Trevor felt the weight of darkness as he sat silently in the rec room with Commander Mitchell. They were the only two awake in the pod. How long would the others sleep, he wondered? It had been 12 hours since anyone had seen Ms. Lawrence, Lilly, Edward, or Alex. Why was Commander Mitchell not upset? Every prior interaction he'd had with her had been pleasant. She wasn't a psychopath like Stone.

  General Stone getting physical had surprised Trevor, but it wasn't as if he'd assumed Stone was their friend or even a good person. Any notion that the adults could be trusted had been shattered tonight. Whatever was happening on Mars was not only unethical but also dangerous. He had to find a way to communicate privately with the others. But how? It was apparent Stone wasn't going to chance them being unsupervised.

  “What exactly are you doing here, Commander Mitchell?” Trevor asked.

  Commander Mitchell looked up, giving nothing away in her expression. She placed her hands on a black coffee mug, released it, stood, and walked over to sit on the couch across from him.

  “Damage control is probably the best way to describe it. We have four people missing. They’ve spent the night outside with limited oxygen and no way to refuel. There’s a possibility they may be dead when we find them. The rest of you are agitated, increasing your chances of making poor decisions. I'm at a loss for what to do other than follow orders, and my orders are to be available to you in case someone exhibits any need for medical treatment, or someone tries to leave the premises, which is not allowable at this moment.”

  “So you’ve been tasked with holding us against our will?”

  Commander Mitchell did not respond but held Trevor’s gaze unwaveringly.

  “If you continue to view us as being on different teams, things will remain complicated and will probably get worse going forward. The mission has many moving parts, yours being the smallest and least consequential. If you're smart, and I believe you are, Trevor, you'll do exactly as you're told, and if we are lucky, we’ll find your friends alive, and things can go back to normal.”

  “There’s nothing normal about this mission, and you know it. And eventually, everyone on Earth will know it because once we’re home, if we get home, I’ll tell anyone who'll listen about all the bizarre and outrageous bullshit you brought us here to deal with.”

  “I’d be cautious about threats like that, Trevor Bell, or you may find going home is no longer an option for you.”

  And with that, Commander Mitchell returned to her coffee, turning her body to face the dark hallways leading to their bedrooms as if willing her next victim to emerge.

  It was another half hour before Sloan appeared, disoriented and zig-zagging down the hall in Snoopy pajamas, her hair a mess of pink-tipped tangles.

  “Did you spend the night here?” she asked Commander Mitchell.

  But Commander Mitchell didn’t answer, and she didn’t smile when she made eye contact with Sloan.

  “Have you heard from them?” Sloan asked Trevor.

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  “No, they’ve been gone all night.”

  “Holy shit. What are they doing?”

  “No idea, but if Ms. Lawrence thought it was worth this level of trouble, it must be something big.”

  “What must be something big?” Camden asked, walking past Commander Mitchell and straight to the fridge.

  “This goal your friends decided is paramount to the mission,” Commander Mitchell said. “They must think what they're doing is important, so much so that they're willing to lose their lives over it. What do you think they're doing, Camden?”

  “Don’t ask me. I thought the breakout room was legit. Hell, they even pre-recorded answers to stuff we were asking them. I had no idea the whole thing was a scam. Fucking smarter than me!”

  “You can stop talking now, Camden,” Trevor said.

  “Yes, Max is helping us understand how they pulled that off. I'm curious how they managed it without having someone inside the breakout room,” Commander Mitchell said.

  “Wait, where's Max?” Trevor asked.

  “With General Stone,” Commander Mitchell said.

  “Is he being tortured?” Trevor asked.

  “If he refuses to cooperate, yes.”

  “That’s not good for you, Commander Mitchell,” Trevor replied and took off, jogging down the hallway leading to the boys’ wing of rooms.

  He reached Kai’s room first and pounded hard on his door before sprinting back down the hallway to the girls’ bedrooms, where he repeated the same pounding on Mary Jane, Presley, and Mia's doors. Within five minutes, all seven of them were gathered in the rec room in various flavors of sweatpants, t-shirts, and pajamas.

  “What's going on?’ Mary Jane stammered.

  “They’re torturing Max again to find out where the others went,” Trevor said.

  “Wait, what do you mean they're torturing Max?” Mia asked.

  Commander Mitchell said nothing, keeping her eyes focused on Trevor.

  “Like using a taser?” Presley asked, her eyes filling with tears. “What if he really doesn’t know anything?”

  “What if we torture you, Commander Mitchell? Will you tell us why Red Rock brought us here? Why you have cancer but choose to be here instead of home with your family? Why you pretend we're the first kids to come here when you know about Rebecca Timberland? And what you're actually doing at the dig site?”

  “You won’t torture me,” she said.

  “And why is that?”

  “Because if you do, he’ll kill you,” she said. “Stone has orders to kill anyone that stands in the way of the mission, and you torturing me would most definitely count as standing in the way of the mission.”

  “You’re a bold bitch,” Sloan said.

  “It may seem that way, but it’s quite simple. There are rules, and if we follow them, no one gets hurt or, as you like to call it, tortured, and no one goes missing. We get along and do our thing here. They talk about it on the news. Nigel stays happy, and we get to go home. It’s not that hard to follow the breadcrumbs to the castle, kiddos. But if you make it hard on us, we become exponentially harder on you. Just accept it.”

  “Never,” said Trevor, looking Commander Mitchell in the eyes.

  “Have it your way then,” she said, relaxing back on the couch, leaving the kids to stare at one another.

  Mia looked at Trevor, a mixture of fear and awe on her face. She mouthed, “What do we do?” but Trevor remained unresponsive.

  What could they do, he wondered, hate rising inside him. He envisioned himself snapping Commander Mitchell's neck, her blonde curls hanging at an odd angle. But what would happen to Mia if he got himself killed? Who would protect her? He'd accepted she didn’t want to be his girlfriend, but he still loved her. It was all he could do to keep himself from crossing the room and pulling her deep into his arms. And what about Presley, Camden, Mary Jane, and Kai? None of them would fight Stone.

  Sloan would fight, but her allegiance wasn’t to anyone other than herself. She was a wildcard and, undoubtedly, not a fan of Trevor.

  He desperately needed the others to return. He needed Edward’s brain and Alex’s gumption. Hell, Lilly would stand up to Stone. She hated the man. But before Trevor could consider who he deemed strong enough to fight back, Max returned, his face beaten so badly, it was almost unrecognizable.

  “You fucking bitch!” Camden yelled and grabbed Commander Mitchell by the hair, bending her back to face him before he kneed her hard in the stomach.

  Trevor blinked, feeling for the first time that they might have a chance, and added Camden to his list of fighters.