Rocky Stone stood outside the sick bay, considering his next move. That damn notebook sliding across the table had been the last thing he needed tonight. It would make it harder to prepare the cadets for landing.

  Landing the rocket was the easy part. What awaited them was trickier. Eventually, everyone would realize what was going on, but the chaos might prove dangerous if it happened too soon. He'd never seen powers emerge this quickly. Instead of being immune, the kids seemed more vulnerable.

  Personally, he'd lost all confidence after his first supernatural experience. But this was his third mission, and he knew the moment they landed on Mars, he'd regain telepathy. Why it happened, no one knew. There were theories. Most of them centered around extremely high radiation levels.

  Without an atmosphere to protect it, the planet continuously absorbed and leached out massive doses of solar energy. The problem was solvable. It would take about 1000 years to terraform Mars. It would be ridiculously inconvenient, but worth it in the end. And to be clear, all supernatural phenomena retreated in the absence of solar radiation. Not a single astronaut retained their newfound abilities after leaving the planet's surface. There would be no significant advantage to living on Mars for future generations. Superpowers were not what made this hard.

  It was what came next that sucked. And what came next was a deadly cancer. This was the obstacle to colonization. So far, every Red Rock astronaut on every mission had experienced this superpower to cancer trajectory - everyone except Rebecca Timberland.

  Rebecca from Mission 4 had never developed supernatural abilities or cancer. She was humanity's great hope, although most of humanity was completely unaware. Was tonight's data conclusive enough to report back to Nigel? The M6 mission's purpose was to determine whether young people were collectively better specimens than adults, somehow resistant to Martian radiation. But the answer seemed clear. Age was not the simple solution. Not only were the kids developing superpowers, but the process was moving rapidly. They hadn't even landed yet.

  What would happen if the world discovered that life on Mars was unsustainable? Nigel, the CEO of Red Rock, truly believed the answer was younger bodies. That's what he called these poor kids- bodies. Hell, that's what he called everyone risking their life for Red Rock. Stone was a number in a journal somewhere—his efforts to secure a new world documented with clinical precision. Body # 636 to begin his third round of radiation exposure. Body #636 in a second remission period after the initial diagnosis of cancer in 2027. One day, the journal might read- Body #626 deceased. And another body would replace him unceremoniously.

  His data mattered. He knew that. Martian cancer was the subject of significant research thanks to him and many others. They'd found it to be an aggressive form of lymphoma, triggered by proximity to and duration on the red planet's surface. What to do about it was less clear.

  Red Rock hoped youth was the answer. Becca had lived on Mars for six months and somehow managed to dodge both superpowers and cancer. Was she an anomaly? Peyton and Trevor were already showing symptoms. What if Rebecca's body had protected her in other ways? How could he rationalize exposing children to cancer-causing agents? But he had no authority here. Not really. Nigel called the shots. Nigel was the one with the vendetta.

  Martian cancer had taken Nigel's wife, Laura. So far, she was Red Rock's sole casualty. But no one outside of a few people knew this, her death certificate listing breast cancer as the cause. He wished he could un-know it and free himself from what felt like an avalanche of doom.

  What could he say to Peyton and the kids about the strange things happening to their bodies? Ms. Lawrence was likely too old to be protected from radiation. Perhaps Trevor was the anomaly, and the others would respond like Rebecca. It was possible. He had to believe something good could come from this mission. Rocky pushed away from a wall he'd been leaning on and proceeded to enter the sick bay. If there were the slightest chance age had anything to do with success on Mars, they'd test that theory to the fullest. He had a rocket to land and no time to waste.

  Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

  General Stone moved through the sick bay, nodding at senior crew until he reached Peyton's room. She was propped up in bed, motionless.

  "Are you feeling any better, Ms. Lawrence?" he asked. "Would you like to talk?"

  Peyton seemed to jerk awake. Her hands slid out from under the sheets and up her neck, where she began twisting her hair into a knot. She looked unsure and unnerved. Was she angry, he wondered?

  This role was too much for her. He'd voiced this early on when the idea of bringing kids and a teacher to Mars was presented. She was barely an adult. The weight of it showing in her eyes. And he'd always been captivated by her eyes. They were so similar to Johanna's eyes. Johanna had been his daughter, but she hadn't lived long enough to become a teacher and go to Mars.

  He imagined Peyton's parents were likely his exact age, with years and years left to spend with their daughter. Lucky bastards, Rocky thought. But those thoughts never got him anywhere, and he willed himself back to the present. This wasn't Johanna sitting in the hospital bed, and it wasn't the time to miss her. He would never have allowed Johanna to be part of what Red Rock was doing here.

  "There's a voice in my head," Peyton began. "It tells me we're not welcome on Mars hundreds of times a day, basically. Sometimes it's scratchy and loud, and then other times, it's like a distant radio station that's just out of range. I used to think it was built-up stress, but now, I'm not sure. I'm afraid I'm not fit to carry out my role on the mission."

  "Can I ask you who else is fit to carry out your role, Peyton?"

  "I'm not sure," she answered.

  Rocky tried his best to smile. He knew it had to be a good smile. Not a half-ass one that might make Peyton feel worse or pitied.

  "I'm happy the role is so important to you, Ms. Lawrence. I can offer you some insight into what's happening inside your mind. It's very normal."

  She needs some time, he thought, deciding how to explain that hearing voices was normal. He'd request they keep her in sick bay overnight. She didn't know about the magic landing journal, which would only upset her more. Keeping her from the kids until right before landing was the best short-term plan.

  "Stress is a powerful thing, Ms. Lawrence. A split from reality is not unusual. We see neuroses of all kinds emerge in people right before we land. It's your brain's way of protecting itself. Nothing will go wrong tomorrow, Peyton. I brought your landing manual in case you felt up to reading it tonight. Rest assured-it's all very routine and almost boring."

  "But that's just it," she said, looking away.

  "These aren't my thoughts. I know we'll be ok. I've read every prior mission journal in preparation. These thoughts belong to someone else."

  Rocky wondered whose thoughts Peyton was reading. Telepathy, the most common superpower among former Red Rock astronauts, developed very slowly. Peyton didn't seem to be able to read Rocky's mind or even realize she was reading anyone's mind yet. But still, every thirty seconds, he willed his mind to go blank, a trick he'd mastered on his second mission.

  "It's your subconscious communicating with you. You'll feel better after a good night's sleep."

  Peyton leaned back in the bed, her face scrunched with worry.

  "What will the kids think of me? I'm supposed to be their leader, and I fell apart in front of them."

  General Stone considered this and smiled, easily this time. He believed the eleven kids he'd left waiting made little connection between Peyton's distress and Trevor's newfound skill. They'd likely come up with an explanation for what they'd seen, and if it were benign enough, he'd let them keep it.

  "The kids are fine, Peyton. They get overwhelmed, too, just like us. Teenagers are self-absorbed. They've probably moved on to complaining about why I limited the number of items they're allowed to bring off the ship. I left them reading over the landing manual to check on you, but I need to get back soon."

  "Who's doing pre-landing with them?"

  "I am. You rest. I'll handle the kids."

  "Thank you," she said softly. "Tell them I'm sorry."

  "I'll tell them you're resting and plan to see them soon, Peyton. Tomorrow's a big day. We need you."

  Peyton said nothing but nodded in agreement as she watched General Stone go.

  He could feel her watching him leave, his hands resisting the urge to run anxiously through his hair. But he felt lighter on his way back to the kids. He'd successfully handled the crisis, and Peyton believed the voices were nothing more than stress. The kids would be fine. Whatever they thought they'd seen, he'd convince them otherwise. It was his job to persuade people. It was his job to land the spaceship. And then a third thought floated up. This one loud and bold. Was it a thought or was it a voice?

  "She trusts you, but she shouldn't. You're putting these kids in danger. Don't land. It's suicide."

  "Johanna?" Rocky whispered, knowing deep down that the voice didn't belong to his daughter.