Heather leaned over the passenger seat to grab her purse, the date on the dashboard reminding her it was almost time. Glad to be alone, she sat stone-faced. In two days, Peyton would land on Mars. The thought of it made her stomach roll.

  Bryant was an absolute mess, and having him for dinner Saturday night had been a mistake. Apparently, he found family photos and any mention of the landing overwhelming. Consoling him had taken so much energy that her plans to whip up chicken tetrazini quickly morphed into Chinese takeout. Heather resented taking on one more thing right now, but what could she do? He's just a kid, she kept reminding herself, picturing her husband's face. Nathan felt that real men don't cry, which was ridiculous. But would Bryant be able to show up emotionally for her daughter? They had eighteen more months of this.

  Peyton's last email had been unsettling. Heather knew she'd meant it as a healthy vent. And that was fine. But there was an edge to it. And why was she fainting? Was she eating enough?

  She'd started the email writing about how the kids were unprepared for landing and on each other's nerves. This second piece seemed reasonable, considering their living arrangements. But that first part alluded to tensions that might jeopardize her daughter's safety. Why were the kids unprepared? Stop teaching them math and prepare them then, she thought. Who in their right mind had decided to put this mission together? Teenagers were not suited to explore deadly planets, in her opinion. Maggie and Jonah, her two younger children, were just now emerging from cocoons of self-absorbency, both in their early twenties, still needing reminders to fill their gas tanks or haul in the trash. Maybe she was reading too much into Peyton's last email. She pulled out her phone to re-read it.

  Dear Mom,

  Twenty-four hours from now, I'll be on Mars! I can't believe it. Trying not to FREAK! Wish we could skip the landing and focus on what comes next. The kids are beginning to crack. Today, one of my students shared that he doesn't think everyone is mission material. He's not wrong! I pray General Stone has a solid plan once we're on the ground. There's gonna be so much to do. Getting off the ship will help. No one's gonna miss this floating prison.

  Please don't panic, but I had some type of episode. I don't know what else to call it. I'm fine. I mean, I did faint, but I'm fine now. They've run a million tests, and nothing in my blood work suggests I'm sick. We wear fitness rings that track our vitals constantly, and that data looks good, too. The kids say I was acting bizarrely right before it happened. They thought I might be having a seizure. Does anyone in our family have seizures? I know Grandma gets bad headaches. Commander Mitchell (our school nurse) told me she had no reason to think I'd had a seizure. But she couldn't tell me why I'd fainted either. One of the kids' brothers has epilepsy, so I guess she thought I was acting like him?? I feel fine now except for not being able to sleep. I am worried about how little I sleep.

  When I do sleep, I have crazy dreams. I know that's normal because I'm anxious. But these dreams feel so real. They're terrifying. Recently, I dreamed my face was bleeding. I literally remember looking at myself in a mirror and watching blood drip from my ears. And someone talks to me in these dreams. Like a weird voiceover, telling me it's wrong to go to Mars, that I should make the crew turn around and take everyone home. I'm literally hearing voices.

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  I know you'd say this is just anxiety. It makes sense. But these negative thoughts aren't me. I've always wanted to do this. I absolutely WANT to be doing this! Do you think I'm feeling this way subconsciously? God, I want to be able to sleep again.

  I don't know. Feels like I'm losing it. I'll try to get more exercise. I'm sure this is not what you want to hear. You and Dad don't need to worry. I'm okay. Promise. Just needed to get it out. Could you not mention my fainting to Bryant? I don't have enough bandwidth for that right now.

  Also, can you record the landing for me? I'm interested to see what Red Rock decides to share with the world. We'll be fine. Remember, this is their 6th landing, so it's a series of well-orchestrated steps at this point—hugs to everyone. My next communication will be from the surface of Mars!

  I love you so much,

  Peyton

  Heather lay the phone in her lap. Her daughter was right. She did think this was nothing more than sleep deprivation and anxiety. Valid anxiety for sure, but nothing more. She heard voices, too. They said things like, "Don't eat that third piece of pizza," or "Why am I the only one who empties the dishwasher?" Internal dialogue was a normal response to stress and worry. But Peyton's ability to handle the landing and beyond worried her.

  Once on Mars, they'd live in a pod-type situation. Peyton mentioned the rooms were like alcoves, with a standard-size bed and room for little else. Still, more privacy than they'd experienced in the past six months would be welcomed. Privacy or not, those teens were exploring more than another planet. Heather assumed by now they'd found ways to hook up and have sex, no matter what Red Rock wanted. She prayed no one got pregnant, primarily because of the pressure it would put on Peyton, and secondly, because having a baby in outer space was just too much even to consider.

  "The girls should all be on birth control," Heather announced the night before Peyton left for quarantine.

  "I can't be responsible for whether they take oral birth control, Mom. Why would I want to be in charge of that?"

  "Well, it's monitor the birth control or become a space midwife," Heather retorted

  Peyton had smiled but shook her head in disagreement.

  "It's all going to be fine," she'd said. "They're injecting us with microbots. Some of them dispense birth control. No one's getting pregnant on Mars."

  Heather remembered being shocked to learn this. But now, twenty-four hours before her firstborn child landed on Mars, nothing shocked her. Well, one thing did. Why hadn't her principal reached out? Peyton's connection with Red Rock was the only reason his high school was part of this sixth mission to Mars. The least the man could do was pick up the phone. The CEO of Red Rock, Nigel something, had phoned earlier this morning. He understood how big a deal this was.

  Heather unstrapped her seat belt and stepped out of the car. It was time to decide what to cook for dinner, chicken or fish sticks. Thank God she wasn't aware that her daughter had skipped dinner to catch up on sleep. Sleep, the voices, and nightmares were stealing from her. But going to bed early wouldn't help Peyton. And when she did finally sleep, she dreamed of looking at herself in the mirror, a strange face reflecting back—one with no nose, just a flat flap of skin.