Peyton stood in her tiny room, one of five in the sick bay. The other four were dark and empty. Her skin crawled as if tiny bugs were eating her alive from the outside. She wouldn't mention it. It was just anxiety. The bugs aren't real, she said aloud.

  Did they have a sick bay on Mars? Of course, they did. Crew members from missions 4 and 5 had decided to stay indefinitely. They must get sick from time to time. What types of lives had they abandoned back on Earth? Maybe dissatisfied ones. What would make someone want to stay on Mars this early in the colonization?

  She knew it was the eventual goal, but currently, there was nothing but red soil and sunlight. Could she give up trees and oceans for an entire lifetime? She'd never dwelt on the limitations of the planet before. But something distasteful had replaced her desire to be here—the voice. The voice was spoiling everything, turning her dream dark and prickly. Peyton pinched herself and glanced out the portal. The red planet glowed in anticipation.

  And then the voice was back, this one was human, and Peyton turned, wanting it to be General Stone. She hoped he'd come to assure her the students were ready and asking for her. But it wasn't Stone. Of course it wasn't. He was massively busy taking on her roles because she sucked at being in charge, relieved of her tasks before even setting foot on Mars. These last anxious hours would require nothing more of her than operating her seatbelt.

  "Good morning, Peyton," Commander Mitchell said, looking down at a device. "Everything looks great. Your vitals are perfect, and all bloodwork results are within normal limits. How are you feeling today?"

  "I feel fine," Peyton lied, believing any other answer was inappropriate.

  "That's good to hear. You've had a lot on your shoulders since launch. A change of scenery and a new sense of purpose will be helpful."

  "What do you mean by a new purpose?" Peyton asked.

  Commander Mitchell smiled. "Well, for one thing, you'll be on hiatus from your teaching responsibilities, and we'll be more involved with managing the kids as they explore and eventually conduct research. It takes a village, they say. You'll be fine. It's the kids who will have quite an adjustment. They've come to depend on you. "

  "I'm afraid I've not handled it very well, Commander. I've been a disaster."

  Commander Mitchell looked at Peyton, her brown eyes lined with the wisdom of over half a century of living. She was an attractive woman with no diamond on her ring finger. Peyton wondered if she had grown kids back on Earth. Was Commander Mitchell up here running away from her old life or truly committed to building a new one on Mars?

  When they'd first met, Peyton had been so nervous she'd barely been able to carry on a conversation with the woman. After all, not only was she a talented physician, she was someone Red Rock had sent to Mars multiple times. However, it had turned out that Mitchell was not only accomplished but also kind. Was it safe to let her in on her current patient's gigantic case of imposter syndrome?

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  "You realize you're doing something no one has done before, correct?" Commander Mitchell said.

  Peyton felt her face flush. She slid her hands behind her back to anchor them. This was not the time to overshare, she thought, trying to hold Commander Mitchell's gaze without seeming creepy.

  "You're the first teacher to go to Mars and, apart from your students, one of the youngest humans. You've taken on the task of educating and caring for eleven teenagers for over six months in outer space. Off the record, your job is not one I'd ever want. It's reasonable to assume the stress you've been under has reached a breaking point. Things will be different once we land. Multiple people will supervise the students. They'll have a much longer chain of command, and you'll have more free time. I personally think you've done a great job."

  The words pinged around Peyton's brain, flooding her with endorphins. If this were true, she was just an ordinary young woman with an average ability to handle life, and she'd take that. Anything was better than feeling weak and delusional, controlled by a voice, a failed leader before her chance to lead had begun. Her mother had been right. She'd been ill-prepared for the immense responsibility of caring for anyone around the clock with no break.

  Peyton had argued that her role as an academic advisor was no different from teaching, which had been incredibly naive. She remembered Mia's face and crossed arms the day they'd announced the essay winners. Why had she thought she could do this? In truth, the entire trip to Mars had been one long shit show.

  But what choice did she have now? Those were her kids—the same sentiment she'd have back in a brick and mortar classroom. No matter how much they annoyed her, wore her down, or outright disobeyed her, she already loved them. Even Kai had grown on her with his endearing cluelessness.

  Regardless of her previous rose-colored outlook and ill-timed mental health crisis, they were still her squad. Her job was far from over, and even if she weren't fully equipped to meet their needs, she'd die trying.

  "Thanks, Commander. I'm confident the landing will go just as planned. Thanks for the support with the kids. I appreciate your kind words."

  "It absolutely will, Ms. Lawrence. And they're more than kind words. You've done a phenomenal job. And I have no doubt we'll see the same down on Mars. I've cleared you to suit up for landing. General Stone took the liberty of packing the necessities you need to deboard the ship, but you'll want to gather the allowed personal items. Check the landing manual for a list of what's allowed and what's not."

  Peyton bristled at the idea of Stone in her room, in her things. However, they were under a time constraint. What had she expected him to do?

  "The students will meet you outside the capsule. They've been told you're doing well. Today's seating arrangement is identical to what you experienced during launch. I think everyone will find that calming. Only General Stone can give us orders to unstrap and depart the vessel. His directives are law. The students have been reminded of this repeatedly. No one moves until clearance to depart has been issued. Is that understood?"

  "Yes, ma'am," Peyton replied, feeling as though she should salute Commander Mitchell but refraining, having never done it before.

  "Great, now get back to your students. They'll be glad to see you. Also, remember to have fun today. You're blazing a historical trail, and the world will be watching."

  Peyton thought of Bryant and her family sipping coffee and pointing at screens as they watched her land. Today would be incredible. She was landing on Mars. Nothing would go wrong. She'd force herself to enjoy it while remembering to breathe. Tonight they'd be sleeping in different beds. Tonight she'd technically be a Martian.

  "You're the reason those kids will die," the voice said. "I'm planning to smash in every one of their skulls. I've done it before."