot on her way to Mars.”

  “Ah, yes. Well, we’re running a little low on fuel, so parts of the ship are powered off to conserve energy. Your mom gets a weekly email highlighting everything going on with your sister. Has she not shared them with you?”

  “I don’t live with my mom.”

  “Right,” Nigel said nervously, sliding a piece of paper to Michael.

  “Write down your email address, and I'll add you to the list of recipients.”

  Michael nodded and reached for a pen. It felt almost intrusive to have the boy's hand so close. There was something about this boy that felt dangerous.

  “The other thing I'm wondering is why the launch home wasn’t all over the news. The launch to Mars was live-streamed everywhere.”

  Nigel had practiced responding to such questions. All he had to do was stay calm.

  “The launch home was unusual, Michael. I’m going to share some things with you that the public doesn’t know, but since you're Sloan’s family, I think it's appropriate.

  Michael looked at Nigel skeptically as if unimpressed by the intimacy they were about to share.

  “Mars and Earth orbit the sun at different speeds because Mars is further away from the sun. There's a period of time each year called the close approach, where the two planets come as close to each other as possible in their orbits around the sun. We planned to launch home during this window, but in the final days of preparing to leave Mars, we realized our fuel calculations were off. We actually considered sending a fuel-only ship up as the solution. Thankfully, Red Rock employs some of the brightest minds in the world, and they developed a plan to get the kids and crew back safe and on time, but it all came together at the last minute, so there was no time for the big send-off we’d hoped for.”

  Michael stared at the paper with his email address on it. His hands splayed over the top of Nigel’s desk. The boy’s fingernails were jagged and chewed.

  “So you've got no proof that Sloan left Mars and no way for me to communicate directly with her while she travels home?”

  Nigel sat up quickly and shook his head. "No, you can communicate with her- she just won’t be able to respond with the limited power on board the Explorer.”

  “Don’t you have solar panels on that ship?”

  “Well, yes, we do.”

  “Why don't those work?”

  “They do, Michael. But we need that power to bring your sister home. I think the weekly emails will give you confidence that Sloan is thriving and making her way back home as we speak. I’m sorry your mom hasn't shared them with you.”

  Michel ignored Nigel’s comments about Renee and proceeded to ask more questions.

  “Do the emails include pictures?”

  “Pictures,” Nigel repeated.

  “Yeah, pictures would make it better. I’d like to see my sister.”

  “Well, pictures take up a lot of space in communication, which requires slower downloads, which equates to greater energy usage.”

  “I’d like a picture in the next email,” Michael said firmly.

  Nigel smiled, but his skin was crawling beneath his blue cotton shirt. This kid was calling his bluff, and they both knew it. Michael didn't believe Nigel's story. What chance would he have of fooling the world?

  “I think that's a great idea, Michael. I'll relay it to the powers that decide those things. Thanks for stopping by. Can we pay for your Uber home?”

  And the boy had agreed to Red Rock paying for his Uber, which worried Nigel that Michael would keep making him pay until Sloan returned safely.